#i want to scrub my skin to get rid of the feeling

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

i thought ‘oh i don’t think i’ll ever fluctuate to the side of the ace spectrum that feels gross when people do sexual flirting’

today is that day.

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing. 

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies.

trigger warnings (in this part): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies, mentions of gaining weight and wearing a corset (patrick bateman vibes), i really hope it doesn't seem like bodyshaming, reader has problems only with her own body.

prologue.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒.

another day. another chance to win him over. 

y/n could be named for many things: a filthy liar, a nepo-baby, a psychopath or simply a crazy girl, but she was never, ever lazy. waking up, she always had the same routine: getting out from the bed, changing into her underwear she wore the day before, making her hair up into a bun, spreading carbon on her teeth to be white as marble. working out, even if it hurt, because how could she be the best wife ever for coriolanus if she was lazy and out of shape? through workout, she thought about who she is. i am y/n y/l/n, youngest member of the house y/l/n. we are noble, i am noble, and i deserve everything what i have now. i am beautiful, clever and nobody can ever drag me down. the people who hate me are only envious of my life, my body and my mind, but they’re all going to soil. i love the life i have, and i will appreciate every single second of the life i will have when i achieve my goals. i have every tool i can use to win, and i will use them to be the woman i want to be. it’s not far away, and everyday is a chance to be closer to the woman i want to be.

after that, taking a bath, scrubbing her body with a sponge, so her skin would always be silky, using her razor to get rid of the unwanted, ugly hair on her body. smearing vanilla and rose oil onto her skin: vanilla for being gentle, and rose for coriolanus. brushing her teeth, washing down the charcoal, washing teeth with the regular toothpaste. sitting in front of her dressing table, picking her eyebrow, putting cosmetic oils and serums on her cleavage, her neck and her face. while letting it dry, picking out the outfit of the day, calling in her maid, hortense to help her with the corset if she felt that she gained too much weight because of the medicine, or was on her period. y/n hated so-called red days, and waited for the day when she could bear her husband’s children. putting her clothes on, sitting at the dressing table again, her maid helped her if she wanted a special hairstyle. checking her manicure, it was now soft pink, it’ll match with her clothes. making her hair, she did her makeup, curling her eyelashes, putting a little chili on her lips to be so full –it hurt like hell, but how could she be perfect if she didn’t put effort in it?, whilst repeating another list in her mind. this was for coriolanus. 

be kind with him, but never too kind. be kind and modest with everybody else, so they won’t notice it. agree with him in the things that are important, but also speak your mind if he seems doubtful. speak your feelings to convince him, you are important to him. always accept his help, but don’t make redundant situations, don’t look like the damsel in distress. make him feel special, let him be the man he is, make him feel that you support him and his plans, but never make too big promises. don’t look pathetic, don’t show your emotions too much. never talk about him to others, only if they mention him, talk good about him, and talk bad about others if it’s needed. don’t make a scene if something doesn’t work your way, it will sooner or later. take action when it’s the right time. 

applying lipstick as the last step, she was ready to step out from home. y/n knew she had a strict routine, but doing mornings on autopilot let her think about more important things, like her daily plans. first destination was the school where coriolanus was, but first, she needed to get her papers after graduating, after that they’re gonna have lunch together, and then, she’ll look for the letters to see if volumnia gaul accepted her application. probably she will, she knows her entire family, how great they are, and she probably heard about y/n herself too. 

“good morning ms. y/l/n, how are you?” lacy, her sister’s maid asked her as she carried the laundry in a big basket through the hallway on the ground floor. 

“i slept well, lacy, thank you. where is my sister?” 

“your sister, morphia went to arrange the flowers and the cake for her marriage. i am so happy for her, ms. y/l/n!” 

y/n couldn’t decide if lacy was truly happy or just acting. but she wasn’t a threat, so y/n didn’t care. 

“me too, lacy.” 

her father was sitting at the head of the table, reading the tabloids, her mother, lorelei was eating some eggs with meat, some gin in her glass on the side. 

“this pheasant is really good, cyril.” she mentioned, looking up to see her youngest child. “oh, my sweet, y/n! good morning.” 

“good morning, mommy.” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, going to her father, she waited until he stopped reading the tabloid and looked at her. her father, cyril y/l/n was really strict, but not as strict as crassus snow. once, after her father made her burn the flowers she tore off from their garden and beat her, her mother stroked her cheek, saying “oh, honey, don’t be sad. your father is a good man, not like crassus snow. i think you should be glad that you don’t have him as your father.” so this way, y/n was happy. or so her mother thought. 

“good morning, father.” she told him too, giving him a kiss on the cheek too. she could do that until she was eighteen, after that, only the greeting was acceptable. y/n saw once, when morphia tried to kiss her father when she passed eighteen, she got slapped across the face. but they were happy, weren’t they? 

“how’s your application with gaul?” he asked as y/n sat down. 

“i handed it in yesterday. probably a letter will wait for me in the afternoon.” 

“why, what will you do today?” 

“cyril, i already told you that! your butler even wrote it down for you!” her mother whined, looking at her daughter. y/n took a slice of bread, reaching for the butter and the knife. 

“don’t mind it, mother. i’m going to the school to get my graduating papers, then have lunch with coriolanus, and then–”

“coriolanus snow? that boy and his family are broke, his father was gullible and got killed by the rebellion. why are you humbling yourself in his presence?” 

control. control your face, your hands. y/n’s fist curled around the knife tighter, grabbing it with real force. 

“i know, but he has great talent. and he’s gonna be the next president of panem.” she replied calmly, looking at him. sometimes she fantasized about stabbing him there, at the head of the table. 

“president of panem? y/n, you are so amusing when you say things like this. but i truly hope your words will become reality someday. crassus wasn’t gullible, everybody was afraid through the first rebellion.” his face softened, just as he spoke to a three year old. 

“yes, honey! your father doesn’t doubt you, he’s just amazed at what you are saying.” her mother added, sipping on her gin, batting her lashes. it wasn’t even ten in the morning, as she was already wasted. after eating the slice of bread, y/n stood up, hiding the knife into her sleeve. 

“i’m going out, but i’m gonna be here for the letter. please don’t open up before me.” she asked, making her father look up. 

“hortense is going to bring it to your room.” 

“thank you, father.” 

“honey, you didn’t even touch the caviar and the honey, please eat some more!” 

kissing her mother’s cheek again, y/n looked at her. she got her eyes, her mother was truly beautiful when she was young, acrimonious lips talked cyril only married lorelei because of her looks. nevertheless, the creed family was also noble, y/n only had to bear festus’ horrible personality twice a year, christmas and the reaping. 

“don’t worry mommy, i’ll be fine.” 

she could work easily with an empty stomach, getting back to her room, preparing her bag. looking at the medicines, she put the bottle under her clothes. she didn’t need these pills that made her useless, slow and lazy anyway, she needed something else… and she knew her horrible cousin, festus got that white, powdery thing. grabbing the butterknife from under her sleeve, she touched it. it was the worst knife ever, blunt and short, like some of the fighters in the games. y/n loved her father, respected him and counted on his words, but questioning her and laughing at her, it was the exception if it came to love and respect. and if her father is doubting her again, she will–

funk! well, who thought that people could stick butter knives into the wall? 

arriving at the school, showing her papers that she was a private student, the secretary gave out her graduation stuff. nodding, the secretary told some things, but her mind was focused on finding festus. going to the main hall, everybody whore red, y/n was the only outstander with her black skirt, soft pink blouse and black blazer. every school uniform was truly awful, the capitol is the wealthiest in all panem, couldn’t they make it a little bit more… pleasant? it’s a shame that every fabric is on their hand, available, and still, they style it horrible. nevermind, festus was there, chatting with that bitch arachne and that fucker pliny harrington. 

“hey, festus, hey, everybody. can we talk for a minute?” she turned to her cousin. festus looked at her, smirked, then looked at the others. 

“of course. sorry, it’s only a minute.” he said to them, walking to one of the corners with y/n. leaning to one of the marble piles, he dug his hands into his pockets. “so, what do you want?”

“why are you asking me so pitiless?” y/n blinked at him. for some people, formality in family could seem heartless, but she was relieved that she didn't need to waste her time if she didn't want to.

