#clean and clear morning burst

[tasteracha]

raspberry stains.

word count: 1.6k

pairing: lee minho x afab!reader

warnings: multiple orgasms, foodplay, oral sex, smut - MINORS DNI

synposis: what do you do when you see minho eating raspberries like this. what a whore. (no raspberries were harmed in the making of this fic).

“i got some raspberries from the farmer’s market,” minho’s first words to you are when you shuffle into your living room, still in your pajamas. he shows you the plate of washed berries he had been munching on, way too awake for the hour that it was. you despise minho for being a morning person, for waking up hours before you and doing things like going to the farmer’s market instead of laying in bed with you. 

“good morning to you too,” you take a seat next to him on the couch, curling up against his side. at least if he didn’t partake in morning cuddles with you he never denied you couch cuddles.

“have one,” he says, holding out a berry to your lips. his fingers are stained red with the bursted juices and they brush against your lips as he feeds you. you suck his thumb into your mouth along with the berry and his pupils shake as you hollow your cheeks out a bit to get the flavor off of his skin. the sweetness of the raspberry floods your mouth and you move away from him to chew and swallow, the wheels in your head turning as you track his reaction to what you thought was an innocent act. 

suddenly, you were wide awake; if he was going to be horny about this so early in the morning, then so were you.

“give me another,” you demand as your hands reach towards his pants, unbuttoning them and opening the zipper with expert motions. he pauses, his eyes heavy lidded as he looks at you with an open-mouthed gaze. your eyes flicker between his rapidly hardening crotch and the plate of raspberries as you wait for your words to register in his head through the horny daze. “do you need me to repeat myself?”

he shakes his head, his eyes clearing a bit as he scrambles to pick up a berry to feed to you. you let it rest on your tongue as you slide to your knees in front of him and free his cock from his boxers, pressing down on the fruit gently so it bursts in your mouth. you take the head of his cock into your mouth and you let the juice dribble out of your mouth until it drips down his length, staining him even redder than he already was. you pull away, wincing at the feeling of liquid dripping out of the corner of your mouth, but the look on his face is worth the discomfort. he looks gone, his eyes heavy on you, the weight of his awe of you hanging off of his every feature. 

“this gone and we barely did any foreplay,” you tease, sliding your hand up his cock to spread the redness around. “you must really like me.”

“if you don’t keep going i might die,” he says, ignoring your bait, completely serious. you flash him a grin before going down on him again, a sick satisfaction seeping through you when his cock jumps in your mouth. you take him as far as you can go, using your hand to make up for the rest of the space and you bob up and down, letting your saliva mingle with the berry until he’s wet and slippery. 

the flavor is divine; you always love his taste, musky and salty with the scent of his clean body wash intertwined, but the raspberry mixing with him is a cocktail that you never want to stop drinking. he slides his fingers into your hair to keep you close to him, and you give him a particularly dirty lick to his slit when you realize that it’s his clean hand - as sexy as this all is, you didn’t want to deal with cleaning the stickiness out of your hair later. 

he lets out breathy moans and pants in time with your movements and you want to edge him all day just so you can keep hearing the music he’s playing for you, but when you peek up at him you feel a tinge of sympathy for him. his neck is completely flushed and it trails up to his ears, the veins in his neck popping out from the effort it takes to hold back from thrusting up into your mouth. you pet his thigh with your free hand, a silent good boy that doesn’t go unnoticed by the way he throws his head back with a groan. you take pity on him, relaxing your throat so you could take him down and swallow around him. you stay there for as long as your body allows, only backing off when the need to breath flashes warning signals through your head. 

his moans turn into whines as you keep stroking him, a clear signal that he’s close. you open your mouth, lolling your tongue out to catch his release onto it. the picture that you make in front of him, lips stained red and mouth open for him, is enough to send him over the edge and his muscles lock as he comes with a spasm. you work him through it until his hand tightens in your hair, the tiny pinpricks of pain sending a wave of arousal through you. you swallow his release and show him your empty mouth, and his answer to that comes in the shape of a dry sob as he melts completely into the couch.

you don’t realize how wet you’ve gotten since starting this until you let him go, your attention divided between his post-orgasmic glow and the burn of pleasure you feel when you rub your thighs close together. you rest your head on his thigh as you catch your breath alongside him, and you slide your hand into your pants, content to lazily rub yourself off before sharing a shower with him to wash the berry juice away. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice deep and gritty. 

“you’re not the only one who gets to come today,” you sigh against his thigh as you circle your clit with your fingers, the wetness there making the glide easy. 

“no, i mean what are you doing?” he repeats, the emphasis not making things any clearer for you. he rolls his eyes when you don’t get it before sitting up and joining you on the floor. he lifts you off your knees and pushes you towards the couch to sit so your positions are reversed with him on his knees in front of you. “this is my job, not yours.” 

he pops a couple berries into his own mouth, swirling them around his tongue as he slides your pants and underwear down to your ankles. he helps you take them off gently, tossing them aside before pushing your thighs apart. he dives into your pussy like a starved man, pushing the red juice into your folds and lapping it up again before repeating the process again and again. it’s so much better than your own fingers, the unpredictability of where his tongue was going next keeping you unprepared for the onslaught of sensations. you come embarrassingly fast, your thighs locking around his head as he slurps at you, obscene sounds filling the empty living room. 

he moves away when you start to twitch in oversensitivity and his mouth is completely stained red. it’s smeared around his lips like lipstick, and you pull him up for a kiss with urgency. the taste of raspberries mixed with both of you is euphoric, and you let out a content sigh into his mouth as your body relaxes. 

“i’m not done with you yet,” he releases your lips with a wet pop, a string of pink saliva connecting the two of you. he’s back down between your legs faster than you can register, his mouth finding your clit instantly. his tongue traces patterns against it, circles and swirls and shapes that you can’t name and it’s too much but it feels so good that any protests die on your tongue. 

“minho!” you cry out, and once his name leaves your lips you can’t stop, the five letters taking the shape of moans and whines until it’s all you can say or think. your thighs begin shaking but he doesn’t stop, eating you out steadfastly as if he was born to do it. 

“one more,” he says against your folds, his fingers joining the mess between your legs to hook into you, curling upwards. “you can give me one more, right?”

i’ll give you anything you want, you try to say, but it comes out in a series of unintelligible sounds. the burn of your orgasm comes slower this time, a fire building and exponentiating unlike the sparks of fireworks that you experienced the last time. it burns and glows brighter and brighter until it’s a white light behind your eyelids, your entire vision whiting out as you come against his lips. you can’t see it, but you can feel the smile he wears against your skin as you come down from it. 

when you blink your vision returns, just as he is climbing up to sit next to you. he pulls you into his lap, holding you close as your sluggish head tries to make sense of what just happened. you bask in the silence, your head pressed against his heartbeat, his breathing moving your body up and down against him calmly. 

“you know,” he breaks the quiet, his words a whisper into your hair. “we’re never going to be able to look at raspberries the same way again.”

“shut up.”

[secretlovezz]

Simon with an s/o who has a cat

Prt.2 here! <-

He hates your cat 😭

Their literally mortal enemies it's ridiculous

The cat glares at Simon 24/7 and he stares right back

You finally make it home after a stressful day at work ready to shower and relax. You open the front door and call out, "I'm home!" You get no response. It makes your brows furrow in confusion, having been used to a little furry friend lying on your unused shoes waiting for you to get home or hearing the heavy steps of your boyfriend making his way toward you. But today there was no welcome wagon for you.

Your heart immediately racks in worry the once steady beat of it moving to an unnaturally quick pace. Your hands move faster to remove your shoes and jacket wanting to look for the person and cat that once populated your apartment.

You call out again, "Simon? My Baby?"

"In here, dove." At the sound of your lover's voice, you're on the move heading to where his voice had been most prominent.

When you get to Simon- in the bathroom -he's clad in only a towel water still dripping from his hair and body and condensation on the mirror signifying he's just gotten out of the shower. Then your gaze goes to his face and his eyes aren't on you they're focused on something on the counter.

Your cat.

They're staring at each other both of them refusing to look away from one another. They were barely blinking. Then you realize why Simon's having a glaring contest with your pet, it's because the cat was on his clothes refusing to move out of pure stubbornness.

Suddenly you're glaring at the both of them too, "Are you guys being serious right now? This is getting ridiculous," you tell them and with Simon's response you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Oh, this is deadly serious, love"

Sometimes when Simon walks by your cat it latches onto Simon's leg kicking and biting the shit out of him (your poor boyfriend is just about ready to chuck the cat into outer space)

Your little fur baby definitely steals or tries to steal food from Simon's plates. Simon swears the cat gets stronger when determined to get into his stuff

Simon's cups have been knocked off of tables more often then not being left to clean up a mess that isn't his

Your looking up from your plate of food as soon as you hear grumbles and silverware clanking roughly against a porcelain plate. You smile a little at the sight in front of you. Simon's pushing your cats head back away from his food, while the cat uses all of his strength. Simon's scowl at the animal only gets deeper when he sees you smile at his unfortunate situation.

"You better not be smilin'," He says annoyance clear in his tone.

Now your laughing, a sound simon usually adores, one that makes his body relax, one that makes him feel safe, but now it has him clenching his jaw and has his eyebrows furrowed.

"Make 'im stop," He growls.

You pretent to think about it for a moment, pointer finger tapping your chin in faux thought, "I don't know si... this is thoroughly entertaining. What's in it for me if I help you?" The vein on his arm looked like it might burst at your question.

"If you don't get this dammed cat away from me it's gonna go missin'," you roll your eyes at his dramatics but called your cat to you regardless.

When you cuddle with one of them the other gets sooooo jealous

Simon will literally toss your little baby off the bed

The cat hits and claws for simon to get away from you

(Your constantly having to scold them its like having two children)

These two will argue with each other Simon's voice is stern its how you imagine he talks to new recruits and your cat is meowing loudly at him clearing cussing him tf out

Groggily peeling open your crused eyes open but quickly closing them as the bright morning sun peeked through your bedroom window you start to awaken. You rubbed into your eyes with the back of your fist before opening them again moving to look at the clock on the bedside table.

11:23

You slept in, or really someone let you sleep in because to your right your boyfriend seemed to have long since left the bed leaving the side he usually accompanied empty and cold.

You stretched and groaned the sheets and blankets moved with you weird groans and grunts leaving your yawning mouth as your joints crackled and popped. You sat up in bed still drowsy with sleep barley aware of your surroundings but still you gripped the enormous blanket and wrapped it around yourself as an act to shield the breezy-ness of the winter weather that leaked into your apartment.

Mreeeooow!

Your head whips to the door at the loud sound. Your cat was talkative but he was never very loud about him. This time the usual cute sound was replaced with an almost screech that made you cringe.

You take a deep breath before standing up and making your way to your room door. Once you open it the sounds of your cat get louder and now you can hear Simon too. His voice is booming but isn't loud it's stern and serious but filled with frustration and anger.

As you walk down the hall to the living area your duvet drag behind you on the floor. The floor creaks and groans under your feet alerting the two others in your home. Both their heads snap towards you. Your little baby's ears are pinned back in airplane mode and his pupils are dilated. Your big baby has his nose scrunched and lips downturned into a frown.

Your voice is laced with tiredness and a little deeper than it normally is, "What are you two arguing about this time?" The back of your hand is rubbing one of your eyes again as you speak.

"The little fucker is bein' disrespectful, he's not listenin' to me."

The cat meows loudly in response to Simon seeming trying to say he was lying.

You sigh and move to pick your cat up, he turns to putty in your arms and nuzzles his head against your chin. You walk towards Simon now. Leaning into him and humming contently when he wrapped his arms around you and the little one in your arms pretending to be annoyed but fully relaxing against your body.

[harmoonix]

Tips to heal your Saturn/Chiron placement!!

