#and the first few sources said no its not

[kusanagihaku]

the promises carved into our tears 

⭢ haku x mc, 3.6k

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time.

or: a red string soulmate au where hotarubi works for yuelao, 如果可以-style. on ao3 here.

“Nightmares again?” 

Haku sinks into a chair, blinking blearily at Subaru as flames clear slowly from the edge of his vision. “Mm.” 

Subaru smiles sympathetically. He sets a warm teacup down on the table in front of Haku, and motions for him to take a sip. “Gyokuro blend, from Nakamura Tokichi. Zenji’s just stepped out to get this week’s list of clients from Yuelao.” 

Haku murmurs a thanks as he cradles the teacup in his hands. It is nearly too hot to hold, but the weight in his hands is grounding, and it doesn’t take more than a few sips before the fog behind his eyes clear. 

Good. He has a full day of work ahead of him. 

It started after The Incident back at Darkwick – after the smoke had cleared, all major and minor deities had descended on the island, eager to recruit a freshly dead ghoul into their ranks. 

Once most of them had gotten over the shock of also needing to work in the afterlife (Daikokuten had laughed, saying, “How else do you think the gods keep this world running, if not for the behind the scenes work of us supernatural beings?” before promptly offering Taiga a job) and the shock of there being another ghoul in their midst (Zenji’s non-apology was rather sheepish, and mostly directed at Jiro), Towa was the first to be recruited, enticed by Yuelao’s stories of soulmates tied together with red string and destined lovers with fates written in the stars. Haru had followed, of course – only for a while, until Towa gets settled, he said. I’ll worry about him. 

Naturally Zenji got pulled along too, claiming the red strings he’d tie would be brilliant source material for his next manuscript. After all, love sells, doesn’t it? 

Subaru didn’t have the heart to remind him there would be nobody around to publish his manuscript, now that none of them were corporeal, but had followed him anyway, despite an offer from Ame-no-Uzume to work as a kabuki talent scout. There was something repelling about going back to his old life, he said, and left it at that. 

Of course, they pulled the shell of their vice-captain along too. It was the least they could do, with what was left of Haku. 

Not that Haku minded – working for Yuelao isn’t particularly taxing. He sends them a list of soulmates meant to meet that week, each pair of serial numbers complete with the time and location; all they have to do is map out their routes each day, show up at the correct place and time with the red soulmate strings, then let the latent magic floating in the fabric of the universe do its work. 

It’s mostly paperwork anyway, with the biggest part of their job being signing off on each pair after the soulmate strings tie themselves. He can’t complain; it’s been easy work for the past twenty odd years, the days slipping by like water between his fingers. Not a bad way to spend eternity. 

And it’s fulfilling too  – like what Zenji says, there’s something special in seeing bonds form between two people that are two sides of the same coin. It reminds him of–

Haku sets his empty cup down. Shakes his head to clear it. 

Subaru looks up from the book he is reading, but does not say anything. He picks up the teapot, instead, and refills Haku’s cup. 

Haku nods in thanks. 

The comfortable silence stretches out again, drifting like dust motes in the late morning light. It is only interrupted when Zenji arrives back home, banging his way through the entrance of their shared home with a triumphant, “Guess who I met on the way home!”

Haku cracks a smile. There is always something infectious about Zenji’s enthusiasm, no matter how tired he is. “Who?” 

“Towa!” Zenji exclaims. He sets his messenger bag on the table. “Still as floaty as ever. He rejected my offer to let him listen to my latest plot idea, though. It seemed like he had somewhere to be.” 

Subaru laughs. “He must have been heading to a binding. He’s still on morning shift, after all.” 

Zenji hums as he unzips his messenger bag and pulls out their soulmate lists for the week. “I told him he and Haru were welcome over for dinner any time. Don’t think he heard me, though.” 

Subaru nudges a freshly-poured cup of tea away from Zenji’s stack of paper. “I’ll text Haru. It’s been a while since we last saw him.”

And it has been – the last time Haku remembers seeing the red-haired ghoul was sometime two or three months ago in April. All five of them were slated to work a freshman orientation at a university, easily one of the busiest times of the year for the entire Yuelao organisation. Instead of going to his allocated location and waiting, however, Towa had just tossed all the red strings he had in his box up in the air, waved a hand, and trusted that all the strings would go where they were meant to go. 

Haru had cried at the logistical nightmare, then promptly banned Towa from holding the box containing their soulmate strings ever again. Haku wonders idly if Haru ever recovered from the stress. 

Zenji shuffles the stack of paper into three smaller piles, then hands one pile each to Subaru and Haku. They descend into silence, the way they always do with a new list, quietly setting virtual push-pins on their Maps apps to plan out their individual routes for the week. 

Haku is at the end of his list before he sees it. Tucked under entry number 85, his last pair for the week, is a single serial number, slid in at 5.17pm at a park in Meguro. 

He blinks. That’s not supposed to happen. Don’t they usually come in a pair? 

He waits until Subaru looks up from his own list before carefully highlighting the problem. 

Subaru glances over the strange entry, brow furrowed. “Must have been an administrative error. Perhaps whoever was compiling the lists forgot to copy paste the second serial number in?” 

Haku looks doubtfully at the lone serial number sitting at the bottom of the page. Administration has never made a mistake before. “Perhaps.” 

Zenji leans over, peering over his glasses. “My last one for the week is there too,” he says. “At 5.09pm. We can go together to figure it out.” 

Subaru rests his chin on his hands. “My day ends at 4.28pm. Shall we head there together? I’m curious to see what happens.” 

A wave of gratefulness for their wiling companionship slides a smile onto Haku’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, why not?” 

-

The end of the week does not come soon enough. 

They meet at the corner near the Meguro River as the summer sun begins to dip lower in the sky. It is a short walk to the park they are meant to be at, and along the way Zenji regales them with how one of his bindings this morning looked like it was right out of a romance novel. 

“Was it better than the one last week?” Haku teases, and Zenji laughs, bright and loud. 

“The one at the cat cafe? No, nothing can beat that! I could tell right away those two were meant to be, I swear.” 

The park they stop in front of is small, more like a playground than anything else. There is a small child sitting on the swings, blue push-popsicle sweating in his little fist. His feet barely touch the floor as he swings gently back and forth, looking around the neighbourhood with wide, curious eyes. 

“That’ll be him, then,” Haku says. He leans over to check Zenji’s list, then flicks his wrist to check the time. “Any minute, now.” 

Subaru sighs, smiling. “I love it when they find their soulmates young. It’s the best kind of friendship, isn’t it?” 

“Exactly,” Zenji coos. He tugs open his messenger bag to retrieve his box of red strings. “It’s always adorable. Goodness, I want to pinch his little cheeks… he has no idea what’s in store for him.” 

Haku snorts fondly at the two of them. Thank goodness they weren’t visible to humans – three strange men standing in a playground staring at a child? Never mind they still looked like they were in their mid-twenties, they’d be reported for kidnapping straight away. 

Before he can say anything, though, a slightly older boy rounds the corner on his bicycle. It is evident he is new to cycling, shiny orange bicycle wobbling from side to side as he banks hard to the right, trying to make too sharp of a turn. 

Haku barely has time to blink before the boy’s bicycle screeches too far to the right, flinging the boy onto the soft, packed earth of the playground. 

There is a teary “ow,” as the boy sits up, cradling a scraped knee. His hands are bloody, too, roughness of the ground having rubbed abrasions onto the skin of his palm. 

The boy on the swing slips off his seat neatly. He barely comes up to Haku’s hip. “I saw that.”

The boy on the floor whips around at the sound, scowling through his tears. “No, you didn’t.” 

“I did,” he confirms. His tongue flashes blue as he speaks. “It’s okay, though. My brother says it’s normal to fall when you just start learning. Do you need help?”

The older boy hesitates. “Maybe.”

As he helps him up, Zenji slides his box open, and lifts a single red string out of it. He blows, gently, and they watch as the thin thread rolls off the tips of his fingers and drifts over to where the older boy has just regained his balance. It loops around their arms and knots around both their little fingers, giving off a gentle glow as both ends seal, before disappearing. 

The only evidence that anything ever happened is Zenji’s beam as he scribbles a quick signature beside their serial numbers. “Lovely!” 

He clicks his pen closed before tucking everything haphazardly back into his bag, and they watch as the boys pick up the bicycle and begin to walk away. Subaru turns to face Haku. “It’s going to be 5.17pm soon.”

Haku looks down at his watch. Two minutes. 

He has barely retrieved his own box of strings out from his bag when a voice sounds out behind them – “Excuse me. Coming through.”

Time stops. 

It is a voice he can recognise anywhere, a voice he hears in the moments between closing his eyes and falling asleep, one he hears echoing through the threads of his dreams and nightmares alike. It sinks into his skin, past the beat of his heart and the pulse of his nerves, and fills his veins with a feeling he does not quite dare to describe as hope. It sends tremors down the tips of his fingers; it calls open a rift in his memory he has never attempted to heal.  

He turns around, almost mechanically, and sees you. 

-

You swear to every deity there is that if the universe has a reason it’s making you late to your part-time job today, it better be a fucking good one. 

First the trains weren’t running as frequently as they were supposed to, then there was an issue with the gantries malfunctioning at the station exit, then you dropped your bottle and had to run after it for a bit to get it back and in the process missed the green light to cross the road… and now, finally on the home stretch to your employer’s place there are three fucking idiots standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking your way. 

You huff. Your employer better be flexing their omniscient powers to read your situation – what for work for a minor god if they make you relive every tiny inconvenience to explain why you’re fifteen minutes late to your job? 

(Never mind that they’re actually incredibly nice and don’t really care when you head in for work as long as you get their paperwork done.) 

“Excuse me,” you call out. “Coming through.” 

All three men whip around. On their faces are various states of astonishment, frozen almost comically in their surprise. 

You’re about to sigh and push forward, when you suddenly notice the colour of their eyes. 

Shit. 

They’re not human. 

Fuck. 