“you talk to me only if you need something.” 

“me? don’t be ridiculous, i helped with all your assignments in school, what would your mother say if she heard that?” y/n couldn’t be a big gamer if she didn’t knew the connections in her environment perfectly well. seeing how festus’ face became a little bit rigid, she continued. “anyway, i want from that white dust you gave me last time.”

she couldn’t even carve a wider grin on his face, even if she wanted to.

“so you liked it? it’s better than your stupid pills.” y/n had a poker face, but she wondered how he got to know. “you’re not the only one who knows things in the family.” fucker, you don’t even know everything, yet you still play like you’re the most clever. the funny thing is that it ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble, no. it's what you know for sure that just ain't so.

“i have business somewhere else soon, can i get it or not?”

“it will cost some money, but i am always happy to help my family.” oh, fuck off. y/n reached her hand like she wanted to shake hands with him, and this way, demand and supply met. “if you drink some of it, it’ll be better. you are a crazy bitch y/n, but if snow really will be the president, remember me as one of your biggest supporters.” he smiled. “oh, and volumnia heard some of his great ideas about getting more audience for the games. if you’ll work for her, that ugly power couple thing can be really dangerous.” what ideas? she knew it was a problem that the game wasn't so popular, and he thought that coriolanus wasn’t so interested in that. of course, until now, because big money was at stake, and everybody was prowling around the corner. y/n curled the corner of her lips up under duress, bidding goodbye to festus. she wasn’t gonna take it now, she used it only for emergencies.

now, she could completely focus on coriolanus. where was he? walking to the other long hallway, looking around, he was nowhere despite that they stuck to eleven am yesterday. suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulder, making her turn. 

“there you are!” there he was. y/n could look at him for an eternity, could he look better under eleven hours? everything about him was perfect, from the way he looked to the point he talked, and y/n almost tasted the sweetness when his mind was forming those clever, great thoughts. and his looks? she knew they could have the most precious children; angel blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jawline she could kiss a million times, his body was sculpted by the gods who were looking down on them, and she prayed every night to the deities so they could be each other’s one day. in y/n’s mind, coriolanus wasn’t just a boy or a soon-to-be-man. no, he was the base of everything, he had everything that y/n needed, and y/n was raised truly the best way. nobody else could get in the near of the perfection he formed, and y/n could see the future. the future, where they marry, she is in the longest, most beautiful white dress full with gemstones like rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds, vowing endless loyalty to each other, the whole world is envious of the wealth they have. the future, where he becomes the president of panem, leading the nation with a strong hand and making decisions with a strong mind, while y/n helped to make the games more impressive, more dangerous, more cruel, but first of all, supporting him in everything, even if she has to get her hands dirty. the future, where she was pregnant with his children, naming them ancient names so they could mirror the same noble qualities those deities had, raising them the best way so they could even outgrow them, perfect people. “how was your morning?”

the future they could have. the future they WILL have. 

“hello, corio. mine was pretty good, got my graduating papers. how was your day so far?” 

“it was… good, i guess? this mentoring thing is new for everyone, i spent all night thinking how lucy gray could win.” 

that name, again. keep it cool. 

“i’m sure you will think it out. shall we go and eat lunch?” 

sitting in a gorgeous, golden restaurant, y/n chose a corner for them to sit in. when their food arrived, she waited for him to speak. it seemed like something was itching his mind, and she was one of his best friends, wasn't she? corio looked to the side, then at her, then took a bite from his lunch. let’s break the ice. 

“is everything okay, corio?”

“yes, yes, everything’s fine. is it… on my face?” 

“well, since i…” don’t make it too personal. “...since we know each other so well, i see worry on your face. you can tell me everything.” 

“it’s… it’s gonna be really, really embarrassing for me, but… so, y/n, it’d be my pleasure if… you’d come with me on a date?”

clawing on her thigh, was this reality? was coriolanus really, really asking her out in this glorious place? was she truly worthy of his love? moderating her grin to a smile, she looked at him. he was truly a love-child of an angel and a god, and while y/n was truly a masterpiece herself, it was the biggest honor for her to get into the grace of this guy. now, the idea of the wedding and the best imaginable life wasn’t so far away. did the gods hear her prayers above, and saw the list she created? 

“forget it, y/n, i know i’m not–” coriolanus tried to hush the previous idea with an embarrassed look on his face, but y/n shook her head. obviously, her mind wandered for too long. 

“no, no! of course i’d go on a date with you. with pleasure.” y/n smiled, slowly reaching for his hand that was on the table. they touched each other frequently before, but not like this. she hated a part of herself, the part that could melt under his touch and got dizzy from only his skin. but truly, she could eat it up if she could. 

“oh, okay, well… i just… thought that it’s embarrassing, because you pay for all of this, and–” never let a man’s pride falter. it’s the firewood for the campfire, the pressure for the diamond, the water for the plants. if you feed a man’s ego, he’ll trust and love you. 

“corio, dear, please. i’m not with you because of your money, we can’t do anything about our past and families. and you’re gonna win the plinth-prize, so what are we worrying about?” 

“but–” y/n hushed him gently, playing her finger in front of her lips. 

“i’m sure you will win that prize. why, who else would win it? the daughter of an energy secretary? or a rich, spoiled kid?”

“they are all rich and spoiled.” y/n totally let pass the fact that she was too. but what was the problem with it, really? they couldn’t do anything about it, you can’t decide where you were born. a person can change everything about itself, but not its origin. it always stays with you, clinging onto your ankle, to drag with yourself everywhere. in this life, they got on the winning side of the wheel. and who cares about the next life? 

“but no one’s father is a general, except you. and i know that you didn’t like him, but keep the mindset.” 

“you are so clever, y/n. thank you for always putting my mind into it’s place.”

“i’m just telling the truth. and… how are things with the game? is it hard?” 

“oh, it’s… i still need to figure out some things. but i had some ideas about ways to get people more engaged in the games, like getting them sponsors, or interviewing the tributes so the viewers can get closer to them, pick a favorite, some things like this.” 

“it sounds really interesting, did volumnia hear these things?” as much as she hated festus’ bragging, he also mentioned things that she could use. maybe that’s why everybody got rid of her so fast at a big gathering like the graduation two days ago. she never had ‘juicy tea’ or some things like that, only if she wanted to get something. and when she wanted to get something, the chamber of secrets instantly opened. 

“yeah, well she came in when we were discussing those things. she said that i need to write it down, and then clemensia interrupted that we’ve always worked and brainstormed together, so we can write that together, too.” 

totaling another pen, dovecote? being a tricky bitch, i wasn’t expecting less from you. 

“i think volumnia should know that the idea was yours. clemensia is your good friend, but why wasn’t she just cheering that you got the gamemaker’s attention?” plant the seed. maybe not with clemensia, she will do it for herself, but anyway. coriolanus needed to know the truth. 

“i will talk with her about this.” he won’t. he’s too kind-hearted for it. “and i’ll write down my ideas. anyway, how’s your application for volumnia gaul? did you hand it in?” y/n nodded at his question, chewing on the potatoes. 

“got handed it in yesterday. i really hope if i go home this afternoon, a letter will be waiting for me.” the smile on his face was worth everything. what could that mouth do if there were only the two of them? because she knew what her mouth could do. 

“i’m sure she’ll hire you. one of your thesis got onto her table, remember? the one you wrote about the possible content of venom in mono– and dicotyledons. and if she’s not, then she’s a dingbat.” y/n remembered that thesis, her brain always burned out from the three-day long insomnia. 

“careful, corio! i hope she doesn’t have ears everywhere.” that woman was the queen on her chess table, it was the side that could never be decided. 

all the way home, she thought about coriolanus. y/n gotta hide the grin she was forming with her lips when she was driving home with the chauffeur of the family. all the effort, all the pain… it was worth it. she almost teared up from the joy, but her mascara was really expensive, even her mother thought that it was too rich for their blood.

