#they glow in the dark n u can stretch them

[oshisanbignaturals]

making a separate post for this hehehehe <3

transparent ver doesnt he kinda look like barbie here. barbiecore or whatever

[milksnake-tea]

(hi 🪼 i don't have a good sense of time so if this is way too late please feel free to bat this ask out the window)

can i ask for a nanook w/ prompt n. 5? (romantic) feel free to twist it however you want!!

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They get caught staring at you. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: nanook ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: I'M ASSUMING U MEANT FLUFF SO THATS WHAT IM GOING W BC ITS CUTE !!! imma be honest im really bad at ending stuff so im not too happy w the ending here, but i hope u liked this !!

For such a violent Aeon, Nanook was a quiet soul.

Many of your conversations were one-sided, with you rambling about your day while Nanook merely listened and observed, occasionally playing with your hair or poking at you - much like a cat, you'd often say. Whenever you mentioned that to them, they'd only respond with a comforting rumbling of their chest, which was their version of a chuckle.

You laid on your side in their large palm, the Aeon currently occupied with other matters - most likely implanting another Stellaron in some unfortunate planet. Rings of molten gold glowed above you, some of that glowing liquid dripping down in waterfalls of melted metal. But you paid no matter to that.

Instead, you focused on tracing lines on the Aeon's palm, fascinated with the folds and scars that spanned over their dark skin. Beneath those thin stretches of skin glowed the golden blood of Nanook, much like a lantern. When you pressed your ear against them, you could briefly feel a pulsing beat against your head - Nanook's heartbeat.

You hummed to yourself, a sweet melody drifting through the endless void. When Nanook was busy, it was in your best interest to keep quiet. Any distractions, and Nanook might accidentally kill you instead of a planet (it's happened before).

It took a few moments of pure silence before you noticed a pair of eyes trained on your body. Knowing that there was only one other person in this space, you rolled over to meet Nanook's gaze.

You couldn't see the entirety of Nanook's body from where you were, but you didn't mind. The honey-like amber of Nanook's eyes was enough to enrapture you - no matter how many times you saw it, you were fascinated by their beauty each time.

The Aeon rested their head on one of their hands, leaning into their palm as they watched you - a hint of fondness making its way onto their expression.

You smiled cheekily up at the Aeon whose name sparked fear into the hearts of countless.

"Enjoying the view?" you teased. Nanook raised a brow.

"And if I am?" they mused. Their voice was low, yet unbelievably loud. It rumbled throughout the galaxy, both soothing and overwhelming to your ears.

Rather than replying, you sat up and beckoned towards them, making grabbing motions with your hands. Obliging, Nanook lifted you to their face so that you could touch them.

Their skin was warm like a fireplace under your skin. Nanook's eyes fluttered closed as you kissed their nose and nuzzled against them. A smile flickered onto their lips, but it was gone as fast as it had come.

"You know," you hummed, "for an Aeon of Destruction, you're awfully gentle."

"Only for you."

You chuckled, pressing your forehead to theirs as they tilted their head down. "Quite adorable too."

You didn't see it, but you knew Nanook was rolling their eyes at you. But you didn't really care. All that mattered right now was this moment, a silent yet intimate night among the cosmos.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.9k

genre/tropes: romance, friends to lovers

summary: dating is hard, but maybe what i was looking for was easier than breathing...

warnings: none <3 pure fluff

notes from bambi: i tried a new format, what do we think? no usage of y/n, lowercase intentional, just a cutesy chris fic

busy?

nah wsp

can i come over

yeah fs, thought you said you were busy tn?

i'll explain when i get there 😵‍💫

see u soon kid 

-x-

“hey.” i let my bag sink onto the floor and threw myself across chris’s bed. 

“bro what, get off me!”

i grinned into his now-rumpled comforter. “make me.”

he snorted and yanked the covers out from under me, sending my legs flying. giggling, i stretched out over the far corner of his mattress. “thanks for letting me come over.”

“no problem. what's goin’ on?” chris had already halfway shut his laptop screen, giving me his attention. the soft pants i had bought him for christmas hung loose around his legs, one of which was pulled up at the knee. in lieu of a shirt, the towel from his shower lay draped over his shoulders. chris’s hair, dark from the water he refused to blow-dry out, stuck to his forehead in a very unflattering pattern. i tried to tell myself that, anyway.

“i was supposed to go on a date tonight,” i answered, staring at the ceiling. covered in those glow in the dark stars and planets people used to buy for their kids, it reminded me of the day chris begged for help putting them up. 

“what happened?” he asked quietly. his brows were set in a line measured by confusion and annoyance at the possible explanations.

“i got scared and ghosted him.”

“again?”

“i know.”

“you gotta quit that. these guys don't deserve it.”

“...i know.”

“why'd you get scared?” chris asked, putting his arms behind his head.

“because what if he wants me for sex and nothing else? what if he says he wants a relationship and pays the bill and opens the door for me and takes me home and tells me we don't have to do anything if i'm not comfortable and then of course we do something because i can't fucking help myself and then he got what he wanted and never speaks to me again?” 

i realized then, that i was shouting in my head and nothing had come out. chris still looked at me expectantly, his head tilted. 

“you look like a puppy,” i told him, grinning. 

“what the fuck,” he said, shaking out and shoving back the hair that threatened to encroach upon his vision.

“i got scared because…” i sighed, not entirely sure how to articulate my thoughts in a way he would understand. “Because how would i know if any of it was real?”

“that's why i don't fuck with love, like, that romantic shit,” he offered helpfully.

i glared. “thank you, christopher.”

“using my full legal name is insane.”

“you deserved it.”

“whatever bro.” chris paused. “i feel like there's something else.”

“how do you mean?”

“something else bothering you.”

“it probably has something to do with my self-confidence,” i said. “sometimes i think i deserve…everything, and sometimes i think the opposite.”

chris’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. this wasn't the first time we’d discussed the matter.

i looked over at him and his eyes met mine. i did this occasionally, the staring. it was a way to connect without speaking, which was often difficult around him. chris broke first, after a few short but comforting seconds, dipping his head to the side and gesturing me over to sit next to him. as i scooted my way over, he opened up his laptop again.

“new merch?” i asked. 

“yeah,” he murmured. “you wanna help design it?”

i took the device from him, amid quiet protests of death and torture, and began to very gently give my two cents.

“no one likes yellow chris. don't make any more yellow stuff ever again in your life.”

“I LIKE YELLOW??”

“too bad.”

we compromised on black with yellow accented font. he's such a baby sometimes.

-x-

i stayed for hours. chris let me make a shirt design, we put a show on in the background, and when i commandeered his laptop to play music, he got up to clean his room.

a few clothes on the floor does not a mess make, but chris hated things being out of place. something as small as a sock left unattended would poke the back of his brain all day. 

sometimes he would mutter things under his breath, talking to himself or singing.

“an i got all the drugs in the world that you need…”

“hold this.” (he tossed a shirt at me)

holding up a pair of sweats, chris asked, “...clean?” i shook my head. “matt’s room,” he decided, and took off up the stairs.

“you hungry?” he asked when he came back, hair disheveled.

i wrinkled my nose. “not for fast food.”

“you wanna make something?”

“god yes.”

chris laughed and pulled me off the bed. “let's go make something.”

-x-

we went up the stairs and upon hitting the landing, saw nick and madi pretzeled up together on the couch. “oh hey,” nick said, pausing whatever was on the tv. “didn't know you were here.”

“i thought you had a date,” madi said around a yawn.

chris seemed to sense the situation, or maybe he was just hungry, but whatever the case, he jumped in. “we're makin’ dinner,” he announced with a grin. 

“y’all still have pasta right?” i asked, making a beeline for the pantry and rifling through the shelves.

matt emerged from his cave, scrubbing his face with the back of his hands. “we should,” he grumbled, annoyed at the lack of sleep he was currently indulging in. 

“thank you. where.”

he nudged me over and produced a bag of angel hair noodles out of nowhere. “right in front of your face.”

“matthew…i'm gonna kill you,” i replied with zero emotion. 

he raised his eyebrows. “alright buddy. you makin’ enough for everybody?”

“don't see why not.” i turned my head and waved chris over. “we have water to boil.”

he saluted me and made his way into the kitchen, passing matt (making his way decidedly out of the kitchen).

“is the pot clean?”

“i think so.”

“can you get it?”

“yeah. you want the salt while i'm over here?”

“yes please.”

“tap water or filter water?”

i looked at him for a long moment. 

“i'm gonna get the filtered,” he said, snickering.

shaking my head with a smile, i let the stove heat up and stepped back so he could pour the water in. the muscle in his forearm tensed, offsetting the weight of the heavy filter. matt had turned the softer lights on, so gentle shadows lay over chris like a threadbare blanket. 

i stepped over and let my head rest on the side of his shoulder. his shirt smelled like him, he smelled like his bath soap and his cologne and the detergent matt used on his sheets, and his hair was dry and fluffy now because he hadn't brushed it and i could probably stay there forever-

“you okay?” he murmured.

“yeah.” backing off again, i slipped a smile on my face. “all good.”

“i think…it should be good,” chris said, scrunching his nose, fully concentrated on the precise water measurement.

i cut my eyes at him with mock concern. “it’s never that serious chris.”

“what if my pasta’s water content is important to me?”

“is it?” i put my hand on my hip, desperately fighting the smile that threatened to take over my features.

“...no. but what if it was?”

“i can't handle you anymore. when it boils will you put the noodles in?”

“noods,” he said in reply, as if that was in any way helpful or related.

“who's nudes?” Madi shot up from the couch, dark hair a mess. “your nudes??”

“no, not me, i-”

Nick’s face contorted in disgust. “someone sent you nudes?” 

“no no, it’s-”

“did you ask for them?” matt asked. having been seated closest to the kitchen and therefore fully aware of the context, he was just instigating. again.

i glared at the back of his head. “you're stupid.”

“that's not a no.” i could feel his shit-eating grin.

“who’s naked?” nick wailed, halfway off the couch.

“nobody! chris just-”

“so you didn't get nudes,” madi asked tentatively, still sleepy. 

i turned back to chris. “are you gonna help me at all?”

“who, me?”

rolling my eyes, i addressed the living room again. “listen, chris just shortened the word noodle, THAT’S IT.”

"oh. why didn't you just say that?" nick snarked.

madi had already burrowed into him for another nap. nick let their show play on, detangling her hair absentmindedly. i shook my head and smiled.

-x-

“i'm gonna go ahead and put the noodles in,” chris said, already breaking them.

“thanks. you wanna make sauce or use the stuff in the pantry?”

“ugh, what's in the pantry,” he said, “don't feel like making anything that intense.”

“mkay.” i pulled the door open and began to hunt. the sounds of the house washed over me - RuPaul’s Drag Race from the living room, chris stirring in the cracking noodles, and matt typing away on his laptop. i smiled again. this house, these people, their lives - it put me at ease. 

“‘scuse me…” chris said from behind me. i jumped as he drew out his words and stretched his hand around my shoulders to pull a spice off the rack. he felt me startle, he must have, because chris looked down at me with curiosity. “i scare ya?”

“only a little bit,” i said, lying through my teeth. he put his arms around me and enclosed me in a hug. “i'm glad you're here.”

my hands took hold of the forearms crossing my chest and i leaned back into him. “thanks.”

i felt his lips against my neck, pulling into a smile. “i'm always happy when you're here.”

the sugar-sweetness made my teeth ache, and i leaned forward. He let go easily, just like he did everything else in life, and spiced the noodly water on the stove with gusto, letting dark flecks fall to the floor. 

i love you.

he looked a mess with his hair unbrushed and his brows unkempt and his smile unguarded.

i love you.

chris, who always handled my heart with care.

i love you.

how many ways could he tell me he loved me before i believed him?

here goes nothing.

“chris?”

or perhaps everything.

“yes ma'am.”

JESUS FUCKING-

my ribs cracked, splintering bone shards into my thundering heart. i reached for his chin, letting my fingers fall atop his skin and ever so slightly pulling him toward me. when his eyes met mine i couldn't wait any longer. “do you love me?”

chris didn't miss a beat. “of course i do.” he pressed his cheek into my hand, his head tilted adorably. 

“no i…i mean like. for real.”

“come here.” he pulled me into a hug and i pressed my nose against his chest. “i've never been…afraid of it. love. with you.”

well that's good.

“of course i love you,” he said.

“...that's cool.”

a pause.

“really cool, in fact,” i continued. fucking tears. ruining my moment.

“are you crying?”

“no.” 

“liar.”

“yeah.”

“sad crying?”

“happy.”

“that's good.”

“mhm.”

“you want me to let go?” his arms didn't budge from me.

“don't you dare.”

“yes ma'am.”

“you're burning the pasta,” matt huffed. we jumped apart, faces tomato red. 

“yeah yeah you're so cute, i'm gonna be ill, puke gag retch, whatever,” he said, turning off the heat and moving the bubbling pot. “i'm hungry.”

nick and madi sat agape on the couch.

chris kissed my forehead, still grinning like a maniac. “wanna eat?”

i smiled. what is this, an epidemic? “yeah.”

“we can talk about it later okay?”

i smiled. “okay.”

-x-

ps: the noodles were delicious.

request to be on the taglist here

thank you for reading!

- bambi <3

[bakugoushotwife]

hi! how are you? soo i was innocently skimming around and saw you are accepting requests so….hear me out. Kakashi and hi s/o tiredly having some sleepy fluff smut with him towering over with lots of love

a/n: such a good fucking request i love u and wanna kiss /p ! i hope you like this nonnie :)

cw: fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, showering together but no shower sex, pet names, creampie. MINORS DNI. MATURE 18 +

wc: 3k

Care // Kakashi x fem!reader

You blink slowly up at the ceiling, eyelids still heavy with sleep. The sound of the door creaking open and a weighty bag hitting the ground was enough to wake you, a former shinobi and forever light sleeper. It was still dark out, so you knew it had to be really late or really early, but nonetheless you were happy he was home. You lean over and click the lamp on, smiling when you’re greeted with the sight of your husband’s face. 

“Sorry love, did I wake you?” Kakashi asks apologetically, giving you a tired smile after he slides his facemask down around his neck. 

You hum and nod. “I’m glad though, you know I would want to welcome you home anyway.” You yawn, turning to lay on your side as you watch him remove his soiled mission clothes, always taking the extra time to put them in the dirty clothes hamper. He was definitely worn from this one, you could tell. He had purple bags under his eyes and his movements were sluggish. He sighed deeply, still toting his sleepy grin. 

“Give me ten minutes and you can welcome me all you want. Need to shower.” He sighs, clearly operating on auto-pilot. He’s grabbing fresh clothes to sleep in, and you frown at his exhaustion. You peel back the covers and sit up, raking your hands over your face in an effort to wake up a little.  Your legs dangle over the bed, and you scoot your way off.

“I’ll come with you, I think you could use some assistance.” You chuckle softly, the room was still dim, only the bed basking in the glow of your lamplight. He watched you get to your feet, smiling softly at your love for him. He still wonders what he did to deserve someone like you keeping his home bright and full of happiness, warming his bed and missing him every time he left. He’s grateful to be home, safely back in your presence and undeniable gentleness. He hums in acknowledgement of your joining him, digging around for some clothes for you too. 

You go ahead of him, sluggishly turning on the hot water. The sound of the water rushing against the tub made your eyes momentarily close, too relaxing and sleep-inducing to fight back. Yet you manage, shaking your head and consciously opening your eyes wider. Kakashi comes into the bathroom seconds later, setting your clothes on the counter. He grabs a towel and you finally pull the knob to make the faucet water spray out from the shower head. He has that same sleepy look on his face, eyelids drooping three-fourths of the way over his mismatched eyes, the corners of his lips just upturned into a lazy smile. As tired as he is, his eyes do sparkle when he looks at you, helping you out of the garments you wore to bed. 

The sight of your barren body stirs a little life into him, having missed the sight for nearly two weeks on his latest trip away. He takes his last layer off, sliding into the shower and looking at you expectantly. The hot water makes him sigh, eyes fluttering closed while the warmth spreads through his muscles. He stretches his neck out to either side, nearly moaning at how good it feels. He feels you slide in front of him, his hands blindly finding your waist. The water rolls down his face, turning his gray hair a few shades darker and slicking it to his forehead. He smiles warmly at you, leaning forward out of the direct stream. His hands and arms slide more up your back, pressing you to his wet frame. He’s trying to warm you up too, gently rotating your bodies so you could get your fair share of the water. You stay facing him, watching the water droplets form on his scarred chest and toned abdomen. No matter how tired you were, you would never pass up the opportunity to admire him. Your eyes trail lower, feeling almost embarrassed when you look at his soft length hanging between his legs, instead you glance over his muscular thighs and the dark hair covering them. He chuckles under your gaze, not sharing the embarrassment after years of being married. He wasn’t shy about staring at you either, that would never embarrass him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your frame even as he leaned over to grab his shampoo, knowing exactly where it stood on the side of the tub. He smirks. Even though it was lazy, it still makes your stomach flutter like always. You roll your eyes and reach your arm out for the shampoo. He arches his brow at you in confusion, you have your own. You make a grabby hand for it when he doesn’t move. 

“Let me.” You huff, grabbing the bottle from his hands. He sighed, bending his knees slightly so you could reach his head, admiring your dedication to him. His loving eyes took in all the features of his favorite face, and you feel your body warm under his affectionate stare. You squeeze some shampoo out and lather it in your hands, getting up on your tip-toes to apply the soap to his hair. Your fingers scrape and scratch all the right spots on his scalp, making his eyes close yet again. He knows that no one could ever love him as perfectly as you do, only you would drag yourself to shower with him in the earliest hours of the morning. Only you would insist on washing his hair for him, bordering on cranky if he denied your wish. 

“I love you and I missed you s’much.” He mumbles in his half-asleep state. You gently pull his body towards the water, grinning softly at him. 

“I love you too. Worst two weeks of my life.” You chuckle, watching him stand motionlessly under the shower head, letting the bubbles and foam slip down his body and down the drain. You grab your own shampoo and give yourself the same treatment, your husband knowingly sliding out of your way to let you rinse. 

“Am I allowed to condition myself or shall I wait?” He asks teasingly, taking his time to watch your careful fingers work the shampoo out of your own hair. He hums happily at your scrunched up nose, no doubt annoyed by his taunts. 

“Go ahead, sassy.” You huff, cracking an eye open to peek at his amused grin. You smile too, just relieved to have him home again. It wasn’t that you doubted his skills as a shinobi, and an especially revered one at that, it’s just…no one plans to die on missions, you know that. He isn’t immortal, and you feared the day where Leaf officials knocked on your door instead of Kakashi’s sleepy stride into the bedroom after weeks away. Every time he came home felt like another safe breath you got to take, even when you huff at him in the shower because of his reluctance to let you take care of him. 

He chuckles again, somehow cheerful and exhausted sounding. He watches you condition your hair with slow and tired movements, once again appreciating the tender way you care for him. He decided to return the favor, lathering your soap in a cloth and humming for your permission. You nod, a slight smirk playing on your lips. These were times you cherished. The night felt so surreal, like you two were the only people on Earth. Maybe it was a lack of sleep delirium, maybe it was just the obsessive way you two loved, or some combination of the two. He steps forward and takes your palm in his, gently scrubbing your skin. His thumb strokes the back of your hand and he starts humming some tune. 

His voice is warm and calming, his face much more relaxed but still as weary as before. His eyes glimmer with his adoration for you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. You analyze his features, wondering if anything of note had happened on this excursion. Your thoughts don’t linger there long, your husband was too attractive to ignore. You hum as his gentle touches move to your other arm and then your chest, eyeing him daringly. Kakashi’s humming changes from his old tune to a curious question. He washes your breasts slowly, struggling to conceal the faint blush on his exposed cheeks. 

You just grin, humming your approval. Kakashi can tell from the way you sway your body and arch your brow at him that you want him, and he’s never been able to say no to his wife. Feeling your soft skin under his hands, weighty and full, makes the blood rush to his dick. You giggle quietly, watching his already impressive manhood stand at attention for you. 

“I’m thinking we need to wrap this up…wouldn’t want the water getting cold on us, now would we, love?” He hums, handing you the cloth in favor of retrieving his own to cleanse himself, all in an effort to hurry. 

“I agree, dear husband..” You grin, finishing what he started, scrubbing the rest of your body with a fervor. Your body tingles with excitement, not having him to satiate your cravings for the past couple of weeks is torture as always. Your fingers could only do so much when you had Kakashi-sized holes to fill. 

He’s quick with his body washing too, his tiredness taking the backseat to his love for his partner. He knows he won’t be able to go too wild tonight, though he knows you won’t mind. He just needed to demonstrate his love for you too. Just like you were never too tired to care for him, he would never be too tired to take care of you. 