You send a quick prayer to your employer. Hopefully they’re listening – the last time you ran into another supernatural being he made you look for his glasses for two hours before receiving a call saying he left them at home. 

You don’t generally mind helping minor deities here and there, honestly, especially not since they bless you right after for your help. Most of them are really nice. In fact, you’d even say you’re used to doing little things for them, having grown up with the Sight and being able to see supernatural beings for most of your life. But these three don’t look like they need any help, and you’re going to be late to what you know is going to be a mountain of paperwork and— 

You think the tallest one might be crying. 

Ah.

Before you can ask if he’s okay and if they need any help, something bright and glowing rises from the box one of them is holding. 

It elongates, spinning itself slowly mid-air, one end gliding over to you like it has found its target. The other end floats up to the man with green hair. As you watch in bewilderment, it gently wraps around both your little fingers, then tightens with a flash of gold. 

It sends a searing pain through your arms, a shock that slams the air out of you and turns your vision an inky black. 

-

You are standing on a wooden porch, shade of dripping wisteria providing you a little shelter from the grey drizzle. The quiet patter of the rain is only interrupted when someone calls your name, a soft summoning that fills you with warmth. You turn your head to see the brown-haired man – Subaru whispers into your mind, like his name has been there all along – smiling at you. Tea is ready, he says. Come inside. 

You are looking down from the top of a long staircase, closely packed torii gates lining the path down. The stone steps beneath your feet are faded with age, but the red of the dates are vibrant, almost as if they were recently painted. The blue haired man in front of you turns, grinning brightly; his ruby eyes sparkle in the dim light as he extends his hand backwards. Zenji – the flash of his name brings along with it a swell of affection. Come, my dear, he says. They’re waiting for us. 

You are sitting on a cushion laid out on the porch of a traditional Japanese house, back resting against doors made of paper and wood. It overlooks a quiet garden that extends on all three sides; the peacefulness of the stone lanterns makes it feel like a secret you are bound to keep. Your legs are stretched out in front of you, covered by a black blazer with gold trim and pressed against the long legs of someone else. Your hands lay in your lap, fingers intertwined with his graceful ones. When you look up at the man with green hair, his eyes closed and dozing, something in you shifts like a sunbeam – Haku. His name is a cloud on your tongue, painting the inside of your lungs a new, different, golden sort of warmth. It tangles itself into the base of your throat, all tender and sweet; your heart aches with a fondness you’ve never thought possible. Haku. 

You are dangling your feet off the edge of a dock, watching diamonds of moonlight dance off the ripples in the water. Translucent fish float lazily around your feet, drifting in invisible eddies only they can see. An arm is curled behind you as you lean against someone’s shoulder; you don’t have to look up to know the giddy feeling running through your veins is because of the soft kisses Haku is dropping into your hair. He raises his hand to brush your cheek, to tilt your chin up to face him. You watch the monochrome of the moon wash his eyelashes a silvery grey as he dips towards you, before your eyes flutter closed at the gentle warmth of his lips on yours, languorous and insistent and exploring. How lucky you are, you remember, to be able to love him like this. How lucky you are, to have him love you. 

You are pressed up against the back of a door, your shirt half unbuttoned and blazer long discarded somewhere on the floor. Haku’s hands are everywhere, mouth hot on the hollow behind your ear as your fingers scrabble against the buttons of his vest. Princess, he groans, all teeth and tongue on your neck as he slips a leg between yours. Please. And you acquiesce, as you always do, melting into him under the deftness of his fingers and the heat of his breath. He hangs stars on the ladder of your spine and his name on the roof of your mouth; you dance in the fire he lights in the kiln of your hips. You think, as he pulls gasp after gasp from the scorch of your skin, that if it is for Haku you will burn yourself inside out, if only he asks. 

You are sitting - no, lying - in a pile of rubble. There are flames licking up the walls around you, ghastly bright and smokeless, unending despite the rain that seems to be pouring around everything else. You are dimly aware of how close the flames are to you, but the burning that flickers from under your skin is infinitely more unbearable.   

There are sobs above you from the figure who has pulled you into his lap, cradling you in his arms and shielding you from the rain; you barely need to open your eyes to hear the guilt leaking out each breath Haku takes.  

“Don’t cry,” you rasp. Some part of you recognises the irony, given the tears staining your own cheeks, but you raise a heavy hand anyway, thumb brushing the wetness away from his cheeks. It is hard to form words. You hope Haku understands. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. He are shaking uncontrollably, tsunamis rolling off the tense slope of his shoulders. “I should have tried harder—“

“No,” you say, again, this time a little more vehemently. The scratch of your throat worsens, but you no longer have the strength to cough out the petals that have lodged themselves in your lungs. 

You want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, it was never his fault, that he has done nothing but try as hard as he could to break your curse the moment you stepped into Darkwick. He has spent so much of himself making your final months lovely, and even now with the walls crumbling around him he still has not let you go. 

I’m sorry, you want to say. For meeting you on the train that day, already like this, already cursed. For not meeting you earlier in this life, from the beginning already too late. For being filled with flower and fire, even though all I want to be is filled with my love for you. 

But it is getting hard to breathe, and it is getting dark, and you are so, so tired. 

“Wait for me,” you say, instead. You tilt your face into the palm of his hand, and inhale the last of his scent as best as you can. 

When you gather the strength to speak again, your voice is an oath made, fierce and low, carved into the ache of your tears. You look up at Haku, your love, your light, radiant even in his grief, even as your vision is blurry and fading. “We’ll meet again, I promise.” 

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next, until we meet again. I will look for you in every lifetime. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time. 

-

You blink, and suddenly you are back, gasping for air as an ache cracks open in your chest, gaping and yearning. 

You are vaguely aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and that the tallest man – Zenji – is openly bawling now, but the moment your eyes meet his the rest of the world blurs. 

Haku. 

He has not moved, you think, all hesitance and incredulity, frozen with the helplessness of a man who has wanted so much for so long but has only dared to hope for so little. His gaze shines with unshed tears, disbelief wrapping itself taut around the clench of his fists, like he is trying not to reach out for you, trying to keep the spark of his skin from setting your world ablaze again. 

But, oh, in this life you’ve been raised fireproof, heart forged into a glass-clear that sings for the sunset of his hands. In this life, you are not on a train, you are not too late, and you are not filled the potency of a curse but the promise of a happy ending. 

We’ll meet again, I promise. 

You take a small step forward. The red string wound around your finger ripples, flashes gold in the evening light. 

“Haku?” 

[steaming-system-takes]

my hot take is that internet system culture absolutely DESTROYS one of the key principles of dissociative identity at its core. hear me out.

disclaimer: not pro endo!

everyone in basically any context would agree that every individual's brain is a highly unique fingerprint and a projection of an uncontrollable consciousness. that being SAID. why are there RULES about how a system can and can't function? i understand that there are diagnostic criteria and trends, but it is so important to understand that this stuff is literally curated by our subconscious minds and is NOT SUBJECT TO CONTROL OR CONFORMITY !

how is it possible that introjects can't exist? you're telling me that my subconscious mind is able to create People out of thin air and force my mind to split itself into pieces but it also follows rules on what the guy's name can be and how he can act and what he looks like? (in tandem with each other of course)

this is my Issue With Internet System Culture. we can all agree that DID is severely under-researched but somehow we also manage to make up these random rules for ourselves.

i have had a very personal experience with this, which is why i feel qualified to talk about it. i spent the first few years of knowing my system on twitter (of all ungodly places) and my system behaved like everyone elses. co-conciousness, small numbers, lots of labels, super rigid roles, introjects dont deviate from source, solid switching, etc etc.

once i got off of twitter and just started hanging out on my own, my system's behavior changed DRAMATICALLY.

The Stuff You Feed Your Subconscious Mind Will Impact How It Treats Your System.

once i stopped letting the influence of system Rules and what can and can't happen, my system digressed into a more logical (but less rigid) process. roles spread out, the front room held a different function, switches felt different, even fronting was almost a different experience. and it was SO MUCH EASIER. i haven't felt like i was faking in over a year. i haven't worried about splitting in so long.

systems, with all the love and respect on this planet and in my heart, if you feel like you're faking, delete the app. unfollow the tag. your brain is a fingerprint, stop trying to match it to anyone else's . your system functions in a unique and curated way in order to protect you in your childhood. there was no manual when your trauma happened. i love you 🫶

^

[wellthatschaotic]

oh

[widevibratobitch]

aaaaaaand it's starting. mom's bestie just texted me asking to come over this weekend cause it's Bad and it's probably the last chance to talk and maybe say goodbye to my mom's husband and i need to take care of her. god. i wont get through this weekend unless im high or drunk istg.