“is everything alright, miss y/l/n?” helius, their private driver asked, looking into the rear-view mirror. y/n nodded, exhaling and inhaling. big news like this always messed with her head. nodding, everything was perfect. 

stepping inside the house, she raced up to her room immediately. there was the letter, persephone slept beside it. picking it up, y/n used her nails to tear it up. she never waited for news like this. the sooner she knew, the sooner she could got suit in the new situation. 

dear y/n y/l/n, you got accepted…

throwing it away, she instantly picked up persephone, screaming into her fur. persephone meowed, already used to her owner’s insane habits. anyway, the food was tasty in the house, so why not bear it? 

“you hear this, persephone? the lucky star is shining on us.” she whispered to the cat, stroking her head. she couldn't sit back, not now. not when good things, the reward of the hard work could be felt. not when everything worked for her plans. “mother and father will be so happy. and we are happy too, aren't we?” 

y/n didn't know happiness, only when her heart got fast and drug-like feeling curled in her blood. but now, she got to be a predator. a predator who sat for hours, days to catch its prey. when news were coming in, things always changed. she had to be patient, but she couldn't get lazy, not now. not when strange news was coming up. news that didn’t match with her expectations, nowhere, never. news that bathed her soul with venom. news that raised her little game onto a new level. 

a/n: the prologue got so many notes like my tumblr literally BLEW UP thank you so much girliez 😭 i hope you liked this part, more focus will be on corio i just want to size up reader's mindset

take care of yourself babes, love y'all luisa

[starbleye]

sculpted

Megumi has always been good with his hands, just not his emotions. Until now. (cw: smut; wc: 2200)

Megumi knew his hands like the back of, well, his hands. Art had always been a part of him from a very young age. Finger paints turned into oils on canvas, sidewalk chalk became charcoal sketches. Most importantly, mud pies turned into clay sculptures. If there was one form of art that Megumi was drawn to most, it was pottery. 

The minute he came into contact with those dollar store modeling clay kits, he knew he wanted to hold on to it for the rest of his life. He dedicated years of his life, starting with throwing together simple shapes and dishes manipulated by hand. As time went on, his hands became more dexterous in fashioning the clay to match his vision. Delicate yet firm touches to the clay allowed Megumi to craft his imagination into the tangible world. He dedicated himself to his art, he worshiped his talent.

Until you came along.

Unwavering, unshakeable Megumi was rocked when you first entered his life. For the longest time, he believed he was content with his solitude, abhorrent to unnecessary connections that could only bring him pain. He only trusted the porcelain of his heart to be held in his own hands, yet he craved for your soft arms to carry the weight of his fragility. 

You were always the source of light in a room from the way you carried yourself. You were sound with who you were and rooted in where you stood, drawing the energy towards yourself with a subtle hand. You lifted Megumi out of his self-induced confinement, but you never pushed or shoved him more than he could take. He could never understand how a person like you could even stand to be around a person like himself; cold, apathetic, protected. 

Yet you never looked at him in pity. Instead you saw Megumi as a young kid who was thrust into a life he wasn't ready for and commended his attempts to open up, as small as they were.

But Megumi knew he stood no chance at having you. His desire to have you all to himself was one sided, but he would rather wallow in his craving to have you in his arms rather than scare you away with his feelings.

"How long have you been throwing that?" you asked, shaking Megumi from his thoughts. He looked up at your curious eyes before looking back at the clay on his wheel, smooth as can be. Not as smooth as her skin, he thought to himself.

"Long enough, I guess," he replied, solemnly. The only reason Megumi was in the studio today was to get his mind off you and the date that you were supposed to be on. As fate would have it, your date stood you up and Megumi's studio was the first place you turned to in order to let it all out.

He sat in silence at the wheel, twisting and contorting some sort of vase that widened and narrowed to his heart's desire. All the while, you ranted about your latest trials in love, condemning each and every man Megumi knew wasn't good enough for you. "That's the last time I ever go on a blind date," you finally sighed, relaxing your weight against a table.

He continued to sit silently, overflowing with the urge to hold you tenderly and prove himself better than any other person who dared look in your direction. "Do you have anything to say?" you asked, fishing for any advice or consolation from your dear friend.

"I need to wash my hands," was all Megumi said as he slammed a fist into the misshapen vase out of frustration. Wordlessly, he got up and headed to the sink, tryin oh so hard not to focus on the perfect pout you gave him. How he wanted to run his fingers against your soft lips, to let his own lips memorize the feeling and taste of them. Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, Megumi did his best to thoroughly scrub the clay out of his hands. All the while, a sudden fire lit inside his core, spreading through the rest of his body despite his attempts to quell it.

He turned back around to find you observing the sculptures on his shelf. One had caught your eye; the bust Megumi had created to resemble his mother. Lithely, he slipped behind your frame, maintaining a friendly distance but close enough for either you or himself to close it.

You sensed his presence behind you and, without turning around, said, "This is beautiful, is that your mother?" He nodded. "Makes sense, you have her eyes..." you trailed off, suddenly feeling Megumi become dangerously close. Risking it, you turned around to come face to face with those blue eyes, clouded with an emotion you had never seen before.

Megumi's throat dried up as he attempted to rasp out your name. "Please..." was the last thing he could muster before he closed the gap, hovering his lips inches from yours. He could feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks as he waited for you to reciprocate.

A second passed as you tried not to reel from the shock, but your body moved before your mind could understand as your hands intertwined into his obsidian hair. 

A noise escaped Megumi's mouth as years of pining escaped his body in that kiss. Tenderly, he felt your soft lips moving against his, tasting faintly of cherries. His own hands moved from his sides to the space between your hip and waist, fitting perfectly. 

Mindful of the delicate pottery behind you, Megumi began to guide your body towards the closest and cleanest table. Not once did he take his lips off yours, only opening his eyes briefly to make sure no one would get hurt. When your body hit the edge of the table, you let out a small gasp as Megumi's strong hands lifted you up effortlessly. 

Still, his eyes remained forcefully closed. "Megumi, look at me," you said, pulling away from the kiss.

"I can't, I'm dreaming," he murmured, tilting his head down to stop anything from breaking this fantasy come true.

A hearty giggle came from your chest as your hand cupped his chin, then his cheeks, before gently coaxing his eyes to open. "You aren't dreaming," you assured him, leaning in again and leaving a trail of kisses across his jaw to his neck. His core was close to yours and you both could tell the other was definitely real. 

Your own throat started to feel dry in a way you had never experienced before and your hands trailed to the hem of your shirt. "Is this okay?" you asked, starting to wrap your legs around Megumi's waist.

A look of desperation crossed Megumi's face as he let out a hastened "yes" and brought his hands under your shirt as you began to lift it up. Never had you heard a man moan as tenderly as he had when his eyes fell on your breasts.

And never had Megumi felt or seen skin as beautiful and real as yours. With a careful hand, his fingers traced the span of your abdomen, taking in the full sight of you. "Oh, god. I'm touching an angel," he breathed out. He continued his hands upward to your bra, unhooking it skillfully and immediately laying his hands on your nipples.

With skillful digits, he rolled the flesh of your breasts as if he were shaping clay. Megumi was already committing the feeling to memory so he could use it when he was alone. "More," you let out quietly, not entirely embarrassed but definitely flustered at being held so well by your best friend.

Abiding by your orders, Megumi tilted his head towards one of your nipples and used his tongue to stimulate them, causing a satisfied groan to release from your chest. You had already started moving yourself against him, so Megumi moved his hands to your hips to start a rhythm. He also began to roll his hips against yours to increase the feeling.

Still, he needed more. Looking at you with an approving gaze, you nodded as Megumi began to undo the button and zipper of your pants and quickly discarded them. "You're so wet," he said in almost a question, amazed that his touch caused you to react in such a way. His hand made a path to your core, pushing aside your panties and stopping at your clit to start rubbing it. 

Megumi seemed to know how these things worked as he applied firm pressure here and there, changing direction and movement depending on your reaction. He watched your chest heave as you breathed deeply to keep your grounding. Your hands were grasping for anything to keep your head tied to your body. Instinctively, your legs started to close from the attention, but Megumi's powerful hand held your thighs apart as he began to slip a finger into your cunt.

"Megumi!" you cried, the pleasure building. He looked up at you, the cloudy emotion from earlier finally being pinpointed as carnal desire. His finger stroked your insides as if he knew it by heart. Almost instantly, he found the place where you were most sensitive.