You raced to rinse off, drying off and handing the towel to your lover once finished. He smirks when you skip off to the bed without the clothes he so carefully curated for you in his half-asleep state. He decides to do the same, just draping the towel around his waist. It didn’t do much to conceal his erection, but Kakashi was modest. By the time he gets to the bed, you are already tucked under the covers, eagerly squirming as you wait for him on the furthest edge of the bed. You bite your lip, savoring his god-like body. The towel did nothing but drive you crazy; he still had some water beading down his skin, deep v lines around his hips and a dark patch of hair making you wish he hadn’t bothered covering up.

“Now love, I am still tired.” He chuckles, throwing the blankets off and relishing your sleepy giggles as he eyes your naked frame. His eyes crinkle up when he smiles, the biggest one of the night. This is why he married you, as wiped out as he is, as grueling as that mission was on him, here he was chuckling and smiling with you seconds before you make love. “So don’t be so shy and cute now.”

You hum and scoot toward him, his body coming down around you to cage in your own. He holds his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, features soft as he looks at you with all the love in the world. You admired how he always did this, not a day went by that you didn’t know how much he loves you. He practically worships the ground you walk on.  His lower body is nestled in between your legs, hip bones touching. He hums, just happy to be so close, to feel your warm breasts pressed against him and your contented heartbeat just thump thump thump-ing away in such a soothing rhythm it could be its own song. 

You match his hum, happy the lamp was on so you could see his eyes sparkle with tenderness and desire. His cheeks were just a little rosy and his pale lips were already parted in preparation for a kiss. You lean up to oblige, angling your head just right. Both of you sigh, his weight relaxing on you just a little more. He always kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again, his mouth heavily pressed to yours. His lips were soft, pulling back just enough to separate before crashing into you again over and over, creating a string of short and needy kisses. He shifts his weight mostly to his left side, though it’s not uncomfortable for him to lay on you. In fact, you’re thankful for the pressure against your burning middle. You’re not shy from rocking your hips up into him, giving your nerves a little relief. His right hand moves down your body, squeezing your breast and gently playing with the nipple. His fingers were slender and long, rolling your pebbled bud in between them. He can’t resist the urge he gets to tear his mouth away from yours in favor of scooting his body down to access the hardened nipple. His newly freed hand slides down your searing skin to relieve those rocking hips of yours, your mewling was incessant. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue swirling about your sensitive areola, fingers sliding around your lips to gather your arousal. 

Kakashi draws circles around your clit, his own hips rutting into the sheets beneath him. He can’t help but gently nibble on the hard nipple in his mouth, looking up at you tentatively to watch you writhe in pleasure. His fingers know just how to work you, helplessly wet for him after just the simple touch. The butterflies in your stomach were getting more intense, and you bucked into his hand to signify this need. He chuckles, swapping to your neglected nipple. He was satisfied with the way your other bud shines with his spit, red from his attention. Just to appease you because he is nothing if not a giving lover, he slips two of those long fingers inside your tight hole, eyelids fluttering shut when you clench down around his digits. You make such a pretty noise, the whisper of his name combined with a gorgeous moan, he can’t help but release your chest so he could drink up all your lewd singing. His mouth covers yours needily, his fingers curling inside and making languid strokes at your spot. Your lips vibrate against his, unable to stop moaning and whimpering. It’s a miracle he can go on missions at all, knowing he has to swear off of this for an undetermined amount of time. Though he can’t deny the motivation to get back home as quickly as possible so he can bury his fingers in your silky cunt, swallowing up all your noises while you fuck yourself on him. 

He knows you’re seconds from your release, so he pulls his fingers out and rubs your clit with his soaked digits. Your body feels like it’s on fire, eyes screwed shut as your stomach lurches, the familiar sensation making your legs tremble. His pace on your sensitive bundle slows, his kisses becoming softer as he applies them to your jaw and neck, positioning himself back over you. His aching cock weeped for you, the tip spreading your lips easily. You’re so used to the weight of him sinking into you, but you moan at the stretch every time. He holds your hips for a moment, strokes gentle and slow just so you could get used to the feeling and he could relish your warm walls suffocating him. It was so hard not to come instantly, even as experienced as the two of you were together. The feeling never got old, nor got any easier to resist. He falls forward a little, bracing himself on the headboard. 

“Beautiful girl, you always take it so good..” He muses, sleepy face looking down at you as his pacing gradually increases. You can feel his every ridge and vein, his cock made just for your insides. It makes your eyes roll closed and your mouth fall open, sure you could fall asleep just like this. The only thing keeping you awake is the sound of your own breathy moans and Kakashi’s grunts, plus the subtle noise of his balls slapping up against the globe of your ass. 

“Thank you lover, always give it so good.” You mumble back, purposefully choking down on him. He moans, just as you wanted. You smile in satisfaction, forcing your eyes open to enjoy the view of him pushing his shaggy hair back and moving your leg to wrap around his hip. It deepens his connection to you, letting him slam up against the spot that leaves you breathless. He can feel the resistance against him, groaning determinedly. He had to have you come before him, so he ups the ante with his sweet words being whispered into the early morning air. 

“I love you so much, darling.” He rasps, chest heaving. “I always miss you so horribly on these trips, I work extra hard to get back to you.” He says, his voice light with emotion. His affections combined with his caring assault on your womb makes you come undone again, signified by your broken moan and walls spasming around him. He’s truly grateful, only moments away from his own high. He loved the way you look, mouth open and eyebrows knit in pleasure. Your pretty cheeks get rosier with every thrust after your orgasm, your hands needily reaching out for him. “You’re gonna make me come in you, lover.” He whimpered slightly, waiting for your reply, though he’s been coming in you since your wedding night. 

You nod dumbly, a happy grin displayed on your face. Your hands can only reach his toned stomach, fingers resting in the divots of his abs. You can feel his stomach tighten, his pretty gasp preceding the rush of warmth filling you to the brim. 

The room is just heavy pants and heaving chests, and both of you wonder if the other has fallen asleep like this. Kakashi leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, holding your face in his hands. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up, you know I’ll always take care of you.” He hums, kissing the tip of your nose and then finally, a sweet kiss to your lips.

[thetomorrowshow]

to die in your sleep

hola folks and welcome back to the trust au. I have been grinding on trust au to post while on hiatus soo here u go enjoy (i'd like to apologize for the ending)

cw: violence, torture, blood, brief tooth-related gore

~

"Just tell us where he is," fWhip says, crouching down close to Scott's face.

His mouth tastes like blood. He can't feel his arms. He can't feel his wings. That can't mean anything good.

"Never," Scott manages. Blood drips down his chin.

He's shaking. He can't stop shaking. 

He's going to die here, Scott realizes distantly. He's going to die, in this dark void of nothingness.

fWhip grabs his chin, forces him to look up. Unwillingly, Scott meets his eyes.

"We can keep you alive for as long as we need," fWhip murmurs. "And we can make it hurt. Give up the god."

If Scott had any more strength, he would laugh. "You don't . . . scare me."

fWhip clicks his tongue. "I don't have to scare you," he says simply, dropping Scott's chin and taking a step back. Almost absently, he wipes his hand on his trousers, leaving a smear of blood. "You've got a visitor. Maybe then you'll talk."

Oh no.

The void where they exist grows somehow darker, little specks of color filling it, as a maroon mist fills Scott's sharp vision—

And then he wakes up with a hoarse gasp, and immediately buries his face into Jimmy's chest.

Jimmy shifts, just slightly, to put an arm around Scott. "Hey," he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. "Nightmare?"

Scott doesn't answer. He still feels half in that dream state, like at any moment he could be pulled back under and into whatever that was.

His wings twinge, spasm, as he can suddenly feel them—filled with pins and needles. He must've laid on them in his sleep.

"Mmf," Scott grunts into Jimmy's nightshirt. He stretches his wings out as far as he can bear, grimaces when they snap back into place, muscles too tight.

He tenses when he feels hands in his wings, but forces himself to relax. It's just Jimmy. Jimmy can touch his wings.

And he slowly relaxes more as Jimmy gently rubs his wings, massaging out the knots and tense places.

It feels so terribly nice. Scott just lets himself melt into the touch, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. His thoughts slow to molasses, lazily dripping from one side of his mind to the other.

"Is this good?" Jimmy whispers in the silence of the room. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Mhm." Scott really doesn't want to move off of Jimmy. He's comfortable.

And safe, for now.

The warmth and peacefulness that he'd been sinking into vanish, swallowed up in the sickening recollection of his dream.

He sighs, blinking his eyes back open so he can at least see Jimmy's arm. They never leave their rooms dark, a lantern left casting a low glow across the room, illuminating enough of his partner that Scott knows he isn't alone.

That hadn't been the usual nightmare. Usually, it's some twisted replay of his six days in captivity, or not being able to catch Jimmy in time and watching him disintegrate in the Void.

And while it was to an extent similar to the first brand, it had been so . . . vivid. His dreams tend to be blurry, confusing, cut through with terror that accentuates the shadowy shapes.

He'd seen fWhip so clearly. He'd almost seen Xornoth, uncommon for his dreams.

Usually, Scott would write it off as a one-off, strange but something that just happens sometimes.

But the dream feels familiar. So very, very familiar.

He thinks he dreamed something similar last night, but it's just out of the grasp of his conscious mind.

"You gonna go back to sleep?" whispers Jimmy, pulling him from his thoughts. "You've probably got another hour or two before sunrise."

Scott sighs. He's pretty much fully awake at this point, and there's always work to be done no matter what time of day or night it is.

They're headed into a full-blown war, after all. Skirmishes have already begun to break out along the borders. The real fight could start any day now. There's always someone awake in the war room, drafting new back-up plans for their back-up plans, or writing up training evaluations and strategies for the layman army.

So Scott could definitely get up out of his warm bed into the frigid night air of Rivendell, change into something proper, and head down there to stare at numbers of resources for the next several hours until breakfast.

Or he could stay here with his lover under the blankets for the rest of the time he's allotted himself to sleep, and either fall back asleep or have some much-needed recuperation time before heading to the war room with renewed vigor.

If Scott was any sort of king, he'd pick the first. His people come before his personal interest, which is precisely the reason why he and Jimmy are kind of no longer betrothed (a complicated situation in which they technically might still be betrothed, depending on whether or not the court deems the war enough of a state of emergency to eschew tradition). He needs to spend every moment possible doing what he can to protect the citizens under his care.

But Scott's never professed to be a particularly good king.

"Just want to stay here with you," he says quietly.

Jimmy chuckles, his hands going still in Scott's feathers.

"If your people knew we sleep in the same bed, they'd have a fit," he says absently.

Scott snorts. "Oh, the people absolutely know," he tells Jimmy. "It's the councils that we have to keep from knowing."

"How in the world would the people know anything?"

"The servant that does our laundry has got to notice that your blankets are never rearranged and my bed has two dips in it," Scott points out. "The one who cleans the room probably has seen that, more often than not, your clothing manages to find itself in my closet. Various messengers have absolutely guessed that you've just sprinted into the other room when they knock. And remember that time a cooking apprentice was bringing us a late dinner, and you were fast asleep on the bed while I worked?"

". . . What happens if they all know?"

"Usually, nothing," says Scott. "It would be bad if one of my advisors walked in on us sharing a bed. Until then, they'll just turn a deaf ear and act as if they haven't heard the gossip."

"Encouraging," Jimmy mutters.

A shiver runs down Scott's spine as Jimmy presses a soft kiss into his hair.

They've moved fast, for elves. Sure, they've technically already been betrothed, but it's not even been a month since the actual love confessions occurred. If it were any other situation, Scott likely would have chickened out by now, tried to shut Jimmy out of his life as a way of protecting himself.

But it's wartimes. It's wartimes, and Scott needs someone to lean on, someone who loves him too.

And, as his advisors keep reminding him, in the case of his untimely death, he needs someone to run the empire until an heir can be selected. Jimmy, at the moment, is that person.

Which is kind of awkward, seeing as Jimmy has a kingdom of his own. And Scott knows for a fact that he's third in line (after Lizzie) for the Cod Empire. That's the issue when royalty only engages with royalty—there aren't a lot of people with the right to rule.

Maybe Scott ought to look into adoption. He's probably never going to have a kid of his own. If he adopts two or three children, there'll be enough to get spread around to various parts of the empire, enough of a temporary back-up that if all the rulers die, there'll be someone to cover the necessary bases.

Of course, there is the fact that Scott doesn't really want to adopt a kid. And the fact that their claim to the throne might be disputed anyway, due to not having royal blood.

For being at the center of them, Scott hates politics.

For now he won't worry about it. If one of his advisors brings it up, then he can figure something out. At this point, as long as Xornoth or any of his minions don't get control of Rivendell, Scott doesn't care all that much about what happens.

He'd sacrifice any amount of history and tradition to save his people from a terrible fate, including the royal line.

Which is a sentiment he'd better not let any of his council members hear, because then Rivendell very well may become leaderless without the help of Xornoth.

Jimmy's hands start moving again, shifting to lay in between his wings, rubbing the muscles in his back there.

Scott melts a little further against Jimmy. That feels heavenly. It's the perfect amount of pressure to force him to relax, but not so much that he feels overwhelmed.

Elves aren't a people of touch. Scott probably hasn't been casually touched in years, if not decades, and he's slowly been building up a tolerance to it, because Jimmy is a very touchy person.

Now that they're 'official', Scott supposes, Jimmy hates being apart, clinging to him whenever they happen to be in the same room. Even in broad daylight, in front of people, Jimmy's arms always find their way around Scott's waist, or his head to his shoulder, or his fingers to intertwine with Scott's.

Jimmy seems especially inclined to give backrubs, whenever he sees Scott's shoulders tense. Scott, as good as they feel, flat-out refuses to allow this in public. He can't relax when there are people watching, and while he can still at least pretend to be regal with Jimmy clinging to him, he can't when Jimmy's massaging his shoulders.

It's okay here, though. In the quiet darkness of their—of Scott's room. Where if Scott gets overwhelmed, he can take time to recover without having to embarrass himself.

"How about you go back to sleep," Jimmy murmurs.

Scott feels that instinctive leap of fear at the suggestion, quickly quashed. It's been months since he was held captive. He doesn't need to be afraid of sleep anymore.

And he isn't. He truly thinks that he would be able to sleep alone.

And yet, despite the war beginning and both their kingdoms desperately needing them, Scott and Jimmy share a bed every night.

They trade off every couple of days—Scott gets any urgent work done here while Jimmy does remote work, then Scott packs up whatever papers he can take with him and spends several days in the Cod Empire. They always say something about maintaining the alliance by showing the trust that they have for the other empire, but in reality they just miss each other (and even if he can, Scott still doesn't like to sleep without Jimmy there).

That all changes today.

"When are you leaving?" Scott mumbles.

"After breakfast. Sure you can't come?"

That's the problem. Scott would absolutely love to fly out to the Cod Empire after breakfast, but today he's supposed to start a tour of the empire, of sorts. He and his party will be traveling as far as they can go in the morning, from the largest cities to the smallest hamlet, just to show support for the soldiers and to garner support in return. After all, a king who will stay in the house of the poorest farmer is one who the farmers will follow.

He sighs. "I can't. I'll message you, of course."

Jimmy hums, a somewhat disgruntled sound. "Well. If you can't sleep, I'll be there in an instant, okay? Or if you want anything. Let me know."

Scott knows he isn't going to do that. Not unless he gets out-of-control sleep-deprived. He isn't going to drag Jimmy away from his important work for any childish fear.

He nods, though. Better to reassure Jimmy now rather than argue about it.

Scott closes his eyes. He could sleep, probably. It's still peaceful in this early morning darkness, the calm before the storm.

Not if Jimmy doesn't fall back asleep, though. If Jimmy's going to stay up, then he is too. He wants all the time possible with his lover.

"Are you staying awake right now?" he asks, trying not to sound too bleary.

Jimmy's chest shifts against his cheek as he shrugs. "Probably not. I wasn't really asleep earlier, just dozing. I might doze a bit more if you sleep."

Scott frowns. "Why weren't you asleep?"

Again, Jimmy shrugs. "I . . . kinda get stuck in the dozing phase lately?" he says. "I'm fine, I just drift. And it's not every night, so I'm getting some rest and all."

"How long has that been going on?"

"I dunno, a couple of weeks?"

So, since the fall. Scott doesn't like that.

His own symptoms have been improving—he only gets the occasional dizzy spell, and the scabs on his knuckles have become red marks. Jimmy's are healing slower, though, bumpy scars where his scales had been and enough dizziness that Scott catches him leaning against him or the wall once or twice a day. "You should report it as a symptom. It's not for any mental or emotional reason, is it?"

"I don't think so?" Jimmy says. "I just kind of . . . drift. I feel like there's something I'm trying to reach, but I can't get it while I'm awake or asleep, you know? Something missing. Does that make sense?"

It doesn't, really, but Scott nods. Weird sleep is weird sleep, and Scott knows that it can affect someone in a weirdly specific way so much that they need a weirdly specific solution. And sometimes that weirdly specific solution leads to getting engaged to your crush.

Honestly, if it weren't for all the Xornoth-fWhip-war stuff, Scott would kind of be living his best life.

Knock-knock-knock.

Scott groans.

So his time with Jimmy is going to be interrupted, is it?

He reluctantly shifts off of his partner, allowing Jimmy to slip out of bed and tiptoe across the room, through the open door and into their connected sitting room. Scott waits an extra couple of seconds, giving Jimmy time to get into his own bedroom. Then he gets up, reluctantly relinquishing his warm blankets, and crosses the freezing wooden floor of his room.

Scott pulls open the door right before the servant knocks again, cir hand raised and ready.

"Oh! Milord," ce says, taking a hurried step back. "General Maldrion has requested your presence. Would you like me to tell xem you are on your way?"

Scott barely holds himself back from rubbing his forehead. What on earth could be so urgent that the general needs him at whatever time in the morning it is?

"Yes, I'll be with xem as soon as I can," Scott tells cir. "Thank you for letting me know."

Ce bows, and Scott absolutely catches cir eyes looking around him, stealing a glance of the room behind.

Scott rolls his eyes before shutting the door. They're not going to be that careless.

"I have to head down to the war room," he tells Jimmy when the man pokes his head back into the room. "Feel like coming with?"

"May as well," Jimmy says, moving past Scott to the closet. "I love learning about your top secret war plans."

"It's likely another border disturbance," Scott waves. "You can just sit there and look pretty."

"Sit there and sleep, more likely," says Jimmy, pulling one of Scott's tunics over his head.

Scott sighs and pulls it right back off of him. "You can't wear my clothing to a meeting with members of my inner circle," he says firmly when Jimmy gives him a confused look. "Go put your own clothes on."

-

Scott's right about the meeting, and there's nothing he can really do but agree with the general's recommendations to strengthen the border patrol. Then he has to see Jimmy off, escorting him down to the pier. Jimmy would normally just strap on his elytra and fly out, but with the tightened security of the current times, he's got to be accompanied by a couple of guards, and since only the royals have elytra, they have to take the day's trip back overseas. At some point, Scott assumes that dolphins from the Ocean Kingdom will join them to speed up the journey.

Jimmy leaves reluctantly, giving Scott a chaste kiss (Scott's knees feel a little shaky despite the closed lips) before heading out with a wave.

And then Scott barely has any time to finish packing before he has to head out as well, his clothes bundled up into two cases and thrown onto the wagon.

His escort is made up of six soldiers (he'd managed to argue it down from twelve, as long as he accepts local guard details in each place he stops), two servants, and far too many beasts of burden. The trip is going to be an estimated maximum of three weeks, from what he recalls, and while he understands logically that they need enough food for nine people to last a week at a time (with money allotted for restocking), it still feels to him like three wagons is excessive, plus a fourth for clothing.

But Scott's been traveling as a royal for his entire life, and he knows it isn't worth it to try to pare down their supplies any more. It's good to be prepared, after all.

They set out at noon, Scott riding a stag, the other elves surrounding him on horseback. He imagines they cut a rather imposing group, hopefully enough to dissuade any attackers. He feels a bit like a sore thumb, though, their little party trundling slowly down the mountain, vulnerable to attack. It's a demon after them, unbound by laws and capable of wearing away at their magically-reinforced borders. Maybe he ought to have accepted the twelve guards.

It's not like Scott can go back now, so he scratches around Loth's antlers when he gets anxious, and just hopes that his guards have some sort of idea of what they're doing.