[basslinegrave]

stop me before i make an au for the escape room clones

[sayruq]

Police in the Turkish city of Adana detained 11 suspects, five Israeli and two Syrian, on allegations of organ trafficking, the Daily Sabah reported on 5 May. The Provincial Directorate of Security's Anti-Smuggling and Border Gates Branch began investigating after examining the passports of seven individuals who arrived in Adana from Israel about a month ago by plane for the purpose of health tourism. The two Syrian nationals, ages 20 and 21, were found to have fake passports. Further investigation revealed that Syrian nationals had each agreed to sell one of their own kidneys to two of the Israeli nationals, ages 68 and 28, for kidney transplants in Adana. During searches at the suspects' residences, $65,000 and numerous fake passports were seized. Israel has long been at the center of what Bloomberg described in 2011 as a “sprawling global black market in organs where brokers use deception, violence, and coercion to buy kidneys from impoverished people, mainly in underdeveloped countries, and then sell them to critically ill patients in more-affluent nations.” The financial newspaper added, “Many of the black-market kidneys harvested by these gangs are destined for people who live in Israel.” The organ-trafficking network extends from former Soviet Republics such as Azerbaijan, Belarus, Ukraine, and Moldova to Brazil, the Philippines, South Africa, and beyond, the Bloomberg investigation showed. Accusations of Israeli involvement in organ trafficking also apply to the occupied Palestinian territories. In 2009, Sweden's largest daily newspaper, Aftonbladet, reported testimony that the Israeli army was kidnapping and murdering Palestinians to harvest their organs. The report quotes Palestinian claims that young men from the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip had been seized by the Israeli army, and their bodies returned to the families with missing organs. "'Our sons are used as involuntary organ donors,' relatives of Khaled from Nablus said to me, as did the mother of Raed from Jenin as well as the uncles of Machmod and Nafes from Gaza, who all had disappeared for a few days and returned by night, dead and autopsied," wrote Donald Bostrom, the author of the report.Bostrom also cites an incident of alleged organ theft during the the first Palestinian intifada in 1992. He says that the Israeli army abducted a young man known for throwing stones at Israeli troops in the Nablus area. The young man was shot in the chest, both legs, and the stomach before being taken to a military helicopter, which transported him to an unknown location. Five nights later, Bostrom said, the young man's body was returned, wrapped in green hospital sheets. Israel’s Channel 2 TV reported that in the 1990s, specialists at Abu Kabir Forensic Medicine Institute harvested skin, corneas, heart valves, and bones from the bodies of Israeli soldiers, Israeli citizens, Palestinians, and foreign workers without permission from relatives. The Israeli military confirmed that the practice took place, but claimed, "This activity ended a decade ago and does not happen any longer." Israel’s assault on Gaza since 7 October has provided further opportunities for the theft and harvesting of Palestinians’ organs. On 30 January, WAFA news agency reported that the Israeli army returned the bodies of 100 Palestinian civilians it had stolen from hospitals and cemeteries in various areas in Gaza. According to medical sources, inspection of some of the bodies showed that organs were missing from some of them. On 18 January, the Times of Israel reported that the Israeli army confirmed reports that its soldiers dug up graves in a Gaza cemetery, claiming its soldiers were trying to “confirm that the bodies of hostages were not buried there.”

[theglamorousferal]

Immortal Everlasting Trio who have been exploring the Infinite Realms for the last few centuries. The three of them are flying, braiding their paths as they make their way through the Realms.

“How do you think Ellie is doing in her current incarnation?” Nightshade asks of her partners,

“Hmm probably well, she was exploring the galaxy this time right? I could always check?” Pharaoh responds, a keyboard made of sandstone appears at his fingertips.

“She feels content.” Said Phantom, soothing the worries of the other two. The stars that are freckles on his face brighten with the comment.

They swirl around each other in lazy patterns, unknowing of the passage of time, when Phantom feels a tug at his core. The trio circle up, his partners noticing the shift in mood.

“I don’t recognize this one.” He mutters to himself, placing a hand on the center of his chest. “It’s none of the family, but it is a bit familiar.” He furrowed his brow, trying to trace the sensation to its source. He closed his eyes and felt the pull of magic. “It doesn’t feel malicious, there’s desperation and curiosity for sure, but I feel no ill intent.” He thought for a moment. “I’m going to follow it. I want to know why this feels familiar”

Nightshade formed a purple bloom and tucked it behind one of his ears and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Be safe.”

Pharaoh gently took his hand and kissed it, bestowing a glass bangle to his wrist. “Don’t make stupid decisions,” he smirked, “without us.”

Phantom laughed and in a flash of bright white light he was gone.

* * *

With a flash of light so bright it temporarily blinded, Phantom appeared in a summoning circle. The room he now occupied was large, a massive sofa made up a good portion of the room and there was a kitchen off to the side. Turning around, there was a large screen with even larger windows behind it. He turned back and now saw the people in the room.

One was green with a unitard on, one was sitting criss cross in front of some candles, a book and a small cauldron, one was floating and had a mass of bright pink hair, one was a cyborg of some kind and stood at the ready with a cannon for an arm and the last was shielding his eyes with a black cape.

“Who summons me?” Phantom asked in a far quieter tone than the teens apparently expected.

The one who appeared to have done the ritual stood and spoke first. “Mighty Phantom, we seek your assistance in dealing with a massive threat to our world. The demon Trigon looks to the Earth as his next conquest.” They took a breath and looked down. “He intends to use my power to do it, and I do not have the strength to stop him.”

Phantom settled his feet on the ground and placed a hand on their shoulder. “Peace young one. Why don’t we start with introductions? As you know, I am Phantom, he/him, now who has managed to summon me?”

“I am Raven, she/her, the rest here are my team the Teen Titans.” She turned to her team, they all seemed shocked. “I apologize for them, usually they take things in stride a lot easier. This is Beast Boy, he/him, Starfire she/her, Cyborg, he/him, and Robin, he/him.”

“Hmm, may I see the text you used to summon me?” He gestured to the book on the floor. “I was not aware of anything that could summon me in this realm. It is familiar to me though, I can’t place why.”

Raven raised the book into his hand. He leafed through it humming to himself before stopping on a photo of a note that looked familiar. He smiled to himself, remembering the time a century ago to him that himself and his partners helped a small civilization and they left a way for the leader to contact them if they needed help. He skimmed the next few paragraphs and then laughed and closed the book.

“I’ll help. In fact, my partners and I will help. It’s been a long while since we were in a mortal realm. I will return in a week’s time your time to discuss what we need to do. This will work to summon us if we forget or if your danger arrives early.” He magicked a paper with a seal on it and handed it to her. “I must discuss with my partners and will do research on this Trigon. Thank you for calling us, we’ve been aimless for too many decades. Have a good night.” He vanished in another flash of light.

* * *

Phantom appeared in a flash of light cackling as he tumbled across the chess board his partners were playing on, scattering the flowers and sandstone pieces across the green sky.

“Beloved you know not to do that,” Nightshade gathered the giggling king into her lap, Pharaoh moving to lean against her shoulder and push the hair from the eyes of Phantom, “but what has you laughing so?”

Phantom mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Remember that civilization we helped out a century ago? Well apparently a few hundred years have passed in that world and the people we helped revered us as gods. A sorceress summoned us for help defeating a demon. They were so cute, little teenage heroes like we once were.” He sighed and settled into the arms of his lovers. “Have either of you heard of Trigon?”

[solardrop]

love bites

spencer reid x reader

summary: a drabble where spencer won't give you a hickey on the neck tags: fluff some suggestiveness. no smut but its implied so ill say 18+. inaccurate medical discussions. talks about veins and arteries and strokes. i think this can be read as gender-neutral? word count: ~0.9k a/n: something short and sweet from my drafts I decided to pull out of hell so it's very rough around the edges but I still think the concept is cute! I was watching tiktok and a very qualified and well-trusted source said this can happen so obviously its a real statistic that spencer reid would believe. Let me live ok. Not proofread!!

“People actually underestimate the dangers of certain erotic activities like love bites. There have actually been some well-documented cases of people dying as the result of hickeys. There was one case in Mexico about a 17-year-old boy dying of a stroke caused by a blood clot in his artery from a hickey his girlfriend gave him”

You blink slowly at the man you were sitting on, baffled by the absolute nonsense pouring out of his mouth. 

“Spencer, you do realize you’ve left marks on me before?”

“Never your neck,”

“Yes you have-” you pull back to think. You bashfully recall the few times you two have been intimate. Marks littered across your thighs, chest, and ass; hell even a few on your shoulder blades. But for the life of you, you can’t recall the sharp sting of his teeth marring you anywhere above your collarbone.

“Ok fine, but you have bitten me on my thighs a lot.” you recall, “I remember when you got shot in your leg and damn near bled out. So is my femoral artery not a concern of yours doctor?”

He looks away with a coy smile. HIs cheeks redden as he stutters to put his words together. 

“Your femoral artery is a bit deeper in your body than your carotid is in your neck. The skin on your body is actually about two times thicker than..”

Spencer begins to ramble about delicate nature of the neck, firing off related statistics and study facts without missing a beat. You listen carefully, still amazed by overflowing well of knowledge your boyfriend could be all the time.He looked confident like this. His eyes would brighten and every trivial connection he could make to another topic would have his lips twisting with mirth. 

This time, with the topic at hand, you find your focus locked on his neck. His adam apple bobs with every syllable out of his mouth. The pale skin of his collarbone exposed beneath his frumpled collar teased you from your high vantage point. The skin was pristine, not a blemish or scratch in sight. You pause. Have you never given him a hickey on his neck?! You run through the cataloge of your most intimate moments all over again realizing the clear absence in your relationship. 

“... so you aren’t in much danger with your femoral artery for superficial injuries like a brui-oh—!” 

His words are cut short by the graze of your teeth at the base of his neck. You don’t bite down yet. If this was something he wanted to back out of, you’d let him. You wait for him to react, kissing the pulse point that picked up pace since the first touch of your lips to the delicate skin.

You continue to mouth as his neck. Licking at tender spots behind his ear earn you little moans, followed by sharp gasps when your teeth follow in their wake. You move to pull away after a moment. He didn’t throw you off and scream attempted murder when you started, but he also hasn’t been begging you from more either. You’ve teased hm enough for one day, kisses and lovebites on his sweet lips and elsewhere were more than enough for you anyways. But before you could pull away a firm hand at the back of your head presses you back into the crook of his neck. His other hand wraps tighter around your waist, sliding you closer to him, every inch of your body pressed against his. Got him.

“Please..” he whispers. 

“Hm..?”

Spencer’s voice starts with a crack, he takes a moment to clear his throat before he continues, “You can… You can leave a mark”

“But Spencer!,” you mock a startled gasp, “Your precious and delicate carotid!”

“I think just this once is fine..” he murmurs, “and I trust you”

You beam at his honesty, ending his suffering to press your lips to his neck again. You remain gentle. Running your lips along his skin, sofly grazing him with your teeth now and again. His breath hitches above you when your teeth graze that spot behind his jaw once more. You focus your attention there. Kissing and licking and blowing until you sink your teeth down into the flesh. 

A choked groan bubbles from his throat, the sound egging you on. You suck the spot into your mouth, careful to not be too aggressive— while you didn’t totally believe hickey strokes were that much of a danger, you still dont want to fuck around and find your way into that embarrassing statistic. 