For every moan and groan and praise you let out, Megumi responded with the same if not more. You could feel yourself starting to approach your orgasm and you leaned up to hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. Megumi could feel you tighten around his fingers and let out a moan, imagining how it would feel to have you tighten and come all over his cock. 

Without warning, he sped up his leisurely pace to bring you even closer. You started to cry out his name in warning when he suddenly pulled himself away. At first you were confused as to the abrupt distance, but your confusion was answered as Megumi began to strip himself of his own clothing. 

Quickly, you ran to your purse and grabbed the fresh condom you had put there earlier. Megumi hadn't fully taken off his pants or boxers before you pushed him into a nearby chair. He obliged to your taking of control, whimpering when your smooth hands came into contact with his searing cock. You pumped him a couple of times before slipping the condom on, earning a stuttered moan with each pull.

"I need you. So bad, please," Megumi murmured, eyes lilting in your direction. Wasting no time, you slowly began to sink onto his lap, your breath catching in your throat as you stretched around him. 

Megumi was not faring too well, hands flying to your hips the minute your cunt enveloped his tip. Trying to practice his self-restraint, he gripped your hips to stop himself from shoving his whole length into you. If he thought clay was his life, you had officially changed that. 

You continued to sink onto his length, Megumi noting that your pussy was more malleable than the clay that sat rejected. Finally, you had taken him to the hilt, both of you letting out euphoric moans. "You're so big," you sighed, looking down at where you two were connected.

Megumi couldn't take his eyes off the angel that was now seated on his lap. The sheen that had accumulated on your skin had you basking in an ethereal glow and he could've sworn you sprouted wings that fluttered so delicately. The moment you two connected, he knew he would worship you for eternity and more.

You started rolling your hips, coming off his lap slightly before taking all of him again. You held your bottom lip with your teeth as you started to speed up your pace, increasing the intensity of your rocks as well. "I need to hear you," Megumi said, in between moans. A slew of profanities slipped his lips as you released your bottom lip and a chorus of pleasure spilled from your mouth. 

His hands began to wander your body, trailing from your hips to your inner thighs, then up again to your breasts. He moved on to your graceful arms that were wrapped around his shoulders. His hands found their way to your neck and he loosely closed his fingers around your neck, causing you to roll your eyes back. 

Overwhelmed and nearing his own orgasm, Megumi wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, starting to thrust upward to meet your own rolls. A white fog began to seep into the back of Megumi's vision as he felt himself get close.

"I'm about to-" you started.

"Me, too," he finished, holding you impossibly tighter as both of your thrusts started to increase intensity. With an incoherent slur of your names, curses, and moans, you both finished simultaneously.

Megumi released broken whimpers as his own seed spilled into the condom and he felt your warmth trail down as well. He held you on his lap, keeping shallow ruts as you both rode out your highs. Your chest was rising intensely as you tried to catch your breath, not bothering to get off. "How long?" you asked.

"Since I met you."

(this is my first time writing in a LONG TIME, i really hope you enjoy and take care of yourselves !!)

[queenhunter102]

Part 6 (Part 5) (Part 7) Lore Page

You look up at your new Lieutenant, eyeing him slightly, ’How does he know what NBOC is?’ you wonder, now clocking him as a potential threat. “Yeah? That’s me, I’m only on loan to the task force for this new threat” You say, your hand going to the patch on your wrist, picking at the skin a little.

Gaz turned his head to you, a confused look on his face “But you’re an Omega? Isn’t there not still a law banning Omegas on ships?” He asked you to tilt your head side to side, trying to think of a way to answer.

“Yes and no, yes there is still a law banning us from the ships, but under special circumstances, we are given a pass and that includes my speciality,” You say, it sounds like the most straightforward answer you could give. Without going too far into the law of the land and the law of the nation, Gaz nods his head almost as if he is trying to dissect the answer in his head, “What IS your speciality, I was never told” Johnny asked, your eyes shifted to him, your eyes clashing, you flicked your eyes to Captain Price unsure how much you were allowed to disclose, he only gave you a shrug. You took that as you could disclose as much as you want, you sigh before answering, “As Captain Price said, I’m from the Bioengineering Unit, but my speciality was Serums and Biological weapons” You say, not divulging any other pieces of information, thinking it best to leave them in the dark a little. Johnny nods “So what, You created mustard gas,” he asked, tilting his head, “A little bit more deadly but yeah,” you say, biting your lip, not wanting to be isolated by the team already, not many Alpha’s liked being outmatched by something that many deemed weaker. You had been isolated by your blood pack your whole life, you didn’t need that with people you were supposed to trust with your life.

Almost as if sensing the panic and fear Alejandro spoke “So about the fight? What did you do, I saw the guy he looked like he was beaten by a pack and not one little Omega” he said trying to sound funny, you gave him a half smile thankful for him breaking the tension you felt. “What? Can’t believe that an Omega could take an Alpha” You say trying to sound funny, unsure if you were getting it across, correctly a laugh came from beside Alejandro. “You’ve never gotten into a fight with an Omega have you Alejandro?” Gaz said laughing,  “Man the stories I could tell you about my brother getting into fights with the Alpha’s in my blood pack are long and violent”. You look over smiling at Gaz glad to know that at least one member of the team knew what an Omega was like when they got into a fight.

“Oh yeah? Like what they got little claws?” Johnny joked it set off your instincts wanting blood for the disrespect, and you rolled your shoulders trying to shake off the feeling. “You saw what they did to that Alpha, the state he was in, imagine the state he would be in if that was a street fight…”Gaz paused turning to you “Do you have a patch?” you nod choosing to speak. Gaz shook his head, smiling “Imagine the state he would be in if they weren’t medicated”, Johnny eyed you before he turned to Captain Price eyebrows raised. “Alright get out, I have meetings to go to and people to piss off  Captain Price said, you were the last one to stand, you had hardly made it to the door before Captain Price’s voice came across to you. “Are you going to tell me, why MI5 was so desperate to get rid of you?” he asked, you turned your head to him, to see him with his arms crossed and his legs shoulder apart, and you shrugged.“I guess you will just have to find out,” You say, looking at him, he lifts a brow at you. “I take it, I am about to piss off the head of the NBOC,” He said sighing, sounding truly exhausted, he rubbed his eyes before he scrubbed his hand down his face. “Why do I always get the ones that require me to piss people off,” Captain Price said, leaning his hip against the wooden table, he sighed again waving you off. “Alright, Alright, let me work my magic” He said, as he took a seat at the head of the table, you walked out the door closing it shut behind you.

[wheels-of-despair]

A Situation Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: There's only one thing in the world that could make Eddie turn Evil Woman Action down… and it's down there. Contains: Embarrassment, vague mentions of an uncomfortable development in a sensitive area, lying, angry eating, Uncle Wayne being glad he doesn't have the full story, kind of a fight, eventual reconciliation… oh, and some good old-fashioned fruit-fucking. Words: 2.4k

Note: Youths and ageless blogs, DNI. Writer will block your ass.

Other Note: This will never come close to My Beloved Melon Fic, but @fictionaldaze bullied me into another fruit fic anyway. Enjoy! 😂

"Hey," she purrs. Wrapping her arms around his waist. Nuzzling her face into his chest. Breathing out a satisfied sigh that permeates his t-shirt and warms his skin more than the afternoon sun beaming down in the parking lot of Hawkins High.

Eddie relaxes into her and inhales deeply, getting a heavenly whiff of his favorite smell: his one and only.

"Wanna go fool around?" she mumbles.

Eddie feels his dick twitch at the suggestion. No! Stop that!

"Uh… can't today. Promised Wayne I'd scrub the bathroom." Right. Bathroom. Cleaning. Scum in the tub. Hair in the drain. Things that are not at all sexy.

"Need help?" She would really help him with this? That's so sex--NO. Not sexy! Plunger! Wads of slimy hair! The smells!

"Nah, wouldn't want to subject you to that."

She sighs, but it's not the good kind of sigh. She's getting mad. This is the third time this week that he's rejected her advances. And he feels terrible about it. But it's for her own good! Really!

There's something going on down there. He doesn't know what it is. He doesn't know why it's there. He doesn't know how he got it. But he knows that it's ruining his fucking life.