When Scott was very young, the few times he'd been on a road trip he had absolutely loved it. His wings hadn't fully finished growing until he was close to fifty, so although his father took care of most royal trips by flying there alone, occasionally the whim to bring his firstborn along would strike and they would journey there together, in a guard such as this. He'd coveted the time with his distant father, and the rare treks across the country became one of his favorite activities. There had been an older guard that would talk to him, who would point out various plants and explain their properties, likely more to keep him occupied than out of any fondness.

Now, like so long ago, as they spend hours on the road, Scott finds himself examining the plant growth, naming them in his head, seeing the occasional landmark that he remembers from his younger years. It helps pass the hours, helps keep his mind off the danger and off of Jimmy.

Although, thinking about Jimmy is a fairly good distraction as well. At some points, when his mind wanders, he finds himself grinning stupidly as he replays conversations with his lover.

That first day, they stop to rest at a small town called Gladieron at the base of the mountain where the City of Rivendell is built, after six or seven hours of riding, and Scott is thoroughly exhausted. He hasn't ridden anywhere in quite a while, and his whole spine feels jolted all the way up. He just wants to lie down and stretch and sleep for two days straight.

The people of Gladieron welcome them with open arms, and Scott doesn't have to do much but hold polite conversation with the mayor over dinner before being led to a room in the mayor's house and being able to sink into an old, creaky mattress.

Despite being alone, no Jimmy there to ensure his safety, Scott's tired enough from the travels of the day that he falls asleep instantly.

-

He's again at fWhip's mercy, the man tossing aside a whip that shines with red.

Scott shivers, the cool air of the darkness against his open wounds biting.

"I told you we could make it hurt," fWhip says, slightly out of breath. "That was just a taste. Want more of it?"

Scott can't help it; he shakes his head. His entire body stings inside and out, and he vaguely wonders what kind of enchantment the whip must have had to affect him in such a way.

"Of course you don't! So all you have to tell me is this: where is the god?"

He can't give that up. He can't. No matter how badly it hurts.

Scott bites his lip, winces when he finds it already bitten through. That's right. He was trying not to scream, and it had been the only way to keep his mouth closed.

fWhip lets out a disappointed sigh. He crouches down in front of Scott, places a soft and patronizing hand on his shoulder.

Scott can vividly see every line of color in his irises, every blemish on his nose, every hair in the stubble on his cheeks. Whatever these words are, they're important.

And then Scott jolts awake in bed, a rooster crowing somewhere outside.

For a moment, lying there on his stomach in the darkness, Scott can still feel the tearing pain of a whip on his back. It's a clear feeling, a memory acrid in the back of his mouth. The first and only time he'd been whipped had been months ago in Sausage's dungeon, alone and sleep-deprived and barely conscious of his feathers being torn from his wings, yet he feels it as if it had been yesterday.

That was bad. That was terrifying.

fWhip had whipped him bloody and Scott hadn't been able to do anything about it, every ounce of pain sharply present in his sleeping mind.

He's breathing too fast, Scott realizes, when the cold air scrapes down his throat. He swallows, pulls the surprisingly soft blanket around himself.

He misses Jimmy. Usually, he can find instant peace after a nightmare by just rolling over, his lover there beside him with open arms.

And it had been another strange nightmare. One that felt far too real for having never happened.

It wasn't real, was it? There's no way it was real. fWhip isn't actually here to torture him.

Scott, daringly, glances around the room quickly before squeezing his eyes shut again. He isn't afraid. It's not like fWhip's going to be creeping out from under his bed.

Scott steals another glance at the floor beside him just to make sure.

Something was wrong with that dream. Something was off, wasn't it?

There's just no way. He doesn't just have nightmares like that, especially one so similar to the one of the night before.

Scott doesn't know how to explain it, but that wasn't normal. He doesn't have to be a genius to know that repeated vivid dreams of being tortured aren't normal.

What is he supposed to do?

What can he even do?

In all honesty, Scott can do nothing except hope that they pass, he supposes. And hope that he can sleep through them. It would be just like him to retraumatize himself right after he finally is able to sleep by himself.

He doesn't go back to sleep now, even though he probably has the time. Scott stays there, under the covers, until the room begins to properly lighten.

Then he gets up, dresses in something a little fancier than his travel clothes (he's here for another day to conduct military inspections), and dabs a bit of foundation under his eyes in the small mirror.

Time to be a king, he supposes, and he does his best to leave the fear and nightmares behind him.

-

Finally, he lets out a short scream.

"There we are," Sausage encourages. He pets Scott's hair in an almost fond way. "Knew you could do it!"

Now that the dam's broken, Scott can't hold back a whimper, distorted by the way his mouth is being held open by one of Sausage's metal instruments.

Sausage holds up his pliers, a bloody tooth clenched in them. "For every minute you don't talk, I take another tooth! Sound fair?"

He waits for an answer that Scott can't give before laughing to himself.

"Just scream if you want to talk, okay? Then you tell us where the god is, and everything will stop."

Then the pliers are in his mouth again, and Scott's hyperventilating, he's choking on his own spit, it hurts it hurts it hurts—

The tooth is pulled free with a crescendo of pain, and again Scott screams, and Sausage pauses with a question in his eyes before shrugging.

"That probably wasn't a signal to stop, huh," he says cheerfully, before going in again.

And again, Scott wakes up, heart pounding and jaw aching.

He's going to throw up. All over the forest floor beside him. And that'll bring running the guard on watch, and then Scott will have to be all embarrassed about everything.

He's not going to throw up, then. That would be awful.

But the feeling of losing his molars is so vividly painful and nauseating. He can still taste the blood pooling in the back of his mouth, and he has to poke around with his tongue to make sure that all his teeth are there.

That was a bad one.

Scott's been on the road for a week, and every night he's exhausted enough that he falls asleep almost as soon as he lays down. And every night, he has dreams of the same theme. He would message Jimmy if he thought it was anything he could help with, but Scott had been having these nightmares before Jimmy had even left. There's nothing anyone can do.

And Scott has a feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he can figure out why he's having them, he'll be able to stop them.

In every dream, he's in the Void—he'd figured that out after the fifth one. The swallowing blackness with tiny specks of floating color ought to have helped him catch on earlier, but it had usually escaped his notice what with the torture and everything.

Whoever it is tormenting him—either fWhip, Sausage, or Joey, with sometimes a guest appearance from Xornoth right before he wakes—is always asking for the same thing.

"Where's the god?" Joey asks petulantly.

"C'mon, Scott, you know you want to tell us where the god is!" Sausage says.

"Just tell us where the god is," fWhip says lowly, dangerously. "Then we can stop."

And suddenly, right there wrapped in his bedroll, a realization hits him.

These aren't just dreams. This is magic.

They're too clear. He sees everything as if it's actually happening, he feels every moment of pain.

Xornoth wants something from him.

Xornoth wants to know where Aeor is.

Which is all well and good, but how on earth does he expect Scott to know?

Scott has, technically, communed with Aeor. Not much—just enough to ask for (and receive) a strengthening of the empire's crops, and to receive His crown of legend.

And, yeah. Scott can see how someone might interpret that as being highly favored of the god. And he is favored, but not enough to know where Aeor is, or engage with Him face to face. That would require more strength or faith than Scott has. He doesn't have any need for that, either. It's not like he's Aeor's champion, after all.

Unless. . . .

Wait a second.

Scott has received the crown of legend, the first ruler of Rivendell to be gifted as such. In fact, he doesn't think any other ruler short of Alinar has been quite so favored. 

Xornoth is clearly Exor's champion; the fight in the End and the release of Xornoth's power through the death of the dragon had proven that. If Exor's champion is here right now, then Aeor's champion is sure to either already be here or is about to appear.

And Scott, lucky him, is the only current direct descendant of the royal line—and, as already mentioned, highly favored unto Aeor.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Scott is Aeor's champion.

He sits up abruptly, kicking away the blankets that are tangled around his legs. No. No, he isn't—he isn't worthy of this, he isn't ready for this, he can't have that kind of power—

"Milord?"

Scott starts, whips around. One of the guards is standing there, her bow held loosely at her side. She nods sharply when his eyes meet hers.

"Is everything all right?" she asks. "Do you require my assistance with anything?"

Scott stares at her for a long moment before his brain processes exactly what she had asked.

"Um, thank you, Calidil, no," he says, rubbing a hand down his cheek. His jaw still hurts. He hates when nightmares linger, leaving physical sensations. He can only hope Calidil doesn't notice the way he gingerly holds his mouth, nor the way his wings twitch anxiously behind him.

His father had told him time and time again that the natural respondency of wings were a royal's greatest foil, and he ought to get in the habit of ensuring that his never gave away his thoughts or feelings.

Unfortunately, while he once was quite good at that, in recent months he's found his skill at controlling his wings to be lacking.

"Does your sleep disturb you, sire?" she asks, a frown crossing her face. "Not that it is my place, but I have noticed that you sleep restlessly and wake early. Might I suggest a tea that my mother used to make, an infusion of woodlace bark and calming plants?"

Scott is shaking his head almost before she finishes speaking. He still doesn't do well with food and drink prepared by others, especially if, in instances such as this, he isn't familiar with how the ingredients will affect him. "Thank you, but I will be all right," he tells her. Then, to change the subject (and distract himself, he can't be Aeor's champion that's too much), "Do you happen to know when we plan to continue?"

-

Four days later, after Scott wakes up crying from the pain of needles being slowly pushed under his fingernails, he takes Calidil up on her offer of tea.

He hadn't wanted to, but it's gotten to the point where he can't think about sleeping without panicking, can't get in bed without his heart leaping into his throat. He can't bother Jimmy about it, and he definitely needs rest for this journey, so the next best option is to force himself to sleep.

He watches her prepare the concoction that she calls tea, asks about the properties of every ingredient, then drinks it slowly and reluctantly before bed, stomach already jumping and throat barely able to choke it down. It doesn't really taste all that good, either, kind of flowery and too-sweet with a bitter aftertaste. He forces it down still, then changes into sleep clothes.

His bed for tonight is on the floor of the main room of a farmhouse (the elderly couple running the farm had tried to make him take the bed, but he'd refused), and he tries to get comfortable while waiting for it to kick—

Whoa.

He feels . . . so sleepy.

He just wants to close his eyes.

He doesn't like the feeling, Scott decides blearily. It feels too much like being drugged. Too much like leaving himself open for attacks.

But he doesn't get to think about it any more than that, because only moments later, he's opening his eyes in the Void.

His body is trembling. His knees smart from supporting him on whatever hard, invisible surface he kneels on. His wings are bound together painfully.

And Scott, for the first time, is aware that he's dreaming while he's dreaming.

And just a moment later he's screaming, his side exploding into searing pain.

It takes him a moment to register fWhip stepping in front of him, one hand twirling a—a red-hot branding iron, in the shape of the Grimlands' signet.

Belatedly, Scott smells something like cooking meat.

If this wasn't a dream, he might throw up.

But it is a dream, he reminds himself firmly. Does dream logic still apply?

His thoughts are cut off by a gloved hand gripping his hair and forcing his sagging body to straighten up. Scott cries out, briefly, before biting his tongue.

"The god, Smajor," fWhip says, and he sounds annoyed. "Tell us, and it'll stop. All we want is the god."

Dear Aeor, they're persistent. No wonder fWhip is annoyed, if they've been giving Scott the same brand of nightmare for days, just waiting for his subconscious mind to give up this information—information that, mind you, he doesn't have.

They want Aeor. How is Scott supposed to know where a literal god is? Especially one he's never seen, or technically even spoken to.

In an unexpected move, fWhip jabs the iron hard into Scott's stomach.

Scott gasps, the breath punched out of him, then holds back a scream as fWhip holds it there. He can hear his own flesh sizzling, can feel the awful, sickening pain that pulses out from his stomach—he tries, he tries to get away from it by instinct more than anything, but as far back as his back can bow fWhip can reach farther.

He's actually shaking with the effort of not screaming, involuntary little whimpers escaping his throat, and finally fWhip sighs and slowly pulls it away, taking some of Scott's skin with it, he's sure.

Scott's body holds its position for a moment more, then sags in relief, twitching against his will with every wave of pain that hits.

He can't do this. He's going to die if he doesn't give up the information.

It's just a dream, he reminds himself. It's just a dream. He can just—he can just wake up, right?

How does he normally wake up?

He doesn't think he's ever lucid-dreamed before, he doesn't know how to force himself out of the dream, he's hyperventilating and his mind is full of so much pain—

"Scott."

He looks up; fWhip is still standing before him, arms crossed.

"Remember how bad it was?" fWhip asks, one eyebrow raised, seemingly unimpressed. "When we had you for six days? Remember how much it hurt, how much it still hurts? That's never going to end, Scott."

He's right. It's always going to be so difficult to sleep without Jimmy, he's always going to have scars, the memories will always be raw and painful and jarring.

fWhip crouches down in front of him, the leather of his boots squeaking. Idly, he twirls the metal rod around in his hands.

"And you know what we're gonna do to that god?" he says softly, staring directly into Scott's eyes. "We're gonna make it even worse for him. The god will feel more pain than you can imagine."

Can gods feel pain? fWhip seems pretty confident about it.

"But he's a pretty slippery one. So if you tell us, right now, how to get to him, we'll make everything quick and painless for him and leave you alone as much as possible," fWhip promises. "So we're gonna give you two more times to try and answer, all right?"

He's stuck. Wake up, he silently shouts. Wake up wake up wake up!

But he remains stubbornly there, fWhip staring at him.

They want—they want Aeor. He doesn't know where Aeor is. They want him to tell them, somehow, where Aeor is.

Scott lets his eyes fall from fWhip's, down to the Void below.

It looks just like the Void had, those weeks ago when he chose to risk everything for Jimmy. It had hardly been a choice, really. Jimmy is his everything.

It had been terrifying to fall. To tuck his wings close to his body and dive, praying with every fiber of his being that he would reach Jimmy before he lost him forever.

And almost as if it's that easy, Scott careens forward and is falling again, just like he had back then, but his wings are bound to his back and his body is spasming in pain and he can't save himself—

There's something white twinkling below, growing larger and larger and—

Scott's sitting on the back of a sparkling white stag, the breath knocked out of him with the sudden landing.

The stag's head turns to look at him, blinking slowly. There's something wise in its eyes, something older than Scott has ever seen.

Well. He's found Aeor.

Scott slumps against the neck of the stag, utterly spent.

It's just a dream, and yet Scott doesn't think he could move a muscle with the pain that courses through him. His fingers (hadn't his hands been bound above his head?) grip loosely at the stag's silky hair as the beast begins to walk, slowly and gracefully as a wooded area slowly comes into view around them.

There's a bird singing somewhere, and Scott sees, sometimes, face turned outward with his cheek pressed against the stag, a deer poking curiously through the brush or a rabbit hopping through the long, dewy grass.

This would be nice if he didn't hurt so bad.

The stag doesn't speak (it is a stag, after all—but Scott kind of expects it to open its mouth and start spewing godly wisdom anyways), just carries him through the forest, hooves making light crunching sounds against the forest floor.

And then a new sound hits his ears—the sound of water.

The trees grow more sparse, the brush grows taller, thick with vines, and a bullfrog is making its loud, croaky call somewhere in the distance. The ground becomes softer, more marshy, until it begins to give way to pools of water. Then the stag stops. It huffs, paws at the ground.

Scott needs to look, doesn't he? He needs to lift his heavy head and see for what reason it is that the stag has stopped.

But he's so tired. He doesn't want to raise his head, pounding as it is. He wants to go to sleep. He wants to close his eyes and drift off, let his pain be swallowed up by the darkness.

An odd thought for a dreamer.

Is this even a dream anymore?

Without warning, Scott's stomach drops as he starts sliding forward.

The stag has bent its neck down, lower and lower, and Scott's weak fingers can't hold on tight enough to do anything but slide, right off the stag's neck between the antlers and gently, gracefully, into water.

Scott sinks into it, clouds of red billowing around him and bubbles streaming from his mouth in the clear water as he falls deeper, until his toes hit silty mud beneath him. It isn't too deep—he's sure that if he just pushed up a bit, his head would break the surface—but he doesn't fight it. He just rests there, under the water, and sighs.

It's cool, and fresh, and every little ebb of a current relaxes his muscles further and brings relief to his multitude of pains. His wings come loose, bonds floating away, and instead of being full of waterlogged, heavy feathers, they feel weightless.

Scott blinks down at himself, and feels nothing more than slight shock as the blistering burns on his body slowly fade away, angry red bubbles softening into unblemished skin.

That's quite nice. He wishes that would happen while awake, too.

A fish—a cod, it looks like—swims up to him, noses at his arms.

It's as if Jimmy is sending a little friend to check up on him in his sleep. That's nice.

Then the cod pokes, urgently, in the middle of his chest.

And Scott wakes up.

His eyes open slowly, reluctantly, as if the water is still dragging him down, pulling on his very bones to try and keep him under the spell of sleep.

Every part of his body feels heavy. His eyelids feel heavy. Every movement is an effort.

He's never taking a sleeping draught again.

Light filters in through the uncovered windows, leaving patches of gold on the rough wooden floor. Scott forces himself to push up into a kneel, relinquishing his nest of blankets on the floor, his back popping and wings shuddering.

That was . . . that was an experience.

He doesn't even know what part of the dream to think about. The healing pool of water in the swampy area, the shining stag, falling through the Void, fWhip burning him—

Scott tugs up his nightshirt, fingers clumsy and sleepy. No brand on his stomach—he twists around—no brand on his side. Not that he's ever woken up with any marks from a nightmare, but this one had felt so real. He'd been so conscious of everything that happened, conscious enough to think about the implications of the dream while it was happening.

Xornoth is looking for Aeor. fWhip told Scott that he would have two more tries to give up Aeor's location, or else they would subject the god to even worse torture than what Scott's gone through.

Two more tries. Two more nights of torment, and then they stop playing games.

The war is about to begin, isn't it?

Now this puts Scott up to a test of his leadership: does he continue on with the tour, spend the last week or so traveling until they circle back around to the City of Rivendell?

Or does he call for an emergency return, go back to the palace now in case of the beginning of the war?

Nobody will blame him if he sticks to the original plan. There's no way for him to know, logically, that the real fight is about to begin.

And if he returns now to prep for an emergency and nothing happens then he'll look like a fool, a scared king who can barely stand to be away from his safe castle walls for more than a week.

But can he continue on in this way, when he knows he ought to be at home, gathering the armies?

He has his communicator. It's not like he's totally cut off from everyone while out here—in fact, whenever he can get a connection, he messages his advisors and asks for updates.

And this is still important work, after all. It needs done just as desperately as anything else.

For the empire, and for his allies, it would be best to finish the journey, Scott decides. It was planned as a show of support for the country, and it wouldn't do to flee before the farther reaches of the country have been visited. They're expecting a good portion of their army to come from one of the cities near the border, which is where they'll be stopping next. To have such a place feel snubbed by their own king could very well be disastrous.

So on this day, Scott ignores the looming sense of doom and prepares for travel.

Such is the life of a king.

-

That night, Joey slams Scott's head against the invisible floor and kicks his teeth in.

The night after that, Sausage pulls his primary feathers out one by one.

And on the third night, fWhip is there again, arms crossed.

"Well, Scott, you had your chances," he says lightly. "But because I'm a nice guy, I'll give you one more. Where is the god?"

And, just like every night before, Scott can't give that up. Even if he knew the answer, he wouldn't.

He shakes his head, sending his blood-soaked hair flopping into his eyes.

He doesn't even know what injuries he has tonight. A cut on his head, at least, judging by the heat pulsing out from his temple. He's shirtless tonight, more drops of blood rolling down his bruised and battered chest.

fWhip clicks his tongue. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," he says. "Impressed, but not surprised. I gotta respect you, Scott. You're a strong guy."

Scott's laugh turns into a cough when he feels a sharp pain in his side. Broken rib, feels like. "I'm not strong," he manages eventually, voice a dull rasp. "Just . . . stupid."

fWhip laughs. "You're right," he says, almost fondly. "I don't know any other idiot who would go through all this to protect one person. Well," he adds, "I know one other idiot, I guess."

fWhip checks his watch. "You know what? It's about time to go track down a god," he says, giving Scott a cheeky wave. "Hope you don't mind. I'll be honest, I really won't miss our little nightly reunions—as fun as it is to make you scream, it's kind of exhausting being here every night."

"Tell me about it," Scott whispers.

And then he's awake.

That one hadn't been so bad, all things considered—but Scott's heart is still pounding like he just ran a mile. He hates those dreams, hates being stuck in whatever invisible chains they have, forced to feel pain at their will.

They're humiliating, too. A replay of all he'd gone through at the hands of those three just months ago, all packaged up into perfect bite-sized sessions. Scott just knows he looks paler than ever as the mortification washes over him anew. He's been screaming in the hands of his tormentors every night—he isn't a king, he isn't anything to them, just something to torture.