When youre pleased with the variety of sounds you pull out of your love, you sit up to admire your work. Spencer looked at you in a daze, eyes cloudy and bottom lip pulled so tight between his teeth you’re sure he’d have a bruise there too later. Your eyes drop to the love bite at his neck, the skin deepening in color the longer you look at it. You tap the spot gently with your pointer finger beaming at the wince it earns you. 

“Feeling any signs of stroke or a heart attack doctor?” you tease.

“No, but we’ll need to run a few more trials to have a real experiment here.” you cackle at his sly wording when he pulls you off his lap abruptly, pinning you below his body instead. 

“We may also need additional test subjects for this research to be truly viable.,” Before you could fully process his meaning he attaches his lips to your neck with a smile.

[g0dlyunsub]

make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort 

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?” 

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?” 

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly. 

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes. 

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace. 

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?” 

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his. 

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response. 

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.  

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.” 

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line. 

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly. 

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch. 

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously. 

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

[thegreatwicked]

This obviously needed its own post and here it is, a collection of blog posts and resources I have found and used for my own writing, I hope they help you too! Go forth and write that spice!

The Smut Writers Dictionary By @maybeeatspaghetti Seriously, how many different way are there to write cock? Does anyone else wonder if they've used the word 'lips' too many times? Well, this is a good place to start!

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut This is the first one I found and I go back to it frequently! There's also some great information about specific areas of sex that may not be common knowledge for first time writers!

How to Write Smut By @urfriendlywriter Another great source of information from different verbiage to use and a few tips to hel you along (giggity)

Smut Thesaurus By @prurientpuddlejumper just what it sounds like and you can never have too many words at your disposal.

6 Steps to Writing Better Sex By @chaoschaoswriting If you're at a loss or just want some more help this is antoher fantastic blog!

Writing Prompts NSFW By @seidenbros Need some dialogue? Or a story idea? Have a look!

#100 NSFW/Smut Dialogue Prompts By @a-cure-for-writers-block More? More. This is also a fantastic writing blog with lots to offer!

Intimate + Sexual Headcannon Questions By @petalsprompts Good questions to ask your characters to get to know them better and make more well rounded characters!

Smut & Mature (18+) Master List By @pendarling A great list dialogue prompts, scenarios, and helpful bits!

Poly NSFW Alphabet By @smaoineamhsalach Another great way to get to know your characters and maybe a handful of ideas for story ideas.

Kink Prompts Another from the previous blogger above and I didn't know what half of these are! I'll work on a kink dictionary next!

Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 There's a lot to be said for this particular subject! It's hard to write stuff like this, so how do you get over it? Start here!

How to Write a Kiss Scene By @youneedsomeprompts Yes!!! I still struggle with this one! There's a thousand ways to kiss, find your favorite!

Smut Oneliners By @deity-prompts you can never have enough one-liners!!

How to Write a (Great) Sex Scene Another great article for new smut writers

9 Tips for Writing Steamy Scenes More tips to help you wirte good steamy stuff!

How to Write Erotica and a Damn Fine Sex Scene A WEALTH if information on writing, structuring, and helpful tips!

@saradikahas a fantatic blog with graphics for you to use to add some fun to your posts. Things like MDNI Banners, 18+ Content Warnings, Support Your Favorite Writers and Reblog banners! They are free to use but she does ask that you reblog her stuff if you do! She's also a very talented writer and she writes some AMAZING Din Djarin stories!

Gay Sex Positions Guide This is a WONDERFUL adition and thank you so much @b7bubby for bringing this to my attention, I didn't have any resources for writing M/M fairings but this is a much needed addition to the spicy community! i've never written an M/M pairing and I feel like such an idiot for overlooking the need for a resource like this!

Writing the Perfect Kiss Scene provided by @writers-potiona fantastic little guide to writing better kisses!

If you find any other great smut writing resources feel free to tag me so I can add them to this list! Good luck with your writing! Now go write that story and LET THE SPICE FLOW!!!!

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[defmaybe]

Prudence

NMIXX’s Lily Jin Morrow x Male Reader

5.3k words

A/N: Thanks to @gangplanksorenji for the beta reading! And also I wrote this with only lust, so it might look rough lol. Thanks for reading!

–

“Get your ass the fuck over here!”

An earth-shattering scream from behind freezes you in place. The voice, as you can always make up, lacks any warmth that would normally be found anywhere else. It always sends shivers throughout your body like a constant, and you can’t quite get used to it.

Another set of profanities follows. “Bitch boy, I said get—the fuck—here!” she screams out.

Following the source, you slowly rotate yourself to face her locating behind. You don’t dare to move from the spot by an inch, so you can only turn your feet, inch by inch. The floors of your shoes rub against the floor.

In your moving sight, the unhelpful bystanders are watching the scene unfold, whispering into one another’s ears. And once your eyes meet hers, you only see her smirking over the conquest once more, arms crossed, tapping her toes.

“Come.” She gestures for you to step towards her.

Every open eye is shifting between you and the blonde woman, as you agonizingly plod closer to her, arms unmoved under the distance chipped away.

“Faster, bitch,” she huffs. Her right foot is tapping even quicker.

You shut your eyes, unable to look at her smokey makeup, hence unbeknownst to the fact that she just ran out of her patience mere seconds ago. She stumps towards your sedate frame, before snatching your collar and pulling you to just a breath away from her.

“I said… faster, bitch,” she commands, and you open your eyes again, whimpering. She stares straight into your eyes, displeased with your slight disobedience. Her mouth is agape a little.

“W—What do you want this time?” you stutter out. Her minty breath hits your nostrils.

The woman continues her intimidation with a laugh. “What do I want?” And with no hint of shame in her eyes, her right hand seizes your covered crotch, drawing a few gasps from the crowd surrounding you.

“As always, you, bitch boy,” and as she finishes her words, she darts her face into your right ear, spreading her saliva onto the auricle. And, of course, you whimper out.

It’s Lily Jin Morrow, the woman who owns your ass.

—

Excitement looms in the air, under the sun; it’s the first day of your freshman year, after all. Multiple booths from the clubs found their places on the lush courtyard, parted in the middle to make way for the enthusiastic fellow freshmen. Conversations between the club leaders and the fresh faces added life to the atmosphere.

Your bag had its weight overpowering you. You paced your way through the crowd before being welcomed with the arch in the front door; the path is separated into three ways, with the navigating sign on top. It guided your trembling body to the assigned locker, new, shiny in red - a signal of the constant improvement this university had promised you months ago.

–

“Nope, not today,” Lily said.

“What do you mean?” Yoona inquired, brows arched.

“I just told you, no!”

“You don’t like mint chocolate?”

“Why the fuck would I? I could just brush my teeth for the same effect, and we just had it yesterday.”

“Excusez moi, did you just compare it to toothpaste?”

Lily stared at Yoona for a breath before breaking out a laugh.

“Yeah, it tastes like toothpaste!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Let’s say I won’t be eating that soft cream when it’s mint chocolate day.”

“Hmph! Your loss then,” Yoona chuckles at her friends’ stubbornness.

The other four women were also giggling along with the flavorful banter.

“Wait, do you guys think that is a freshman?” Lily’s laugh was cut short by words as she pointed at the man arranging his locker - you.

Her friends’ visions followed Lily’s finger onto you, struggling to put your bag’s content into the red container. Some were simpering at your predicament.

“Yeah, he definitely is,” Jinsol confirms.

“Definitely?” Lily stared at her.

Jinsol’s confidence dissolved into a shrug. “Definitely, maybe.”

“Oh fuck off, don’t say it if you aren’t sure,” Lily scoffed, before returning her vision to you.

Jinsol lightly slaps Lily’s shoulder. “Well, you can go ask him.”

“He’s a freshman, Lily,” Jiwoo popped up into the conversation. “Look at the way he’s putting stuff into his locker.”

It was true, you could barely hold your bag from falling onto the floor that day.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lily affirms. “Let’s get to work, girls.”

–

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

You turned back to see six women surrounding you, if you remembered correctly. The candy-haired woman seemed to be the leader, judging from how she was slightly closer to you than the others.

“H–Hey,” you stuttered out, clenching your hands on your bag.

The leader’s expression was hard to determine. She scanned you from head to toes, while you took notice of her firm body and the skimpy clothes covering it. There haven't been many styles that have bound you as much as this. Her face was also different from the rest. Perhaps she has some kind of western descent. 

The white crop top didn’t help at all, with it hugging her perky breasts so exquisitely, accentuating them to create a mouthwatering sight. You swear you could drool right then and there, if it wasn’t because of your inhibition. And you’d lie to say that you didn’t look at her white shorts of the same shade, exposing much of her thighs.

“I’m looking for some entertainment,” she said, voice stern. You could only gulp.

She carried on her speech with sultry in her voice, smirking to further charm you. “I’m going to do so many things to you, and you’re going to do so many things for… me.”

Your vision was often blinded by the rapid blinks, while she continued, “If you say no, I’ll leave you alone, otherwise…”

You became a shaking mess under her seduction, the flawless approach. Your hands were trembling, breaths ragged as she closed her face in.

“What is it, huh? Yes… or no.” God.

Maybe it was the way her garment showed off the curves of her chest so clearly, maybe it was the way you garnered stares from her subordinates, or maybe, just maybe, it was her Marc Jacobs’ Perfect Intense finding its way into turning the gears in your head, you nodded, bewitched under her spell.

“Such a needy whore, aren’t you?” She grinned, before bringing her feather touch onto your bulge, fondling it with adeptness.

You whimpered at the contact, hands letting go of the bag to grab on the lockers behind you. You could see that her friends in the corner of your sight were giggling at her magic while you maintained eye contact with the perverted preparator.

“Yeah, moan for me, bitch boy,” she whispered, and you complied between the ragged breaths. It was unbelievable what was happening to you then.

The surrounding women began giggling at your faltering composure, with the leader toying with your cock through the cloth. “It’s Lily, by the way. Sophomore.” Her eyes were still locked on yours.

You moaned as Lily revealed her name, and you were under her complete control by that moment, surrendered to the contact. Her hand on your bulge felt like a torture - an unending torment of what’s coming. 