Since Saturn and Chiron both can trigger a natives life with anxiety and a sense of security, here are some things to help you with getting better!🦋

How to heal:

Cause: overthinking - treatment: writing

Writing something when you're overthinking can help a lot! It can simply be a note from your phone or just write in a notebook how was/is your day so far when you feel overthinking

Cause: Anxiety - treatment: Mediation

When you feel like you're anxious, you can try to close your eyes and think at positive things, if you have your phone by your side try to listen to healing music because it usually works, also staying in the sun can help a lot when you're anxious

Cause: Tired - treatment: sleeping

Is really obvious for your body to feel like sleeping when you're tired, but sleeping actually helps your body so much! Especially when you're feeling sad, take a nap because when you'll wake up, you won't feel the same pain

Cause: Sadness - treatment: exercise

When you're feeling sad or low in life because we all have dark days, try to do some things that can keep your mind away from the sad feeling, play a game, play a sport, organize your room, cleaning can help too but remember that when you hold too much sadness inside of you it will burst out sometimes like you just can't hold it anymore and that's perfectly fine because for some people, crying is healing

Cause: Stress - treatment: go for a walk

Going for a walk can help when you're stressed, especially in the morning when the air is so refreshing because it can help to clean your mind, try to leave the house or go in a park/lay on the grass/look at the sky it can help!

Cause: Angry - treatment; listen to music

Maybe at the moment you won't feel like listening to music, especially after a fight or some kind of conflict, but listening to music it can help with chilling yourself after those, and always remember that the specific fight or conflict already ended so you don't have to overthink about it, is away now

Cause: Lazyness - treatment: reduce screen time

The light from our phones/pc/laptop/iPad is not healthy if you constantly spend your time on these. It is good to take a break and clear your mind after a while. Your phones light has also impacted your mood

Cause: Burnout - Treatment: Reading

Reading can help in situations of burnout. If you don't have a book by yourself when you are in such a situation, there are so many online books out there, or even audio ones try to read articles or to just text with people/friends when you feel like it.

Saturn + Chiron and the themes you need to heal/get better in your life!

Saturn/Chiron in the 1H - yourself, your body, your image

Saturn/Chiron in the 2H - your worth, finances

Saturn/Chiron in the 3H - your communication, talk more about your feelings

Saturn/Chiron in the 4H - your family, relatives, your own home

Saturn/Chiron in the 5H - your inner child, do things that make you happy

Saturn/Chiron in the 6H - your mental health, nurturing, organization

Saturn/Chiron in the 7H - your partner, your relationship or marriage, your worth to a relationship/boundaries

Saturn/Chiron in the 8H - your traumas, your past, your insecurities

Saturn/Chiron in the 9H - your faith, your beliefs, your culture, your homeland, your education

Saturn/Chiron in the 10H - your carrer, your public image, your job

Saturn/Chiron in the 11H - your friendships, your community, your dreams

Saturn/Chiron in the 12H - your subconscious, your sleep, your spiritual self,

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Remember that is perfectly fine to feel sad or angry or moody because these are our emotions and feelings at the specific moment, there is nothing with them but it can do damage on yourself when you're in these energies for too long! Remember that loving yourself matters. You matter, you are loved. Being nice with others matters as much as being nice with yourself as well! Hope this helped you guys 🦋

Harmoonix🦋🦋🦋

[sugojosgf]

i fantasize about it all the time !

﹒ fem!toji ﹕☆ ﹟ fem · prns ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ : ᯓ cw : sexuāl fantasies , cūnnilingus , strāpping , fingēring , perv toji , genderbent au , roommate au ! ﹐

toji pays rent on time, she cleans up after herself, she's great company, she also fantasizes about you under her writhing in pleasure but hey! they were just roommates right ?

it is almost 2 am when you hear someone ring the bell. it was a warm night, you had shed layers of clothes opting to wear a tank top and shorts. the air was thick with humidity, a layer of sweat making your body glow under the dim lights of your apartment. you get up from your comfortable position on bed — legs curled and on your side scrolling on your phone. stretching your sore arms you walk to your front door. you look through the peephole and see none other than your new roommate toji. you both met for the first time in a cafe after she answered to your post looking for a roommate to split rent. she was truly a sight to behold. decked in comfortable looking clothes, a pair of baggy jeans and a form fitting t-shirt that fit her large frame perfectly, a hint of her calvin klein boxers peeking through. she was charming, and nonchalant and you decided at that moment that you would not mind sharing an apartment with her.

you open the door and you are met with the sight of a very drunk toji.

"... i think i'm going to throw up."

girl.

toji's eyes burn as she throws up into the toilet bowl, stomach churning with nausea already. she can feel the beer make it's way back up to her mouth and she swears that she'll never drink again.

she feels your soft hand on her back as you coo at her plight. you draw soothing circles on her skin as she heaves again.

"s'okay toji, it's almost over." you say as she pukes her gut out for the final time and collapses on the bathroom floor.

you help her up and get her to brush her teeth. up and down, side to side. the foamy sounds growing louder as you move the toothbrush. she's taller than you, by a lot of inches than you can count so to reach up to her is a struggle, arms cramping up with the effort.

she's still very drunk, bubbles of her intoxication bursting around her.

you bring her to her room when you notice her outfit. she's wearing a black tank top, a little too tight on her skin paired with leather pants that seem a little too warm for the weather.

she seems to realise that too because the next thing you know she's tugging off her pants, sliding it off her long legs.

you quickly turn your back to her, fingers pressed against your wandering eyes.

"toji! y-you can't just do that!!" you whisper-yell, hoping she would stop nearly stripping in front of you.

"was too hot, fuck—" she mumbles, "—m never fucking wearing leather again."

"are you dressed ?" you sigh in defeat, back still turned.

".... yeah, look at me baby."

toji was a flirty, sleazy and oh so mean drunk.

you turn to see her only wearing her thong and a graphic tee that is conveniently pulled over the curvature of her ass.

she looks at you face flushed and still manages to sneak in a wink.

".... i'm leaving."

she gets up and grabs you before you can leave pulling you into the bed with her. she holds you close as your face is pressed impossibly close to her chest, close enough to hear her beating heart.

"nooooo ... stay with me, please."

the next morning toji wakes up with the kind of headache that makes her want to hit her head against the wall. she groans as she gets up, back all kinds of fucked up. she rubs her eyes, sitting cross legged on the bed. once her vision clears, she notices something on her bedside table.

' your head probably hurts a lot rn >:( , so here's a painkiller and some water. take it after you eat the soup i've made. it's in the fridge ( heat it up for 30 seconds ) ! take care ~ ♡ p.s - your phone should be at 100% now , it's charging in the living room '

oh

she heats the soup and it tastes just right, making her feel a lot better. her phone is not dead and fully charged, her room definitely cleaned up and she realises even her makeup from the night before was removed. she takes the painkiller and heads to the couch where she pulls her phone out to text shiu.

t. fushiguro : i need to fuck my roommate shiu 🐾 : girl, that's gay t. fushiguro : ...

it becomes unbearable for toji to be around you. her once 'super nice!' roommate becomes the star of every single one of her wet dreams. it doesn't even take a lot from you for toji to bite her fist in frustration.

you wearing a checked apron ? wet. you kissing her cheek goodbye ? horny. you passed out on the couch snoring ? she wants to eat you.

you were just so fucking cute.

she also starts wishing that you stopped becoming comfortable around her. just the other day, she was grabbing a quick bite from the kitchen when she's met with the sight of you wrapped in a fluffy turkey towel coming out of your shared bathroom.

"t-toji!" you yelp in surprise with her sudden presence. her heart beats so hard, as you come closer. your hair dripping wet, bare faced and a soft smile painted on your lips. the towel doesnt do much. its wrapped tightly around your breasts and she can see the soft peaks of your nipples. the towel was also way too short to cover your glistening thighs. fuck.

she thinks about the way you looked that one time as her fingers push deeper into her cunt. she tries not to think of you like that. you were too sweet to be the main character of her perverted fantasies. she imagines your eyes screwed tightly as she fucks deeper into you with her strap. she imagines every single one of her wildest fantasies.

would you bite ? would you scratch ? she thinks how delicious the drag of your manicured nails against her back would feel ? would you cry ? sob as she plays with your pretty clit ? she wants you under her already.

all of her fantasies manifests into existence on a normal saturday. she comes home to you seated in the dining table, with your lips pursed. you barely notice that toji's back home, mind clearly distressed.

"everything alright roomie ?" she asks, startling you. your eyes widen animatedly and you gasp.

"toji!" you take a deep breath in, "we need to talk."

fuck, toji thinks to herself. you probably found evidence of her debauchery somehow and wanted her to leave.

she clambers over to you and takes a seat, palms clammy. "y'er scaring me, doll."

you shake your head, anguished. "toj' we can't be roommates anymore..." you drop your head down, like a kicked puppy.

"oh."

"is it because you found my stash of your stolen pant—" "i am attracted to you toj—"

HUH

your mouth hangs, jaw dropped. toji is quick to turn red. she curses her stupid mouth. why didn't she wait till you talked ?

"you STOLE my panties ?"

"you are attracted to ME ?"

both of you fall silent. situation way out of both your hands.

"we should fuck now, obviously."

"you can't just say that !!"

toji had imagined you in 38 positions, 53 different outfits and 120 separate plot lines all involving you with your eyes rolled up your head with pleasure.

none of those fantasies even came close to the feeling of you sat on her lap, rubbing yourself against her thighs, your mewls don't go unnoticed as she bites your nipples, soft cries echoing through the room.

your nails raked against her naked back, eyes crossed in the simple pleasure of her thigh getting you off. she could feel you throbbing through the thin layer of frilly pink panties that you still had on.

you stop and look at toji, she almost worries that you don't want to continue this little game.

"toooji," you sound drunk, eyes lidded, "please let me taste you."

toji has you on your knees, carpet rubbing against your soft skin. her legs are sprawled out to the sides of your head, you vision looking straight at her pussy. she looks at you, elbows supporting her just so she can watch you try to give her head.

you start off slow, kissing her sensitive inner thighs. you take your time to press your lips softly against body, moist with arousal and sweat from the sweltering heat.

with precision, you lick a strong stripe along her slit. this action is enough to pull the softest sounding gasp from toji. you pull back, strands of her arousal attached to your lips. you calm your beating heart and try to ignore the way toji looks at you.

"go on, you were begging for this." she mocks you. you slowly use your fingers to spread her lips apart, a resounding squelch bounces off the walls.

"you are so wet toji....," you sigh dreamily as you press your lips to her clit. toji's hands make way to your head and pulls your hair, making you moan into her skin.

"y'er so nasty, so dirty for me, only me right baby ?" you nod and begin to make out with her cunt. you begin to drool as you taste her, the tanginess of her juices igniting your brain on fire.

you cry out together with her when you push your tongue into her pulsing hole, fluttering around the wet muscle that invades. she groans, pushing your head impossibly closer to her cunt.

you continue to eat her out, till her thighs begin to shake from exhaustion. you suddenly stop, looking up at toji with the widest doe eyes she's ever seen.

"please use me toji, wanna make you feel good."

that's all she needs to hear before she drags you back to her cunt, this time her hips grinding against your face. your nose bumps into her clit and she reels you in deeper.

"fuck, doll," she whispers, "i'm so fucking close." you hold on to her thighs as she fucks your mouth. your tongue is strained from the attention you give her, the wetness of her arousal like music to your ears. she does not pull you off when she squirts, painting your face with her juices.

your pants create clouds of heat against her skin, face flushed and content. suddenly you are flipped, eye to eye with toji caging you beneath her. her tits, enormous as they are, all for you to take in with your eyes hangs above you. there's a glint in her gaze that tells you that she's going to devour you.

"now, my turn."

toji has you in a mean mating press, as she fingers you. she grabs you and holds you close with a single hand on your waist. you know very well tomorrow you would wake up with the bruises of her rough padded fingers blooming on your skin. your legs ache from their bent position on her muscled shoulders.

"toooooji," you whine as you feel her spit on your cunt, "m' sensitive." you tremble with over sensitivity. your teeth clatters as she brings you closer to another orgasm, thumb working quickly against your sticky clit. she grins victoriously at your ruined state, makeup running down in streams as you look at her with stars in your eyes.

"fuck! don't look at me like that." she grunts as she shoves her thick fingers deeper into your aching cunt. she looks at the base of her knuckles, rings of your creamy release making her grow wetter with the anticipation of your release.

"baby, please, let me use my strap on you." she nearly begs, voice scratchy with need. you whine with embarrassment, eyes prickling with tears of humiliation as you nod.