Is it a disease? A rash? Something he picked up in the locker room? Or The Hideout's bathroom, which hasn't been cleaned since 1959? It looks a little less horrifying that it did yesterday, but what if it's a fake-out? What if that's what it wants him to think? What if it's contagious? What if he gave it to her? He'd never forgive himself.

He'd picked up the phone to call the free clinic three times. Once, he even dialed a few numbers before hanging up. He was too ashamed to show anyone, even if they could help him. He'd rather just let his dick fall off and die horny and alone.

"What's with you this week? You're usually all over me, but you have now turned me down THREE times. What are you, on the rag?" She's pulled away. She's glaring. Not good.

"I'm just… not in the mood," he lies, rubbing the back of his neck.

She rolls her eyes and starts walking in the other direction.

"I thought I was taking you home?"

"Not in the mood," she yells without looking back.

Fuck.

Eddie watches her stomp onto the big yellow school bus that she loathes. Oh, boy, is he in for it.

Stop that, he grumbles at himself, adjusting the front of his jeans with a wince as he hops into his van. He speeds home wondering what's more likely to happen first; his dick shriveling up and falling off, or his girl getting mad enough to rip it off and feed it to him. Either way, he's fucking doomed.

When he gets home, he enters quietly, hoping not to disturb a snoring Wayne. He steps into the bathroom to rid himself of the Mountain Dew he sucked down at lunch… and glares at the object of his ruination. Betrayed by his own cock. He sighs at the sight of it - although it does look less alarming than it did yesterday - and after a gentle shake, stuffs it back into his boxers with a hiss.

Eddie's stomach rumbles while he's washing his hands. Don't want that spreading, he thinks as he dries his hands on his shirt. He tiptoes to the kitchen and stares into the pathetically stocked cabinets, hoping for a snack to present itself. He never had this problem at her house. As soon as they got there, she'd throw a bunch of seemingly random stuff together and turn it into something creative that he'd happily bust a gut on… if Gareth would let him.

Shit. Forgot he was supposed to take some of the guys home. It's literally why they were there, loitering in the parking lot instead of peeling out of Hawkins High like two bats outta hell.

Eddie sighs and reaches for a can of pineapple. He'll save the Spaghetti-O's for dinner. And definitely go buy some damn groceries tomorrow.

He grabs the dull can opener, and after a fight, finally gets the top most of the way off. He bends it out of his way and grabs a fork from the dish drainer, leaning up against the kitchen counter to eat right there and reflect on what a shit-show his life has become.

She bought him the pineapple. And the fruit cocktail he ate a few days ago. And the green beans Wayne heated up for dinner last night. Just walked right in and started putting away groceries and lecturing him on "vitamins" and "minerals" and "eating a damn vegetable every once in a while."

He'd blushed and thanked her at the time, but now he wishes he could thank her over the kitchen table. Hard. Deep. Fuck. Stop it!

He stabs a ring of pineapple and lifts it out of the can, letting it drip for a second before tilting his head back and cramming the circle into his mouth. He stares at the takeout coupons on the fridge as he chews, wishing anything sounded appealing right now.

He'll never get to thank her properly ever again. Not that he'd have a reason to, since he'd rejected her so many times, she didn't even want him anymore. What an idiot. He had one thing going for him, and his dick fucked it all up.

He stabs another ring and lifts it to his mouth, spilling the juice down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and chews angrily.

Why does his mouth feel weird?

Eddie looks at the can. Ingredients: Pineapple. Pineapple juice. This isn't any different than the other can, is it?

Oh.

He didn't exactly eat the other can.

He'd opened the can a few nights ago, being unable to find any proper junk food as a midnight snack, and after he got the lid off... he looked down to see a perfect hole just waiting for him.

He'd been all alone. So lonely. Thinking about his girl.

A strong man would've been able to say no to that perfect hole.

But Eddie Munson was not a strong man.

But after… wait.

Is this it?

Is he allergic to pineapple?

Did he stick his dick in something he's fucking allergic to?

The realization makes him choke. He coughs, leaning over the kitchen sink as chunks of yellow devil-fruit fly out of his mouth at high speeds.

"Y'alright, boy?"

Shit. He woke Wayne up.

Eddie tries to answer, but it kicks off another coughing fit.

When he finally catches his breath and rinses the sink out, he turns… to see Wayne sitting at the table.

"I taught you to chew before you swallow, right?"

"Yes," Eddie sighs with a roll of his eyes. And then he remembers what set him off. "Can you be allergic to pineapple?"

"Is that what you were choking on?"

"Yeah."

"You ate fruit voluntarily?"

"For the very last time. Am I allergic?"

"Mouth feel weird?"

Eddie nods.

"Bromelain."

"What?"

"Bromelain. Meat tenderizer."

"I didn't eat any freakin' meat tenderizers!"

"It's in the pineapple. That's what makes your mouth feel weird. Something with the enzymes trying to bite back or something, I don't know. Used to bother your grandma real bad."

"So it's genetic? I'm allergic?"

"Can you breathe?"

"Yeah."

"Just a weird feelin'?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably.

"You'll be fine. It'll ease up when you quit eatin' it."

Son of a bitch.

"Wayne, I gotta go. Sorry for waking you up."

"Almost time to get up anyway. Stop by the store on your way back."

"I will," Eddie says, darting around Wayne and grabbing his keys.

A knock on your bedroom door interrupts your wallowing.

"No," you grumble into your pillow. When the bus dropped you off a few minutes ago, you'd walked straight to your bed and fallen into it face-first. You hadn't moved since.

You'd spent the loud and bumpy ride home wondering why Eddie didn't want you anymore. You don't know what changed. He was always ready to go at the drop of a hat. Hell, he'd get horny if the wind changed directions and blew against him just right. And then, all of a sudden… nothing. Even when you made the first move - which he used to love - you got shut down. What was the fucking problem?

You hear your door open, and wish you had the energy to throw something at your dumb brother.

But Eddie is the one who crawls into bed next to you.

You don't want to look at him. You turn your head so you're facing the other direction.

"I brought you a flower."

"Kay."

"I stole it from Mrs. Wallace's garden."

You smile, even though he can't see you. Mrs. Wallace is the old bat down the street from him who's always yelling at kids for playing too loudly and creating a public nuisance. Like her screeching isn't a public nuisance of its own. It's a wonder she has any blooms left, with all her spite-pickers.

"I love you," he says.

"Doesn't feel like it."

Eddie sighs a deep sigh.

"What changed?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean, a week ago, you were practically humping my leg every time we got a second alone together. Now it's like…"

"It's not like that."

"What's it like, then?"

"I had… I had kind of a scare."

He pauses so long, you prod him with a "Continue."

"I had kind of a situation down there and I thought something was wrong but it's getting better and I didn't want to freak you out."

You turn your head back toward Eddie, who is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "A situation?" you ask.

"It was nothing, it's getting better, everything's okay, it'll be back to normal in a few days."

"A situation like a zit, or a situation like something you need to go to the clinic for?"

His face goes red. Your blood turns to lava. You prop yourself up on your elbows and glare down at him.

"Because I know I'm clean, and since you were a fucking virgin when we met, there is no reason for you to--"

"It's not that!" he cuts you off.

"Because if it's that, you need to tell me right the fuck now."

"It's not!"

"Then what the fuck is it, Eddie?!"

He brings his hands to his face and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Eddie!"

"I…" he squirms. "Did something stupid."

"How stupid?" you spit.

"So stupid we're gonna laugh about it one day."

"Spit it out, fucker."

He spreads his hands to cover more of his face.

"Eddie," you warn him.

He slowly drags his fingers down his face and exhales.

"Ifuckedacanofpineapple."

"What?"

He winces.

"I fucked a can of pineapple."

He… what?

"And apparently there's something in pineapple that I'm allergic to or something? Wayne said my grandma had it too. But it fucked me up for a few days and getting hard hurt so fucking bad and that's why I've been distant but it's getting better and it's gonna be fine."

You stay silent for a minute, trying to process Eddie's confession. How the fuck… why the fuck… how?

"You fucked a can of pineapple?"

Eddie rubs his face. "Yeah."

"How?"

"I just… don't make me say it."