“L–Lily, please,” you pleaded.

She laughed, before leaning in close to your right ear to command in a whisper. “Then kneel, slut.”

It didn’t take more than a second for you to sink yourself onto the floor, looking up to face her grin. The name sparked something inside you - being called a slut, whore, and bitch in a matter of seconds, with her towering over you.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” she began. Her thumb played with the waistband of her shorts. Sounds of the strap contacting her skin were heard. “Wanna eat my cunt?”

It wasn’t a hard choice to be made. You profusely nodded, channeling your submissive eagerness for her. And quickly, her white shorts were dropped along with her thin panties onto the floor, giving the sight of her bare, clean-shaven sex before you.

And without a word, you gave yourself the pleasure of slowly lapping up her cunt. Her caramel-scented body wash ran into your nostrils, while the tangy taste was equally driving you insane. Her friends are all smiling at the sight in the corner of your eyes.

“Y–Yeah, fuck, you know your job, bitch boy.” Lily pushed your greedy mouth onto her, caressing your hair while doing so. She sang a string of moans over the effect your tongue was having. And seeing the opportunity, you gripped onto her shaking, exposed pale thighs to eat her wet folds better.

“Fuck!” she screamed from the sensations. Despite your tight hold, her juicy legs were still shaking from your action. You can see the contractions of her folds, as if she was ready for such a quick release. You keep your deliberate licks on Lily; bits of you didn’t want her to lose the momentum you’ve been building.

“M–My bitch boy, y–you got quite a tongue.” Both of her hands were wandering in your hair by then, trying to find solace within the furor.

You remained busy pleasing Lily; your tongue felt her contractions for an impending release. And with an unknown bravery, you unlatched your right hand from her, before plunging your fingers into her drenched cavern.

“God, w–what the f–fuck.” Her legs were profusely shaking at that point. You did your best to aim for the swollen nub with your mouth, while touching the rough spot with your digits.

“Fucking whore, is my cunt that good?” she asked, then seemed to answer her own question by pressing (somehow even stronger this time) your whore mouth harder into savoring her cunt. You had never had the chance to inhale such a pungent musk, and fuck, didn’t it send you feral?

“I–I’m gonna cum, whore, d–don’t you dare fucking stop,” she shakily asserted, as you fixated what’s between her thighs. You remained mostly as it was - sucking the clit, brushing the g-spot, with one difference. Your free hand glided up to squeeze her supple ass, making Lily’s moans grow louder. Her friends seemed to be happy with your output, chattering about your actions.

“F–Fuck, I–I’m gonna–” Lily’s façade faltered. Her legs quivered; moans jumped; chest heaved; slit contracted, and your mouth became the destination of the explosion. It was quick at the peak - a shock. And as she came down from the precipice, her expression was nothing but glee.

Lily would finally catch her breath as your mouth was aching. “Y–You are my bitch boy from now on, understand?” she inquired, her pulse was still fast, face flushed.

You nodded.

—

Lily took little time to force you into her shenanigans for that second incident. Her smokey eyeshadows and the messy hair had quite an effect on you that day. And with a few name callings and orders, you find your pants and boxers dropped to the floor in the chattering hallway.

Your body was at the edge the entire time. From the moment her tongue flicked the tip of your cock, brushing the first stroke of her saliva. God, you could cum right then and there, but not until she swallowed the entire head with her plump lips. That was when the main course began. 

With unmatched dexterity, Lily Jin Morrow didn’t start with baby steps. She threw her head forward and hollowed her cheeks immediately just to satisfy her bitch boy, taking your entire cock with ease, with the godly suction in her wet, warm cavern. And with such a reckless maneuver, you were rushing towards the cliff. Waves of sensations crashed onto your frame, drawing out a series of moans and whimpers from you. 

“Fuck—I should’ve done this since that day,” Lily says with your cock in her mouth. Her slender fingers were wrapping around your digit as a handle. Her hands run along the length to intensify the sensations. You could see her slight smile. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so delicious, bitch boy?”

You moaned at her oral mastery in response, “I—I didn’t have the chance, Lily.” You could only seek a place on the lockers to prevent yourself from crumbling in front of the murmuring onlookers. 

You felt it - the knot tying itself in your stomach, a sign of the high. It was merely a small clump up of it. Still, with the way she sucks your cock, it rapidly tangled itself under her actions. Your hands were gripping onto the lockers, once again, trembling at how she forced your hips to move towards her mouth.

“L—Lily,” you whimpered out her name.

She pulled her mouth off your glistened cock. “What, bitch boy?” she asked with such composure that’s unable to be found in a person who just had a cock in their mouth. Her hands were still stroking along the length, hitching your breath as you tried to collect the letters.

“S—Slow down, I’m g—gonna cum soon,” you stuttered out. Her act didn’t seem to slow down to accompany your request.

“Or what, huh? Are you so afraid to unload yourself in front of these people?” Lily asked, still jerking your cock. 

You darted your eyes across the smiling, giggling onlookers, and you could not withhold your peak after being given the otherworldly blowjob in front of them, really. Plus, you couldn’t just chickened away after you fucked her cunt with your tongue like that. 

The warm hands enveloped your cock were then gone, pulling your eyes back towards Lily, who was sucking her right middle finger, coated it with her saliva similar to your cock. You were entranced at the sight of such lewdness, as she seemed to be so eager to tease her poor victim under the weight of her uncertain next action.

“L—Lily, please,” you pleaded. “Don’t tease me like this.”

She pulled her now-shone digit out of her cavern with glee. “Oh, baby, I’ll suck this cock again.” She then nicked your dick softly with her tongue, sending a jolt, and you were struggling to contain a whimper.

“I’m just going to fuck your ass with this.” She flipped you off with her glistened digit, her nail, cut for this single finger, on display.

“W—What?” you asked, voice trembling.

“Do you want my mouth on your cock, huh?” Lily pulled the strings, hovering her mouth just over the tip.

You moaned out, “Fuck, yes, Lily,” as she laughed at the sight, before recomposing herself to match her smokey makeup.

“Then let me fuck that big ass of yours, slut.”

You looked into her lustful eyes, breaths ragged. You wouldn’t deny that you could’ve said no and just rubbed yourself off to cum in mere seconds, since her oral masterclass had brought you so close to paradise. 

“Hey, I need consent,” she said, snapping you back into the wake of her expectations. “Or I’ll just get up and leave you blue-balled, which… I’d hate to see you like that.” Lily averted the eye contact by a split second at the few last words. The people around still had their eyes glued to the depravity of your cock - twitching at the sight of this emo woman.

But a spark lit up inside you. How bad could it be, anyway - having an ethereal woman fingering your ass while hollowing her cheeks around your cock? You got the chance and eventually, you nod.

Lily smiled. “That’s the spirit,” before she stuck her lubed digit up your puckered hole.

It was an almost incomprehensible cocktail; she basically rammed into your hole with her lean middle finger. It pierced your tightness, slowly finding its way to the destination.

“Ooh, what’s this?” she said, as the tip of her length grazed your sensitive spot, sending the same jolt that her mouth had made. You felt her fist pushing into your cheeks.

“F–Fuck, Lily,” you moaned out.

“What if I just…” Lily motioned a come hither with the length inside you, nudging the sensitive spot called prostate. And didn’t that make your legs wobble? The bold act (on top of it being done in front of the other university attendees) sent shivers through your body, shocks after shocks.

“Moan for me, slut,” Lily commanded, and it’s like you’d resist her words at this point.

Your mind could barely register anything beside the knot forming in your stomach and the grin Lily was giving you. Your moans created a vibration throughout the hallway, garnering even more crowd than the blowjob session earlier. And as if her finger wasn’t enough, Lily resumed her oral expertise on your twitching cock, decorated with the dripping pre-cum.

She started, with her finger inside your ass, by lapping up the nectar that was dribbling out of your writhing cock with her nimble tongue, replacing the wetness of your juice with her saliva. And it was enough to send more rounds of jolts through your body.

“This is fucking delicious, bitch boy,” Lily hummed in satisfaction. “Keep your routine like this and I’ll continue to reward you, alright?”

“O–Okay.”

Lily, still yearned for the main, sticky course, took your completely aroused dick into her mouth. Her angelic moans were stifled. Fuck, you couldn’t register shit by then - a finger in your ass nudging your prostate, and your cock engulfed in such wet heat, her hums of satisfaction with the taste of you. The combined sensations were too much to handle, and you could count down to the implosion.

“Lily, I–I–.”

Her movements grew more violent as the murmuring of the spectators went louder, along with your joyous moans. She picked up her speed to where it robbed the senses from your other parts, making you only capable of feeling the suction on your cock and the assault inside your ass. The forceful, sloppy, public blowjob by Lily Jin Morrow might as well be the best you’ll ever have.

You felt a wave building up inside your stomach - the sea levelled down. Her unrelenting assault was surely pushing the incoming crest even higher. Your legs tensed up, and Lily seemed to sense this.

“Gonna cum, bitch?” She paused her oral masterclass for a quick breath, filling the gap with her deft fingers. You groaned out at the robbed ecstasy, eliciting a grin from her. 

Yet, she didn’t let the emptiness linger for long, as she immediately fuck her mouth again. Her saliva dripped out; her emo makeup was ruined; and the curled short hair got even more messy from the act, covering her gorgeous features.

It wasn’t just the act of bobbing her head this time with the last few strokes. She locked you within the bullseye of her vision - those doe eyes, fuck. Her tongue grazed the underside of your cock, nicking your frenulum.

And as predicted, a tsunami washed over you. The crowd dissolved into a blur. Fuck, you almost fell to the ground, crushed by the weight of your own euphoria. You unloaded yourself into her mouth, writhing, screaming under the godly pleasure. Thick, white spurts painted her wet cavern. Lily and you moaned in unison, hands and her swollen lips tried to milk every drop of cum of your nectar. Your enveloped cock twitched inside her mouth, shooting a rope of cum on each vibration.