His mind feels pushed to its last fraying wire. Every day has been full of traveling or speeches or military inspections, and every night filled with torture and threats. He can't do it anymore. He just can't do it.

If his predictions are correct, then he won't have another one of those dreams. Not in the foreseeable future, at least.

But if he's wrong . . . it may be better to simply never sleep again.

Scott groans, pushing his fingers into his eyes. He really doesn't want to go through the whole not-sleeping thing again. It took weeks to get to a point where he could even think about sleeping without Jimmy there. He wants to actually get rest at some point in his life.

Maybe Jimmy can help him with these nightmares, too.

Or maybe Scott just really misses Jimmy. Maybe he just wants to spend time with his lover, and his idea that Jimmy might help with these nightmares is wishful thinking inspired by a lovesick heart.

He does miss Jimmy. He hadn't thought, just a year ago, that he would ever be so attached to any one person. He had friends—Gem and Katherine, certainly, were friends, right? Maybe more like allies—but no one close to him. Especially not Jimmy.

He'd hated Jimmy. He'd teased him and pushed his buttons and laughed when fWhip and Sausage and Joey would 'joke' about beating him up.

And now, he intends to marry the man. Now, he has friends like Lizzie and Joel, who joke with him, and sit around in pajamas in Jimmy's living room and gossip, and message him to check up on him and are always happy to see him.

And right now, they all might be marching out to fight the first battle.

Scott wants Jimmy here, right now, in front of him. He needs to know he's safe.

They're leaving the city of Milerienira later today to begin the journey back to the City of Rivendell, with plans to stop at five more towns for the night on the way. So about a week before they return?

A lot of things could happen in a week. His communicator likely won't have service for most, if not all of the rest of the journey.

Scott leans out of bed to his satchel on the floor, pulls out his communicator. He can just message Jimmy right now and warn him that he thinks something bad will happen.

The last message in their messaging history is from Jimmy, a quick miss you that he'd sent two days prior. Scott can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his face as he looks at it.

But he has something important to say, so he thinks for a moment before typing up a message. He stops halfway through explaining that he thinks the war is about to start and erases it. He doesn't want to seem paranoid. He considers the screen for a few more minutes before finally typing up a shorter, more vague message.

I have a bad feeling. Stay safe.

He copies the message and sends it to Lizzie, trusting that she'll pass it on to all their allies.

Then he pulls up the direct message to his main council.

He needs to sound more divine-kingly than 'I have a bad feeling', especially as he may or may not be Aeor's Champion (a revelation he's been firmly ignoring all journey).

I fear that darkness approaches, he writes. Is the empire prepared to defend herself?

A little pretentious, but just the kind of thing his advisors expect of him.

And though it's not even anywhere near time to rise, Scott gets up and changes out his night clothes for white leggings and a long, embroidered blue tunic, belted at his waist, slipping on his travel boots last of all.

Then he goes out among the few early-waking people, talking with those he serves, and ignores the way his communicator seems to burn in his pocket.

-

No news reaches him through the rest of the journey, and the nightmares cease. Scott's so exhausted from the daily journeying and lack of good rest for weeks that he doesn't even have the energy to freak out about sleeping, and he's also tired enough that he doesn't even dream.

He tries to put his friends out of his mind. Even if the war has begun, it could take any number of days for it to get bad—and maybe it's a terrible thought, but the emperors aren't likely to get hurt. For the most part, they won't be allowed to be out in the midst of the fighting. They'll be fine.

Jimmy will be fine.

He finishes the tour with a town near the base of the mountain on the other side from where they'd come out, and then they start the two-day trek back up to the capital.

Their spirits are high, surprisingly—perhaps they had noticed Scott's anxiety, but one of the guards starts up an old drinking song and everybody joins in, and when that one ends they pick up another, and so on and so forth. When they can't remember any more tunes, Eitvi—a guard with a renowned talent for storytelling, one of the servants whispers to Scott—picks up a story that goes on for more than an hour. Trading of stories follows amongst the troupe, and though Scott doesn't give one himself, he's content enough to listen, fingers gently combing any knots out of Loth's hair.

The second day begins with stories that transition into an encore round of songs, all the way up until they reach the City of Rivendell, when they fall silent one by one, a clear longing for home in the lines of their faces.

Scott waves to his people, gathered in the cobbled streets, as he rides by, up the winding paths to his palace. He's exhausted, he's worn this tunic three times since it was last washed, and he hasn't bathed in two days, but he does his best to hold his head high and smile like a king successful.

Until he reaches the palace.

One of his younger council members is waiting at the stables, almost appearing out of breath. Strange, but Scott gives them a nod as he dismounts, holding back a groan at the feeling of solid ground again.

It isn't customary for council members to meet him outside the palace after a trip. He's meant to have at least a moment to freshen up in his rooms before being pulled away into a meeting, and in times before the upcoming war, he was usually given a day to rest without interruption.

This

"Galidre," he greets, passing off Loth to a stablehand and hobbling out of the dark stables to stand beside his advisor, legs reluctant to straighten after so long riding. "What news?"

"Did the messenger reach you?"

That's never good.

"No, we didn't see a messenger," Scott replies. Galidre looks back and forth, something close to grief on their face.

Scott's stomach clenches. Has the war really started, as he'd hoped it wouldn't? As he'd known it was going to?

"The armies of Mythland have begun the war," Galidre says, and Scott's breath vanishes from his chest. Mythland? But they'd all assumed fWhip would start the war, had concentrated the main part of their plans on the Grimlands. How could—?

Jimmy—

Before he can even speak, Galidre makes his worst fears come true.

"The Cod Empire has fallen," they say dreadfully, hands twitching at their side.

No.

No.

"The Codfather—" Scott starts, desperately, Jimmy must be with Lizzie, he must've fled—

Galidre shakes their head. "No word," they say. "Likely—likely dead or captive."

Scott knows, in his heart, that Jimmy wouldn't be taken captive.

They want him dead.

If Jimmy hasn't managed to escape by some means, he's . . . he's. . . .

He would've made contact if he had escaped. Right?

But they haven't received word—

Scott fumbles for it, in his satchel, his communicator—he needs to know—

The only message is from Lizzie.

Have you heard from Jimmy?

No. No no no no no—

"You're needed in the war room immediately," Galidre says, their mouth slightly behind their words, the words that echo in Scott's head.

Jimmy's gone.

And the war continues.

[goldenroutledge]

can I request number 2 & 3 from prompt list b with drew pretty please??? 🤍 p.s. luv u and congrats on 500 💕💕

kiss me more

pairing: drew starkey x reader

word count: 1.0k

warning(s): just fluff!!

summary: during a movie night with your family, you and drew have to sneak away for a minute

a/n: i wrote this with my aspen’s bliss au in mind, since i thought it would be cute to write a little blurb about it but it can be read as a stand alone!! i combined this w another request too, the prompt is bolded!

drew starkey masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

The day ended almost as quickly as it began, but after all, there was truth to the saying ‘time flies by when you’re having fun’. Nobody had any desire to check on the time while skiing all day, letting the light of the sky lead the way up until dark.

Your nieces and nephew begged to have a movie night before it was time for them to go to bed, and everyone was on vacation so why not. They could stay up a little later than usual. Sure the activities in Aspen were fun, but relaxation was just as important. Especially if you didn’t want to be flying home with a stiff and sore body.

Once everyone had freshened up, the kids plopped right in their favorite spots on the large sofa, arranging their blankets and pillows while the adults prepared popcorn and snacks. You and Drew were the last out of your room, though it was unintentional.

On vacations like these, stopping to smell the roses mattered more than usual. It was nice to slow down from your busy lives for once and enjoy one another. Along with your family too, of course. But you’d take what you could get.

Drew moped behind you down the hallway, legs more exhausted than he led on. He was doing an awful job at hiding the discomfort caused by his aching muscles so far.

“You ok, babe?” You asked him, eyes peering over your shoulder to catch his subtle limping.

“Oh, yeah.” Drew played off. “Never been better.”

A giggle escaped your lips as you stopped walking and waited for him towards the end of the hallway, folding your arms over your chest as you cocked an eyebrow at his fib. “Oh, yeah? It doesn’t look like it.”

He took your hand in his as you leaned against the wall, his other arm circling around your waist. “I think your eyes are deceiving you. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Whatever, you say, love.” You quipped. “If only you took my advice to stretch before hitting the slopes today, then maybe you wouldn’t have to hide your sore limbs.”

You advanced towards the living room, dragging Drew by the hand you still held onto. He had other plans apparently, spinning you around to face him before pulling you into his arms.

“They’re waiting on us.” You reminded him, half-protesting but still melting into his embrace. You took a deep inhale of his scent while your nose drowned in the fabric of his pajama shirt, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Fine.” He grumbled into your hair, releasing you from his arms.

“If you can even get there.” You teased, patting his shoulder playfully and earning a wince out of him.

-

Ignoring the heavy feeling of your eyelids wanting to pull down, you tried your hardest to pay attention to the Incredibles that was currently playing on the large flat screen. Your nephew begged for that movie, and succeeded once he won in a simple game of heads or tails.

In all honesty, it was hard to pay attention to the movie with Drew right beside you, his arm hanging loosely around your shoulders. He looked beautiful, sitting there in an ivory colored T-shirt and some sweatpants, hair tousled just how you liked it. Not to mention his features that were shining just right from the glow of the TV.

The warmth from the plush blanket kept you cozy, but you swore you were burning up once Drew caught you staring and admiring him out of the corner of his eye, smirking to himself afterwards. Damn, the things he did to you. It just wasn’t fair.

Unraveling yourself from the blanket and his hold, you leaned up to his ear to whisper your reasoning. “I’m gonna get a drink, I’m thirsty.” Thirsty for something, alright. He simply nodded as you got up and sauntered away into the kitchen.

The ice water felt good on your throat and helped your overheating body as it streamed through, taking a few gulps immediately. The glass nearly dropped from your hand and shattered on the floor at the feeling of a hand on your hip, your boyfriend shushing you shortly after he felt you jump.

“It’s just me, darling.” He reassured through a mumble, pressing a featherlight kiss to your warm neck.

Setting down the glass on the counter, you turned around and huffed in faux frustration. “Ok, I know you haven’t done anything, but can you please stop looking so goddamn kissable, my whole family is here.”

Drew chuckled, hands finding home on your waist. “I guess I just can’t help it.”

“Well, start helping it, Starkey. I’m struggling here.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He soothed, gazing at you with pure adoration. “I’ll try to look less kissable, I guess.”

He slid his tongue between his teeth to suppress his laughter as he grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Taking one quick peek around the corner to the living room, you checked to see if the coast was clear. Fuck it.

In one quick motion, you cupped his face with both hands and connected your lips together. The kiss was sweet but longing. Being around family for an entire vacation really didn’t allow for PDA, and who knew you would feel so touch starved after just a few days.

Drew was surprised but took almost no time to reciprocate, smiling against your lips as you gave into your temptation.

“I don’t think it’s working.” You whimpered in between kisses, your smile growing too big at the point you had to pull away.

“Apparently not.” Drew added, eyebrows raising at your change of tune. “But I don’t mind, y’know… maybe you should kiss me s’more.” He muttered, attaching his lips to yours once again.

Just as your hands were tangling in his hair, the ‘Ahem.’ of someone clearing their throat made you pull back suddenly.

“Enjoying your drinks?” Your older sister queried, tilting her head as she looked at you two.

Your shocked and guilty expressions turned back to amused ones very quickly, taking each other’s hands as you made your way past her and out of the kitchen.

“Mhm.” You answered, winking at Drew. “Just what I needed.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @starrycigarettes @eifhames @outerbankies @pogueslandia @kaysapogue @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @maybanksslut @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @sunnymaybank @amourslover

drew taglist: @chrisevansfuturewife @littlementalpolaroids @1d5sosddl

[incendiobrock]

The Witches Forest

Request: heyy idk if u do requests but if u aree then can you do one where the reader is a witch and is dating colby so she goes on one of the haunted trips w them and does some reading idkk you can end it however you like <33 tyy! 

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I loosely based this imagine off the witches forest video on the Sam and Colby channel but instead of the witch from the video giving the reading it was y/n, and instead of Colby getting lost in the forest it was y/n. Hope you enjoy! Also this was loosely inspired by an imagine I read by @annab-nana you can read it here!

Warnings: sexual joke (I think that’s it)

------------------------------------------------------------

It was a typical day with the trap boys. Your boyfriend Colby had finally convinced you to go on a haunted trip with them. The only reason you had agreed was because he had promised you, and Corey, that there wouldn’t be any seances. You would all be going to just spend the night there, not summon anything.

In fact, Sam was planning on doing a cleansing ritual that he had done some research on. So, you agreed. You were always super worried about the boys and the trouble that they would find themselves in, especially with demonic entities and spirits. 

One of the other reasons you had agreed to do the video with them was because you knew that the fans have been begging for you to make an appearance. Colby got tweets and comments daily about his “witchy girlfriend” joining in on a haunted overnight video. All the fans knew that you were super into crystals, and tarot cards, and different herbs, and just about anything that you believed would help protect you and connect you to the world of spirituality.

So here you were, sitting in front of the camera, Colby right by your side, his ring clad hand holding onto your thigh, as the rest of the guys surrounded the table. “Okay, who’s ready for the reading?” You questioned, looking around the table. Everyone nodded and agreed to begin. You passed the tarot deck to each of the boys, instructing them to shuffle the deck while thinking of their intention for the trip to The Witches Forest. Everyone did as told and passed the deck back to you, you were the last to shuffle.

“Alright, so I’m going to pick the top three cards and then we can go over what they each mean for us, and for the trip we are about to go on.” You stated, gently flipping over the top three cards, The Tower, The Nine of Swords, and the card of Death.

You felt the room tense as they all read the cards chosen. “It’s not bad.” You said, trying to calm everyone’s nerves. “Uh- I don’t know about you but a card that says death seems pretty bad to me.” Corey said, laughing out of fear.

“Yeah babe, what does that mean besides ‘we are going to die?’” Colby air quoted the last part. “Will you guys just give me a minute to explain it?” You laughed at your boyfriends face as his eyebrows remained scrunched on his forehead, looking desperately at you for answers. You went on to explain that death could signify the “death” of an era and the beginning of something new. The Nine of Swords means that their own thoughts can weigh them down, or cause a feeling of darkness, and The Tower means danger, chaos, but also liberation. 

“See, so nothing is necessarily bad. It actually seems like this might be good for you guys, especially since we are planning on doing the fire ritual too. That way you can begin a new journey and have a nice cleansed path before the next moon cycle begins.” You stated, leaning your head on Colby’s shoulder and cuddling into his side. He placed a short kiss onto your forehead taking hold of your hand, “Alright so let’s get on the road we don’t want it to get too dark before we set up the tent, plus it’s about an hour drive.” Colby said to the group, still holding your hand as you both stood up to go get into the car.

About an hour later you had all arrived at the forest. Colby had parked the car a little off the dirt path in a small clearing between the trees. You were happy to get out of the car to stretch after having to sit between Jake and Corey in the backseat. You brought along a small backpack of stuff like a water, first aid kit, a flashlight, and most importantly some crystals that offer protection. You took out the small ziploc with the crystal and began to give one to each of the boys, telling them to keep their crystal in their pockets for protection. 

Sam had asked you to explain to the camera what all you had brought so you showed him the black tourmaline, amethyst, and the obsidian, saying that they each offered protection and grounding properties. “Alright, now that we got our protection rocks let’s go pitch the tent we will be staying in all night.” Sam said, shutting off the camera. You all stood around trying to help as Colby did most of the work putting the tent together. You were impressed with his skills, never knowing that he could set up a tent with little to no instruction.

“Dang brother, those Cub Scout skills are really showing right now.” Jake joked, sticking the last spoke into the dirt. “Thanks brother, you know I’m skilled with these hands.” Colby responded, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as a small laugh escaped from your mouth. Leave it to Colby to make a sexual joke that makes the guys cringe. 

After a little exploring all together, and almost losing the location of the tent, you had all decided it was time to start the fire ritual. You were glued closely to Colby’s side, hearing a lot of motion within the trees. “Once we get the fire going maybe we will feel better, the light and heat should scare off any animals that are near.” Sam said grabbing the fire bucket that he had brought for this ritual.

Colby lit the fire and you all sat around in camping chairs. “We should’ve brought s’mores bro.” Corey said, trying to alleviate some of his fear. You agreed with him because you knew you felt the same fear as him at the moment. Sam explained what was going to happen with the fire ritual and passed out the objects that everyone was going to be throwing into the fire, in hopes to release any possible spirits that were attached to them. As soon as you guys started to watch the stuff burn Colby flew back, falling with his camping chair.

“Did you guys see that! Right there! Right behind Jake! Sam? Did you see it, it was like a shadow and it moved super fast right behind Jake’s head.” Colby yelled, standing quickly off the ground and shining a flashlight in that direction. “I saw that too!” You said, abandoning your camping chair as well. Colby took hold of the camera and began walking away from the fire and towards the trail. “Colby! Wait for us bro you can’t go alone!” Sam yelled out, chasing after him. “I have to go, I know I saw something I need to see where it’s going before it gets away, I wanna capture it on camera!” Colby said.

“Someone has to stay by the fire we can’t all leave! Jake you stay here with Corey and we will go investigate.” Sam instructed, but Jake hesitated wanting to go too. Corey ended up agreeing on staying by the fire so you three could keep up with Colby who was still walking quickly away from the group. You thanked Corey, worried that your boyfriend would get too far ahead of everyone. You began to jog to the path, already extremely behind the others because of the sudden panic. 

You turned onto the dirt path and didn’t see any of the three boys, but could barely make out their voices in the distance. You began to jog down the path, heading to the left. You had felt like you were getting closer to them but their voices still remained faint and incoherent. You knew that Sam had yelled for everyone to stay on the path in order to avoid getting lost so you kept jogging further and further into the forest, away from the fire where Corey sat.

You slowed to a walk, shining your flashlight all around, hearing tons of branches snapping and rustling. You suddenly felt very alert, almost as if something was watching you. You felt the panic really set in as it became harder and harder for you to catch your breath. “Colby!” You yelled. “Colby! Sam! Jake! Corey!”  You knew you had made a mistake going this far down the path. “Hello?! Can anyone hear me!” You heard a scream off in the distance making your eyes basically bulge out of your head. You turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, shining your flashlight out in front of your face. Your hands were trembling, shaking the light violently. Not only was it freezing out, but you were terrified of what was out there.

You began running back the opposite direction of the trail, your breath almost nonexistent at this point, but you were determined to make it back to the tent. You heaved, feet stomping away at the dirt path beneath. After what felt like a century, you saw the distant glow of the fire. You ran, the victory of reuniting with the boys fueling your return. The fire was now in clear sight as well as the figures of the four boys you were so anxious to see. The noise of you approaching causing them all to turn and look at you. 

You practically leapt into Colby’s arms, tears pouring down your face as you wrapped tightly around his torso. His hand found its way straight to your hair, pulling you as close as he could to his body, swaying you side to side. “Oh my god, baby. Where were you? I was so worried! I thought I had lost you.” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair trying to soothe your crying. “I-I was running after you a-and then I got lost. I heard a s-scream, I’m so scared.” You sobbed, never wanting Colby to let go of you.

“We looked all over, we were calling your name like crazy but Jake said we should come and wait by the fire incase you came back. We didn’t want to keep moving further away from you on accident.” Sam said, standing closely near you and Colby. 

“Can we please go? I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” You pleaded, looking into Colby’s eyes as his delicate fingers helped to wipe away your tears. “Yes, of course. I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s head to the back up plan, the cabin.” Colby said, directing the last sentence to the boys. You nodded gratefully, making your way into Colby’s car while Jake, Corey, and Sam packed up the mess. 

The night was getting foggier as you pulled into the driveway of Jenna’s cabin. You felt relief rush over you, knowing that you wouldn’t have to spend another second in the Witches Forest. You all got out of the car and huddled by the front door, rain beginning to pour down. Sam took off his backpack digging through it to find the spare key Jenna had lent him. “Uh, Colby did I give you the key earlier?” Sam asked. Colby let go of your hand and patted his pockets down, “No I don’t think I have it. Is it in your pockets?” He responded, recapturing your hand in his, knowing that you were still shaken up about getting lost. Sam flipped his jean pockets inside out, no key to be found. He began pulling everything out of his backpack, searching deep into the bag for the key.

“Let’s go back into the car maybe I left it in there.” Sam said, heading straight back to Colby’s car. You all got back in as the rain continued to pour, Sam searching every inch of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you lost the key Sam, first Y/n goes missing and now this?” Jake says from the backseat, obviously frustrated. “It’s not all my fault okay? You think I meant to lose the key?” Sam snapped back, the tension in the car rising. 