"Oh, you're gonna say it," you tell him, turning to lie on your side. "I need details. I need to know everything."

"No you don't."

"Eddie, I have never wanted to understand something so desperately in my life. Explain it, or we're going into the kitchen for a demonstration."

"No!" he barks, instinctively drawing his legs up and covering his crotch.

"Explain!"

He whines, and he squirms, and he looks at you pathetically. But you're far too curious to let this slide. Eddie pulls the pillow out from under his head and covers his face with it.

"Edward."

He lets out a long groan, and eventually moves the pillow out of his face. He hugs it to his chest.

"I was high and bored and lonely and hungry and I figured I'd try it so I could tell you I ate fruit and you'd be proud of me and stuff and I got the top off and there was just this… big… wet… hole? UGH!" Eddie groans and flips over to his stomach, taking the pillow with him to cover his head. You watch him wallow in his misery, becoming more amused by the second.

"Oh my god," you say in wonder. "I'm in love with a moron who literally fucked a can of pineapple."

Eddie tilts his head just enough so that you can make out his mumble: "I took it out."

"Took what out?"

"The can had sharp edges. I took out the pineapple and put it in a sour cream container before…"

You snort. He hides his face again, and you picture Eddie Munson dumping a can of pineapple rings into an old sour cream container the Munsons use as Tupperware and going to town on it. Right there in the kitchen. Sloshing pineapple juice down his legs and the cabinets and onto the floor.

You lose it. You cackle until your sides ache and tears stream down your face. You wipe them away with the backs of your hands, and look to Eddie. He's less red, but still clearly embarrassed as he stares at the ceiling.

"I take it you're not mad?" he asks.

"That you cheated on me with a can of fruit?" Another giggle fit erupts, and he lays there calmly while it passes. "Sorry," you say finally. "So you're allergic to pineapple?"

"I think it's safe to say that it's not something I'll be trying again anytime soon."

"What did it do to you?" you ask curiously.

"It kinda… it… uh… wasn't pretty."

"Can I see it?"

"No."

"Are you okay?"

"Will be."

You scooch closer, and he holds out his arm so you can snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest and slide your hand across his stomach until it reaches the other side.

"I'm glad you're okay," you say quietly. Eddie's hand begins stroking up and down your back. A thought occurs to you, and you smirk. "But it serves you right for trying to cheat on me with a can of fruit."

[celestialanon]

Showering With Them

This is usually one of my favorite scenarios to write, so I had a lot of fun with this one. It is primarily fluff, so I do hope you all enjoy the read, dear readers <3

Lucifer

The one thing Lucifer has taken from his younger brother Asmo, was that the occasional bath was a good relaxer. And boy did he need it once in a while. The first time it happened, he was surprised that you suggested a bath together. Little did he know he would come to enjoy sharing a bath you more often then not.

You expressed how much he needed it for his body after a long day work, so he obliged and filled the tub with hot water. He’d let you run your hands over his shoulders, massaging soap into them to rid of the knots in his back. He’d sigh and basically melt into your touch, sometimes letting his back fall against your chest.

These shared baths became your way of pampering him. You’d help clean his body, his hair. You gently rubbed at his face, tracing his jaw and nose. You massaged his temples and watch as his face muscles relaxed. Then you’d move down to his hands and massage at them as well, they have done a lot of hard work.

Lucifer would always end up looking at you with an adoring smile on his face. He realized that he finally had someone to take care of him. He’d always return the favor, massaging at your own knuckles and grinning at the way you puckered your lips for him. Of course he’d give you a kiss, silly…

Mammon

The first time you have ever showered with Mammon, you quickly learned how much of a water hog he was. He would squeeze next to you to clean himself, making you eventually move away altogether because it was a tight fit. He ends up shaking his head like a wet dog to dry himself, droplets of water hitting your face.

Ever since the first time, he pretty much began inviting himself in whenever. He'd come looking for you in your room, only to hear the water running, your voice humming the tune of some song as you suspected yourself to be alone. He'd barge into the bathroom, ripping his clothes off in a manner of seconds to join you, ignoring your complaints with a large grin on his face.

Again, he totally takes up the space under the shower head, laughing at the way you frowned at him, your body getting cold. When the teasing games were over, he pulled you by the arms closer to his body, letting the water run over you as well. He would give your lips a small kiss, a small blush on his cheeks but nothing major.

You let him wash your hair. It reminds him of when he used to help his younger brothers bathe. Then you did the same, watching how his white hair mixes in with the white bubbles building up on his head. He tried to kiss you again, but you scrub the soap out of his hair and some of it gets in his mouth. He complains but you make sure to give him that kiss he wanted after.

Leviathan

It had taken some time to get Levi to be comfortable showering with you, but when you finally got him to, it became one of his favorite things to do with you. Usually it would be night showers together, getting ready for a long night of movie binging or game marathons. He would let himself in first, patiently waiting for you to join him with a small blush on his face.

It doesn't matter how much times he's seen your body, he's still amazed and goes red in the face when he's faced with it. You always give him a sweet smile in response. His demon form always came out when he showered, the warm water feeling soothing and comforting against his skin. Levi always felt a deep happiness sharing such an intimate thing with you, watching as you ran a loofa over his scales.

They glimmered with pearl like colors, he was so beautiful. And you always made it a point to tell him that as you gently scrubbed away. He'd have trouble stopping the smile growing on his face, because his heart soared at every compliment you gave him. You battled his insecurities with iron fists, usually rising victorious. You handled his body with such care, and he couldn't help but pull you in to press a kiss to your damp hair.

He'd make sure to tell you that you were the beautiful one, and that he's so happy to be showering with you at all. Really, Levi worshipped you and your body, and it never failed to make you feel better about yourself. Every shower with Levi was intimate in the most loving way possible. It was just you and him, raw emotion and even some bit of confidence from Levi as he let you clean his tail.

Satan

While Satan was one for private showers, he never refused your offers. Like Levi, it may have taken a moment before you finally got him with you, but when you did, it almost became routine. He’d end up offering more himself before settling into bed for the night.

You’d always help him scrub at the parts that were harder for him to reach, like his back. He was adamant on getting himself clean, and always ended up having his body completely covered in soap suds. You’d laugh at him, and he would trap you in a hug, making the soap cling to your body. Now you both looked ridiculous.

He always helped you clean yourself as well, occasionally placing a kiss to your shoulder as he washed your back. You’d look back at him with a smile, and the next second he’s splashed in the face with some water, along with a challenging smile from you.

Showers always ended up playful with Satan. Small taunts at each other as you got yourselves clean. It was a rather innocent act of teasing each other, and you both would be laughing as your foreheads rest together under the water.

Asmodeus

This guy much preferred his weekly baths, and of course, he loved sharing them with you more than anything. His tub was big enough for the both of you to get comfortable in. The water was always warm and soapy, smelling of rose petals and something sweet. It created a nice and steamy atmosphere.

While you preferred your showers, you quickly began to fall into rhythm with his bath times. He’d share all of his bath products with you that you never heard of before, you’d never use your old human products again. He’d let you go through the phases of washing his hair so that it’d come out as smooth as possible.

He loved the feeling of your fingers spreading soap against his body. This is Asmo we are talking about, so he couldn’t help his hands linger just a little bit when he was helping you clean your body. All in innocent fashion though, and his touches were sweet.

Bath time usually took quite some time, but you both came out with skin so smooth, and smelling so fresh. You could get used to this for sure. He would help pat you dry, and apply lotion to your skin. This was definitely his way of spoiling you.

Beelzebub

At first, you were afraid that the two of you wouldn’t be able to fit in the shower together. Beel had a large build, so it might be cramped. You were pleasantly surprised to find that the entire bathroom was one big shower space. There was a small stool that sat in the middle, a towel hanging over it.

You’d let Beel take a seat, covering himself with the towel while you positioned yourself behind him. You took good time to clean through his hair, a smile growing on his face at the feeling of your fingers. He was happy that you wanted to help him get clean, feeling all warm and fuzzy at the domestic act.

You’d carefully pour warm water over him with a bucket you found, and he hummed at the feeling of it over his skin. He offered you his seat, but you’d refuse and tell him that you still wanted to help him get clean. Scrubbing the loofa over his stomach had him chuckling, and you did the same when you heard it grumble.