After what felt like eternity, your tsunami subsided, as Lily pumped the last few drops out of you, slowly, eyes fluttered from the feeling of your seed hitting her throat. You saw her choking on your cock a little, making the sound on the merciless twitches.

“F–Fuck, are you okay, Lily?” you uttered, still shaken from the orgasm.

Lily pulled herself off of your glistened cock - your cum and her saliva, before seeming to swallow the content inside her mouth down her throat. 

“Yeah, bitch, I just ate your cum. Any problem?” she scoffed, looking away from you. Her finger rubbed your anus as she dragged it out, evoking your one last moan.

“No–No, Lily, thanks,” you replied. Your breathing and beating of the heart were still out of rhythm. “Fuck.”

She flashed her tongue a split second, just enough for you to see that there’s no cum left behind her swollen lips. She then pulled your pants and boxers back up into their places, giving you the warmth that you had never felt from her.

“Happy, my bitch boy?” she asked without the usual aggression. You could see tinges of red in her cheeks as she looked up while redoing your belt.

“Lily, your cheeks. Are you really okay?” It’s a bit of a wonder to care about her, with all the pressings in the degeneracy. And you couldn’t quite pinpoint the beat of your heart that pushed this question out, either. Perhaps it was just basic decency shining in this predatory relationship.

She finished up the last details of your belt. “Y–Yeah, I’m fine.” You could still see her cheeks painted in faint crimson, despite her attempts to avoid eye contact as she rose back to her feet.

“Till next time, bitch boy,” she dubbed farewell, eyes elsewhere. Before she strode away from you.

“Till next time,” you replied.

–

Lily is basically devouring your right ear now, with her right hand grabbing your growing girth through your pants. “God, I wish I could just bite your ear off, bitch boy.”

You moan in response to her brimming passion. Yet, you are standing still, hands unmoved opposite to her mappings on your body. Her savoring session remains in your auricle - biting, nibbling, sucking, whatever she can do with her mouth.

“You want the same package, slut?” Lily asks, finally pulling out from your now-drenched ear.

You shake your head; your cock is aching for much more than her mouth. 

“Oh, you fucking bitch,” she chuckles, pushing you softly into the locker doors once again. No eyes in the crowd dare to look away. “You wanna fuck my cunt?”

Your length twitches inside the cage at her depraved words, involuntarily (or not) making you nod.

Lily grabs your jaw, forcing eye contact. Assertive as usual. “Then beg for it, bitch.”

You gulp, making peace with her dominance once again. “P–Please, L–Lily.”

She smiles; the warmth radiated contradicts her usual demeanor and the makeup. “God, you’re such a whore,” even if the words are still in line.

She asserts again, “Fuck my cunt the way I deserve.”

She drags both of her hands on her chest, sideways. “I saw you eyeing this on the first day.” The black crop top makes it a little hard to visualize, but it’s enough to have you drool. She then continues her striptease in front of the public - adding a little spice of swaying her hips, playing with the hem below her chest. Fuck, you can’t tear your eyes off the show. She runs her fingers between the edge of the layers of her double crop tops and her porcelain skin. Sometimes pulling it up to display the hint of her delicate boobs.

The teasing continues for mere minutes, but the intensity of it just quickens your heartbeat with each second. Your hardened cock is helplessly twitching inside your pants - a silent cry of your ardor.

And at the brim, you dash onto her succulent tits, determined to put your mouth on them. Her eluding mounds are asking to be treated too much. However, Lily reacts fast, and instantly grabs you by the throat.

“You fucking whore.” With renewed aggression, she pushes you back onto the lockers with her strength by the neck, before her tone dips into the paused seduction once more. “Couldn’t you just wait?”

“L–Lily,” you choke out. Her grey nails are digging into your throat. You’re sure that there are going to be a few crescent marks left on you.

“I was going to let you fuck me.” Her tone laces with sultry. “But you just couldn’t wait, huh, you little bitch?”

You whimper at her demeaning words - a constant, a certainty, hungry for her attention.

“If your cock and that cum don’t taste so delicious,” she continues her monologue. “I would’ve just fuck your face and get this over with.”

Lily finally lets go of your throat, stepping back, leaving the spectators whispering about the red marks on you.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me until I say so. Are we clear?” She points at you. God, you’d let her kill you right now.

You nodded, eyes fixated on her covered chest again. Lily resumes the show, teasing you by sliding her hand under the hem of her crop tops - a hypnotic melody. Her hip is swaying, thighs following the motion, showing off her luscious curves at every turn - an enchanting percussion.

She keeps playing around the perfect cadence, tensing you up with the notes that are just short of a harmony. A show of her perky under-boobs, or the more daring black panties. The expression is nothing short of alluring - the smirk, the playful eyes, the occasional giggles at your needy response.

“You wanna see my tits that bad, huh?” Lily teases, pulling up the edge to where her right areola is on display. You bite your lip to stifle the moan.

“Come,” she orders, and who are you to resist?

Under her spell, you are lured onto Lily’s hands, too busy fondling her own mounds under her top, into the middle of the packed hallway, closer and closer; nipples are still covered. Even some professors are joining in to watch the show now. 

“Open your mouth.” More orders come along the path, and you comply, ready to latch it onto her. Lily is still teasing you with the anticipation of her bare tits, so masterfully hiding the nub with her dancing fingers.

And finally, the perfect cadence strikes. Her crop tops are pulled just right to give a peek of her pink, erect nubs. She’s as aroused as you are, and it’s beautiful. You didn’t need more commands to make your next move, bending down to hungrily sucking her perfectly sized tits. The crowd gasps.

“Fuck, just like that,” Lily moans.

You feel her hands pressing your head into her, and it’s like you’d complain. You continue sucking her perky breasts, tasting every hint of her scent. She still uses the Perfect Intense from the first day; it’s imprinted into your brain by this point. How often do you get to give head to a woman on an opening day, right? There’s a sign of her salty sweat - the component that elicits ferociousness. Fuck.

“Hmm, yeah, keep sucking my tits like that and I’ll let you fuck me.”

Your mouth gets tired from all the sucking. Yet, it’s Lily Jin Morrow, and you can’t just get enough of her. Yes, perhaps you’re already under her spell, but you’d always be glad to get just a slap to your face.

Lily would give you an easier access to her perky mounds, taking off her black top, remains just the white, collared-shirt that shows off the same amount of midriff to you. Before she unbuttons the inner garment, showing you how her bra is deemed missing for today. She leaves it just that - her white top just hanging on her shoulders; the middle parted for you to get her taste.

“God, I need your cock now, bitch boy,” she finally allows. 

And with your mouth busy, you undo your belt hastily, blinded by her mounds, stumbling along the way. You yank your whole lower attire onto the floor within seconds, and the people around you gasp again at the sight of your erect cock. Well, it won’t stop just here.

“Hmm, s–so ready for me, what a–a fucking–” Lily whimpers with you still devouring her tits, and she take off her slack and the black panties she have teased you with ease, as if she has been practicing for you. Once again, her cunt is just within your reach.

Lily unlatches you from her chest. “I need you, now.” Her eyes are burning, yearning for your twitching cock.

Just like that, you pick her up by the ass, hands grabbing the flesh. Shit, that’s definitely going to leave a mark. She straddles her meaty legs on your waist, putting her in a position to be penetrated. And you give in to her needs, pushing your clasped bodies onto the locker doors. The crowd in front gives way for you two, for your debauchery.

“Fuck me.”

It’s cathartic, as your cock pierces into her wet, tight, wanton cunt. You bury yourself to the hilt with ease, with the help of gravity. You feel every inch of her velvety walls, welcoming you for the first time. She squeezes you in the way no one can, wanting to milk every drop of your seed just like her mouth did.

Lily is drowned in her sea of pleasure and profanities right now, moaning only fucks and shits to cover the murmuring sounds from the crowd. You are fucking her so well as she does to you. It is false to say that the clenches on your cock do not pull out a sound from you. It’s a cacophony - the wet claps of her plump ass and your thighs, the moans, the chattering of the people around.

“G–God, f–fuck, ngh, ngh,” Lily cannot utter any proper word with you inside her - mouth agape, eyes rolling. Her thesaurus is burned at this point as she bounces on your cock.

She then blurts, “Y–You’re so g–good, baby.”

And that’s it, she confesses so easily (well, with a dick inside her also) - the smiles, the words, the reddish hue on her that day. They all come together here - you pounding her on the wall of lockers, in front of god knows how many people. Then, there’s the scent of your perfumes and sweat mixed, the nails digging into your shirt, and how she smiles at her own utterance of ‘baby’.

“Y–You too, b–babe,” you whimper, still ramming yourself inside her wanting sex.

Lily glances around over your shoulder, seeing the students and professors in their trances. Her vision is shaky from you fucking her cunt erratically. She bounces up and down along your hard rod. The sound of your fleshes smacking traverses through the hallway, as people gather around you even more like an assembly.

“Cum w–with me, alright?” Lily stutters. “B–Because I’m going to.”

You can feel it coming with her tight cavern squeezing around you. Again, the water level drops, anticipating something grand to come after - a tsunami.

And with the final bits of inhibition, you mutter out, “I–I’m gonna–fuck!”

You’ve never thought that your life would come to this point - cumming inside a woman in front of a crowd. Lily then silences your symphony with a kiss, one that’s brimmed with passion. She slides her tongue into your moaning mouth, as your muscles tense up everywhere.

Your cock shoots ropes after ropes inside her welcoming cunt, contracting at her own orgasm. Lily shudders in a rhythm, eyes rolling up, mouth ajar, letting her moans echo throughout the hallway. You feel a liquid being discharged onto your pubic bone - it’s her fucking squirt. Lily Jin Morrow fucking squirts with your cock cumming inside her. God.

After what feels like an eternity in paradise, both of your orgasms subsided. Your breaths are short, rapid, out of sync, together. Sweat gathers on her forehead, as she looks into your eyes, smiling without the familiar roughness for the first time.

“You did well, baby,” she says, before resting her messy head on your shoulder.

You chuckle at the fuzzy name. “So, no more ‘bitch boy’?”

“Not anymore,” Lily replies before planting a kiss on your cheek, smiling along with you. “Let’s go on a date.”