After a lot of searching, the key was no where to be found. Much to your dismay, you had to go back to the tent in the depths of the forest. You all huddle into the blue tent, slipping into your sleeping bags. It was only a few more hours until daylight, a few more hours before the suffering would end.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I lost you once tonight and it was the scariest moment of my life. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” Colby vowed, pulling you into his chest. You smiled at his kind words, despite how scared you were he always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thank you Colby, I love you so much.” You responded, nuzzling further into his chest. “I love you, to new beginnings.” He chuckled, referencing the tarot reading from earlier. “To new beginnings.” You agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss on the lips.

[frostedfaves]

Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

-

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you. 

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

-

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled. 

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.” 

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” 

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest. 

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

-

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

-

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

-

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

-

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

-

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy. 

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

-

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

[hpalways]

your requests are open right? My name is clemmy and I would like some xiao x reader, comfort from xiao mayhaps? Like the reader was being followed by people who wanted to hurt ehr and she gets scared? Thank you!

hi clemmy, and yes my requests are indeed open! this sounds very fun to write. nothing like some sweet comfort by mister too cool for u. thanks for the request!

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters Included: Xiao x reader

Warnings: None

Blurred out by tears, the world was dipped in blue and muddied by obstacles in the way. Branches stretched out their fingers, clawing their ways out and leaving scratches on the skin of your face. You were currently running -- not sure for how long or where you could eventually end up from this, but your legs wouldn’t stop moving. It hurt and you were tired. You were not fit to be running for so long, but desperation kept you on your toes.

Heart pounded against your chest and every limb attached to your body trembled uncontrollably. Then the questions began to pop into your head. Why me? What had I done for this to happen?

The footsteps from behind you grew closer and louder, causing your chest to feel suffocated, for you could not push yourself any harder. Ragged breaths left your lips and beads of sweat hung in every crevice of your body. And that was when a hand snagged you back like a prey getting caught by its predator. 

The treasure hoarders caught up. And you didn’t know what they wanted with you. 

“You’re making this hard on all of us, woman,” one of the treasure hoarders had said. His beady eyes landed on you and a sneer painted his lips. He was a burly man, tall and most definitely stronger than you. “Behave and you’ll find yourself a better outcome.”

You didn’t listen to him. The guy behind you was a scrawnier man, so perhaps you could luck out on it. Struggling against his hold, a searing cold suddenly made way around your wrists. You turned your head over your shoulder to find ice formed to create shackles. 

Fuck. This guy had a cryo vision. 

No. Widening your eyes and stepping back, you tumbled to the ground, frozen in shock. They all cackled at your clumsiness, staring at you downwardly, as if you were below them. 

Whimpers crept from your throat. “Xiao! If you can hear me... Please...”

A light burst and the world burned in green. The wind howled and standing before that was the Adeptus. Dark green locks furled and amber hues glowed ominously, aimed at the poor victims -- which in this case, were the treasure hoarders. Once so confidant, they were now seemingly less confidant, but tried to put on their brave faces anyway. 

“I knew it. So you truly do come at her beck and call, Xiao,” the same treasure hoarder spat out. “Your weakness is so obvious by now. You’ve grown weak.”

“If I’m weak, I wonder what you are?” the Conqueror of Demons retorted coolly. “Bugs to squash beneath my feet?”

He whipped out his polearm and when the bandits hurried toward him, he easily slashed them. Dodging elegantly and summoning his power, he destroyed them all, anemo wind unwinding before you. It was violent, but he did it beautifully, keeping your attention on him at all times. At moments of these, you were forced to see the difference in his strength and in yours. 

When he was done, strolling away from the bandits like a stroll out of a park, he went over to you. You were shaking madly, the fear of this day’s events striking to remind that you weren’t safe. You couldn’t defend yourself; instead, Xiao had to do it. 

Droplets of tears rolled down your cheeks once more and your head drooped. “[Y/N]...” Xiao’s voice was gentle for once. 

His arms hesitantly wrapped around yours in an awkward embrace. Not arguing against it, you leaned your head into his shoulder and smothered your face into his chest. Smelling like a mixture of ash and almond tofu, it was indeed him. He was warm, covering you from the cold wind blowing through the woods. Only him. The thought of danger faded into the background and your heartbeat returned to become a soothing lullaby. 

“You’re okay now,” he breathed out, stroking your [e/c] locks. “You’re safe and I’m here to protect you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“Sorry for what?” he responded angrily. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

“I do. I’m a burden to you. They’re using me as leverage to get to you. I can’t even do anything to protect myself.”

“Then let them. Call my name anytime you find yourself in this type of situation. Promise me [Y/N].”

You shook your head. “You have better things to do than showing up at my bidding.”

He let go of you and his eyes narrowed. Dammit. His stubborn ways were getting to him, but the same applied to you. “Everything and anything pertaining to you is never a waste of my time. So promise me this. Promise me so I can sleep well at night.”

“Not like you sleep anyway,” you grumbled. Unfortunately, you were breaking from his determined gaze and his loving words that sent your heart racing. “Fine. I promise. On one condition. I’m paying you back with almond tofu meals.”

He tried not to look so excited, but you could tell. His irises glimmered for a second as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

[cj-sparkss]

Eren waking u up in the middle of night "to go on an adventure" because he think he saw a weird animal outside but it's just an excuse to go stargaze✨

northern crown -

eren’s masterlist:

a/n | this was such a cute idea! i hope i brought it justice. warnings | none. category | fluff wc | 1.9k+ pairing | eren jeager & reader

feeling something soft and light brush against your face, you stir in bed a little, grunting, your eyes rippling under the lids. 

“hey baby, wake uppp.” a hushed voice speaks from above you, while you feel strong arms on your shoulders, slightly shaking you awake. groaning, you stir some more, mumbling quiet nothings as you shift in bed.

this time the feeling of two large hands are warm against your cheeks, accompanied by more feather-like touches brushing soft against your eyelids, your forehead, and then pecking the corners of your lips. “babyyy.” 

“hmm?” now slightly awake, you stretch your hands out, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. turning a bit in bed, you groggily open one eye, only to be immediately faced with a certain chocolate brown haired boy hovering over your lying figure, vivid turquoise eyes staring down at you. “eren?” 

“hey baby.” eren speaks in a hushed tone, as if not to disturb you, as he sits back on the edge of the bed next to your body, taking your hand in his and softly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“what time is it?” your voice is still laced with tiredness as you slowly shake out of your deep slumber. you scoot back against the headboard, propping your head up with your hand still in eren’s.

you look around the bedroom, taking in the atmosphere around you. the room is still dark, the only source of light being the few fairy lights strung on the walls, and the dim moonlight shining in through the uncovered windows. you think it must still be nighttime. you furrow your brows in question as you look back at eren with a befuddled look on your face. 

“umm, it should be around 3 am…” using his other hand, he rubs the back of his neck, taking note of your expression. 

you hesitantly nod your head, you now rubbing his own hand with your thumb. “why did you wake me up? wait, why are you even up?” 

eren smiles sheepishly, turquoise eyes looking away to the side. “i think i heard something moving outside.” 

you stop your movements, staring at his face, blinking your eyes in disbelief. “eren, baby. you… heard something moving outside? and you felt the need to wake me up?”

he nods his head, smiling a stupid toothed grin. “yeah, i thought we could go check it out.” 

“you want to go check out the thing moving outside?” you let out a tired sigh, running a hand over your face. “it was probably just a stray cat or something. now, let me go back to sleep in peace.” 

eren pouts, slightly tugging on your wrist, “well, it might not have been, you never know.” he shrugs his shoulders, “c’mon, it’ll be an adventuree.” he wiggles his eyebrows in a childish manner, causing you to softly smile at his antics. he stands up to his full height, pulling you along with him until you are sitting up straight in the bed.

“you think leading me to a possible animal outside, would be an adventure?” you raise your eyebrows, suddenly questioning the boy’s sanity. 

“yeah, i do in fact. it’s not like i’d let it hurt you.” he smiles softly, snaking his arm under your thighs, the other on your back, lifting you up from the bed and onto your feet. he was already dressed, clad in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, all ready to go. 

you watch eren through half-lidded eyes as his tall figure trudges towards your closet, opening it and pulling out one of his oversized grey hoodies, walking back and handing it to you. 

“here, it’s not that cold, so a sweatshirt would be enough.” you nod your head, and eren watches as your eyes almost close, your legs wobbly as you almost fall asleep while standing. he chuckles at your state, shaking his head. “baby, are you falling asleep on me?”

“hmm? oh, yeah.” you mumble your words, absentmindedly nodding your head, not registering his words in your half asleep state. 

“hey, arms up”, he commands you, and you comply, raising your arms over your head for him. eren pulls the grey sweatshirt over your arms, popping the head over yours, tugging it down until it rests comfortably on your body, his clothing basically drowning you.

“now, put on some sneakers.” he spots your everyday pair of sneakers resting next to your door, and he wanders off to go get them, then striding back to you. 

“baby, sit on the bed.” you abide, sleepily rubbing your eyes as you perch on the edge of the bed. “i’m so tired.” you say, dragging out your words.

eren chuckles as he squats down in front of you, grasping your foot with his hand. “i know.” he puts the sneaker on you, repeating the action with your other foot. you watch him through tired eyes. eren has his hair in his signature sloppy bun, stray hairs falling out to the side of his face. 

feeling your gaze on him, he looks up at you, emerald orbs meeting yours. eren’s eyes never fail to amaze you. there’s always this intensity to them, but then whenever he looks at you, you can see an endless amount of love pooling from within. 

breaking the eye contact, he extends his arms out, placing his hands on your waist and lifting you off the bed. “let’s go.” 

you nod your head, leaning against him for support. eren takes your hand in his, leading you out of your door and to the entrance of your backyard as you flicker in and out of sleep. 

as you approach the sliding door, he turns around and faces you, placing his large hands on your shoulders. “you have to close your eyes, okay babe?” 

you furrow your eyebrows, looking at him with an addled expression. “and why do i have to close my eyes to go check out a sound?” 

eren only smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders. “just do it.” 

‘“fine.” rolling your eyes, you decide that you're just too tired to decipher what he’s trying to do, and you press your palms over your eyes. 

“good.” maneuvering himself so he’s standing behind you, he slides the door open, leading you outside into the crispy night air. stepping onto the grass, you both proceed further outside, the green material softly crunching under your feet. 

you don’t hear anything out of the ordinary, and you start to wonder if that was the true reason eren has led you outside in the middle of the night. 

he held your shoulders, halting you in your tracks. “okay, you can open your eyes now, baby.” 

slowly removing your palms from your line of vision, you bring them down to your side, your eyes now trying to get used to the darkness. 

as you adjust to the outside air, in front of you, you spot your backyard tree standing tall, a huge red blanket sprawled out in front of it. on the tree are multiple fairy lights, much like the ones in your bedroom. the lights illuminate the spot, setting a warm and delicate atmosphere all around. instantly, all the sleep is knocked out of you. 

mouth agape, you turn around to look at eren, eyes widened. “eren, what… what is all this?”

he gives you the same signature warm smile of his, and it radiates heat throughout your body, melting your insides. “come with me.” he extends his hand out for you, and you take it, as he immediately intertwined his fingers with yours. eren slowly but surely leads you towards the blanket, occasionally looking back at you with the same gorgeous smile. 

approaching the big blanket, he crouches down, looking up at you with bright eyes. “lay down with me.” 

a little speechless, you nod your head, bending down to meet him on the blanket. eren lays down, head almost touching the tree. you lay down next to him, your arm touching his. “eren, i don’t see or hear anything around here.” 

he chuckles, placing his arms underneath his head, slightly propping it up. “oh did i say there was? hmm, i don’t really remember.” 

you snap your head at him, about to retort when eren stretches one of his arms out, pointing up at the sky. “baby, look.” 

you furrow your eyebrows, giving him a confused glance before your eyes turn to look at where his finger is pointing. and then you see it. 

the thousands and thousands of bright stars littering the night sky, the different constellations scattered across, the glowing light emitting off of the heavenly bodies. you audibly gasp, eyes widening in awe at the marvelous sight.

eren silently watches you from the side, admiring how different waves of excitement, amazement, and curiosity flash through your beautiful eyes. he smiles silently to himself at how gorgeous you look, at how happy you look, making him feel content himself. 

you scour the sky, admiring every single glowing spec. as you search, your eyes land on one specific constellation, one that you happen to love with all of your heart. your mouth falls open, and you turn to look at eren, back at the sky, and then eren again. you point at the constellation with your pointer finger, trying your best to point in the correct direction. “eren, is that... what i think it is?” 

eren doesn’t sen’t even have to look at what you're directing at before he nods his head, confirming the answer to your question. “yep. the northern crown.” 

“corona borealis, wow.” you mumble under your breath, looking back at the sky to truly admire the connection of stars. “it’s beautiful.” in the night sky above is a line of six stars, all aligned in an almost perfect semi-circle. one of your favorite constellations. scratch that, it is your favorite. 

eren hums in response. he knows just how much you love the stars, and how much you love even astrology in general. 

he remembers the day you two were talking, well you were rambling, he was just listening to your voice. you were going on and on about the stars, naming every fact and piece of information about them that had come to your mind. you had mentioned how much you wanted to see the corona borealis constellation, also known as the northern crown. but unfortunately, you had never gotten the chance to catch it, as you always missed the constellation, or just never had the time to see it. 

eren had remembered this, and he researched everything he could do to find it at the perfect time. and when the day came, he made sure not to miss the chance to show you what you had been longing for. 

“eren, is this why you woke me up, and made the stupid excuse that you heard something outside?” you ask him, gaze still set on the glowing constellation above you. 

“well to be fair, the excuse was not that stupid. and yeah, i wanted to do something special for you, show you how much i care.” 

you turn your head to look at eren, feeling your face growing hot. smiling thankfully, you shift your body closer to his, resting your head on his hard chest, setting your arm around him. eren places his own arm across your middle, pulling you closer into his body. 

“thank you, eren.” looking back at the mesmerizing constellation, you grin in pure bliss. “it really is so beautiful.” 

“i love you”, he whispers, as if not to interrupt your experience. eren plants a soft kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a moment. he gazes down at you, admiring how the warm lights in the background make your skin glow in the night, how you are absolutely captivated by the sight above the both of you. 

sure, the constellation is lovely, but in that moment, eren thought that you were even more beautiful.

[slenbee]

Sunshine | B.B x Reader

Summary: You’ve known him for almost all of your life, and now that you’ve got a chance to finally meet him, will you risk it all to prove it to yourself that he’s real? The answer is yes. (I suck at summaries, this i what you’re getting. lol)

Pairing: Merman!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY - This content is NSFW. It contains monster!bucky, flirting, touching, and oral(f). Word count: 1991

Notes: A gift for @dirtychocolatechai​ <3 THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS SO PLEASE BE GENTLE @u@;; haha.... <3 Love you friendo. Comments and reblogs appreciated! You can find this on Ao3 too!

Your mother had told you time and time again to find the right man. 

To settle down and have a few children and a happy home to boot.

But no one had ever said anything about falling in love with a merman.

Few would call you lucky.

Some would call you crazy. 

Others? Well they would call you down right mad.

The first time you met him was when you were young, playing down by the bay. 

You were skipping rocks across the water at your favorite spot when you noticed the splashing of water nearby. 

Curious as ever you went to investigate, and by the time you came back? 

All of the rocks you’d skipped had been returned. 

Neatly placed in a pile on one of the wet stones at the water's edge.

Eventually you started covering your eyes after skipping each rock, counting to thirty before lowering your hands.

The rock would be there, right in front of you.

Right where you knew it would be.

-----

As you grew older, you grew bolder.

After gathering a basket of flowers or herbs you’d go down to the bay to sit at the water’s edge where the water lapped at your ankles and the fish would nibble at your toes.

You would see movement in the deeper waters, the peak of a fin or a flash of color that filled you with excitement.

The water would churn nearby and the tiny fish would disappear. 

Other times you’d catch movement out of the corner of your eye, and sometimes you’d even hear a voice chuckling with amusement, sourceless and unseen.

Then, one day, he started bringing you presents and leaving them nearby.

Pretty little things. 

Like pearls or smooth, polished glass, and sometimes even carved stones.

You kept each one, of course. 

Tucked away in a little box that you hid under your bed.

-----

One sunny day you found a trail of gifts waiting for you.

Each little gift was a colorful stone that led you towards the cave at the end of the bay.

Any sane person would have seen it as a trap, but you? 

You knew better than any of them what waited for you at the end.

And so you followed. Picking up and pocketing the stones, your bare feet carrying you across the smooth stones by the waters edge until you reached the mouth of the cave.

Sunlight peeked through a large crack in the ceiling, casting the pool of water inside in a warm and oh so inviting glow.

The gifts ended at the mouth of the cave and yet you carried on, water reaching your ankles and then your knees as you made your way deeper and deeper inside.

Staying close to the edge of the cave you pulled yourself up on a rock that rested in the shallows, allowing you to sit with only what was below your waist submerged. 

You waited with baited breath, every splash and drip of water making your stomach flutter and your toes curl.

Then, a dark shadow moved in front of you beneath the water, growing and stretching until--

“O-oh..!”

A head of dark hair breached the water in front of you, followed by sculpted shoulders and a torso that would make even Adonis jealous. His left arm was more monstrous than the rest of him, bearing claws that could easily rend your flesh with just a flick of a finger.

Your eyes wandered lower, only to find glittering scales and a magnificent tail that disappeared into the depths of the water below.

“My eyes are up here.” He mused, his voice rough from a clear lack of use.

With every breath his chest expanded, the gills on either side of his ribs fluttering.

“You’re- you’re really-- ” Your voice trails off, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

“A merman?” He flashed you a smile that would rival the cheshire cats. 

“Real.” You finally say, your shoulders sagging as a bubble of laughter escaped. “I thought I was crazy. But you’re really real!”

Webbed hands came to rest on the stone at either side of your hips, the sharp nails of his left hand scratching into the stone with just the slightest bit of pressure.

You reached out with hesitation, hands hovering just shy of touching his face.

To your surprise he leaned closer, cheek nuzzling into your palm while his right hand lifted to cup your left.

“Do you have a name?” You ask, watching as he closed his eyes and purred at your touch.

“Bucky.” Dark lashes fluttered, his steel blue eyes flicking upward to greet your own. “You?”

“Y/N.” You say with a gentle sigh through your nose, your expression softening as he continues to nuzzle into your hand, the left brought to his lips where he kissed along your knuckles and wrist, nose brushing along your skin as if to scent you.

“You smell like sunshine.” He comments, tongue flicking out and dragging across your fluttering pulse. 

Pink tinted your cheeks, your smile turning shy as you pulled your hand away.

Bucky lets you go without issue, but he shifted closer a moment later, invading your personal space. 

Water dripped from his hair and fell upon your dress, the sudden chill against your chest making your nipples hard.

Leaning in he sniffed at your hair and then your neck, eventually making his way down to your shoulder. Following an unseen path his nose brushes across the front of your dress, lips grazing the spot just above your heart. "Heh.. You’re so small, I could just gobble you right up.”

A sudden spike of excitement and fear had you jumping, your heart leaping to your throat. “A-are you saying you’re going to eat me?”

The mer pulled back and looked up at you as if you’d gone and smacked him, brows pitched high with startled shock before it bled away into smug amusement. “Eat you?” He repeated, pulling himself up and between your thighs, putting you both at eye level. 

Leaning in he spoke lowly, his lips brushing yours. “Never.” 

A chuckle escaped Bucky at your flustered look as he pulled away and gave you a wink. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Sinking back into the pool he breathed in a fresh lung full of water, his expression dropping to one of shock and awe before it evolved into a look of straight up hunger.

He remained submerged up to his shoulders in front of you, watching as you quickly closed your thighs, fingers digging into the hem of your dress where his eyes were currently glued.

“Oh… Oh Y/N…” Bucky let out a shaky breath, his tail giving a flick that brought him back into your personal bubble. With his head at level with your stomach he brought his hands up to brush across the outside of your knees. 

When he spoke, his voice was practically a purr. “You do want me to eat you, don't you." 

His hands dared to wander up towards the outside of your thighs, so close yet so far away.

Wetting his lips, he looked up at you with lust blown eyes. "I can smell you."

Feeling your cheeks burn you looked away, the heat steadily building between your thighs. 

The telltale prick of his nails sent a shiver down your spine, your thoughts wandering to darker places.

All it would take is a flick of his claws or a bite of his teeth and you’d be done for.

And that’s what excites you. 