"use your words," she taps your sloppy pussy. "tell me what exactly you want."

"stop teasing me..." you mewl, "please fuck me with your strap toji." you say with our fingers covering your eyes, streaming in vision of toji's satisfied face.

toji has you arched, ass rippling as she fucks into you with her emerald green strap. she grinds her hips against you. she bends over, hands massaging your tits and the way you would whimper whenever she rubbed your nipples between your fingers fell on deaf ears.

"atta girl, move against me just like that," she grouses as you throw slow circles against the strap. you feel her reach all the way up to your gut, the stretch nearly splitting you into half.

"hah! ngh—," you moan as you feel her bully her strap against your g-spot, nestled all the way in you, "—s'too much toj!" you try to say as you run from her strap. her pelvis bruises your ass with the force of her unforgiving thrusts. she cackles at your plight, suddenly flipping you to your side so she can fuck deeper.

the angle she has you in makes you feel like youve ascended heaven, the mean grind against your poor cunt as she slams her strap in a way that no one could withstand. all hours of her working out in the gym were paying off as she sees you sob, praying for release.

the plap-plap in the room doesn't stop until you squirt all over her strap, making a mess of your pink sheets.

"fuck! baby, that was amazing," she whispers at the wetness dripping off her body, she didnt know you could squirt. you crawl away from her before she grabs your ankle and pulls you back against her body again, "— awww baby, you didn't think that was all, right ?" she fills you up until you can't breathe, the wind knocked out of your lungs.

"once more, you can do it—" you can almost feel her throb, "fuck, you look so pretty." this time she brings her nimble fingers to work on your pretty clit, sticky and gooey as she rubs circles on it.

"i'm so close !—" you cry out, her fast fingers making you taste your release. you cry out, eyes closed tightly from the pleasure of orgasming for the fifth time that night. she whistles as you squirt again, body giving up from the buzzing between your legs. your lashes flutter ready for a quick nap.

"i love ya' toji." you mumble out as you fall asleep, feeling toji pull out. her cleaning you up is all a fuzz, wet cloth wiping away all the fluids using your body as a canvas. you swear on life that at some point, she whispers a 'i love you too baby.' but you chalk it up wishful thinking.

when you wake up from your nap, you see toji on the bed next to you opening up a package. she looks happy, small smile on her scarred lip. she's still half naked, wearing a green satin robe left untied. she looks beautiful as the moonlight hits her.

"oh, you up? " she says as she holds the scissors in her mouth to use her hands to rip off the tape.

"what do you have there ?" she doesn't reply until she brings out the product.

its curved, pink and looks like a double ended dildo with ridges on them.

"pink is your favourite colour right ?"

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[kudossi]

only god can write this script

“I’m, uh,” Lionblaze mutters, his tail sweeping behind him, “sorry for your loss.”

You would be, wouldn’t you, Dovewing doesn’t say, because she’s ex-ThunderClan, because she’s ex-propechized, because his sister died for hers and because he’d wanted to kill her son, because she’s the leader’s mate, because her feelings about the cat who practically kidnapped her from her family to raise as a substitute for another are complicated and thorny at best. “Thank you,” she says at last, like she’s expected to. The diplomacy Tawnypelt has spent so long teaching her tastes rotten on her tongue.

Lionblaze wipes his mouth with one paw. Dovewing’s sister is ThunderClan’s deputy now, not him. She wonders how he feels about it. She wonders whether he thinks Hollyleaf should be there instead. She wonders if, just as she had been, Ivypool is just another substitute for a black cat with too-sharp eyes, too much potential. All wasted, of course, because StarClan was nothing if not good at wasting.

She wishes she knew why the she-cats suffered most. She wishes she didn’t know that they did.

She wishes Rowankit had been born a tom, sometimes, in her darkest moments. If he had, he wouldn’t be dead. “Simple as that,” she’d said to Ivypool last Gathering.

“Simple as that,” Ivypool had echoed, hollow. Bristlefrost had died for — what, exactly? So that more toms could live? So that the she-cat didn’t get the happy ending?

“There are never any happy endings for us,” Hollyleaf had murmured to her the morning of her death. The implication had been clear. Dovewing had stared at the only cat who ever understood her with wide, dry eyes until Hollyleaf had set her chin on Dovewing’s head, and then she’d been helpless not to lean in, a sob rattling her chest as she did.

“I approve,” Sorreltail had grinned at her as Briarlight had hissed defiance at the idea of being evacuated.

“Do I need it?” Dovewing had wondered.

“No,” Sorreltail had answered, simple as anything. “If it’s Briarlight, wonderful. But if there lies something for you outside of these borders — take it. Take it and never look back.”

It was the last time she had spoken to Sorreltail until she was cleaning her blood off of Lilykit and Seedkit as another panic swept over the camp. And even then, she was only speaking to a corpse, reassuring a cat who wasn’t there anymore that her kits would be okay.

(And Seedpaw had drowned to keep a stick — the closest memory of her mother she had — in ThunderClan’s possession. Dovewing had wept that night, inconsolable. Another daughter lost to the memory of her mother, a mother who had died because she had been expected to be a mother before a warrior, a mother despite the worst of wounds. A beaver’s dam bursts and is built again, over and over, until Dovewing’s coat drips with invisible blood.)

“Nursery work isn’t simple,” Ferncloud had smiled once, taking her through each task. Her demeanor was gentle, but the undercurrent was hard. Bumblepaw hadn’t taken this lesson. She knew that Lionblaze hadn’t, either.

“Why us?” Dovepaw had asked, looking up at her.

Ferncloud’s gaze, fixed on a point deep in the den, snapped to hers as if pulled there. “Because it’s only us,” she had said after a moment.

Less than a year later, Dovewing would step through Ferncloud’s blood to block a Dark Forest shade, all murk and mire and claws made of filth, from taking a bite out of her corpse.

“Don’t have another litter,” Lionblaze says now, callous in his way. “It never ends well for us.”

She knows — oh, does she ever know — that. No one star-touched could get away with a second litter, not if the stars had touched you young, even if they took the blessings they’d given away. Lionblaze’s first litter had led unremarkable lives — Hollytuft, despite her namesake, was quiet and unobtrusive; Fernsong had stepped a little farther than his bounds with Ivypool (and had paid for it, perhaps, with their daughter drowning in a lake made of rot); and Sorrelstripe’s history seemed to begin and end with her own litter (another dam, rising high; Dovewing looks away, now, because the alternative hollows her chest with rhythmic scraping of dulled teeth — pain comforted by pain). But the second? Two of them kittypets, the third an active rebel who had lost her mate to her own leader’s claws? A gentle fate, all told. They were all still alive, but what did that matter to him? Did the shame of having two living kittypet children outweigh the idea that both were alive, that both were happy, that he could visit them if he cared to?

“He shouldn’t have allowed it,” Jayfeather had said, his blind eyes staring into Dovewing’s soul.

“I shouldn’t have allowed it,” Lionblaze had said, anger toying at the end of every word.

But Dovewing had wanted, and now her tiny, perfect son is dead. “I won’t,” she says, hoarse. After all, she hadn’t ever been allowed to want. What had she expected? That StarClan would grant mercy to one who had only ever done their bidding?

“Guess some of us have to learn our lessons,” Lionblaze mutters. He scratches at an ear and averts his gaze from the direction of ShadowClan’s medicine den when someone stirs within.

Dovewing wonders if she can muster up the energy to be truly angry. She wants to be so badly, like one might want to escape sharpened claws dipped into soft flesh, but it’s hard to muster in this cruel, gray world without her son, with only callous gods to stare down at her. “Guess so,” she says, and wonders which god wrote this script she’s living. Her losses burn hot in her throat, the injustices as cold as ice, but Lionblaze could never fathom a story more unhappy than his own. “I guess so.”

[grandline-fics]

Could i ask for a Law x FemReader with the “accidental kiss” prompt?, and if possible, could law have a crush on the reader if you decide to do this ask?

(Love your fics)

-anon

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Accidental Kiss

WARNINGS:  Fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,270

A/N: Hi there, thank you for this prompt based request. I hope you like what I came up with for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

The chatter among the crew at the breakfast table was as lively as ever. The meals on the Polar Tang were always savoured for everyone to connect and enjoy the time together before everyone resigned themselves away to take on their tasks for the day. You’d finished your meal but remained sitting, holding your mug of coffee close as you let the heat radiate into your hands, the thought of drinking it gone from your mind as you only focussed on your Captain. Your eyes remained on his and you smiled softly as you listened with keen interest before giving your input to the conversation with Law. 

While other chatter sounded around you, the pair of you were unaware of the looks you were receiving. Penguin and Shachi were trying to hold back their smirks, Bepo and Ikkaku stared with dreamy expressions while the others looked at the scene before them completely baffled. All of them saw how obvious it was you and the Captain shared a deep connection and held even deeper feelings for each other. Why hadn’t either of you noticed or tried to act on those feelings before? In the crew’s eyes the two of you were already a couple in all but name and acknowledgement from you and Law. 

When you finally brought your lips to you mug your gaze broke reluctantly from Law’s face and you caught sight of the time. As much as you could have easily spent the entire day talking to Law about anything and everything you knew your chores wouldn’t do themselves. With a sigh you finished your drink and began to rise, gathering the cleared plates and bowls close to you to take them to the sink. As you leant forward to reach for something just out of your grasp, Jean Bart spoke up to ask Law a question, causing him to turn his head. Then the chatter stopped instantly and the dining hall froze in its entirety, everyone taking in the sight of Law’s lips against yours. 

You didn’t even know how it happened, your mind couldn’t register the odds of this kind of thing happening. One second you were reaching for a bowl, the next your Captain’s lips were against yours and you were unable to move and the look in Law’s eyes told you everything; it was an accident and he seemed just as bewildered by the situation as you were. You couldn’t hold back the heat bursting against your skin or silence the heavy hammering of your heart in your chest. 

It felt like time had stopped when really the whole thing lasted a few seconds. You didn’t even know how either of you managed to find the strength to disengage but you did it. While Law quickly made his way to the safety of his study, away from the prying eyes and excited whispers. You however weren’t so privileged. You spent as long as possible standing at the sink, scrubbing the dishes for as long as you could, keeping your gaze on the water and not on the others of the crew you could feel were lingering in the room. When there was nothing else for you to clean you had no choice but to finally go to your assigned task for the day. Thankfully it was just you and Bepo doing the monthly stock check of the medical supplies which took most of the day and it was thankfully filled with silence due to complete concentration needing to be had. 

However you knew Bepo’s lack of comment on the morning’s incident was too good to be true because when it came to delivering the updated stock numbers to Law, the damned bear was suddenly overcome with one of his stomachaches and needed to lie down immediately. You muttered curses over and over as you made your way to Law’s office. Briskly you knocked on his door and entered when he called for you to enter. At first you thought you could pretend that what had happened never happened but when you walked in and met his gaze you faltered. You couldn’t help but glance at his lips while tightly pressing your own into a tight line. Quickly you inwardly berated yourself for your juvenile reaction. With a sharp clearing of your throat you continued into his office. All you needed to do was give him the papers and leave, it was easy, you’d done it hundreds of times before. 

“No Bepo?” Law asked, trying to find something, anything to speak about to delay talking about the kiss. 

“Stomachache.” You explained, slipping the papers into his hand and then you paused. Normally you would stay and chat but if you did this time would he be thinking you were staying for something else? But if you left immediately then that would be out of character and would make him think something was wrong, that you didn’t want to be around him anymore which couldn’t be further from the truth. What if he wanted you to leave because of what happened? Your mind was spinning and you couldn’t see an answer anywhere. Finally through your thoughts Law’s voice saying your name made you focus. “Yes?” You answered immediately.

“Was he okay?” Law asked, never forgetting his role as a Doctor even though he knew the bear would be more than okay. He highly suspected this was an instance that the navigator was lying, still he had to check. 

“You could offer to kiss him better.” Your joke came before your brain could stop you and you regretted it instantly, hands flying over your mouth as though you could force the words back. You always made jokes like this but given what had happened between you both this morning it just brought the memory and the feeling of his lips on yours flooding back. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” You rambled behind your hands. 