You yourself cleaned up directly under the shower head, Beel watching you with a smile as he scrubbed at the rest of his body. Then he’d get up from his seat and join you, giving you a big back hug and loving the sound of your laugh.

Belphegor

Lazy morning showers were his go to. Most days he couldn’t be bothered, but after showering with you he finds himself forcing his body out of bed in the morning. You’d always greet him with a smile and lead his tired figure over to the bathroom, helping him undress himself.

The first few minutes of the shower always started with you trying to help him wake up more. He’d have his arms hooked around your waist, your body against his as he leaned against the shower wall. The warm water would run down his skin, and it felt as though it were encouraging him to fall victim to sleep once again.

You’d gently peel him off the wall and began helping him clean up, starting with his hair. It was funny the way it fell over his eyes when it became damp. He asked why you were making fun of him, but it’s only a little teasing. You reminded him that he looked cute that way, and he’d puff out his cheeks, not quite believing you.

He’d go back to leaning against the wall, watching you take care of yourself under the water. He’d be smiling like an idiot by the end of it, and you looked to him with a questioning expression. It was worth getting out of bed that morning.

[rodeoxqueen]

Warm Little Heavens.

Dante/Reader

Summary: You shower with Dante.

Under the hot water streaming down your face and back is where you and Dante find a little heaven on Earth. After a long day, he’ll come back to your place, exhausted and covered in demon blood.

“Water off at yours?” He finger-guns and nods. You’re in your pajamas, lounging around waiting for him to come back after a “Home in 2 hours. Can I shower at urs?” text you get from him. He wants to scoop you into his arms and give you a big old kiss but he’s unshaven and bloodied.

So he abstains, let in and quick to take off his leather coat on your chair.

“Ugh, I reek.” He says, raising his arms to yawn. You agree, demon blood smelling like absolute filth.

Dante always showers first after a job, getting rid of all the oily impurities of devil gore. He undresses and leaves his clothes in a messy pile on the floor. The water is turned on and steam soon settles on the ceiling from how hot he likes it. Scalding even.

Hands quick to scrub his body down, the streams of water turn from black and crimson to clear. You’re in the bedroom, laying on the bed and watching a sitcom, waiting for Dante to finish up before you join him.

That time comes quickly, and he calls for you.

“Babe, come in before the water gets cold.”

“Of course it’s gonna get cold with you rifling through all my hot water.” You tease.

His sweet voice echoes in the room when you enter, “hey, you’re the one with a working heater.”

“This is true,” you muse, pajamas joining his pile of clothes on the cold tiles.

You can feel the humidity with how hot the water is just from outside the shower. It’s okay, you like a good soak that leaves you with a reddened hue to your skin at times.

As you strip does Dante wolf whistle from his view.

“Move over, doofus.” You sigh at the heat.

Dante is looking down at you in his naked glory, chiseled skin with that dangerous v-line around his hips.

“My eyes are up here, sugar.”

“I know, give me a kiss. I haven’t seen you all day.” He puckers up comedically, interrupting the falling water from wetting your hair and face. Every kiss makes you swoon always.

Clicks of plastic bottles opening and the drip of soap on a loofah, you start to wash yourself, Dante just enjoying the show.

Strong hands trail up your back, little lightning strikes of touch along your skin, tracing to your tired shoulders after a long day of your 9-5. He presses down, massaging your muscles and kissing your neck, stubble tickling you.

“Mmm. I should be massaging you, you’ve been slaughtering demons all day.”

“Just trying to save up to take you out to dinner later this week.”

“Ooh, that sounds nice.”

He chuckles, knowing that there’s that little Italian restaurant that just opened up.

“Yeah, and I can see you wear that outfit again.”

The outfit in question which always ends up thrown in some random corner of your bedroom after a night out.

“Let me scrub your back, Dante.” You offer, holding up the sudsy loofah. It’s your favorite task, hands all over his wide back and his impossibly narrow waist.

He purrs loudly, deafening the sitcom still playing in the bedroom, as you work out the knots in his back.

Dante is so strong but you know like a sword, he could really use some care after a mission. Your boyfriend deserves so much love and care, the world is harsh on his body. Although he can take it, there’s no shame in pampering him.

You put pressure on a rather tight spot, and you feel his body just decompress.

“Ooh you’re killing me baby~”

His moan sends flutters in your stomach.

Afterwards, he squeezes the shampoo bottle into his palm to wash your hair. The air smells of strawberries and lavender.

You lean back to his addicting touch.

Shower time is a long time together and you enjoy it to the fullest, with your lover finally.

It’s a love that makes you greedy, asking more and more of him. Wanting to be so close until you can feel the heat off his skin from how hot the water is.

Dante bends down so you can return the favor, white hair in your hands to clean of spare splashes of blood. You also use your hair mask, knowing he loves how soft and shiny it makes his locks.

Eventually, you’re done and you simply press your face against his chest, positively melting from how comfortable you are with him. Slick skin and firm flesh.

The lovers leave the shower, dripping water on the floor and grabbing their respective towels. Dante wraps the towel around his waist and slicks his hair back, spare droplets descending down his throat. You want to lick them off his skin and taste lust and yearning.

You do your skin care routine side by side, Dante’s considerably less steps than yours. Damn demon genetics keeping his skin so clear.

He does that thing of his again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing up and down your neck and the side of your face. You watch him adore you, his own blue eyes peering at the mirror to see that pleased look on your face. He smells your face cream and lotion, a pheromone of your own that leaves Dante craving of the softer things in life.

You two retire to your room, now both in pajamas. The sitcom credits are rolling and an ad plays after.

Dante practically collapses on the bed, ushering you into his space, your face snuggled close to his chest.

“Grab the remote to turn the lights off.” You ask.

“Where’s it?” You point to the table next to his and he lazily reaches over and shuffles his hand to find said remote to the lights, leaving the LED lights on your ceiling on. He turns off the lights, leaving you in a slow-changing array of colors.

At the same time, you shut off the TV, opting for the ambience of midnight conversation and the outside world.

Bedtime, Dante’s limbs are tangled in yours. In your touch does Dante find himself complete. Your gentle breaths of sleep swiftly taking you sweep him into the lulls of rest too.

There isn’t much in life he asks for, but just these warm little heavens makes all the labor and hardship more than worth it.

[onwednesdayswewrite]

you, tara carpenter, have stolen my heart

chapter two of this hell is better with you

Pairing: ghostface!Tara Carpenter x ghostface!Reader  

Warnings: canon typical violence for scream, talk of murder (no details, but they do kill someone) blood, cursing, misuse of prescription drugs, dark themes. this isn’t smut...but like smut adjacent, it gets a little spicy. CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Reader and Tara are tired of fighting their urges. 