The danger of it all, and yet here he was, being so, so gentle with you.

As if drawn closer by an unseen force the mer lowered himself back between your thighs, head dropping to nuzzle against your stomach. "I have to know. I have to know if you taste like Sunshine…"

When he looked up at you with pleading eyes you felt your stomach flutter and your breath hitch.

"Will you let me find out?"

Biting at your lower lip you gave a nod, a hand sliding into his hair as he sank beneath the water and into the apex of your thighs.

Pushing your dress out of the way Bucky looked up at you, needing to see the look on your face before he looked down, drinking in the sight of your bare sex. The water tasted of arousal, filling his lungs and captivating his senses. 

It was like a single drop of blood in the water, and now the sharks were circling.

A soft stream of bubbles tickled across your inner thigh, his shoulders wedging your legs further apart so that he could better fit between them.

His arms scooped under your legs, fingers digging into your dress at your hips when he pulled you closer to the edge. Warm lips danced across your inner thighs, the scruff of his facial hair causing your muscles to twitch and jump on their own.

Bucky took his time, teasing you with kisses to your thighs and the gentle nibble of his teeth, breathing you in and savoring the sweet arousal that was waiting for him.

You pet a hand through his wet hair, a low moan of pleasure leaving your lips when he finally moved in close enough to brush his nose across your folds. His lips followed, peppering you with kisses that sent the butterflies in your stomach aflutter. 

Growing bolder he flicked out his tongue, tasting the warmth of your skin and the sweetness that tainted the water. You heard him moan, the hot, slick brush of his tongue pushing past your folds.

A single lick against your clit and you gasped at the new sensation, thighs clenching around his head while your hand tightened in his hair. One lick became two, and two became three as he took your reaction as a positive reinforcement to continue.

Pressing in even closer he sealed his mouth around your sex, licking and sucking as if he were a parched man given his first taste of water.

That sinful length of his tongue danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves, lavishing it in quick little licks only for him to stop a moment later. Sliding lower he teased and prodded at your entrance, lapping up your moisture before slipping inside.

Bucky flickered and swirled his long tongue inside you, licking and scooping out your honey before delving back in to seek out more.

“A-ah~ Buh-Bucky-” You gasp with a moan, voice echoing off the walls of the cave as you hang on to his hair and the nearby stones for dear life.

This man could drag you under the water and have his way with you five days til Sunday and it would still be so very worth it.

Heat pooled low behind your navel, inner walls fluttering around his tongue as he ate you out like a man possessed, his nose brushing against your button with every hungry movement he made.

Just as you were nearing that unseen peak of pleasure Bucky let out a deep, throaty growl, the sound reverberating through his tongue and into your sex, tipping you over the edge without warning.

You tipped your head back and keened with pleasure, inner walls twitching and fluttering around his tongue as he scooped out your cream and licked up your juices.

Breathless and near shaking you sit back against the wall of the cave, thighs shaking.

Bucky pulled himself back and rose up to gaze up at you, looking every bit the cat who’d gotten the cream as he nuzzled against your thigh.

After a moment of catching your breath you open your eyes and look down at him, your toes curling at the sensation of his clawed fingers grazing across the outside of your thigh.

“I was right.” He eventually says, rising out of the water to brush a chaste kiss across your lips.

“You do taste like sunshine.”

[ladyvesuvia]

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

@firewhiskyss: 🎢 harry with either “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” or “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” because my heart can’t handle angst rn 😋☝🏼|| for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Summary: Being stuck in the elevator is bad enough, but being with a stranger makes matters worse.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: not proofread, light cursing, elevators, power outage + let me know if i missed anything

A/N: too bad u cant handle angst i could’ve found ways to sneak that into this hehe jk anywaaayy ok i felt uninspired sorry hydagjih

Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

AN HOUR OR SO AGO

“Hold the door!” said a voice from the lobby. Harry pressed the open door button in haste, the doors doing as it was told to do. The figure rushed inside, hair dripping wet on the tiled floor of the elevator. He kept his eyes trained to floor as she moved his way to press the button to the eighth floor. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

The girl next to him began to dry her drenched hair with a purple towel, patting herself dry. Harry risked a brief glance in her direction — she was wearing a floral one-piece swimsuit which she layered with denim shorts. When she caught his eye, they both inched away from each other uncomfortably. To their relief, the elevator started to move up.

Nobody seemed to be coming in just yet. After all, it was six p.m. and most were probably outside biding their time for night swimming. Harry, on the other hand, just came down to get a box of doughnuts for Mr. Weasley, who he can only assume was changing into his swimming trunks in their hotel room. The rest were probably doing the same.

Harry was waiting for it to reach the ninth floor when the elevator lurched to a stop on the seventh. While Harry refused to meet eye contact with the girl next to him, she was busy trying to convince herself it was alright.

It’s okay, she thought to herself as she made a show of more aggressive patting of her hair in more of an attempt to calm her drumming heartbeat than to really dry it. Another passenger was probably just entering.

But she knew better, they both knew better. The lights above them began to blink in an inconsistent manner. To her dismay, the doors did not open nor did they continue to go up.

They both turned to each other with a bewildered look on their faces. Harry made to reach for his wand, but held himself back. Then the lights went out along with the tiny ones coming from the buttons. Harry froze. He heard the stranger next to him shift, probably wrapping the towel around herself. She had stopped pretending to pat herself now. Harry watched as her as she dropped her bag down on the wet tiled floor and pulled out a bulky gray block from it. Harry stood there awkwardly as if a statue while she kept on fumbling with the block thingy he now recognized was a flip phone. A light glowed from it, her face looking similar to that of a ghost.

She pressed it against her ear, but it seemed to not be working. She then raised her hand higher in hopes of getting better reception to no avail. Harry cleared his throat. The girl’s head whipped to his direction. “The emergency call button,” said Harry.

“I know,” she spat, reaching out for the buttons. But instead of clicking that particular button, she clicked the button for opening doors. Harry noticed she seemed to be shivering a bit even with the towel.

The girl was still dripping, albeit lesser now. She kept pressing the open door repetitively with her wrinkly fingers. Harry remained stiff, unsure if he should use his wand. “What floor are we currently?”

Taken aback, Harry didn’t respond for a couple of seconds until she reached out to his shoulder to check on him. “Oh, er — seventh, I think.”

He then heard her click a button he supposed was for the seventh, then a bunch of other buttons the next.

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die. . . .” Harry found that he preferred the constant clicking noises from the buttons over her constant reminder of their ‘impending doom.’ It was like fourth year all over again when their Divination teacher Professor Trelawney kept telling him he was going to die an early death. She kept chanting to herself in hysterics.

“Have you tried . . . the emergency call button? The one with the bell?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” said the girl. To his surprise, she picked up her bag again and aimed it at the elevator door before swinging it right in the middle. She then started banging her fist hard on the doors, pounding. “Help! I’m stuck! I mean, we’re stuck! Hello? I’m wi —”

“There’s a press to call thing here,” pointed Harry.

“Good,” she remarked as she practically run to it when the elevator made a creaking noise from above. The girl let out a shriek as she fell backwards and pulled Harry down with her. “Lie flat or we’re both gonna die!”

“Why — ?”

“JUST DO IT.” He did. Both of them sprawled their legs and he felt the damp floor wet his back a bit, but he was still weighing the pros and cons of pulling out his wand. Of course, if it were up to him, he’d pull it out in a heartbeat but the Weasleys’ vacation was on the line and he couldn’t jeopardize that by—

The elevator whined, and it felt as if it was moving a bit. “We’re gonna plummet to do our death!”

“Calm down,” said Harry, hardly knowing why he even bothered in the first place because he didn’t know what to say next especially with the girl’s expectant eyes on him. He thought of what Hermione had told them when they first came here, who then attempted to calm the others down about their feelings on Muggle Elevators. “Er — elevators are one of the safest ways of transportation with only the fatality rate of zero point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-something-fifteen percent per trip.”

“Oh, shut up, stranger,” cried the girl. “There’s still a fifteen in that end. We’re gonna die, accept that!”

“You seem to be the one having troubles accepting that,” argued Harry back. She shot him a glare.

“I haven’t written my will and we’re gonna die. You see — you hear that rumble? We’re slowly falling down and we’re gonna die. I should have — should have taken the stairs. Please, please, please let me live! I swear I’ll start eating vegetables! This is it stranger, we’re gonna die.”

“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“We’re about to die and you have time to think? Lie with your chunkiest bits on the floor to increase our chance of survival.”

He wanted to argue, but he resorted to inching further away from her and stretching his limbs awkwardly.

“Damn it, you shouldn’t have kept the door open!”

“How is that my fault? If anything, I was being nice,” said Harry.

“Being nice? You just sentenced me to my death and now I’m dying in this cramped space in a swimsuit and shorts that aren’t even for swimming!”

Surprisingly, the elevator whined to a stop. They remained on the floor for half a minute. Eventually, she was the first to stand up. Dusting herself and not meeting Harry’s eye, she smashed the bell button with her finger. It buzzed for a few seconds before a guy’s voice answered.

“Hello,” said the operator. The intercom seemed to be having troubles.

“Uh, hello, hi,” replied the girl.

“So are you currently stuck in the elevator?” Harry could hear the girl turn to him in the dark and call up the look of utter disbelief, as if wanting to reply, ‘No shit.’

“Yes, very much.”

“Okay, are you alone?” asked the operator.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m with . . .” she trailed off, turning to Harry with prolonged contemplation. “With stranger. I’m with stranger. A stranger. With a stranger, I mean.”

“May I know your names please?”

“Uh, sure? I’m . . . Papier Matchen and this is —”

“Har — Neville. Neville Longbottom, sir,” answered Harry. The operator did not respond. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Are you both guests?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” said [Y/N]. “Wait, are you a guest?”

“I am a guest,” said Harry stiffly.

“He’s a guest,” she added, as if in an attempt to keep whatever morale is left high. The operator didn’t respond again. “Hey, uh, operator? It would really help if you didn’t keep disappearing on us.” She chuckled nervously.

“What floor are you currently on?” said the voice with a bit more static.

“Uh, well,” she said, turning to Harry, “last time we checked, it was on the seventh but it moved down a bit and we might be in-between floors seven and six.”

“Alright, thank you. We’re currently experiencing a city wide power outage, and it appears that the back-up battery in Elevator Three has not yet been replaced since the last brownout. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry. So, uh, is any of your authorities gonna come and pick us up?”

No response. She pressed the button again. And again. And again. No sound came, not even static. “Hello? Hi?”

When no one responded again, she slumped to the floor once more, her hair still wet but no longer dripping. “Sit down,” she said, pointing at the spot right next to her. Harry obliged. “You can sit across, I don’t care. I know I smell like chlorine right now.”

Harry sat across from her, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t talk either. This went on for about five minutes until Harry had the urge to do something or at least say something.

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“A dangerous pastime, you should be afraid. Go ahead,” she said, gesturing a finger gun his way.

“Shouldn’t we try to get out of this?”

“Who are you, Bruce Willis? Need I remind you that you are Nev . . . Bottom?”

“That’s not actually my name,” said Harry.

“Same, I just said Papier Matchen off the top of my head. Like papier mache but witchy. My name’s actually pretty good, I think. I’m [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Oh, wait, nope, don’t like it.”

“I think it’s good.” [Y/N] turned on her phone and shone it around until it landed on his face. Harry realized he had kept the box of doughnuts in the corner when she made them sit down. “I’m Harry,” he said when she finally turned off the phone.

[Y/N] turned it on again and directed it to the box of doughnuts. “Are those doughnuts to make us super tiny like Alice in Wonderland or something?”

“Oh, those are for my friend’s father.”

“Let’s eat it, I’m hungry,” said [Y/N].

“It’s for my friend’s father.”

“You have to realize that that is so not a good enough point. We’re trapped in an elevator with no means of communication with that musty man and eating that is the only thing we can do. Unless you want to do something else?”

“Er — What?” choked Harry, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine, uh, doughnuts.”

She made a triumphant sound Harry couldn’t explain, but paid it no mind as she reached out to grab the box of doughnuts from the corner. She set it in front of her.

“Hey, these are from my aunt’s bakery.”

“They are?” asked Harry.

“Yeah! The one across the street from here?” asked [Y/N], to which Harry nodded. “Ooh, you got the one with Oreos? Nice! I helped design those.”

“Okay, uh, can I have some?”

“I thought it was against your will to take some of these from your ’friend’s dad?’” teased [Y/N], but she handed him a doughnut anyway. Harry began to eat just like she did. “Sorry I forced you to lie down here. . . .”

She looked at him, waiting for something. What? Harry furrowed his brows, confused.

“Sorry, I mean, what’s your name again?” asked [Y/N], hints of the chocolate stuck between her teeth and some on her lips.

“Harry Potter,” replied Harry, who debated against himself whether or not he should point it out. After all, she seemed to be having a good time and they just started to lose the tension. “You’ve got uh, something on your, you know.”

“I know,” said [Y/N], but she didn’t do anything about it. “Anyway, can you believe six and seven are lucky numbers yet here we are, stuck in the wretched elevator between them?”

“No, that’s why I don’t really believe in those . . . things.”

“I’d say that’s insulting, but I’m dripping in my swimwear while I’m stuck in the elevator with a total stranger, so fair enough.”

Harry didn’t know how long they were talking, but it just went on. He was pretty sure there were times he even laughed. Harry reached out to grab another doughnut when he realized she was holding it as well. They both let it drop back to the box.

“Oh, no, it’s yours,” said [Y/N].

“It’s okay, you can have it,” said Harry.

“I ate more than you did, you can have it. Just go,” said [Y/N].

“You can —”

“You know what? Let’s just split it.”

[Y/N] ripped it in half, handing him the bigger slice. Just when Harry was going to offer to exchange, she swallowed it whole.

“Too late, I ate my half already.”

“I can see that,” said Harry. He began to eat his own half, savoring it with three more bites.

“Sorry I smell like chlorine again.”

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me,” said Harry. “I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“On a good day, that would sound like an insult but it’s anything but a good day, so, thank you, I guess.”

The two shared a laugh (and most definitely three) the entire time when the lights turned on. They could see each other clearly now. There was no denying they felt quite vulnerable — like finally meeting an friend you only send letters and emails to for the first time, but she smiled to make it feel lighter.

Suddenly, it started to move up again, [Y/N] kept them seated just in case it started plummeting again. It didn’t, though. It opened on the seventh, as the indicator told them so.

The intercom buzzed once more and different operator spoke. None of them stood up.

“Hi, power’s slowly being restored. How’s everyone?”

“We’re good,” said Harry. [Y/N] smiled in the shadows, tossing the towel in the corner. “Wait, you’re — er — good, right?”

“Yeah, surprisingly so,” she said.

“Good to hear, we’re currently doing the best we can to cater everyone’s needs. Has your, uh, elevator moved yet? Sorry, I’m new here. Anyway, has it?” asked the operator.

“Currently open on the seventh floor, but we’re both going up, all’s good now, don’t worry,” answered [Y/N]. She stood up, taking the towel with her.

“Okay, great, thank you and take care!” said the operator before the intercom buzzed off. Harry and [Y/N] stood there as the elevator door closed shut and began to move up and open again to the eighth.

“So,” started [Y/N], “this is me. My floor, I mean.”

“Right,” said Harry

“Well, I still don’t like elevators and I may or may not ride one ever again so I can’t believe I’d ever say this because it’s hella cheesy but thanks for making it bearable.”

“I feel like I should say, ‘you’re welcome?’” said Harry.

“Oh yeah, you should.”

The door began to close, but Harry pressed the open door button.

“Okay, you’re welcome.” The two shared lighthearted laughter. “Anyway, er — thank you, too. See you around?”

“Yeah, yeah, see you around. Bye.” [Y/N] waved as the doors closed between them and Harry was once again all alone in the elevator.

He noticed what a mess the floor was, and went to pick up the empty box of donuts. His hand went to where he kept his wand to clean up and looked around for cameras and found one tucked in the upper corner. Harry let his hand down and dusted his shirt with his hands when something caught his eye. A beach bag in the corner, resting carelessly.

The door finally opened to the ninth floor. Harry was frozen, looking directly at a long hallway of doors. It took a few seconds until it whirred and shut close. Not knowing what to do, Harry picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder.

He tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator to go up to the twelfth floor until it began going down again. He pressed the button to the ninth floor again.

Ten.

Eleven. A couple his age entered, probably about to go down. Narrowed eyes landed on him and his dirty shirt and pants, but he paid them no mind.

Twelve. The couple started to talk about their plans on the honeymoon tomorrow. Harry busied himself by playing with the straps of the beach bag. He realized just now it had her name inside one of the straps lazily written with a sharpie. [Y/N], it stated.

Eleven again.

Ten again.

Nine again. The door opened, but he did not step out. Of course, the couple began to eye him with suspicion now as he reached out to press the button to the eighth floor.

Eight. When he stepped out, he heard the hushed but relieved sighs from both of the other two behind him as the elevator proceeded to close shut and go down.

Harry knocked on the first door. A man in his pajamas answered. Harry muttered an apology as he walked away to try the second door. He heard the first door swing shut.

The second door was equipped with a sign on the doorknob saying, ‘Do not Disturb.’ So, of course, Harry moved on to the third. He heard loud sounds of children playing inside. When he knocked, a tired woman carrying a toddler in her arms answered. Harry apologized once more and moved on.

Harry’s shoulder was aching, so he let the bag down and simply held it in his hands.

The fourth door was answered by a middle-aged man holding a glass of wine.

The fifth door’s knob held the same message as the the second — ‘Do not Disturb.’

As you may recall, Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

An older woman greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Hello, dear,” she said. He took a shot and asked if she knew anyone by the name of [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Unfortunately though, she did not.

Harry finally made it to the last door. He knocked once more, holding the bag tighter now. A little kid answered, with her parents and siblings in the background, eating pancakes. They did not know of someone named [Y/N] [Y/L/N], either.

Shoulders slumping, Harry made his way back to the elevator. He pressed the up button.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice from behind him. His heart skipped a beat. Wait, don’t skip, he thought to himself.

It still wasn’t her. It was the same girl from the ninth door. “Yes?”

“You’re looking for [Y/N]?” she asked. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N]?”

“Er — yes. Do you know her?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, she’s in the shower. Is that her bag?”

“Oh!” He almost forgot that he was holding it. “Yes, yes it is.”

“I can give it to her,” called out the woman. She closed the door behind her, making her way towards him. When she was close enough, she extended her hand.

The elevator dinged open. Harry was about to hand it over to her, when he decided something else.

“Er — no, uh, I was actually hoping if I could see her.”

She let her hand down, grinning. “You must be Elevadork.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s an inside joke,” said Harry.

“You can wait inside,” said the girl. “I’m Karolina, by the way. She’s just showering because she’s, and I quote, ‘will be too unlovable if smelling like chlorine.’”

Harry chuckled as Karolina led him to their hotel room. It was just like every other room he had seen, then he saw the same towel she had with her just a while ago when they were stuck with only each other’s company.

“He was nice, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. By the way, we’re out of hair conditioner. My hair badly nee — Harry!” [Y/N] tumbled backwards to the bathroom with a different towel wrapped around herself. Harry’s eyes widened, and he turned around.

“He wanted to return your bag and ask you out,” said Karolina.

“That’s not what I actually said,” whispered Harry, turning crimson.

“Honey, trust me, it was definitely what you said,” laughed Karolina, patting him in the back. “You might want to change first.”

“I guess,” added Harry.

[Y/N] rushed to the get her clothes from one of the two beds and ran back to the shower, where she hastily pulled on her shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“She’s done changing, by the way,” said Karolina, patting Harry on the shoulder again as she left to pour iced tea for herself.

[Y/N] led Harry out, earning two thumbs up from Karolina, who was beaming up at the two of them. “How’d you find me?”

“Fate,” said Harry mockingly, as if from a show. She giggled. “I knocked on all the doors in this hallway.”

“To return a bag?”

“Sure, that, too. But mainly to ask if you’d like to get some — er — doughnuts with, uh, me. I really want to bring some up to —”

“Your friend’s dad, right,” [Y/N] cut out. “Are we still taking the elevator?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

They finally reached the elevator, where they stood side by side.

“Aren’t you going to change first?” asked [Y/N].

“Nope,” said Harry, pressing the down button. He turned to [Y/N], looking at her shirt. “Does that say ‘Treacle Treat?’”

“Yeah, like as in Trick or Treat. See the pumpkin?” She pointed at the bottom part of her shirt.

“Oh, there it is.” The two were laughing even when they stepped into the elevator. They exchanged a knowing glance at the sight of scattered crumbs of doughnuts on the floor, not daring to talk about it in front of one another guest.