You and Law stared at each other and finally he broke the silence and the tension by laughing, all but relieved that you were just as much as a mess as he was about it all. Seeing him laugh let you join in and it felt as though the weight on your shoulders and anxiety of that accidental kiss possibly ruining everything between you disappeared. It felt like how it normally did and you could breathe easier now. As the laughter eased away you caught your Captain staring at your lips just as you had his when you entered his office. “Permission to say as unexpected as it was, it was a nice kiss, Captain?”

“Permission granted.” Law smirked at you. “Though you must be easily pleased if that impressed you.”

“Wow you’re so arrogant.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I said it was nice, not that it blew my mind forever. I was just being kind.”

“Not arrogance if it’s fact.” Law replied smoothly as he rose from his seat to stand in front of you, his lips as close as possible without touching. “I can give you a real kiss now and ‘blow your mind forever’ as you phrased it?”

“You’re welcome to try, Captain.” You murmured, leaning your head back just a fraction and grinning in satisfaction to see him respond by leaning in again to maintain the infuriatingly close distance between you. There was a brief beat between you both before the space was closed and your lips met. You all but melted into Law’s touch and he was right. Compared to this kiss right now, what you’d shared in the dining room that morning was nothing but a happy accident.

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[primofate]

Time: 3:00 am

Status: can't sleep. Sudden urge to write something. Here goes.

Timer: 10 minutes

Actual time: 28 minutes

Warning: might be messy and rushed

Characters: Wriothesley x gn!reader

"Do you remember when I first met you?"

"...bits and pieces. It isn't very clear in my mind anymore," you reply rather curtly.

There's a short pause of silence at the dinner table, your cutlery and his cease to move as the two of you try to piece the event together.

Wriothesley chuckles and recounts the events with detail "It was one of those spring nights. Breezy, nice weather, sun wasn't up too high in the morning so the night was cool," as you continue to eat, he has stopped for the moment. "I was cut up from head to toe, small scratches everywhere. Some trouble with the meka that day,"

You raise your eyes up from the food, suddenly getting a wave of nostalgia as you recognize the moment all too clearly.

"On my way back to the Fortress I ran into you. All tidy and clean, box in your hands, looking up at me blankly. Do you remember what you said?"

You stifle a smile, because this part, you remember all too well.

"Here's your tea," the two of you say in unison, followed by a small laugh from you.

"...you left it in my hands, and then walked away as if it was the most normal day in your life. Like you never even saw me injured,"

"In my defense, you didn't look like you were in pain at all,"

He raises an eyebrow, meeting your gaze and ignoring your comment altogether. "I was suddenly obsessed with who you were. It wasn't as if you were trying to be mysterious, but who was this uncaring person standing at the Fortress entrance with my box of tea? I had to know,"

"Uncaring isn't quite the word for it. I was tired," you gently explained.

Yet again he continues as if not hearing you, "Only to find out the following week that my exotic tea dealer carefully hand picked herbs and mixed them, then personally delivers them to their customer's door. Lovely service. You remember what happened after that?"

Wriothesley's gaze on you is soft, with a hint of mischief on it, one that you returned. "I got orders. Tons of it. All to the Fortress of Meropide. I was there nearly every day doing deliveries,"

"Mmhmm. And then?" There's a chuckle on his lips, amused that you had taken over telling the story.

"And then one day I got fed up, asked to see the duke, burst into his office and said "Why don't you make your orders all in one go?!""

The scene in your mind is vivid now. The anger you felt at that moment whiplashed into your memory. It had been tiring, to go there everyday, only to deliver a miniscule amount of tea.

"And I said...?" Wriothesley has opted to lay his head on his fist, smile playing on his lips as you close the story.

You roll your eyes, "Here's your tea," but couldn't help the laughter that escaped your lips. "Poured me a cup as if you've never seen an angry person before. I was fuming!"

"It worked didn't it?" He had gone back to his food, hands now busy with cutting, smile still on his face. "I wasn't sure how to meet you again so I had ordered a box of tea for every day...that day you burst into my office? I just happened to be there at the right time, it was the first time in days I'd been able to sit and prep tea for myself. It was busy,"

"Or so you say,"

He chuckles at your suspicious look. "I made up for it, didn't I? The rest of the orders I placed, I personally picked them up from your store,"

"Everyday," you recall fondly.

"Every single day, I found time. And I'd do it all over again, in that same way, same words," he sounded like he was done talking, but him being the charmer that he is, added "except maybe I would've kissed you earlier. By the 24th order, maybe?"

You kick his leg from under the table. He hides his amusement with a short bark of laughter.

[targaryen-dynasty]

TO STOKE A FLAME.

Aemond Targaryen x servant!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, oral (m receiving), power imbalance (prince and maid), mutual pining, female Reader

WORDS: 4K

NOTES: this is written for the writing challenge hosted by @targaryenvampireslayer I got the prompt "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good" and the trope mutual pining. This was my first time writing mutual pining, and I hope it's at least slightly fitting lol.

When you’re first assigned to cleaning the chambers of the King’s second son, your heart leaps for it means you are able to escape the tortures of being a scullery maid for a position that is at least a bit higher ranked, and not as ungrateful and strainful. 

Prince Aemond is an early riser, already up long before first light, and whenever he sets off to train with the sword in the morning, it’s time for you to take care of his quarters. 

There’s another maid that has been offered the same opportunity, only that she is in charge of making the chambers Prince Aegon presentable, and from what you have gathered, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her. 

Aemond’s chambers are always immaculate when you step into them. Everything is in its place, and the air is always filled with the cool morning breeze from the windows he’s kept open. Quite different to the quarters of his older brother. 

But what they do have in common are their questionable reputations. 

While Aegon is promiscuous, known to pinch and fondle at any serving girl who strays within his reach, Aemond is somewhat feared, at least among the staff. Most servant girls keep well away from the prince, and a part of you is certain it is solely because of the black eyepatch he dons after losing his eye, and the grim expression he usually holds on his face. 

The other maid that tends to his chambers with you is overly cautious when dusting or putting fresh linens on his bed, something that even makes you swallow thickly. However, you can’t seem to bring yourself to share their sentiment. 

How could you?

Despite only meeting the prince very briefly, you feel like every day that you sweep through his chambers, you get to know him more and more. If there’s bedlam following in Aemond’s wake when he leaves in the morning, it merely consists of several books scattered all over his desk, his armchairs and sometimes even his bed. 

Most of them deal with dragon lore, history, and a variety of other subjects which you wouldn’t expect to be read by any other lord, making clear that the prince is very well educated, and always strives to learn more. 

And though he keeps his chambers mostly spotless, there’s very much of his personality in them – if you read between the lines. 

More oft than not, the armchairs close to the fireplace don’t stand in their usual positions, turned to the side to face each other with one of them being piled by books or scrolls. And you know from the servants that he’s often found sitting beside the fireplace either in deep thought or engrossed in a book with the flames of the fire dancing in the corner of his eye. 

You’re cleaning his quarters all by yourself today for Darla, the other maid assigned, has been called to take care of something else, which means you’re granted slightly more time for Aemond’s chambers. 

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you’re knocking off as much ash and debris as possible back into it, before some of it is swept up and emptied into the pail standing next to you. 

You’ve been a bit too engrossed in your task when the doors behind you burst open, catching you by surprise and startling you. There’s only one person that could and would enter the prince’s quarters at this hour of the day – the prince himself. 

As you hurry to get back on your feet, already straightening and dusting off the skirt of your maid attire, you’re a bit too quick and hit your head on the ledge of the fireplace, your mob cap falling to the ground in the process. 

It’s a stinging pain that shoots right through your whole body, and a throbbing that settles at the crown of your head. You bring a hand up to soothe the pain at least a bit, before you’re reminded of the reason why you got up in the first place. 

Gritting your teeth, you take in a sharp breath and lower your hand, bobbing a small curtsy with a strained ‘Prince Aemond’ leaving your lips to the man that stands still in the room, clearly regarding you.

“My apologies, I–” you say, trying to make excuses and wanting to state that you’re just about to leave, but he cuts you off. 

“Are you well?” he asks, though there is a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I apologize for startling you, that was not my intent.”

What’s even more unusual than him apologizing to you, a servant, for barging into his own chambers is that he's inquiring about your well-being. You’ve never before been acknowledged by any of the Targaryen’s, not that you expected it, and feeling his gaze on you kind of makes you nervous. 

He raises his brow when there doesn’t come an answer from you, and you take it as your cue to speak. “I–Yes, Prince Aemond,” you stutter, bowing your head. Raising it again, your hand brushes the crown of it briefly, the spot still throbbing despite it happening a few moments ago. “I am well. It’s–It’s nothing, my prince.” 

Gathering your things, you’re caught off guard for a second time since he’s entered his chambers as he slowly approaches you. He has a sympathetic smile on his lips now, and you’re not sure if it’s the embarrassment or him coming close enough to tower above you, but your body feels like it’s been put on fire. 

“Are you certain you’re well?” he asks, eye flitting from your head to meet your eyes. “You’ve struck your head rather hard.”

He reaches to inspect the spot on your head, yet he hesitates and pulls back right before his fingers could brush your hair. You’re slightly disappointed, but your pounding heart is grateful. Just the mere proximity brings a blush to your cheeks and has you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle him touching you. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court. 

His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, smooth and somewhat calming. “What’s your name?”

Taking in a deep breath, you tell him your name, but not without your eyes darting to the ground. His gaze is heavy, too heavy for you to meet it, and you feel as though there’s something else than curiosity woven within it.

“You’re quite flustered over nothing,” he hums, and the way your name slips past his lips with so much ease almost makes you melt right then and there; at least it’s enough to make you forget that he’s clearly noticed the effect he has on you. 

Aemond takes note of you being nervous around him, his attention causing your blood to rush through your veins. It seems as though it’s a rather strong reaction that you have to him, something not many women feel when he comes near them. It’s endearing.

Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his good one again, and you straighten your back for another curtsy. 

“M-my apologies, Prince Aemond.”

You can spot the exact moment the corners of his lips curl into a teasing smirk, your timid demeanor and your nervousness the trigger for it. And being as cocky as he is, he thinks he could have a bit of fun with you. 

“It seems you’re rather out of sorts for something so trivial,” he notes, his tone teasing and playful, matching the flicker of mischief in his eye. “Perhaps I should inspect you myself to see if you have in fact sustained any injuries.”

His words make you feel as if the world around you is slowing down, making everything feel almost unbearable. You’re finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye without blushing or your breath becoming heavy, and therefore fix them on the ground again. Noticing his large feet in comparison to your much smaller ones, your thoughts briefly stray to what else of him might be large. 

But before you can answer him, or your thoughts can dive deeper, Aemond places a hand beneath your chin and gently tilts your face back up for you to meet his gaze. You’ve only seen one other in passing, and even then you’re certain he’s paid no mind to you at all, so his touch comes unexpected. But you don’t tense, and you certainly don’t pull away. However, you’re unsure if you should give in and lean into it. 

His finger brushes along your jawline, trailing down the curve of your neck, and coming close to your collarbone, a heat following in its wake. He stops for a second, as if he’s debating whether or not he should move his touch any further. 

Aemond’s surprised by your reaction, yet he also realizes that you’re much more interesting than any of the other maids for they were all alike – all not daring to look at him or stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. But you’re different. 

He could already tell by the way you so neatly clean and store his books when he’s spent his night reading by the fire, or how you seem to pay extra attention when you’re putting fresh linens on his bed, fluffing his pillows without the hurry the previous chambermaid has had. 

And seeing his touch having such a significant impact on you, the little maid he’s spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about, feeds a desire he didn’t have before – the desire to bed you, to claim you. 

“Get on your knees,” he orders, hooded eye looking down at you. 

Swallowing thickly, your mind struggles to comprehend what he asked of you. “I-what?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s a bit firmer now, and uses the slight grip he has on your shoulder to give you a little help sinking down. You follow his lead, the pail rattling onto the ground. 

Your hands are folded in your lap when you gaze up at him, eyes wide and curiously studying his next move. With your thumbs brushing over each other, you try to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, grazing your skin to distract yourself from the throbbing that blossoms between your legs. 

Aemond looms over you, reaching out to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s something in the position you’re in, and the combination of his gentle touch and stern orders that gets to your head, and lures you in to lean into his hand. It also makes you a bit bolder as you place a hand on his thigh in return.