You playfully ask, “Is that another command from you, Lily?”

Lily chuckles. “Well, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You dart your eyes away onto the ceiling, contemplating her question. And the answer seemed to form itself in your mind.

“Yes.”

–

[lamour-est-pur]

A/N bonjour! welcome back, Ace is my favorite character so the next few post will likely be him unless someone else is requested❤ my first language is not English please be patient ❤

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Ace X Reader

Reader and ace get stuck in a snow storm together during a mission

genre-> Fluff

warnings-> use of Y/N

word count-> 4497

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The wind howled like a banshee, whipping snowflakes into a frenzy around you and Ace. You squinted, trying to make out the path ahead through the swirling white. What had started as a light snowfall just hours ago had escalated into a full-blown blizzard. The mission, originally planned to be a quick raid on a winter island notorious for its black market, was now a desperate struggle for survival.

"We can't stay out here much longer," Ace yelled, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. His normally fiery hat hung to his neck by the thin string, revealing windblown black hair plastered to his forehead. Concern etched lines on his freckled face.

Your teeth were chattering, despite the thick winter gear you wore. You cursed inwardly for underestimating the island's weather. "Do you see any shelter, Ace?" you shouted back.

A dark shape loomed up ahead. Ace, with his superior vision, spotted it first. "There! Cave entrance," he pointed, leading the way with newfound urgency. 

The cave was a small opening in a rocky cliff face. You practically tumbled inside, collapsing onto the hard, thankfully dry, ground. Relief washed over you as the biting wind died down to a low moan at the mouth of the cave. Inside, it was dark and cold, but a vast improvement over the icy blizzard outside.

The dim light filtering through the entrance barely illuminated the interior. You fumbled in your pack, desperate for any source of warmth. But your fingers brushed against empty compartments – the precious oil lamp you usually carried, lost somewhere in the storm's fury. Panic pricked at your heart.

"Don't worry, (Y/N)," Ace said, his voice steady despite the urgency in his eyes. With a practiced ease, he started rummaging around the cave floor. You watched, a sliver of hope flickering within you, as his gloved hands brushed over the rough, cold rock.

Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow. The silence was broken only by the dripping of water somewhere deep within the cave and the occasional groan of the wind outside. Just as despair threatened to extinguish the spark of hope, Ace let out a triumphant shout.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, emerging from the shadows with a handful of dry twigs clutched in his hand. A sense of awe washed over you. You hadn't noticed any loose branches on the cave floor before. It felt like magic, a testament to Ace's resourcefulness and his unwavering focus on keeping you safe.

He carefully arranged the twigs into a small pile, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. You knelt beside him as he lit the sticks alight with his devil fruit power. 

the fire sputtered to life, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, you felt a sense of gratitude blossom within you. It wasn't just the warmth radiating from the flames, but the silent camaraderie, the unspoken understanding that bloomed between you and Ace in the face of adversity.

He glanced at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Your eyes met, and for a long moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The storm raged on, but in that small, fire-lit cave, a different kind of warmth bloomed – a slow burn of unspoken emotions, fueled by shared vulnerability and the quiet comfort of each other's presence.

You shifted closer, seeking the warmth radiating from his body, and he didn't pull away. The fire crackled softly, a counterpoint to the storm's fury, as you sat huddled together, a silent conversation flowing between you in the flickering light. You knew this moment, this unexpected intimacy carved from the blizzard's wrath, could change everything. But for now, you were content to simply be there, in the warm embrace of the fire and Ace's reassuring presence, 

As the fire died down to embers, Ace kept you close, his steady heartbeat a reassuring presence against the howling wind outside. You leaned against him, drowsiness creeping up on you as the warmth slowly seeped back into your body. Your eyelids fluttered closed, and the last thing you registered was the faint scent of woodsmoke and Ace's comforting presence.

Dawn arrived, painting the sky outside in hues of pink and orange. The storm had passed, leaving behind a world of sparkling white. You stretched languidly, only to realize you were still nestled in Ace's warm embrace. He was fast asleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you watched him. This unexpected blizzard had forced you closer, a closeness neither of you had dared to acknowledge before. You gently traced your thumb down his cheek, a silent thank you for keeping you warm through the night.

Ace stirred at your touch, his eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spread on his face as his gaze met yours. "Morning,beautiful," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

"You know," he began, his voice low and husky, "being stuck in a blizzard with you isn't so bad after all." A shy smile spread across his face. You couldn't help but return it, your heart skipping a beat.

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was hesitant at first, then deepened as you both melted into it. It was a kiss filled with unspoken emotions, a promise of something more waiting to bloom when the storm finally passed.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. "I never thought I'd say this," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes, "but maybe getting caught in a snowstorm has its perks."

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(A/N) Thank you for reading❤ REQUEST ARE OPEN please give me your ideas, I write for the one piece characters (Fluff, angst, comfort, smut) once again I do have post lined up that will be going up this week ❤ so please enjoy❤->

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[headspace-hotel]

re: ohio chemical disaster

OP of the post I reblogged earlier regarding this turned off reblogs (understandable have a nice day) but I got a request to put the information in its own post, so here.

First thing: PLEASE be careful about claims that "The Media" is suppressing something as part of a malicious agenda, or that an event has been purposefully manufactured by "The Media" to distract from something else.

Not only is this a really common disinformation tactic (not only urging you to share/reblog quickly, but discouraging you from fact checking), treating "The Media" as a monolithic entity with purposeful agency and a specific, malicious agenda—particularly one that manufactures events to "distract" from other events—is a red flag for conspiracy theories.

There's already a post in the tag attributing the supposed lack of media coverage to "reptilians." Please connect the dots here.

Second—"the news isn't focusing on this as much as I think they should" is not a media blackout. Every major USA news source is reporting on the Ohio train derailment. Googling returns at least 4 pages of results from major news media sources. Even just googling "Ohio" gets you plenty of results about it.

This is an unusual amount of media attention for a U.S. environmental disaster.

Because this kind of thing happens all the damn time.

The "media blackout" narrative gives the impression that this is an unusual event that isn't receiving wall to wall coverage only because it's being suppressed—when the reality is that similar disasters happen a lot, and hardly ever get the attention the Ohio disaster is getting.

Consider this example, not too far from my local area: A few years ago, almost 2,000 tons of radioactive fracking waste were illegally dumped in an Eastern Kentucky municipal landfill, directly across from a middle school. Leachate from that landfill goes into the Kentucky River, which is where most of the central part of the state gets its drinking water. As far as we know, the radioactive waste isn't leaking yet, but it could start leaking at any time.

Zero national news sources covered this. Why? If I was to hazard a guess, I would say "because it's business as usual for the fossil fuel industry."

Consider also the case of Martin County, KY, which has had foul-smelling, contaminated drinking water for decades. Former coal country in Appalachia is poisoned and toxic, and laws have little power to punish the companies that created the destruction.

What happened in Ohio is just a little window into a whole world of horrors.

The Martin County coal slurry spill that is still poisoning the water 20 years later killed literally everything in the water for miles downstream (a book Mom read said 70 miles of the Ohio river were made completely lifeless). It was 30 times larger than the Exxon-Valdez oil spill, and it was in some sense "covered up"—in the sense that the Bush administration shut down the investigation because the Republicans are buddies with the fossil fuel industry, and proceeded to relax regulations even further.

Seriously, read that wiki article to get pissed enough to eat glass.

Hopefully the Ohio chemical spill will inspire real action to institute regulations to prevent shit like this from ever happening again. It's not the end of the world. It's not radically different from what industries have been causing the whole damn time. It is pretty bad.

I would urge everyone to actually search up information about it instead of getting news from Tiktok or Twitter, because the more false information gets distributed, the less momentum any effort to respond with improved regulations and changes to prevent future disasters will have. Plenty of facts here *are* public and being publicly discussed and pretending that they're not is actively detrimental.

[ventismacchiato]

O5 stuck with you —strawberry bong !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning — mentions of weed and getting high

“Hey guys,” Aether greets, swinging the door open. 

You and Yoimiya look up from the living room floor, where you both were sorting through what stash you had. An assortment of weird flavored vapes, an ugly bong, and a few joints. 

“Welcome,” Lumine greeted, locking the door behind the four of them. Your eyes flicker towards Scara, who’s staring around your guys’ dorm curiously. Everyone else had been there before, but he’s refused since you were present. 

Fischl flickers the lights off apart from the LEDs hung around your dorm. The space settles into a dark haze, the dim red and blue being the only source of light as everyone finds a spot. 

“You got the goods?” Childe asks, plopping down across from you as everyone settles onto the floor. Unfortunately, Scaramouche ends up next to you. He doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Goods? What are you, 14?” Aether laughs.

Venti pulled out a small plastic bag from his pocket. It was hard to see in the lack of light, but you could see bundles of green inside.

“Here,” Venti replied, tossing the bag to you, who caught it clumsily, “You have a joint, right?.”

You tucked the bag away and pulled a joint out of your pocket, popping it out of its tube. You took a lighter from Yoimiya’s hand and it let out a lousy spark, but no flame came out.

Scara scoffs from beside you, but before you could make a comment he covered the lighter with his hand, causing a flame to come out. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking a hit, and passing it to him. 

Scaramouche took the joint from you with his free hand, bringing it to his lips. He leaned his head against the base of the couch behind you both, passing it to Childe and so on. 

Aether soon brought out his phone, connecting it to a speaker as music slipped through the room. Fischl put out a pack of UNO as you guys all started a slow paced game while passing around a joint that slowly diminished.

Venti set up his bong, much to Scara’s dismay. 

“Can you roll some blunts for me, I’m going to check if we have drinks,” Yoimiya asks, gesturing to the table. “I can try,” you slowly say, eyeing her work. You were never good at rolling, and you still weren’t if your clumsy fingers were any tell. You bit the inside of your cheek as you attempted to tuck the paper in with your fingers, but failed miserably as a bit of weed kept falling onto your lap.

“You’re shit at this.”