As the elevator began to go down, Harry realized he might as well believe in the lucky numbers. After all, if it weren’t for six, seven, and nine, he wouldn’t be here right now standing shoulder up to shoulder with the girl wearing a funky shirt.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[seka1-k0k0ro]

night of fun

y e s

i had way too much fun with this thank you anon for feeding my mind u-u

see part one here!

summary: a week has passed since the ‘incident’ and megumi’s thoughts have gone haywire and are utterly filled with you.

cw: smut with a semi plot (shes long cuz i got carried away), fem! reader

[lower case intended + not proofread]

—————————

the air was thick and it was hot. megumi was training with the third years while you sat on the sidelines with yuuji and nobara. his focus was all on you. how your skin has a slight glow from the heat; how the sun rays caused your skin to heat; how the heat caused you to hike your skirt up though it was against school rules. you were infecting his mind—his body.

panda landed a ruthless blow into megumi’s stomach, launching him a couple meters across the field. coughing, megumi sat up, and the third years walked over.

“what’s up with you megumi? you’ve been so distracted lately,” maki began.

“tuna,” inumaki agreed from behind her with one hand on his hip. with a final throat-clearing cough megumi began,

“i’m fine. just have a lot on my mind. nothing serious.”

“is it y/n?” megumi’s head jerked in shock, and he could feel his cheeks slightly heat. he only hoped he could mask it and blame it on the hot day. “it is so y/n,” maki smirked, “did y’all fight or something?” megumi deadpanned.

“no, we didn’t.”

“she blue-ball you?” she asked again. megumi scowled and stood, his cheeks now flaming.

“it’s not like that. stay out of it. it’s my business.” he stomped away like a child. the third years huddled together and unanimously agreed that it indeed was like that.

megumi approached the group of three sitting on the sidelines. he saw you sat in between yuuji and nobara showing them something on your phone. he looks at your thighs which were missing their stockings from you possibly running late. your uniform jacket was missing--replaced by the tight, white button-up shirt you wear in case it gets hot. he’s always loved that shirt.

then he noticed how seemly close yuuji was sitting to you. he knows neither of you would ever do anything but he’s always felt slightly self-conscious of yuuji. yuuji was physically stronger; yuuji had pure power and he didn’t. he saw yuuji place his chin on your shoulder and snuggle into your neck.  

you noticed megumi’s presence and gasped. your eyes sparkled and you had the biggest smile. you dropped everything you were holding and ran over to him, holding megumi in a hug. though megumi knew he shouldn’t feel the way he did, he felt smug and looked at yuuji in the eyes with a glare and a smile as he hugged you. yuuji looked back confused.

“we were just watching part of a movie that yuuji watched while he was training with gojo.” his smile returned to a frown. for the past couple of days, yuuji has all you’ve been talking about. it’s been yuuji this and yuuji that. “speaking of yuuji, i’m gonna be in his dorm after school helping him study.”

“oh? until when?” you shrugged.

“i don’t know. whenever we finish.” megumi sighed and pulled away. 

“alright. well, let me go back to--” yuuji interrupted him.

“y/n come back so we can play the movie.”

“gimme a second, yuu,” you said back. megumi turned to you confused.

“yuu?” you cocked your head to the side and giggled.

“what? it’s just a nickname, megumi. anyways get back to training before they yell at you.” you turned around and went back to the duo waiting for you. megumi stood there shocked for a second then turned and walked back towards centerfield. all he could think about was the stupid nickname and how you didn’t kiss him goodbye. 

—————————

the sun was now setting. megumi was gathering his things and inumaki came up to megumi. he handed him a note.

just talk to her, don’t let things get between you two because you didn’t voice what was bothering you. you know what’s wrong, but she doesn’t. instead of staying quiet, use your words and open up. that is the only solution.

inumaki left megumi to think on his own with a final shoulder pat. megumi looked back at the note and read it over again. he sighed and rubbed at his eye in exhaustion. he folded the letter back neatly and slipped it in his pocket.

—————————

“nothing is working!” yuuji laughed as you continued to complain. “i mean, think about it. we came with this plan to make megumi jealous and nothing has worked. i didn’t even give him his good-bye kiss today!”

“well, there’s still one last thing we could do.” you rolled your eyes.

“and what might that be oh wise one?”

“megumi always gets to the dorms at 8:30, right?”

“yeah, and?” 

“we’re supposed to be studying, right?” your shoulders slumped, and you groaned.

“where are you going with this?”

“if megumi hears some...uhh...well- how should I put this?...questionable noises as he passes by the room--that’ll be his last straw.” you nodded understandingly. you agreed to the plan with one final worry,

“i just hope he doesn't break up with me.”

—————————

the corridor was dark as usual on his training days. never missing a beat, megumi walks down the hallway expecting to only hear his footsteps, though we don't all get what we expect.

“yuu! fuck-- please!” megumi’s footsteps stop right before he can fully pass itadori’s dorm. 

“come on, y/n. try a little harder and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

“yuuji, please, I need it. please!” the little show was accompanied by grunts and groans from you. 

megumi felt something inside of him snap. he tore the door open almost breaking the doorknob in the process. he saw both you and yuuji standing while yuuji held something--he assumes its school supplies--over your head while you’re trying to grab it. both of you are in casual clothing and out of your daily school uniforms. you both stare at megumi in the door entrance.

megumi fumes and grabs you by your wrist. he dragged you into his room, locking the door behind him. megumi turned on a couple of the lamps in his room. he drops all of his stuff and turns jaggedly to face you.

“what has been going on?” he asks surprisingly calmer than he looks.

“what do you--”

“you know what i’m talking about. what between you and yuuji, huh?” you crossed your arms and frowned.

“first of all,” you stepped closer and turned your nose up to him, “do not interrupt me. second,” you turned around sheepishly, “itadori wanted to see what you would seem like jealous, and” you slumped, regretful, “i agreed.”

megumi sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. he walked up and hugged you from behind. “so you still love me?” you scoffed.

“what? of course I do.” megumi nodded. you two stood in silence, until he spoke up with an idea.

“will you make it up to me?” 

“i will...but how?” his hands slowly lift your shirt, letting just his hands under. he moves his head from your neck to rest against your ear.

“i have something in mind,” he said. his left hand reached towards your right tit while the other hand played with the waistband of your athletic shorts. you leaned back into him feeling him harden. you turn in his embrace and kiss him. the kiss was passionate but soft.

megumi led you towards the bed, laying you down. he caged you in, pinning you to the bed. he sat on his heels to see you. your face was flushed, and you were slightly trembling.

“don’t just stare.” he laughed breathlessly.

“i’m sorry, y/n. you’re just so pretty,” his voice trailed to low whisper as he leaned into your neck, “it makes me wanna go all the way.” he peppered feathery kisses onto your jaw—so intoxicating it made your mind spin in circles and your body squirm.

“wait,” you said. “are you sure?”

“what?” he asked lazily, still suckling on your skin.

“what if gojo comes in and—“ he kissed you, then rested his forehead against yours.

“forget gojo. i want you,” he went back down to your collarbone, “i want to make you feel good.”

“megumi,” you managed to say.

“hmm?”

“take me.” he stilled, but the words shot straight to his dick. the way you would say his name in the breathless, pitched voice made his cock twitch. he stuffed his face in the dip of your neck and groaned. he collected himself and crashed his lips into yours. it was messy. teeth would clash and spit covered each other’s mouths. though the love each had for one another never diminished. you could feel him pouring his love, heart, and soul—telling you, through the kiss, to take him as well.

his thumbs hooked the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down along with your panties. you sat up and took your shirt off and your bra. he pushed you back down and kissed you. he kissed you and kissed you, and you felt your lips bruising from his force. your hands reached to his shirt, and you signal for him to take it off. swiftly, he took his sweats and shirt off, leaving him in his boxers.

he went back to kissing you. he couldn’t get enough. megumi wanted to kiss every angle, crevice, inch—he wanted to kiss all over—he wanted to make sure not piece of you was left untouched. if you’d let him, he’d ravage you in one blow.

his hands began to tease your inner thighs, but always too high or too low. his kisses began to follow the path down you jaw to your collar bone. his fingers finally touched you where you wanted—needed him most; his middle finger spreading your wetness between your folds. his kisses turned impatient. he marked you with his teeth, leaving love bites behind as he moved farther down.

your gasps, breaths, and soft moans were music to his ears. they made his mind go fuzzy and his eye sight waver. he was drunk on you; he was drunk on the sounds, the smell, the taste of you.

megumi’s lips attached to you left breast which made you yelp. at the same time, a finger slipped into your cunt, followed by a second, then a third. one by one, each stretching you out, and preparing you for him. the sensation made you wriggle around. your knee dug into his cock, making him moan out. you continued to pleasure him, the vibrations from his sounds heightening your own pleasure.

“megumi—“ you whined, “please. i need more.” he chuckled and detached from your breast with a slight pop. his lips hovered against yours, not entirely kissing you.

“patience, princess.” his fingers sped up and his thumb grazed against your clit, making you arch your back.

“please,” you whimpered back. “fuck me, megumi. please?” you bucked your hips into his hands, in attempt to convince him more. with a final cry, megumi cursed at himself and removed himself from you, leaving you on the bed catching your breath and your thighs twitching. megumi got rid of his boxers—throwing them on floor with the rest of the scattered clothes.

his rummaged his drawers for the condoms maki got him as a gag gift for his birthday. megumi tore the packet open with his teeth and slipped it on. you look over to see him walking back. the bed creaked with his added weight, and a smile of anticipation graced your face. megumi gave some final kisses to your inner thighs while he got comfortable. he held the back of your thighs up, using his shoulder as leverage.

you helped line up his cock, and he pushed in. finally in, megumi moaned while you let out soft puffs, trying to adjust. he moved slowly, not wanting to hurt you as the way felt against him made it awfully hard to.

“so good—ahh!” you couldn’t help but get louder. “megumi,” you moaned, “you feel so good—fuck!” your hips moved along with his, and megumi felt something in him snap. he groaned and apologized,

“i’m sorry, baby. i can’t help it.”

“s’ okay,” you managed out before your head finally turned to mush. megumi’s thrust sped, and his hands moved to your hips pulling them into him harder and harder. megumi’s eyes crossed, getting lost in the pleasure. he felt your walls flutter against him, signaling you’re close. his right thumb found your clit again. he felt you tighten against him. “oh! megumi, i’m gonna cum!”

“cum for me, baby.” you tensed, and your voice cracked at your final wail. he rode out your orgasm and into his. he came into the condom, and he dropped next to you. you took the condom off and tossed it in the bin.

megumi welcomed you back into bed with kisses and cuddles under the covers. “that was amazing,” you whispered.

“it was,” he whispered back with a smile. he dug his nose into your hair with his arms around you and dozed off to sleep.

—————————

the door being opened harshly startled megumi awake.

“rise and shine-“

“gojo-sensei!” megumi yelled, stirring you awake. gojo saw the bedsheets fall from your bare shoulders and understood what had happened. gojo bursted out laughing and closed the door, still laughing after it was fully shut. “shit!”

“what’s wrong, baby? who was that?” you asked still groggy.

“gojo.” the sleepiness was replaced with adrenaline quickly, and you bursted from the bed naked.

“gojo?!” megumi smiled seeing you flail around for your clothes.

after both of you were decent, you walked out of megumi’s dorm, and gojo was still laughing. yuuji was also laughing. megumi rolled his eyes.

“hey megumi, did you at least wrap it before you tapped it?” gojo’s laughing increased.

“yeah, you two were quite loud. please remember the thin walls next time,” yuuji snickered.

“sorry, yuuji. his dick was just too big.” you shrugged and dragged megumi away past the bathroom area. both of you were laughing after seeing yuuji’s disgusted face and gojo’s eyes popping out of sockets from laughing too hard.

[anyoneseenadam]

Hii

Can you please write something for fenrys? first meeting maybe? And the bond clicks? Thank you 🥺🥺

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: implied smut, kissing and nudity, lil bit of blood and injuries but mainly pure fluff

a/n: fenrys is my fave and u can tell in the fic omg!! i hope you enjoy it cause it’s probs my fave one i’ve written yet :))) (i also made it a teensy bit ddlg but that’s just cause i want Fenrys to baby me lol)

——————————————————————————

Shit

Fenrys pressed his hand to the wound in his side, feeling the slow pump of blood seeping between his fingers as he stumbled through the woods. He had won the fight. The other guy now lying in the dirt, however not without consequence. And he wasn’t entirely sure he would stay alive unless he could find a healer soon.

He stopped to lean against a tree, breathing heavily as he held himself together. He transformed into a wolf, moving faster, and trying to pick up a scent, any scent, that could possibly help him, when he caught the sweetest smell he ever had. It was a female, smelling like peonies and blackberries, sweet but with an underlying smoky smell. She smelled of long days in flowers fields and even longer nights beside campfires, evenings spent curled in hand woven blankets and mornings spent drinking dark coffee and eating sweet toast.

He whimpered and began running in the direction of the scent. If he wasn’t so focused on not bleeding out he may have stopped to consider why the scent was pulling him in the way it did. He would have considered the direction he was running into, the direction of his future, his past and his present. But he just kept up, going as fast as his injured body would allow, concentrating on the sweet smell and putting one foot in front of the other.

He felt the change almost immediately, the cold snow and rough bark being swapped for cool moss. The pine trees swapped for tall, oak trees teeming with life. The silence of a frozen forest swapped for the rustling of bushes as nocturnal animals moved silently under the guise of darkness. The chill of the snow-covered woods swapped for the warmth of a summer evening. He pushed between two bushes and found himself facing a clearing, in the middle of which stood a wooden cottage, the wood dark and the roof covered in more moss, flowers growing from every surface and ivy peeking out of the crevices in the house. He stumbled down the path to the cottage, turning back into a male and crossing a small bridge over a stream that separated him from the intoxicating scent he chased.

He let out what he could only describe as a bark, calling for the female that carried the scent he was growing addicted to, collapsing onto his knees, feeling his conscious fade as he held to the side of his stomach, searing pain replaced by fiery veins as his head swayed. He barely heard the door open, only noticing the scent get so much stronger. He attempted to look up, the movement making his head spin as he collapsed, the last thing he saw, a girl in the halo of the moon.

--

Fenrys awoke in a foreign bed. An unbelievably comfortable bed, but foreign all the same. He pushed up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the reminder of his wound.

The room he was in was dark, not just in light source, but also in décor. The window was cracked open with lacy curtains half closed, there was a tall bookshelf sat next to a desk with leather-bound books lining it, and tall candles flickering and casting the room in a golden glow. The bed he was in was small, clearly just for one, but so soft. He had blankets surrounding him and copious amounts of pillows, some that appeared hand made. In fact, upon closer inspection, a lot of the room looked handmade. Art covering the walls depicting crying women or bloody scenes that he presumed had been done by the owner of this house, given the pallet and assortment of brushed he saw on the windowsill.

And then there was that scent. It was stronger here and he pressed his face into a pillow tentatively, breathing in through his nose as he picked up on the deeper undertones. Fresh picked daisies, melted wax, the pages of old, worn books and something he couldn’t describe. Something so intoxicating he felt tears spring to his eyes, his body reacting in an unheard-of way, so overcome with emotion from scent alone.

He heard footsteps approaching the closed door and hastily put down the pillow, sitting up straight and readying himself to fight whoever it was if they were an intruder. But when you entered he faltered.

Mate. The word clanged through him as he came face to face with an angel. You were wearing a dark brown broderie dress with white hearts lining the hem, your feet bare and toenails painted black. Your hair was falling around your face, messy and untamed, and you had dark smudges around your eyes, makeup that accentuated your features and made you look like a character from the scary books he read as a boy. However right now you looked more like a teddy bear.

He briefly remembered the tail of a witch he had read. An evil witch who lured men into her house with whispered words and sweet kisses, only to steal their hearts and use their blood to keep her skin young and eyes bright. This girl however was no witch, you had elegantly pointed ears and a graceful way of moving that only came from being Fae. He watched as you moved to his side, silent on your feet, putting a tray down beside him before moving an opening the curtains further, letting in more natural light.

“How are you feeling?” your sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. His mind coming to a halt as he heard you speak.

“I- er fine..?” His voice was rough, and you smiled, a reserved smile. Moving to his side and sitting at the edge of the small bed he was on, pouring him a glass of water from a small decanter you had brought through.

“(Y/n.)” you answered his unspoken question.

“Fenrys.”

He muttered a thanks as you passed the glass to him, noting the crystals that hung around your neck and adorned your fingers.

“Crystals?” he asked, and you looked down, playing with the rings you wore nervously.

“My mother taught me about their meanings, they’ve always helped me.” You bit your lip and Fenrys decided he would never meet anyone as cute as you again, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Me too, my mother used to carry them everywhere.” You smiled at him shyly, a beat of silence passing between the two of you as he listened to the birds outside.

“Can I see your wound? I want it make sure it’s healing properly.” You asked and he nodded, pulling the blankets down slightly, grinning as your eyes widened as you took in his physique.

“I’m presuming you’re the healer I have to thank for letting me see another day.” He flirted playfully but you shook your head,

“I’m not a very good healer I’m sorry, but I did stitch it up and it should do the rest itself.” You pressed gentle fingers against the skin surrounding his wound and he glanced down, seeing it was already practically healed.

“You still saved my life.” He said, completely serious and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll let you rest.” You said quietly, standing to walk away and he smiled, feeling more at ease than he ever had since the war, watching his little mate leave.

--

He woke up again a few hours later, wound completely healed and puckering into a scar. Standing he stretched his arms above his head, not bothering with a shirt as he left the room in search of the girl that had occupied his dreams.

The rest of the house was alike your room, tall candles and worn books everywhere. He passed a kitchen filled with copper utensils and a living room with an old armchair, a half-filled mug left next to it, but still no you. He saw the front door was cracked open and wandered over to it, pulling it open and stepping into the fresh air, barely feeling the chill on his body as he found you kneeling on the moss-covered ground facing away from him.

You were muttering under your breath and as he got closer he saw you were cradling a small bird with a broken wing. He watched as you closed your eyes, the ground and air seeming to still as you called upon your magic, a soft white light flowing from your hand into the bird until its wing was healed and it could flutter away.

“I thought you said you weren’t a healer,” he broke the silence and you turned to him with a small smile.

“I said I wasn’t a very good healer.” You replied, standing with green stained knees, your hair now piled atop your head and lip gloss coating your soft lips.

“What are you then?” he came closer to you, unable to resist holding his mate, even if you weren’t aware yet.

“My mother said we were natural faeries.” You said, looking at him shyly, “we derive our power from the earth, crystals, sea water, dirt, fire, stuff like that.”

He hummed, “So technically you could have any type of magic?”

“I guess, but I’m not very good at magic,” you muttered, hands fiddling with your rings again as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fenrys?” you asked, all pouty lips and wide eyes.

“Have you realised yet darling?” he asked, and you bit your lip. He knew he could tell you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I- we’re mates I think.” You were practically shaking, and he didn’t know why he suddenly had this burning desire to scoop you into his arms and protect you against the horrible world that was out there. He nodded with a smile, watching as awe took over your stunning face.

“Can I kiss you princess?” he asked, and you felt your face heat up, looking down as he pulled you closer. “Have you ever been kissed before angel?” he asked, his face hurting from the grin that was spreading over his face when you shook your head.

He tilted your head up to his, looking deeply into your eyes as your breaths came out quicker. “Not many people can find our cottage, my mother put up wards when she got ill, our family wasn’t well liked by the king. You probably only got here because we’re mates,” You muttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again, running a soft hand over your head, smoothing your hair away from your face as you nodded sweetly.

He smiled before leaning down and kissing you gently. Pulling away and feeling as smug as a thief when your lips followed his, pouting at the loss of contact so quickly. He chuckled at your put out expression and leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped against his lips, quickly beating your own in a battle for dominance and taking his time exploring your mouth.

He laid you down that morning and took you for the first time in the soft moss. Then again in your even softer bed. Now you were sitting in his lap, eating strawberries of a bush you had in your back garden as he pressed dizzying kisses into your neck, both of you still as bare as the day you were born, Fenrys having forgot how much he missed skin to skin contact, when you suddenly remembered.

“Fenrys?” he hummed in response, completely enamoured with the feel of your soft skin against his rough calluses. “Why were you hurt last night?”

“I didn’t tell you my job did I angel?” he asked, the pet name making you giggle as you shook your head, “I work for the queen of Terrasen.”

You gasped, “But she was killed!”

“Oh angel, when was the last time you left this cottage?” he asked, worry coming over him as he realised you had been holed up alone for so long.