It piques his interest, obvious in the way he raises a brow, and his eye flickers to where your hand rests on his body. But he doesn’t shy away from the touch. 

“Do you know what I require of you?” Aemond asks, sterner than before. 

You bow your head, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. “I do, my Prince.”

That’s all he has to hear before he swiftly unlaces the front of his breeches and tugs them down barely enough to free his cock and stones, the sight alone making your breath hitch in your throat. He’s well endowed, and far bigger than the cock of the one man you’ve slept with before.

You release a shaky breath, replaying all the knowledge you’ve gathered about pleasuring a man with your mouth, and catch a whiff of musk mixed with the salty smell of sweat – he’s definitely trained with the sword this morning. 

Squeezing his thigh, your eyes flicker between his and his hard cock as the slight nod of his head encourages you to curl your hand around it, your thumb and index finger barely touching. 

He throbs in your palm already, and the tip is covered in a red that makes it clear he’s desperate to be buried inside of something; probably not caring whether it’s your mouth or your cunt.

Even though you cower beneath his dominating presence, a jolt of boldness strikes you that makes you lean in and lick a flat stripe from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip. A salty taste lingers on your tongue as you drag it over the slit, making you hum appreciatively, seemingly pleased to witness the effect your touch and presence have on the prince’s body. 

Aemond buries his hands in your hair, loosening the bun you’ve put it into this morning, and grabs a fistful of it. It’s a sharp tug of him that catches your attention, and your wide eyes flit up to meet his demanding gaze. 

Spurred on by the heavy breaths moving his chest, you swallow, and eventually part your lips to slowly ease him inside, and even though he holds you by your hair, he’s generous enough to not force himself inside, allowing you to move as you please. 

“Fuck,” he growls as he gets accustomed to the warmth and tightness of your mouth, head tipping back to release a bawdy groan. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, and, after a few moments that allow you to adjust to him, start to bob your head back and forth his thick length, flattening your tongue against him for added stimulation. 

Growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, you squeeze your thighs together every time the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, robbing you of the ability to breathe until you pull off of him again. 

With his hand in your hair, Aemond senses you getting more comfortable, and starts to guide your head along his member, encouraging you to set up a quicker pace to which you eagerly comply. 

“That’s it,” he groans, not able to tear his eye from the sight of your lips wrapped around him as his cock repeatedly disappears inside of your mouth.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips down your chin with how fast you sink down on him, and the lewd sounds of his soaked cock sliding back and forth past your lips fill the prince’s chambers, hardly drowned out by his grunts and groans. 

At this point, you’re drenched in your arousal, the linen of your small clothes clinging to your swollen mound in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. 

While you bring one hand up to clasp around the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh a bit harder than before, holding onto him for dear life as he uses your face however he pleases. 

You feel the muscles of his thigh tense and contract under your palm and his cock throb inside of you, indicating that he’s close to reaching his peak. It’s the first time you pleasure a man with your mouth, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. But before you can brace yourself for whatever might come, Aemond pulls you off of him by your hair, prompting you to topple back to sit on your haunches. 

You lock your teary eyes with his good one, lips smacking as his musky and salty taste spreads on them and your tongue. “My Prince, I–”

“Remove your clothes,” he interrupts you, his voice less friendly and more a command. 

There are so many thoughts rattling your mind right now, and you don’t know where to start and what to process. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he growls, his impatience showing as you don’t comply quickly enough. 

With a bow of your head, you rise to your feet and peel the beige-ish apron off of your body, the red dress and smallclothes following suit. You waste no thought on your modesty, on the fact that you’re standing bare in front of a prince of the mighty House Targaryen. The longing for him that has built with all the days you’ve cleaned his pristine chambers, and the undeniable aching between your legs don’t allow you to. 

You’re undressed when he stalks around you, regarding you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. You see that your obedience arouses him, his hard cock throbbing and bouncing with each step he takes around you. It’s thrilling in the best way possible, and the feeling of being desired by him feeds your confidence.

“Are you just watching, or will the prince undress as well?” 

His eye narrows and flickers up to yours at your question, and there’s the hint of a smile adorning his features. “Would you like that?” 

Biting your bottom lip, a blush creeps on your cheeks. “Very much.”

As you size him up, you notice a flush blossoming from his cheeks down his neck, the same warmth you feel obviously spreading through his body, too. 

“Then I suppose that I’ll oblige.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothing, slipping out of layer after layer, starting with the black leather robe, and ending with his smallclothes.  

You all but drag your eyes over his lithe frame, taking in every muscle that ripples beneath his pale skin, and every silver, coarse hair that trails from below his navel to his cock and the sac of his stones. 

It seems like he basks in your attention, in the way you stare at him in awe as you lick your lips, and he’s certainly not afraid of showing himself in his full glory. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, smugly. “On your hands and knees.”

This time you know better than to take a few seconds to comply, bowing your head before climbing his bed right away, getting in the desired position. You suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, completely at his mercy in a way you’ve never experienced before. However, your curiosity and desire overshadow any reservations you could have. 

“Pray tell, have you lain with a man before?” You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he slowly settles behind you. His hands find your hips, and you shiver with anticipation. 

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you nod. “Just once, my prince.”

A soft hm rubles in his chest at your words, and he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. You certainly seem to take him very seriously, which isn’t unusual given his station, but it’s your honesty that’s a whole different matter to him. “You enjoyed it, I presume?”

Still meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. You’re hesitant to answer, not sure why it’s of importance, but he doesn’t seem willing to let you off the hook just yet. “Yes, I did.”

Aemond gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze at that, and shuffles close enough for you to feel his cock press against your arse. “Would you be willing to again?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a grin, but fail miserably. The prince behind you takes that as his cue to continue, and you’re most grateful when you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Just relax for me,” he purrs, his eye fixed on the motions of his hand, watching as his cock disappears inside of you. “I’ll make it feel good.”

The moment you stretch around him, you take in a sharp breath, his cock breaching your cunt at a teasingly slow pace that makes sure you feel every vein and ridge of him drag along your walls.

With his hands coming back to rest on your hips, he pulls you onto his cock until his hips press against your arse, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘shit’ he mumbles doesn’t go unnoticed by you, a renewed wave of your arousal drenching his cock and the sac of his stones. 

If his impatience hasn’t been running thin before, it certainly does now, because the first gentle, sensual thrusts are quickly replaced by merciless pounding. You don’t mind it for you’ve been thoroughly soaked, and enjoy the feeling of his cock repeatedly brushing the spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry. 

Aemond brings a hand between your shoulders, applying a good bit of pressure to press your chest down and your face into the pillows. Your head turns to the side, but you’re not able to look at him.

His breathing is heavy, strained pants leaving him, and his hand trails back to grope your arse. 

“Fuck, what an obedient girl they’ve ordered to take care of my chambers–of me,” Aemond rambles behind you, bowing forwards to put a bit more of his weight on your small frame. “Taking me so well. Giving me exactly what I want.” 

The praise goes straight to your head, and you want to answer, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by quiet whimpers and whines that grow wanton as he splits you open with a hard, percussive thrust. Then another follows, and another, keening at the sweet sounds you make only for him. 

Not able to focus on anything else than the pressure building inside of your belly, you push your hips back against him, and he counters by pulling you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfways which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin to echo off the walls. 

He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, that you’re certain you would keep going even if someone is to barge into his chambers, interrupting you.

As his hand snakes beneath your body to make contact with your pearl, you’re overcome with the true knowledge of how experienced Aemond actually is. He strums your body like the most talented lutenist, bringing you closer towards your sweet release. 

“Gods, I–” you whine into the pillows. 

The taut string inside of you snaps, and the pleasure within you soares through your veins. White, hot pleasure clouds your vision, his arm around you the only thing keeping you up right now. 

“That’s it,” Aemond grunts, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air. 

And then, his hips stutter, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. He twitches and trembles so much that he’s forced to still his hips, and you take it as your cue to roll yours against him, helping him through his peak. 

The throbbing only stills once you’ve milked him for every drop of his seed and the last bit of the euphoric high subsides, making him come back to his senses. 

But there’s not much basking in the proximity for you, not when Aemond pulls out almost immediately after, climbing off the bed to get dressed again. The red dress is crudely thrown into your direction, silently making clear that it’s time for you to leave. 

It seems as though he’s embarrassed, because he has a hard time meeting your eyes, and doesn’t look at you when you get back in your clothes. But perhaps you’re just not catching the subtle glances he throws into your direction as your maid attire comes back to hug your curves. 

Tying the apron and fixing your hair, you reach for the pail. It’s then, with you bowing forwards, that you finally feel his seed trickling out of your cunt, and the sensation alone makes you shiver in an uncomfortable way. You certainly have to look for a quiet spot in the keep where you can clean yourself, since you’re not done working. 

You head for the door, but before you open it, his smooth voice catches your attention again. 

“You may leave now, but I expect you to come back and finish your task at the Hour of the Ghosts, for you have not cleaned the fireplace thoroughly enough.”

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[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

[hybbart]

Day 1904: The spread of sculk is too much to just clean. After salvaging what they could, the ranch is taken down...

Bonus short story below.

Jimmy watched as the last of the house blazed in the twilight. Around the edges of the flames Pearl and Sausage marched, searching for anything flammable that might catch. It was the beginning of winter, and the constant rains had kept everything soaked, but they couldn’t risk it in the middle of the forest. Lizzie had stayed closer as well, securing the last of their belongings to take away in the morning. It was only a few metres down the driveway, but the ranchers couldn’t even get that far.

Tango let out a low growl. His grip on Jimmy’s sleeve tightened, pulling the thick fabric further over his eyes. Puffing up his feathers, Jimmy pulled his rancher closer into his side. Tango only stayed because of Jimmy, and because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the ranch behind. It was what he’d said yesterday, before the first burning. But he couldn’t watch. He could barely help them clear it out before the sledgehammers came in. Sparks flickered through his hair in lieu of tears in his eyes as he kept his face buried.

Jimmy, though… He was entranced. Every crack in the beams that cause a burst of sparks or shift in the wind that billowed the smoke in a new direction. The smoke made his eyes water, but none fell. Maybe he’d finally grown numb. Maybe it looked too different. There was a pile of flaming rubble where his home once was, his first home, but his chest only felt hollow. All that was left with a twitch in his wing, the desire to run and keep far away.

Pity in her eyes, Lizzie approached them from the trailer. Reins were pushed into Jimmy’s hand against his protest. “Take a horse and head back to my house before it gets dark.” She said.

“But-”

“No arguing.” Despite the firmness of her words her voice was low and sad. “You need to sleep in a real bed, Sausage is going to stay here tonight. The last of your things will be fine overnight with us.”

Even after years, Jimmy was never able to argue with Lizzie when she said something reasonable, and he’d given up trying. Jimmy glanced to Tango, who was still hiding from the world in Jimmy’s sleeve. A small tug on his hem was all he got in response. “We’ll be back in the morning with more water.” He assured. They rounded up Bullseye and began the long, quiet ride to Lizzie’s. 

By the time they arrived it was dark, the home illuminated from within the kitchen. Though half the house was cloaked in tarps to save unfinished work from the rain, they’d moved into the completed half already. A bit of smart planning on Scar and Joel’s part.

One of the kids must have spotted their lantern, as the door opened before the ranchers could get down from their horse. Tom came rushing up with Revy on his tail. He took Bullseye's reins from them and led him to the cow pen. It was more cramped than it should be, since the rain had flooded the rancher’s outer pastures. Revy whined and licked at Tango’s hand until he gave the dog a weak pat.

Joel shouted something after him before guiding the men inside. “We just started eating if you want to sit down.” He explained as he took Jimmy’s coat. One glance at Tango was enough to answer.

“I’ll grab some in a bit.” Jimmy tried to smile gratefully, but it came out as a grimace. Joel let them be with a nod, hand held out to the hall down which Sausage’s room awaited.