That was the first thing he’s said to you since your fight in the dressing rooms a few days ago, and of course it was an insult.

“Shut up, I almost got it,” you huff. 

You most certainly did not got it.

“You’re supposed to mold the weed in as you go,” Scara says, “You’re really bad at everything you do.”

You roll your eyes but follow his words. You can feel his eyes on your hands as you continue to struggle to get the paper to stay put.

Before you could give up and keep everyone waiting Scaramouche reached over to grab your wrist and pull your hand towards his face.  

“Hold the end,” he orders, folding over the paper for you as you hold the end of the soon to be blunt in front of him. His movements are swift and precise as he rolls the blunt with practiced ease. You can’t help the flicker of resentment spark up at his effortless skill.

You almost tug your hand away, not wanting his help, but he brings the blunt, and in tow you, closer to his lips. His grip on your hand is soft as he leans down and licks across the paper, his lips close to your fingers as he seals the blunt shut. He looks up to lock eyes with you, were his eyelashes always so long? 

The LEDs painted the living room in rolling light and shadow, and you were suddenly conscious of Scara’s unrelenting gaze. For a second, your eyes met his dark, half-lidded eyes. They seemed unfathomably deep, like staring into an abyss. Scaramouche soon pulled back, snapping out of whatever that was before you, and tugging the blunt out of your hands and leaning back to light it.

“That’s how you do it, dumbass,” he says, placing it between his lips.

“Whatever,” you manage to say. The image of his eyes looking up at you crystal clear in your mind. You snatched the blunt back from him, you needed to forget the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. Envy, that was surely it.

Yoimiya came back with drinks and rated your blunt an 8/10, but didn’t ask you to roll anymore throughout the night. The UNO game was soon forgotten as you guys passed around controllers to play Mario Kart and take hits. Childe insisted it was more fun when high. 

It always took you a while to start feeling it, you’ve only occasionally taken part with your members a few times. You could feel the weight of Yoimiya’s hands on your shoulder as she shouted out for you to dodge the banana peels, the stain on the ground from where Venti had knocked over his beer earlier was suddenly bothersome, and the dim lighting seemed to lull you to sleep.  

You look to your left, watching as Scara puts down a draw four for Aether, who was still playing, his nimble fingers flipping over the cards and smirking as Aether wails in response. His skin glowed warm under the flickering violet lights, his lips pulled into a frown as Aether pulled a reverse card on him. He was pretty, but you’ve always known this. It was one of the many reasons you disliked him.

Your head felt light for the first time that week, all the stress from the awards ceremony incident dissipating. It was as if the weed inside you rose up to your skin, turning you inside out, causing every emotion you felt to be turned up to the next ten dials. Every nerve in your body was buzzing with anticipation. Of what, you didn’t quite know yet. 

You promptly let your head hang limp for a while, letting your eyes fall shut as the voices of everyone around you faded into a faint noise. A few minutes pass before you find yourself falling to your left, your head landing on something soft as you drift off into nothingness.

When you come to the dorm is quiet apart from the low music of the abandoned game of Mario Kart on the tv screen. Apart from everyone else passed out and splayed across each other the first thing you notice is the fact that you're laying on someone’s lap. 

Assuming it’s Yoimiya you look up and are taken aback at Scara’s head hung a few inches above you. His arms are crossed and his chest is rising slowly, and when there isn’t a scowl or frown adorning his face, he looks rather peaceful. At that moment, Scaramouche was the epitome of contentment that even monks who cultivated for decades would be jealous of. 

You’re suddenly aware of every one of your movements, it would be humiliating for him to see you like this. You turn your attention back at the room and eye the mess you guys all made. You should really wake them all up in case Jean visits you guys in the morning, your heart can’t handle another lecture from her. 

You turn and look back up to see Scara staring at you with a heavy unrelenting gaze. You yelp and sit up abruptly, scooching away from him.

He merely stretches out his legs and leans his head back, as if you hadn’t just fallen asleep on him.

“Ew, I can’t believe I took a nap on you. Why didn’t you push me off?” you ask.

“Lumine said she’d kill me if I did,” Scara answers, his voice hoarse from just waking up, “Your big head is heavy, don't do that shit again.”

“As if I’d ever want to, fuck you,” you huff, “You’re uncomfortable,” you add. Which wasn’t true, his sweatpants were rather cushy, but you’d die before admitting that. 

“You drooled on my pants,” Scara grimaces.

“Did not!”

“This is why nobody wants to sleep with you.”

“Who told you that?!”

“Just an observation.”

You scoff and busy yourself with picking up the UNO cards scattered around you. He wasn’t completely wrong, you were too busy with idol life to seek out any sort of relationships. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Not everyone is a slut like you,” you say back, bringing your knees to your chest.

Scaramouche looks over at you for a second, an insult probably loaded atop his tongue, before he instead stands up and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt rides up for a moment, a flash of a tattoo being visible for a second before he looks around. 

“Which one is Xiao’s room?”

“First door on the left, why?”

He doesn’t answer, grabbing a vape off of the table and walking off, shutting the door behind him. 

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

guys i had to interrogate my stoner friends for help so i hope the scenes are accurate LMFAO i have no idea how this shit works

me watching how to roll a joint tutorials at 3am so the sexy scene of him licking it in front of u is accurate…

I think everyone having to hide their stashes from jean is a funny running joke

also do u guys think scara wud have a tramp stamp or what give me tattoo ideas

also lumine calls reader girl and i believe girl is a gender neutral term xx

asking again guys pls let me use ur usernames and make u a crazy fan in the au comment on the masterlist if ur interested

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — scara brainrot is being overpowered by haikyuu brainrot pls comment and leave me motivation

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic

[katsukistofu]

USER KATSUKISTOFU, WRITE A HANTA SERO PIECE, AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSS‼️🙏🫡

all eye wanted was you

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. hanta x fem reader. fluff. ★ sero reminds you of a few important things that your all-seeing quirk overlooks.

“So you’re not dating him?” The girl in front of you asks again to clarify. She’s either from General Studies or the Business course you think, you honestly don’t really remember and don’t care.

You heave a sigh. “You asked that already, I said no the first time.”

At this point you’d assume the conversation would be over, but of course she opens her mouth again.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out, right?”

Your head’s starting to throb and you force your tone to be calm. “Sorry, but do you understand the definition of not dating—“

“Uh, yeah she would.”

A familiar voice speaks, and your eyes widen as you make contact with its source, your best friend. “Sero? What are you doing here?”

“Making sure people don’t have the wrong idea of us.” He offers you a sly grin, tugging you closer by the sleeve of your uniform.

“How is this making sure people don’t have the wrong idea of us?” You hiss, placing your hands on his unfairly firm chest to stop yourself from colliding with it. With a quick glance around, it seems like the girl is gone.

“Hmm.” Sero’s smirk only deepens on his pretty lips. He did this on purpose to have you alone to himself, didn’t he? “Didn’t see you complaining when we pretended to be together to get a discount for tatts.”

“Their prices for hypothetically single people were crazy!” Your cheeks burn as his fingers trail over a spot on the fabric of your school uniform.

The skin underneath burns as he continues to trace the almost exact pattern of your tattoo, like he has it memorized from when you both showed each other right after getting them done at the parlor.

Sero playfully fidgets with the hair tie on your wrist that he let you steal from him earlier as he continues. “Or when I told the waiter at that fancy restaurant you were my girlfriend and that he couldn’t give you his number, but we’d love to take the couple’s deal instead.”

“That’s different!” You protest weakly, sounding unbelievable even to your own ears.

“What, are you going to play with my hair, like how you always do when you get stressed?” He murmurs, gently tilting your chin up to force you to meet his eyes.

You curse as you realize he’s right, somehow your finger has already found its own way to twirl one of his dark locks.

Sero’s dusky eyes darken with a hint of hurt.

“How long are you going to keep pretending?” His voice is painfully soft.

“I don’t know, I’m just…“ You take shuddering breath. “I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?” Sero’s brows furrow. “Is it because of that rando? Because you could easily take her, I’ve seen you with some strong ass villains—“

You laugh and smack his bicep. “No, dummy! I’m scared because…” Your voice hesitates, and he hugs your waist tighter.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches as he uses that tone. “Okay now you’re just being unfair.”

“Hey, I’ll beg if I have to.” He grins before faking a drop down to his knees.

You squeal as his strong arms take you with him, only to come back up and steady you, and he chuckles as you smack him.

“Okay, I’ll tell you! I’m scared because I don’t want to end up pretending like we don’t know each other when we break up. You mean a lot to me, and I think,” You mumble as your finger continues to play with a button on his dress shirt. “I think that would really mess me up.”

“You mean a lot to me too.” Sero’s eyes soften. “And if we break up.”

“Nothing lasts forever, Sero.”

“Let’s prove them wrong then.” He brushes his knuckles across your cheek with such tenderness that it hurts. “Baby, why are you so worried about a future that won’t happen?”

“Because I’ve seen it happen to people.” There’s a worried frown on your face as all your past visions from your Quirk flash through your mind. “One moment everything’s going fine, then it all falls apart. Fate runs its course. I don’t want that to happen to us.”

“Forget fate, I want you.” He cups your cheeks, and you huff as you’re sandwiched between his hands. “It’s hot when you get all Doomsday on me, but I think you’re overthinking it.”

You let out a giggle, realizing he’s right. Nothing is ever set in stone, and you knew that your powers would cause you to be predisposed to anxiously anticipate things, even ones far from your current time.

He’s always reminded you to breathe, like now.

“I want you to focus on the present in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” Sero’s warm, caramel voice tickles your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.” You whisper from where your head’s tucked under his chin, clutching his uniform in your hands. “I really want you too.”

He breathes a relieved laugh into your hair. “That’s good. So I can say it now right?”

You bury a smile into his shoulder and his lips tug upward as well when he feels it. “Go ahead.”

Sero takes a deep breath.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

The butterflies in your stomach flutter while you stand on your tip toes, and to your delight his pupils are blown out and his cheeks are already flushed before you even lean in to give them a kiss.

“Yes. In every future, yes.”