“Not since my mother died. She said the king was dangerous and that he would hurt me if he found me,” your bottom lip was wobbling and Fenrys quickly kissed it away, shushing you as it dawned on him just how innocent his little girl was.

“No baby, he’s gone now, the new king of Adarlan is a very kind man and the Queen of Terrasen is wonderful,” he promised, “Will you let me take you to meet them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his lap making him groan. He nipped at your ear lobe and you squealed as he pushed you down. You could meet them another day, today he was too busy with his little mate.

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[juniorgman187]

i ♡ u (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader and Spencer are trapped in the office during a storm. 

Category: Smut, Fluff Content Warning: cussing, unprotected sex/creampie, thunderstorm Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I don’t really like this imagine tbh so don’t be afraid to share your opinions

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“It was a dark and stormy night just like this one . . .” Reid said with a spooky voice. Thunder clapped in the distance and lightning flashed, adding to the mood of the room. Reid waited for your reaction, but you didn’t have it in you. You pressed your fingers to your temples, hoping that moving them in a circular motion would somehow stimulate your brain and magically generate logical thoughts that weren’t clouded by your weariness. 

“Sorry, Reid. I’m listening. Keep going.” You didn’t want to discourage him with your fatigue. You were the only one who would consistently give Reid the time of day, and you never faltered in that. At times, you were the only one who’d let him finish speaking.

“You usually love my campfire scary stories,” You knew without even looking at him that Reid was pouting out of disappointment. “I really think you should go home. I’ll call you if I find something or if I need you.”

“No, no you shouldn’t be working on this alone. I’ll be fine.” You slapped your cheeks gently to wake yourself up and forced yourself to refocus on the case. 

Hotch and JJ had to fulfill parenting duties, Prentiss was away doing a custodial interview for a couple days, Rossi and Morgan both went home a few hours ago because they could barely keep their eyes open, and Garcia was most likely knocked out in her bat cave. The team had been working on this case for 24+ hours straight and it was draining, but you weren’t about to leave Reid alone to work on it by himself. It wasn’t a contest or a way to prove that you were somehow a better agent if you stayed up working with him, but you genuinely didn’t feel right delegating all of the responsibility onto him. It happened too often where Reid’s good heart and great work ethic was taken advantage of. 

“Have you narrowed down the comfort zone?” You sipped at your lukewarm coffee, wincing at the unpleasant taste but grateful for any burst of energy you could get. 

Reid nodded, drawing a large red circle. He was in the middle of explaining when his words started sounding like complete nonsense. “Interstate 55 miles true North latitude triangulate.” 

You almost thought you were hallucinating or something to that effect, but Reid saw the genuine fear in your eyes and quit his prank. “No, you’re fine! You’re fine! I was just saying random words to play with you. I thought it’d scare you enough to realize you need to get some sleep.” 

“Reid!” You chucked a pen at him that he successfully dodged. This only made him laugh harder. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.” You told him. 

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked seriously.

It was a huge red flag that it took you somewhere around a minute to come up with the answer since it had been so long that you couldn’t remember. You waved your hand in the air to rid him of his concerned expression. He had no reason to worry. “Really, I’ll be fine. It’s less dangerous to be running on less than 8 hours of sleep than it is to leave one person to solve an entire case by himself. I’m not going home, Reid. I’m here to stay.” 

He noticed your stubbornness and thought of a new approach to neutralize the situation. “What if you and I both call it a night right now and then wake up in a few hours?” 

Now, this sounded like a plan you could get behind. Without any resistance, you set an alarm for 5 a.m and flopped onto the couch just beside the round table. Reid joined you, slipping into his rightful spot behind you. You’d had plenty of platonic sleepovers that constituted sharing the same couch/bed with him, so this was nothing new. With your back barely touching Reid’s chest, you shut your eyes. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for both of you to drift off. 

BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!

A loud blaring noise filled the room. It made you and Spencer wake up at the same time. 

“What is that?” His voice was all raspy from where he just woke up. 

The sound was weirdly familiar, but you didn’t know where you recognized it from. That’s when you looked out the nearest window and saw that it was still dark outside. 

“I don’t know, but it’s not our alarm.” You pointed out. That’s when Reid eyed the clock on the wall. 

3 a.m. 

You quickly felt around in the dark, reaching inside your purse for your phone. When you pulled it out, the ear-splitting noise got louder, making you realize it was your phone after all, but you were right. It wasn’t your alarm. 

“It’s just a flash flood warning.” You relayed to Reid, squinting at the brightness of your phone. No wonder Reid didn’t know what the sound was - his ancient phone didn’t have the feature. You grumbled, falling back onto the couch. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna fall back asleep after that.” He groaned. 

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I’m wide awake now.” Stupid flash flood warning. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while Reid stretched and got up from the couch. Checking the notifications he’d gotten on his phone, he said, “Garcia left while we were asleep.” 

“And then there were two.” 

Everyone was probably catching z’s while you two were catching the killer - or trying to at least. 

So, if it was just going to be Reid’s brain and your brain functioning to work on the case, you needed some coffee. 

“I’ll be back.” You walked down to the kitchen with your mug in hand and just as you were about to grab the coffee pot, a huge flash of lightning struck outside and suddenly the office went dark. The lights went out and the gentle hum of the generator shut off.

“Spencer!” You screamed out of fear. You heard the pitter-patter of his footsteps rushing to you. That’s when you saw Spencer using his archaic phone’s flashlight to find his way to you. He pulled you into a quick hug asking if you were okay, and you answered you were fine, just spooked. When you came down to pour coffee, you didn’t remember seeing anyone else, but now your stomach turned thinking about how someone might be in here with you - listening to you.

“Take out your gun,” He whispered. You did as he ordered you to, pulling your gun out of the holster. “Turn on the flashlight.” You clicked it on and handed it over to him, remembering that he didn’t have a flashlight on his gun because he had a revolver. 

“Stay behind me.” He commanded. You moved back, basically hugging him from behind. You thought you were actually going to pass out from fear if you didn’t hold onto him for dear life. He did a quick pass with the flashlight, revealing no one else was in the bullpen unless they were hiding. 

BANG! BANG!

You yelped in fear. “It’s just the thunder, Y/N,” He reasoned, reminding you of the ongoing storm. Oh right, there was a thunderstorm happening, too. Great. “Here take this and go back to the conference room.” He gave you his revolver and kept your gun, ushering you to walk back to the round table. 

“What? Why? Where are you going?” Your small voice had never sounded so shaky. 

“I’m gonna check the power box and see if I can fix it.” 

Your first instinct was to shake your head disapprovingly, but then you remembered that he couldn’t see you in the dark. “No way! You’re not leaving me alone in a dark room. I’m coming with you.” 

He didn’t argue against it probably because he was just as scared as you were. Reid did another quick survey of the room, using the beam of your flashlight to double check that there was no one else around. 

As you clung to Reid, you made yourself sick just by thinking of all the horrifying possibilities that could happen. For all you knew, a whole group of unsubs was waiting for you at the power box, knowing you and Reid would check there as soon as the electricity went out. Would whatever happened to you two tonight become a campfire scary story that other FBI agents would talk about just like how you and Reid talk about them? The odds were not in your favor. No lights. Storm outside. 3 a.m. Just the two of you, and no offense to Reid, but if this were a horror movie, he was probably the last person you wanted to be with. Top of the list was easily Morgan, because at least if Morgan was scared shitless by the predicament, he wouldn’t show it.

While Reid led the two of you through the pitch black darkness, both of your hands were holding onto his upper arm. You’d taken cover behind him, poking your head past his shoulder just far enough to see what he was seeing but only so far that you could duck quickly if you needed to. Frankly, Spencer didn’t even seem to mind that you were clinging onto him for protection. It kind of made him feel good actually. 

When you reached the power box, you released your grip on him, only realizing just how tight you’d been clutching him when you saw imprints left on his shirt from where you’d been holding on. 

“Take this.” He handed you the flashlight while he used both of his hands to pry open the box. 

You watched as his fingers grazed over the wires and fiddled with the buttons. Would it be weird to admit that his hands were kind of attractive? You’d never realized the largeness of them or how veiny they were, but there was something about them that made them so sexy to you.

He made a disapproving sound after further inspection.

“What’s wrong?” You weren’t actually wondering, but if you asked him, it would seem like you were actually paying attention to the situation at hand and not his hands. 

“It looks like the power shut off from a larger source, meaning there could be a blackout citywide. That also means I can’t fix it.” 

Hearing you’d be in the dark with no heat source was enough to snap you out of your trance. 

“I have an idea.” You led Reid to Garcia’s bat cave, after a memory of Garcia showing you her collection of glow in the dark figurines replayed in your mind. 

When you opened the cabinet, you smiled instantly at the sight of all the toys brightly lighting up the inside of the drawer. You knew that spending hours with Garcia listening about her toy collection would pay off eventually. Both of you carried all the toys you could and headed right back into the conference room. You placed them sporadically so that the entire room was dimly lit. Had these been candles instead of luminescent toys, it would’ve been ambient and romantic, but again - they weren’t candles. 

Unintentionally, you shivered audibly when a loud wind crashed just outside. The generator went out along with the lights, so it was awfully cold in the room.

Reid was about to give you his sweater when you stopped him by walking right up to him and stealing his body heat in a hug. Rather than embracing him around his sweater, you snaked your arms under the cardigan to really feel his warmth. And as if Reid was trying to kill you with kindness, he pulled the sides of his sweater to stretch around your back and swaddled you into his sweater with him. You smiled against his chest. Not much could make this moment sweeter.

“Better now?” He asked, peering down at your face.

You silently nodded, closing your eyes as if removing your sense of sight would heighten your sense of touch. You wanted to feel his affection as deeply as you could. 

“Tell me when you want me to let go.” 

“Not yet.” 

He laughed at your childish desire to be swaddled like this, but he was enjoying the warmth just as much as you were. 

“We can’t do much work with the power out so let’s just try to get some more sleep.” He walked with you to the couch, keeping his promise of not letting go until you told him to. 

With the storm outside and the flash flood warning, you two would just have to stay in the conference room until you had the all clear. You weren’t opposed to this entirely, though. There were much worse things you could do than listen to the rain in the arms of Spencer Reid.

“Okay, you can let go now but just for a second.” Your baby voice made him chuckle. He loved how you unabashed you were when asking for his attention. Reid laid down just as he did before, with his back on the backrest of the couch, and instead of having your back to him, you cuddled right up to him. While still wearing his sweater, he covered you in it again, drawing you even closer. 

For some reason, even though you were beat and you knew you needed the sleep, you couldn’t seem to shut your mind off and rest. You were awake for what felt like hours. You would’ve tossed and turned all night, but instead, you kept very still so Reid wouldn’t wake up. 

You’d be so focused on trying to fall asleep yourself that you didn’t even notice when Reid did. When you looked up, you saw his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes were shut and would occasionally flutter, and when you pressed your ear to his chest, he was breathing much slower than he was earlier. 

“If you stay still for 15 minutes, you’ll fall asleep. Just lay in the same position and don’t move.” He mumbled. So he wasn’t asleep? And he knew you weren’t either?

“I have been staying still, but it’s not working.” You whined. 

“Just try.” Reid murmured again.

You shut up and sighed, closing your eyes. This time, you made a conscious effort not to move a muscle. You even counted to 60 in your head 15 times, but after those 15 minutes, you were still awake. You weren’t even sure what was causing your insomnia. It was really peaceful to have the sound of the rain cascading down the window and the occasional boom of thunder outside. Being in Spencer’s arms was cozy, too, but there was still something keeping you up. 

“Spencer? Are you awake?” You scooted up so you could see his face. 

The only thing the moon was illuminating clearly was his lips. There was a distinct beam of silver light casting on his mouth, almost like it was lighting them up specifically. Like some sort of sign. A sudden urge possessed you, so without reason, you brought your hand up to his face and grazed your thumb over his bottom lip. Even with the gentle touch you were using, you were still able to feel how soft it was. You slowly dragged your thumb in a downwards motion, watching the elasticity of his lips cause it to bounce back up into its place. You nearly giggled at the sight. You moved your thumb to the corner of his mouth and followed it upwards to the natural curve of his upper lip. If you weren’t so observant before, you wouldn’t have noticed how Spencer very subtly parted his lips wider for you. Curiosity overcame you and you slowly inched closer to his mouth with your own.

“I think I want to kiss you . . . Can I kiss you?” You spoke in a soft voice, with each of your lips ghosting over his. 

A moment of stillness. Maybe he was asleep. Then, a small, very small nod of Reid’s head. You smiled as he let you take control. With your hand already along his jaw, you lifted his face slightly so you could feel the full force of your kiss. You pulled him in closer to relish the soft feeling of his puckered lips. He released his grip on the sweater that was still swaddling you so he could press the small of your back, forcing your hips to drive into his. The need to be even closer was translating into the kiss. It grew hungrier - more passionate and needy. Spencer raised up from the couch, propping himself up on his forearm so he could hover over you. You followed his lead and shifted to be underneath him. With his body over you, he was able to push off his forearms and onto his hands. They were on either side of your head, forcing you to sit up with him so your lips wouldn’t leave his. 

“Wait, wait,” He muttered, pulling away. You followed him with your mouth is desperation, until you couldn’t anymore, making you sit up entirely while Spencer backed away. 

“What’s wrong?”

“If we don’t stop now, I don’t know if I can stop later . . . I won’t be able to control myself.” 

It was in this moment you realize why you were often the only member on the team who’d actually listen to Reid. Nothing he could say would ever turn you off. Any word that escaped his lips was something you wanted to hear. His confession of being uncontrollable was no exception. 

“Do you know what I want to do?” There was a newfound confidence in your tone that shocked the both of you. 

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Apparently, Spencer’s tone was just the opposite. He sounded like he was trembling with fear with anticipation. 

“Guess.” You flirted. 

Even in the dark, you could see Reid’s gears turning as he tried to find the right answer. He read your expression for a hint and made his guess by planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re cold.” 

He quickly caught on. You were making a game out of this. 

Hot and cold.

Reid made his next move with uncertainty. He slowly started moving forward to resume the position he had before he pulled away. As he came closer, you followed his lead and leisurely fell back. Every inch he would advance closer to you was an inch that you’d move back further until finally your back was pressed against the couch again and Spencer was hanging over you once more. With each of his hands beside your head, you smirked. “Getting warmer.”

This boosted his confidence. He was heading the right direction, and there was nothing Spencer loved more than to get things right. 

The same moonlight that was streaming onto his lips earlier was dancing on his eyes. The hazel color glimmered in the silver light. You could see they were asking, ‘Can I?’ You answered his look with a silent nod. 

Spencer reached behind him, following his hand with his eyes as he watched his fingers brush along your thigh. Looking back up at you for permission, which you granted, he peered back down, watching his fingers slip underneath the hem of your skirt. You lifted your hips up so he could raise the skirt all the way up. As if he was uncovering lost treasure, his eyes lit up when you were finally uncovered. 

“Fuck me.” He cursed under his breath. This made you ooze with confidence. 

You sat up to align your lips right beside his ear. With a breathy voice, you whispered, 

“Hot.”

He’d finally figured out what you wanted. 

The satisfaction he had in winning your little game gave him the confidence he needed to finally make a move. 

Hurriedly, he dragged your panties off, leaving prominent scratches from his nails on your thighs. He threw them somewhere behind him, while you frantically unbuttoned his dress pants. You almost giggled with glee when you saw just how hard he was. You barely did anything to provoke him, but he clearly enjoyed what little you did do. 

“I don’t have a -” You cut him off with a hasty kiss. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You needn’t explain more. He got the message when you reached down and gave his shaft a few shallow strokes.

“Oh-” He was immediately caught off guard by your forwardness. “Wait, wait shouldn’t I . . . um, help you first-”

You smiled at his stutter. “Spencer, please. I need you now.” 

There was that unabashed ask for Spencer’s attention that he loved so much. He made small movements until he was properly aligned with your entrance. 

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” He breathlessly uttered, while gradually pushing in.

You thought you would’ve regretted not letting him finger you before in preparation but the bliss was far greater for some reason. 

The sensation was definitely new to Spencer when his eyes widened. “Oh fuck. You’re so tight.” 

Meanwhile, your face contorted at the feeling of him stretching you out. It was actually more painful than pleasurable. 

“Wait, Spencer - I need to change positions.” You panted. 

He instantly retracted, looking incredibly sorry. “Here,” He helped you up to your feet while taking a seat on the couch. You didn’t need an IQ of 187 to figure out how to position yourself, so you straddled Spencer, hovering over his erection. Taking charge now that you knew you’d feel more comfortable like this, you reached below you to align his length. Instantly, euphoria washed over you when you lowered yourself all the way until you were practically sitting on his lap. Spencer let out a heavy exhale now that you were able to take all of him in this new position. You moved your hands out from under you and put them on Spencer’s shoulders as a way to stabilize you each time you’d come up. After a few cursory movements, you found a comfortable pace. Spencer couldn’t contain himself, he had to grab your hips in his hands and buck up before, his pelvis meeting your ass before you could even fully lower yourself again. With the tempo of motion increasing drastically because of Spencer’s participation, you couldn’t even adjust to his length anymore. Every time he’d pull out was temporary relief for the ever-growing knot forming in your stomach. You bit back a moan when Spencer curled his hips to thrust into you at a different angle. This stroke mercilessly hit that knot in your stomach, forcing a strangled noise out. 

“Don’t stop, Spencer!” You were surprised at how you were even able to put together a cohesive sentence since your brain felt like it was short circuiting. 

With Spencer’s curved thrusts, the knot in your stomach grew bigger and bigger. You even felt yourself clench around Spencer. He felt it, too and his head instantly lolled back in pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head with him. Your skin felt prickly as sweat started dripping from your forehead. If you didn’t know any better, the generator was working again because the heat in the room was thick. Spencer’s strokes were growing slower in anticipation. You picked up the pace for him and made a conscious clench around him to help him reach his peak. 

“I can’t control myself, Y/N. I need to pull out now.” He sputtered.

You made an indistinct noise that communicated your disapproval. It was the only thing Spencer needed to hear to know that it was okay if he came. 

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned, knowing you were going to follow close behind. 

He dug his nails into your hips, bringing you back to reality as if it was his way of pinching you to tell you it was real. From the pain of his hands clawing into you, you almost couldn’t feel him coming, until you felt it dribble down your inner thigh. Suddenly, it felt like his warm essence made electricity surge through your body and course through your veins. With a speed faster than light itself, the knot in your stomach released. You cried out as his seed mixed with your own and cascaded down like the relentless rain outside cascaded down the window. The euphoria of your orgasm brought you to a complete stop. 

“Holy fuck.” You swallowed hard. The inside of your mouth was dry from where it hung open for so long. 

Spencer was at a loss for words. His silence was so unfamiliar you had to giggle. 

“You okay?” You lifted yourself off of his lap to gain some clarity. He gulped hard. 

“Am I dreaming?” He sounded genuinely dazed and confused, it was adorable. 

Garcia’s glow in the dark toys helped you to find a box of tissues. You took one from the box and wiped yourself before pulling your skirt back down. Meanwhile, Spencer zipped up his pants and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Spencer,” You laughed a little. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

He hadn’t changed his spot on the couch so you straddled his lap again, this time with more pure intentions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck, while his hands rested on your hips again and his lips were pressing on your shoulder, leaving quick pecks. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confessed against your skin. You leaned back so you could see his face and kept your hands behind his head to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. Enjoying your soothing touch, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lay against your wrist. He was so precious like this. With Spencer’s head cocked to the side, a distinct beam of light was revealed. This time it was shining onto your face, almost like what it feels like when you accidentally walk past a projector screen and look at the projector light. In this instance though, the light wasn’t nearly as blinding. It was soft and ethereal. It lit up the rain falling on the other side of the window. It even displayed signs of steam coming from the inside. You could see condensation running down the pane. It had gotten so hot in here because of you two that steam was produced. That felt like some sort of accomplishment. You mirthlessly chuckled and leaned forward. With this sudden movement, your chest was pressing against Spencer’s. He was forced to lift his head back up from your wrist when he wanted to examine what you were doing. You leaned past the backrest of the couch and exhaled a hot breath onto the window to make it fog up. Spencer watched you do this over his shoulder, trying to figure out what you were doing. With the glass fogged up, you started drawing a heart with your index finger. You lazily shaded in the heart and looked back at Spencer to show off your creation. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it meant something. 

Spencer pulled a hand away from your hip to use his fingers to add to the drawing. To the left of the heart, Spencer drew a vertical line with a dot above it, and then to the right of it he drew a small horseshoe shape. You pouted your lips when you finally got the message. 

i ♡ u

You looked at him before blowing another hot breath onto the already existing fog to extend it. You drew a number right beside it. 

i ♡ u 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*