It was colourful, though the furniture was rudimentary, with a mattress stolen from Scar’s hospital. The bed so much smaller than they’d gotten used to, but Jimmy doubted it would matter for tonight. Norman and Flick waited on the windowsill, and Joel had already set up Jimmy’s breathing machine. It took some coaxing to get Tango to change out of his coveralls - which went into a plastic bag to be washed separate - and take off his arm. Even more coaxing was needed to get him to let go long enough for Jimmy to also change. When Jimmy turned back around the blazeborn had Revy wrapped up in his lap instead. The dog’s tail beat against the bed, happy to be held, but whining, nonetheless.

“Do you think you can eat?” Jimmy asked quietly. Tango didn’t respond. He grabbed only one bowl from the kitchen, unsure he could eat much either without it coming back up. Smoke still clung to their skin and hair, dragging them back to the ranch every time it filled their nostrils, but it was much too dark to run a hot bath. Still, Jimmy knew he had to eat something, even if it was in silence.

Tango migrated behind Jimmy at the end of the bed, tail wrapping around the avian’s waist. Its tuft flicking with agitation. Jimmy could feel the heat rolling off his rancher. “It’s not fair.” He rasped.

Jimmy’s wings flattened. “It was an old wood house. It would have had a mold problem eventually unless we rebuilt completely.”

“But why did it have to be sculk!” He snapped, tail sparkling in Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy tried to smooth it down, but it had little effect. “Why’d it have to make it here?”

There wasn’t an answer, not one Jimmy could provide. Maybe Doc or Zed could explain. It was probably in the well and washing into the surrounding water supply now. Would it be washed away? They should have listened to Grian’s worries back when Jimmy’s feathers had been infected somewhere. Or, maybe, back when they’d first found that infested corpse, they should have done something more. It didn’t matter now that their home was already gone. When nowhere felt safe.

His wings itched while his rancher bristled. Tango couldn’t cry, but he was made to fume. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“There’s no one to be angry at.” Jimmy shrugged. 

“The stupid sculk! The idiots who let it loose! The world!” The bed creaked as Tango kicked off it to pace the small room. Revy whimpered, shifting his nose into Jimmy’s lap. “It’s been half a decade. It was supposed to get better. We live out in the middle of nowhere. And the end of the world still found us! We build our own home and make our own food and do everything we can, and it still comes and finds us!” The blazeborn was consumed in his spiral. Flames burst like firecrackers along his tail, startling Flick when it whipped past the poor cat. 

“Tango…” Jimmy sighed, giving the man a miserable look. When he continued to pace, threatening to scorch their hosts’ possessions, Jimmy finally put a hand up in front to stop him.

A hiss escaped Tango, narrowed eyes glaring at the hand which proceeded to latch onto his shirt and drag him off course. Tango tried to shake it off, but Jimmy kept his hold. “It’s not fair that there’s nothing to fight back against.” He lamented, voice cracking. “I just have to sit here and hope tomorrow it doesn’t get in your wings, or start growing into Revy’s brain, or infest another basement! That it doesn’t get everywhere and take everything. At least the stupid zombie I can punch in the face!” By the end his voice was so shrill and watery Jimmy could barely understand it.

“Me and Revenge are okay. We’re right here.” Jimmy assured, pulling Tango back down beside him. 

It made something finally break. Tango curled into himself across Jimmy’s lap, heaving dryly. Talons raked gently through the blazeborn’s hair. Between sobs Tango mumbled incomprehensibly while Jimmy cooed to keep himself from crying as well. There were too many things roiling just beneath his impulse control. If he let one out, the rest would follow, he was sure. So, he focused on Tango. His rancher needed him.

“I don’t think we’d win if it was someone you had to fight, to be honest.” He whispered half-jokingly as the sobs died down.

Tango stilled, then slumped further into Jimmy’s chest. “I could at least try, instead of this.”

Jimmy hummed. Even if they could, Jimmy wasn’t so sure he would in the moment, and he knew Tango wasn’t all that dissimilar. Unlike Joel or the downtowners, their talent was for running and hiding. That wasn’t the point though, Jimmy knew, so he didn’t argue. “What do we do in the spring?” He asked instead.

“… I dunno.” Tango mulled, head tilted out to look at his thoughts. “It’s not safe to rebuild there.”

“Scar has most of the grain safe, and Lizzie has our animals. We could find another plot, there’s plenty around.” Though, most of them had been stripped of their valuable supplies and building materials over the years or rotted away from lack of care. But the land was still good, and they and Pearl didn’t need much room. 

Would Pearl stay with them? They’d lived with her much longer than without her – if the time before her arrival weren’t so chaotic, he might not recall so well what it was like without her – but she always seemed to keep her distance. A guest, even after she was given her own room. Having someone there to take care of things even when they couldn’t let them grow the ranch to almost thirty cattle, but without her...

That Lizzie’s family would have their own ranch soon was the only thing that calmed the nervous itch in his wings recently.

“We’d have to move closer.” Tango’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

He was no longer curled up, though he hadn’t bothered to remove himself from Jimmy. There was that look in his eyes, where his brain was moving far too fast for Jimmy to keep up. At least it had occupied him with something other than the sculk and fire. “We can’t rebuild around the ranch, we won’t know how bad the infection around it is until next winter, and the water probably isn’t safe. If we rebuilt we’d have to move further west down the mountains towards the city, OR-” Tango raised his hand before Jimmy could protest. “We move closer to the hospital, somewhere around here, or maybe further into the interior on the other side.” 

Jimmy clamped up. They’d all had more than a few conversations about this, between them and the hospital, other settlements, and over the radio. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Keep spread out. Far enough that, if something happens, everyone else is safe, but close enough to reach neighbours relatively quick. Like a long chain snaking across the mountains. By now everyone had horses or bikes and access to the recap radio, and it helped them cover more resources. A farm needed land, anyways, especially to keep up with how many people there now were within the network. 

That thought seemed too much right now, though. He could feel the ash in his wings turning to lead. Losing the ranch didn’t just affect them. The cattle were saved but almost all their stores were gone, including two cows’ worth of beef that was to be sent out. It would take weeks, if not the whole season, to get things back in motion, in the months they were relied on most. Would people starve? Would the sculk spread from the ranch? It was a responsibility that seemed natural and seamless just weeks ago, but now felt suffocating.

“I’m not sure-” Jimmy finally replied. “I’m not sure I can rebuild the ranch right now.” Flashes of the burning rubble filled his mind, along with that numbness he’d felt. There was at least three months before they could begin, plenty of time to get over it. But right now… “I don’t even know if I want to.”

He expected perhaps a gasp or shouting from Tango. ‘We’re the ranchers!’ Maybe. But the blazeborn, to Jimmy’s surprise, nodded. Laughed, even. “We’ve been running one for years, why’s it feel impossible now?”

It was probably just nerves. Anxiety. In a few weeks it would wear away. But for now, Jimmy leaned his head against the top of Tango’s and entertained other things. “We could move back to the hospital.”

“That’d drive you insane, and Revy would kill Grian.” Tango chuckled. 

So would you, Jimmy thought. He was sure if Tango had to see more sculk every day he would lose it. “What about visiting Gem and Impulse then?” He suggested instead. “I heard they’ve been doing a lot of forestry. It might be good to learn from them. Or we could finally go to the coast.”

“We never did make it that far, did we?” Tango recalled. “… Why not both? Go back up the mountain and race back down until we hit the coast. Maybe find some more people outside the recap’s range and bring them in.”

“If they’ve survived this long then I doubt they’d want to move now.” 

“They might. Or maybe we can help extend the radio range for them.”

Jimmy smiled. “Maybe we should go east, instead. Find a ranch in the prairies. Be real cowboys.”

“Never been out there, even before all this.” Tango relaxed back against Jimmy, patting his leg for Revenge to come lay across. “You could stretch your wings.”

“That sounds nice.” He admitted with a sigh.

The pair continued to chatter, naming everything and everywhere. Making plans they’d likely never use. Anything to take their mind off the ranch. Just for one night.

[consciouscarrot]

here’s part 3! this is the continued remus lupin x reader, with aftercare this time. can be read as a standalone :)

warnings; mentions of smut, nudity, fluff, reader has hair that is long enough to be fairly tangled, i’m tired so it’s not very good i’m afraid

pt1 pt2

—————

the air around them was thick with heat, and having only just calmed down from his high, remus was trying to decide the best way to clean her up.

he was half tempted to just wipe her down with a damp cloth, but she was already starting to wriggle uncomfortably at the sticky feeling of dried sweat and cum coating her body.

the smell of sex clung to her exhausted form, and he rubbed over her back, muttering a few words about where he was going so she wouldn’t panic.

pulling back the velvet curtains to the bed, he quickly checked that both boys were still sleeping before making his way over to the shared bathroom to start her a bath.

he turned on both bath taps, checking that the water temperature wasn’t too hot, but also warm enough to soothe her aching muscles. he set up any products he’d need and placed a fresh washcloth on the side of the bath.

after padding back over to her, remus flipped her over from where she’d melted into the crumpled sheets, pulling the tired girl from her slumber.

“so sleepy, hm? let’s get you all clean and then you can rest,”

he leans over the tub, delicately placing her down to lean against the back before turning off the taps.

“too hot?” he got no reply, but assumed from the lack of screaming that it was an adequate temperature, and not singeing her flesh off.

stepping in so he could join her, the serene sound of water lapping over her at his movements was almost lulling her back into sleep.

he gently tipped her head back into the water, ensuring that it was thoroughly soaked. white suds coated his hands as he lathered her favourite shampoo onto his hands, the soft scent filling his nostrils.

remus massaged it into her scalp, taking extra care as to not pull on any of the strands when she was still recovering from their earlier ministrations.

she moaned quietly, still feeling out of it and just enjoying his care. he followed up with conditioner, remembering the time she’d taught him how to wash her hair properly, and only applying the product onto the lengths of her hair. unable to find the strength to get out and find her hairbrush, he combed his fingers through her hair, gently trying to detangle the best he could so that it wasn’t a complete mess in the morning.

he then moved on to her body, using the washcloth he’d gotten earlier for her to remove all the sweat and cum from her.

she flinched when he began to wash the outside of her cunt, still so sensitive from before. he shushed her gently, encouraging her to relax against him once again.

slowly scooping out the cum from inside her, he ignored her whines, knowing that she’d appreciate it later when she didn’t have to endure the feeling of soggy underwear.

neither felt the need to talk, not wanting to disturb the comfortable silence they’d found themselves in. only wanting to prolong the feeling for as long as sirius could keep quiet and asleep for.

the fuzzy feeling from overstimulation was worsened by remus’ show of affection, her heart feeling so full that for a moment she was worried it might burst. she didn’t even realise she was crying until she felt rough hands tenderly wiping her tears away.

“what’s the matter, baby? are you hurting?”

he wasn’t too concerned. their session had been a lot yes, but he knew that she was most likely more overwhelmed emotionally, having gone through extreme emotions for so long.

she sniffled, shaking her head and trying to clear her upset before it got to a point of no return. she didn’t want to worry him, and certainly didn’t want to get her snot and tears all over him when he was being so lovely to her.

eventually her tears ran dry, and remus pulled her into his arms. he wrapped a cotton towel around her before moving into the dorm room and placing her back on his bed.

remus grabs one of his jumpers from the case at the end of his bed and carefully pulls it over her head. he decides to forgo underwear, knowing she was way too sensitive to be able to take more pressure against her.

he lays down on his back next to her, carefully pulling her onto his still bare chest. he smiles softly to himself when he feels her snuggle down into him, breathing in his scent.

a soft, sleepy sound leaving her kiss bitten lips before she asks sweetly, “will you please read to me?”

he picked up the book he had been stolen back from james’ earlier, and started reading the first page aloud.

his deep voice filled the space around them, causing his chest to rumble beneath her. occasionally, he paused to kiss the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo.

the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat under her head soothed her into letting her limbs relax fully, sleep weighing heavily on her eyelids. she tried to resist the urge as much as possible, wanting to enjoy the moment and not miss one word he said.

never missing anything to do with her, he noticed her lids drooping, before she twitched and they widened again.

“sleep dove, i’ll still be here in the morning,”

she sighed happily, forever thankful that she got so lucky with her remus.

“thank you for taking care of me, remmy,” she mumbled into his chest, wanting to show her appreciation for him before giving in to sleep, already dreaming of all the love she’ll receive tomorrow.

—————

hope this was okay, this is only my third attempt at writing ever so any feedback is so welcome. i really want to improve so any notes/advice you may have, please please tell me! thank you all <3

@alixmarauders

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

ok im listening to a spencer reid playlist and "marry me" by bruno mars came on and all i can imagine is its like a week or so after spencer had proposed, and he comes home to reader dancing/singing to the song while cleaning or baking. i would love to see this as a fic 🥺

Sneak Peek

Summary: Spencer comes home from a case to find his new fiancée, Reader, in rare form.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, kinda sunshine/grump

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Here ya go, babes 🩵

Finally, Spencer thinks when he sees his front door. For work, hours on the jet to and from Quantico don’t take as much of a toll on him as one would expect. Passing the hours with debriefs, cards, reading, and sleeping is something he’s grown accustomed to for years at the B.A.U.

This week, however, was different. Before this last-minute case in Cheyenne, Spencer popped the question to you (with the team’s help with set-up and delivery). Of course you said yes. He barely had time to fish the ring from his blazer pocket before you burst out with your answer. But you barely got to enjoy the first 24 hours of being engaged before the team was called to Wyoming the next morning.

But now, it’s Saturday, so that means you’re home. He can already hear music on the other side of the door when he twists his key. Quite an upbeat tune, unusual for your typical taste. While he sticks to classical composers, normally you’re drawn to calm acoustic songs with minimal production. But what he hears when he opens the door is pure pop.

He couldn’t help but smile as he stepped into the apartment, as the familiar scent of home hit him with the smell of something in the oven. You never cook. And you never bake. But Spencer knows what fresh cookies smell like. He followed the sources, rounding the wall that divided the entryway from the kitchen. And there was when his heart skipped a beat. You were there, in a dress, dancing and singing along with the lively tune, completely immersed in a housewife experience of your own making.

This is nothing but out of character for you. You and Spencer regularly put work first before anything. It is expected in your fields that you prioritize work over each other at times. So your wardrobe was mostly pantsuits and black pumps. Prentiss often gave you suggestions on where to shop for your go-to outfits. Which is why Spencer was so stunned to find you in a dress, flowing around your calves as you twirled on the tile floor. Your hair swayed with every movement, and the joy in your eyes was infectious. The room seemed to come alive with the energy you were exuding. 

He drank it in, marveling at the happiness radiating from his fiancée. He didn’t think simply clearing his throat would be noticeable. But it was. And suddenly, your batter-doused whisk/makeshift microphone became your weapon of choice. “Spencer!” You exclaimed.

Spencer put his hands up in immediate surrender, his heart momentarily pounding for a different reason. “Woah, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Your footing in the small space caused you to lose the rhythm of the music as you stumbled. Your socks gave you little friction, but Spencer was quick to save you from mild embarrassment. Granted, his degrees and experience in profiling didn’t exactly prepare him for impromptu dance saves, but he caught you with surprising grace.

“Careful there,” he teased, still holding onto you. “The team will have some choice words with me if they find bruises on you, no matter where they came from.”

You scoffed. “Wow, bruises. So romantic. What a way to greet your future wife.”

Spencer shrugged before lifting you back to your feet, making sure your feet were stable before letting his hands slide from your shoulders. They glided down to your palms as he extended your arms out. “Well, I can certainly say your greeting exceeds mine by miles.” He looks up and down at your dress; a plain green that hugged you at the waist. “I didn’t know you owned any dresses.”

“Hm.” You said. Your hands rolled with his, urging your fingers to link. “I managed to slip something past the genius in this house. Guess you’re not as observant as I thought.”

Spencer’s brows rose as his jaw dropped, instantly ready to roll with this. Sarcasm was something he had to pick up quickly with you, as it’s your default tone. And you have yet to stray after three years. “I’m observant.” The shock translates through his response.

“Clearly not as much as you like to think.” You untangle one of your hands from his and it creeps to cup his cheek, rough with little stubble. “Barely a week of being engaged and you’re already slipping.” You click your tongue as you shake your head.

“I’m very observant. I notice a lot, thank you.” He pulls you close. His now free hand snaking around your waist, just letting your noses brush. He notices how your mouth opens slightly, expecting a kiss as your exhale grazes his upper lip. He was planning to kiss you then and there, and whatever happened next, he was more than happy with.

But you called him out. So now he has to prove you wrong.

“You didn’t sweep up all the flour off the floor.”

Your eyes were half-open, one of the most vulnerable looks he gets to see. But it fizzles as the information clicks in your head. “What?”

“Your socks.” He gestures down to them.

And you look. Black socks were definitely not the wisest choice.

“How many times did you screw up the cookies?” He asked.

“I didn’t screw them up… too much.”

Spencer’s brow quirked.

“Just more flour than the recipe called for. But only because the bag was so difficult to open.”

So, you spilled it. But he kept that part quiet, as you were already turning pink. “How much salt did you use?” He asks instead. Because he’s not above being too gracious.

“Not much.” You bit your lips closed. “Just the standard amount.”

“The standard amount? Did you throw some over your shoulder for luck?” He brushes some grains he spots sticking to your collarbone.

You were still pink, and Spencer could feel the heat rise off your skin. “We… may need to get more sugar from the store.”

“What did you—”

“Not important. The cookies will be ready in three minutes. So, do you want cookies or not?”

“Hm,” He says, eyes glued to your shoulder again. “So if this is sugar…” And he leans down to kiss your shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin as it scales across the center of your clavicle. His lips brush them before leading up to your neck. 

“This is the greeting I expected.” You say.

“Oh, really?” He follows the pulse point that he’s learned makes your knees equivalent to jelly. When he kisses there, but doesn’t let his teeth scrape the delicate skin just yet. He closes his eyes, to get lost in the moment, in you, a bit faster. The excuse of sugar on your skin has long been exhausted, but you indulged regardless, indisputable by the small sounds that escape you as he kisses more. The arm that holds your waist braces to take on your weight when he nips.

And down you go. But he catches you. Once again

“Does my future wife expect more?”

You say nothing. You swallow dryly, but Spencer understands that as a yes from you. He keeps you both still. Nipping again while his other hand takes free range around your dress. It makes you mewl, and he’s close to hoisting you to bed.

“The cookies—” You remind him. “Can’t let them burn. The timer says—mm—two minutes.”

“I have plenty to keep me occupied for two minutes.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

for @vampiregirl1797

“I just feel like we should put all our cards on the table before we go...all in. I’d like to go all in, but I feel like we need to be straight with each other about some stuff.”

“Oooookay,” Eddie says slowly, lowering himself to sit at the table. He had to shuffle the chair back a bit to fit the bump, “uhm, right.” Eddie feels kind of sick. Not the morning sickness kind, that’s long gone now, just the regular this is the End Of The Steve Thing kind of sick. Because someone basically saying we need to talk has never, not once, turned out well.

So.

Eddie maybe hasn’t come clean about anything. Eddie’s maybe been spending months scenting Steve curled up on his couch watching shitty movies. Eddie maybe just said the pups father isn’t in the picture and didn’t elaborate. Eddie maybe thought Steve had just bought that.

But Steve wants the truth, and Eddie’s going to let him have it, even though when Steve finds out what a little drug dealing slut of an Omega Eddie has been, like, historically, this might be it for straight laced Steve.

The End.

“I started in the library because I was doing community restitution.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a sort of halt. Because wait. This was about Eddie admitting he’s a shit human being, right? Not for Steve to admit to doing anything wrong…? Wasn't it?

“Community restitution?” Eddie starts slowly, “like...you’re a criminal?”

Steve snorts but then looks at the table, fiddling with his own fingers before he looks back up again, “yeah. Kinda’.”

“And the crime was..?”

“Property damage. Rob’s boss tried to touch her up and then when she walked he screwed her out of her last pay check. It was her word against his so that didn’t go anywhere and...I may have smashed a couple of windows. A dozen. A dozen windows. While intoxicated.”

Eddie can’t even imagine that. Steve’s wearing fucking slippers and he’s at home now, so he’s swapped into the glasses that have an old people chain so he can hang them around his neck and not loose them, “I mean. Sounds...like a fair response. Yeah. Okay.”

“Sure?” Steve looks uncertain.

“I mean? If that's the worst thing you've ever done I’m pretty sure were good?”

Steve hums, it’s not a positive sound, “you know I’m,” he indicates the sides of his head. Steve’s told Eddie about the concussions. The sports scholarship. The one too many hits to the head and then the burst eardrum and the following infections that fucked his hearing up real good and pretty conclusively ended his career before it even started.

“Yeah?”

“Right, so without them in, I mean, I don’t wear them to sleep.”

And Eddie hadn’t thought about that, didn’t realize, because he hasn’t actually slept with Steve yet. Because Steve was courting him. Properly courting him. They have date night. It’s so fucking domestic Eddie nearly turns inside out over it.

Also Steve works in a library and he read somewhere that the bite of an Alpha who is not the sire of the pup can, in a few rare cases, cause the Omega’s body to fail the pregnancy and like...reject the pup in favor of having another heat so it can carry the pup of their actual mate. Or something. And because of that Steve won’t do more than kiss Eddie. Because he’s not willing to even take the risk that he might bite Eddie in the heat of the moment. He’s so fucking committed he actually offered to get Eddie off. Was very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing in return, was just happy to do hand or even mouth stuff to keep Eddie happy if that’s what he wanted.

Steve is like, just, how is he even real? And obviously Eddie said no because he's not a complete dick and saying yes felt incredibly selfish, even though he's been kicking himself every day since because when Eddie makes a decision Steve fucking respects that.

Fucking perfect loveable bastard.

Which is as adorable as it is fucking frustrating. But Eddie has also agreed that they will wait. They will wait until the pups born. They will wait for such time as Eddie can fully focus on a relationship. Whatever Steve means by that because Eddie is horny and doesn’t really care for the waiting part but-

“So I’m pretty deaf, at night.”

“Riiiight…?” Eddie has no idea where Steve’s going with this. Eddie is clearly fucking missing something along the line here.

“So when the pup cries at night, I won’t hear it. Like I definitely won’t hear it. And I get that, someone who can help more would be more appealing. Sometimes I don’t hear so good if there’s a lot of noise, so I’m worried if the pup cries and like, the TV’s on or something, I might not hear right away. And if you’re tired, I want to help at night, it’s not fair if you have to wake up all the time. I know I should have said something sooner but honestly it only really occurred to me today at work-”

Eddie’s heart is fucking melting into his guts. This is too much. Steve Harrington who smashes windows in defense of his best friend's honor. Steve Harrington who actually worries about his ability to look after another Alpha’s pup. This man. Eddie doesn’t know what to do and now his stupid face is leaking because he cries at fucking everything at the moment and Steve is looking at him absolutely horrified. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

Steve dashes around the table and dabs Eddie’s eyes with his own sleeve, while Eddie blubs incoherently about how perfect Steve is and how he’s the best Alpha ever.

So. There’s that.

Later, when Eddie’s finally managed to stop crying, but is lying splotchy faced on the couch, admits to Steve, “I’m not sure who the Alpha is. And they’re all douches so I didn’t want to hang around to find out.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, rubbing at Eddie’s knee, “do you want to find out now?”

“Still no. And, I get if you think it’s...wrong or...selfish...or whatever. I understand if you...you know, don’t like that I was sleeping around a bit.”

Steve seems to actually ponder that for a while, so Eddie decides to go all in and put the final nail in his own coffin, “also, I used to sell drugs. And do drugs. Some drugs. But not now. Not touched it since I found out about the pup. Haven’t been selling since I came back. Or smoking actually,” Eddie sighs, “could kill for a smoke right now though.”

Steve’s quiet for a long time, thinking. “Is the Alpha...likely to find out? Could this come back on you?”

Eddie bites his lip, taking a moment over it, “I don’t see how it ever could, no.”

Steve sighs, “okay, and clearly you weren't being safe, so did you get tested?”

Eddie swallows thickly, desperately trying not to start crying again, the embarrassment of admitting this out loud to Steve, Steve who is just so much better than him, might eat him alive, “yeah. Yeah, first uhm, appointment I had with the Omega nurse, we did all that. I’m all good. And I haven’t...been with anyone, since I got back to Hawkins.”

“So, basically, you found out about your pup and changed everything about your life, so you could do the best thing you possibly could for you baby, practically overnight?”

“I- I mean. I’ve tried?”

Steve pulls Eddie up and into his lap, so they can scent each other thoroughly, “Eddie, I think you’re wonderful.”

And Eddie shoves his face harder into Steve’s neck because he’s pretty sure his whole face is bright red with blush.

Eddie’s knee is bouncing, making the chain from his wallet jiggle, but he doesn’t seem to be able to make it stop. Steve rests his hand on Eddie’s disobedient knee; that works.

When Eddie’s name gets called, he goes, knowing that Steve is right behind him. They do the boring bit, and then Eddie is getting up on the bed and then the nurse is saying, “are you staying?” With a frown on her face.

And Steve looks down to Eddie and Eddie says, “yes?” and is then suddenly bristling at the side eye they are both getting from this nurse. Because yes, okay, Eddie doesn’t have a bite, and yes, fine, he and Steve aren’t mated but god dammit he wants Steve here for this.

He can feel the stupid nurse judging him and he fucking hates it but then Steve is squeezing his fingers reassuringly and yeah, okay, that does make it better.

Eddie doesn’t like the cold gel or the pressure, but he does love hearing his pups heartbeat. He really fucking does. It’s quick and strong and perfect.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

Eddie looks at Steve, but Steve’s just smiling and shrugging and being all perfect still. Happy to go along with whatever Eddie wants. Everything Eddie wants. Even though it’s technically not Steve’s choice anyway, even though it’s not Steve’s pup. Even though all of that, some Alphas would be presumptuous enough to pass an opinion, or worse; Steve absolutely never has.

And Eddie was always the kind of kid who shook the Christmas gifts, who couldn’t sleep, who couldn’t wait.

“Yeah, yeah please?”

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” and Eddie can feel the waterworks starting up again already and it doesn’t help when he looks up and Steve is looking at the screen with a look of wonder on his face. Steve looks like he’s in love. “I’d like to refer you though, for a routine investigation.”

Eddie’s nerves spark even though the nurse lady hasn’t given any indication of anything being wrong, “what for?”

She hums, moving the wand thing around, “it’s reasonably common in male Omega that their hips are too narrow to safely pass the pup. And from what I see here you may fall into that category, we should find out now and not in the delivery room.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand again, “yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”

At least it means there’s no guesswork. Eddie isn’t waiting to go into labor; his narrow hips mean he has a date and time to meet his pup. He wants Steve with him, Wayne doesn’t even question it; is happy to sit in the waiting room with his newspaper and wordie or whatever that thing is he plays on his phone. There’s a curtain up, and Eddie can’t feel a fucking thing from the chest down because of the godamn terrifying needle thing they’ve put in his spine. So at least there’s that.

It feels like forever and no time at all, a lifetime of trying desperately not to panic while Steve holds his hand tight and tells him everything is okay. And god Eddie wants to snap and ask him where his sudden medical degree has come from, but he doesn’t, he bites it back, knows it’s the fear talking.

And then there’s a pup crying and she’s a bit gross and covered in gack but she’s being deposited straight onto Eddie’s bare chest and he doesn’t know what to do because suddenly he’s a parent. But Steve coos down at her and doesn’t seem at all phased by the gack when he holds her tiny hand oh so gently in his big one.

Eddie wakes up, and his calves are throbbing. He feels like he's actually run somewhere, and has the worst cramp. But then, he wriggles his toes and realizes he can feel everything again, even if he wishes he couldn't because everything fucking hurts.

Right behind that, he remembers why everything fucking hurts, and that startles him the rest of the way awake, suddenly flooded with panic because where is-?

Oh. All he has to do it look to the side, and she's right there, swaddled up in Steve's arms, Steve comfortably feeding her a bottle.

Steve must sense he's awake grinning over, "did you see how much hair she has? It's going to be just like yours." And Steve looks so absolutely delighted by that simple thing, and Eddie can't help but think that maybe this whole thing will work out okay.

[skyrigel]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader ( 1k )

Enemies with benefits, get's smutty later.

It's a misty memory, like swirl of silvery glow when you first saw Mattheo, he was nervous and perhaps that was the first and last time you saw him like that, his shy eyes, his nervous steps, his lips perched in a thin line. He was like any other eleven year old, but then something changed the very next moment.

‘ Slytherin ’ the hat roared, barely even brushing his hair and his lazy mouth curved in a smirk that was forever plastered on his face. His jaw hardened, eyes sharpened, brows arched, everything almost changed except the dark glint of that night and the smile that you had engraved forever in your memory.

People chose soulmates, picked lovers but that night, Mattheo Riddle decided one thing, he's going to hate you so much. You were unaware of his intentions until the next day you found a dead spider in your rucksack. If there were any doubt left, then it became crystal clear when he dropped mandrakes crushed roots in your cauldron, eyes locked with you and by the time you could react, the cauldron bursted into thousand orbs.

All grey became white and black when you spent a month worth in detention with sadist Professor Snape, who made you clean every cauldron with bare hand, made you stock all those sticky vile ingredients in glassy jars.

“ Having fun y/n ? ” Mattheo snarled, Draco on his shoulder and Pancy chewing a gum while she checked you out lazily.

You said nothing, you had no energy to, sweat trickled down your forehead, feeling your hands dirty and uniform ragged, you turned away, hurrying to your dorm.

You decided one thing that night, you were going to hate Mattheo Riddle so much.

_

The potency of Professor's words didn't quite leave you when you stumbled dreamily in the room of requirments, eyes red with insomnia and stomach lurching with only coffee contents you had the luxury of.

“ You look like shit.” Mattheo didn't look up form his textbook, her hands scripting away the ancient text like it was a David Bowie song.

“ Thankyou.” you said, sitting down and opening the potion essay you were due on, Snape was going to kill you.

“ wait—” you jerked you head at his direction, within seconds you shot a hex, flying at him.

He was quick too, like waiting to be noticed by you, ducking the hex away with a swish of his wand.

“ Good morning to you too.” he joked, you were in no mood for jokes. After what his friends and ofcourse him too, did to Hannah.

“ Fuck off. ” you shot another and another, feeling anger boil inside you. He's so selfish, he's so bratty, he's so blemished, he's so—

“ Stupe—”

“ Expelliarmus! ’’ you screamed, beating him and his wand aflew away, a small sound followed with your breath leveling.

It was victory, you had won at last, but then your eyes met with him, he was staring too hard, not blinking, as he was too still, like he was made up of marble.

The stillness broke when he took a step, you blinked and when you opened your eyes again, all the world dropped dead.

Your back hit the wall with thud, your bones crackling with ache, like swindling out of reality, his arms pinning your shoulder back, breath warm on your skin, tingling.

“ wha—”

“ Shhh.” and you were quiet, it was hard not to, his mouth was too close, he was so close and then he looked up, that glint still there, that smile too— before his lips crashed with yours, setting fireworks off.

You have kissed, you knew how it felt, but this wasn't just kiss, it was shearing, it was breaking, it was trembling and all that gone, it was burning, twisting and coiling like snake inside you, this kiss was the one you could fall asleep and wake up to, painful, sinful, sweet and spicy, it was everything at once.

But that's not excuse, you kissed him back, as hungrily as he kissed you, you were pathetic, he kissed you and you what ?! Just gave in !

“ you...you..” you fumbled between words, lip trembling and you dared not look him in the eyes.

“ No.” Mattheo said, he shaked his hand, groaning inside but then his thumb came up, pressing at the corner of your mouth.

And oh, you felt your insides tighten at the sensation, you hated him, you hated yourself.

“ No ? ” you words came shaky and dazed but you didn't care, was it just a dream ? Did you ever thought about kissing Mattheo ? Was it always there in your subconscious mind ? He bullied you all your life and—

All thoughts melted when his mouth connected with yours again, it was better than the last time, like his mouth knew yours all his life. While the first one was like there's no time, this is it, like storm, this was slow and sweet, like pouring rain, like there were lifetimes waiting for you and him.

And then you found yourself fighting his tongue, his hands were hesitant, resting at the either sides of your face, you had yours thrown up, pressed on the wall, knuckles scrapping against the wood.

And Mattheo was loud, who could have tell that for a boy who walked like feather, all graceful swagger and hard jaw. Merlin, he kissed so good. His body was sending heat waves, like a furnace, his warmth radiated inside your body and each sound that he made low in his chest was enough to release the tension building inside you.

He pulled away, breathing hard but that wasn't the hardest thing about him. You tore your gaze away from his trousers, tenting at his middle, his desire in proof.

“ I...” He sighed, covering his face, flushed and red and that would the second time you saw Mattheo like that.

“ Come here tommorow, same time.” he said, not bothering to look back at you, stumbling footsteps that echoed after him, shy eyes and swollen beaming lips, having a smear of your lip gloss.

Everything was grey, again.

[rafedaddy01]

Daddy pt 6 final part

Warnings: angst, sad

A/n: you guys are gonna hate me 😬

Pt 5

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just happened to be walking by Rafes room when you heard him tell his wife that they should get rid of you “I’m home most days now and since you’re finished with your project maybe we could let her go” you hate to admit it but Rafes words stung. Whatever this was between you two, you knew it couldn’t involve feelings, but he got you pregnant. You’re carrying his child and he’s willing to just toss you aside like trash?

“I’m worried about her rafe” you heard the voice of Rafes wife. Who you’ve grown to like and gotten really close too lately. Shes been talking you through baby stuff and offering to by you new things. You feel bad for fucking her husband, it never should have happened like this. “She doesn’t even know who the baby daddy is”

You hear rafe scoff, “is that what she told you”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His wife responds, and you’re about ready to walk off when you see rafe standing near the door. His eyes meet yours and you try not to let the tears form but they fight their way through.

You could blame the hormones but it wasn’t just that. Rafe was an asshole. You don’t know what you expected getting entangled with him, but you never thought he could be so ruthless. He would always cuddle you after the two of you fucked, he’d take care of you and clean you up and be so damn sweet. But this was a monster, the look in his eye said enough. He didn’t care that you overheard, he looked smug. You wanted to wipe the smirk off his face and burst in the room and tell his wife everything.

Instead you wiped your tears and pushed past him, leaving the Cameron estate and going back to your studio apartment.

You spent the rest of the night crying. Since Mrs, Cameron was home for a while now she told you, you didn’t have to come in to work but if you’d like you could join them for dinner. You wanted to, you barely had any money to buy groceries and you knew you had to eat because your eating for two now. But the thought of coming face to face with rafe and sitting at one table with him just made you wanna vomit.

-

The next morning you woke up later than usual. Your stomach had been cramping all night and it was hard to fall asleep. You only just started your third trimester so you know it’s too early for the baby, it could be Braxton hicks so you don’t read too much into it. You make yourself some breakfast and sit down to watch some tv while you eat.

“It’s just you and me now, buddy. We don’t need anyone else” you rub your stomach as you talk. Suddenly you hurdle over, your lower stomach causing excruciating pain, you scream out as it feels like something’s trying to tear out of you. “Fuck”

You try to stand up but it only makes it worse. Tears fill your eyes as you look down to see red all over your couch cushions. “What the hell” you reach for your phone on the coffee table, breathing through the pain as you stretch your hand.

“Rafe! I- ah- I need you to come quick. Something’s wrong-“ you mange to say before you pass out on the floor.

-

Your groggy eyes open, scanning the room. Bright lights sting your eyes as you look around the hospital room. “Y/n” Mrs. Cameron’s soft voice speaks. “Hey darling, it’s okay. Don’t try to move. It’s gonna be alright” her eyes are puffy and you can tell she’s been crying for hours. “W-what happened? Where am I?” You look around the room and your eyes land on rafe whose back is too you, staring out the hospital room window, refusing to turn around.

“Rafe?” You clear your dry throat and try to sit up, but when you do you notice your belly isn’t as big. Automatically your hand reachs down, rubbing it and feeling the stitches. “What happened!” You turn your eyes between the two, Mrs. Cameron crying again, you yell out Rafes name but he still refuses to answer.

“I’m sorry, y/n. You’re baby didn’t make it”

The end

I know, I know. I’m sorry 😭 if you guys want an alternate happy ending I will write one for you guys. I just felt this is where the story had to go, pls don’t hate me 🥺

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0