Also no one ever talks about how tiny Jenna would be as Ghostface so I felt the need to roast her a little☠️

~~~~

You watched as Samantha Carpenter’s gray Honda Civic rolled to a stop at the curb in front of you. It sat there for a few moments before the passenger door popped open. Tara appeared, an iced coffee tight in her hands, despite the freezing temperature. Her white Converses were traded for Doc Martens to give her more traction on the ice that covered most of the sidewalk. You met her eyes, and you could tell she wanted to greet you. But she wouldn’t, not with Sam so close. Sam was still ridiculously overprotective despite Tara begging for just a little freedom. You understood Sam’s worries given what they had been through. But this was all just too much, Tara needed to live her life. You shook your head, you didn’t want to look anymore. Tara was an adult, and more than capable of getting  herself to therapy. Sam needed to loosen the leash just a little. 

‘You should get rid of Sam, she will only make things harder’ the pill bottle felt light in the pocket of your winter coat. You shook the bottle but no sounds followed. Empty. ‘It's more fun this way, and you know it’ you wanted to argue back but you knew it was right. With every passing day the urges got stronger. You couldn’t fight it for much longer. You wouldn’t fight it for much longer. 

“I’ll walk back to the apartment” Tara started to close the door of the car. You could tell Sam wanted to make a comment, but the tone of Tara's voice didn’t leave much room for argument. Instead, she nodded, letting Tara shut the door with a thud. Tara stood for a moment, seeming to make sure Sam actually was leaving, before heading in the direction of the meeting hall. 

As soon as Tara was within reach, you pulled her to you. Tara let out a sigh of content when your arms settled around her smaller frame. You didn’t care if Sam was still close by. You missed Tara, and you certainly weren’t going to let her sister stop you from kissing your girlfriend. The taste of her sugar cookie iced coffee lingered on your lips when you pulled away. 

“You're gonna get us caught” Tara scolded, but hardly made any effort to move away from you. 

“Let her” Sam’s car made a left turn onto the main street, almost out of view. Her tail lights disappeared amongst the sea of red. Tara’s giggle turned into a misty cloud as it hit the cool air. You pulled her in for another kiss, and a warmth spread through your cold bones. Her ambrosial smell masked the scent of garbage and cigarettes that permeated through the city streets. Daisy by Marc Jacobs had been a popular choice, but it fit her. Tara bounced on her feet a little in your arms, visibly calmer and happier in your presence.

 The cold february wind cut through the skin, your scrubs doing little to shield you from it. A giggle vibrated against your chest, Tara squirming as you tried to zip up your coat with her inside too. When that didn’t quite work, Tara was still content with letting you hold her close. The start of spring semester brought long, cold days, and endless hours of clinicals. Tara hated it, the hours away from you. You could feel it even now by the way she clung to you, relishing the feeling of your skin on hers. You hated it too, but you knew Tara felt it more. It hurt her. 

Snow whipped around with the wind that cut through your coat like a hot knife through butter. Your gloves only made it harder to put the key in the lock, and served no real protection from the cold. A surgery ran long, leaving you stumbling through the door just after 2 am. All you wanted was your bed, and Tara. But you didn’t expect to see her still awake. 

The original Stab movie played softly, the dim light of the tv being the only thing illuminating the living room of your apartment. Tara’s favorite baby pink sherpa blanket and your old high school band hoodie were tightly wrapped around her on the sofa. Tara looked cozy, and her eyes desperately fought to stay awake to greet you. 

“Baby, what are you doing still up?” you weren’t mad, but you knew the hours tickled closer to her 6 am alarm to have her ready for classes. Your schedules didn’t often match up during the week, but you did your best to make do with what you could. 

“You know I can't sleep when you're not home safe” her voice was quiet and thick with sleep, like she was trying not to wake herself up too much. 

“Can I please take you to bed now?” you pulled off your winter clothes as you rounded the couch. You almost didn’t even wait for Tara to nod before scooping her up in your arms. She was practically dead weight in your arms as her body finally succumbed to the exhaustion. Her pink blanket still hung around her tiny body as you made your way down the hall. 

“Just one second, baby” you whispered in her ear as you set her softly on your bed. It was practically your shared bed now, with Tara using the key you gave her every night to get in once Sam went to bed. Only to get up early and sneak back in before Sam was any wiser. Tara claimed it was because the heat didn’t work right in her apartment, but you knew better. You didn’t dare question it or complain, the fleeting moments late at night and early in the morning were the only thing that kept you going on long days. A soft whine fell from Tara’s lips when you left her to change from your work clothes. 

Tara propped herself up on her elbow, watching your every move as you hurried to get ready for bed. Almost like she was terrified if she closed her eyes, you wouldn’t be there when she opened them again. Every few moments, her eyes would droop, her head following shortly after. Only for her to jerk back up, acting nonchalant as if she hadn’t just almost fallen asleep. But even when you flicked the light off, she didn’t miss a beat and had her hand ready to guide you into the bed. 

“Please don’t ever leave me” her body was warm against your cold one when you slipped under the covers. 

“I’m not ever gonna leave you, baby” you settled her against your chest. The room illuminated with every passing car headlight through a crack in the curtain. Tara’s breath evened out. “I will never, ever leave you, Tara Carpenter” you whispered into her hair, but you knew she was already asleep. 

“So I have a proposition” you leaned back against the brick of the building, rocking on your heels and pulling Tara with you. She eyed you suspiciously. 

“And what would that be?” a soft giggle followed her question. Her nose flared and dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. It was times like this where you craved sunny days to bring back her freckles. Her lip gloss glistened with the evening sun. For a moment you wondered if it was smeared across your face. But Tara’s lips were more tempting than the thought of her lip gloss. You weren’t one to have very good self control, so you didn’t push yourself when unnecessary. You pressed your lips to hers once again, then began peppering kisses along her jaw. 

“I propose that we get the hell out of this place, and do something a little more fun” your voice was barely audible against her ear.

“And what’s your definition of fun?” Tara’s voice dropped, her eyes darting from your lips, and then quickly back up to your eyes just wanting you to kiss her again. Her fingers were playing with the neckline of your scrub top. Other members of your group filtered into the building, paying no mind to the two of you. They were used to Tara being all over you until the very second group started, usually tumbling in a few minutes late. 

“Well there’s a few options” your finger hooked into the waistband of her jeans. Her skin was soft against your calloused fingertips. You tugged her close until her hips met yours. “But I have one that I think you will like the sound of most” you shrugged your backpack off of your shoulder. Tara tilted her head quizzingly, her eyes watching you pull open the zip. She peered into the backpack as you pushed away black fabric to reveal a Ghostface mask. 

“You, Tara Carpenter have stolen my heart, so let’s cut out someone else’s” you felt her shiver against you. 

“I thought you would never ask” she smiled up at you. A darkness took over in her eyes as she took your hand and tugged you down the streets of New York City. 

~~~~

Water ran over your knife. It mixed with the blood on the blade, and swirled together before running down the drain. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide sat by the faucet, your crumbled up shirt perched next to it, its blood strained edge hanging into the sink. You were annoyed to put it simply. Your favorite shirt was ruined, and Tara was taking far too long to return to the apartment. 

Your phone began to buzz, and the incessant tone followed after. It vibrated loudly against the wood where your leg rested on the cabinet door.  Liquid soaked through the sleeve of your robe, you weren’t sure if it was soaked more with water or blood. But at this point it didn’t really matter, you were covered head to toe in both. 

Tara’s picture lit up the screen of your phone. It was a picture you had taken at a local diner when you snuck her out one night when Sam was at therapy. Bloody water drops fell onto your screen as you answered, pressing on speaker mode. 

“Hello?” you answered, continuing to rinse the knife in your hands. 

“Hello, y/n” Ghostface’s voice crackled through the line. 

“Well it’s fancy speaking to you” you chuckled down the line. Tara was playing a dangerous game. Your knife hit the base of your sink with a clatter as you dropped it once it was clean.

“What was that noise? What are you doing?” Even through the voice changer you could hear the concern laced in Tara’s voice. 

“Oh I’m just doing some cleaning” You reached for the knife still coated in blood sitting on the counter. Blood pooled where it had sat. Tara’s knife had been much messier than yours, her body seeming to lose control as she used her blade to take a life. But it was all fun and games, until clean up time, and then? Well Tara wanted to play a different game. 

“Well wouldn’t you make a good little housewife, y/n?” Ghostface purred in your ear. “So do you have a girlfriend?” She quickly followed with. You set Tara’s knife down in the sink. 

“Why? Do you wanna ask me out on a date?” You chuckled darkly, Tara was gonna pay for this little game later. But if Tara wanted to play, then you would sure give her a show. You let your robe fall off your shoulders, it landed soundlessly on the mat by the sink. Goosebumps rose on your stomach and shoulders. With your shirt by the sink, it left you in nothing but a sports bra. But you knew Tara. And you knew Ghostface’s game, she was watching. 

“Maybe, I really just wanna know whose throat I have to cut for touching you” Tara growled, but you didn’t feel threatened in the slightest. 

“She would probably like that, she’s a bit of a kinky one” you tried to bite back your laughter. You knew if she had been close enough she would have smacked you around the head…if she could reach you with her height. Tara’s sigh was muffled by the voice changer. 

“Wanna play a game?” you could tell Tara was getting frustrated because this was all taking too long. Tara had no patience. You rounded the kitchen island, and made your way into the living room. You pulled the curtain drawn together, not before looking out the window. Not even a ledge or anything for her to stand on. You had been by the front door the whole time and it never opened. Where the hell was she? 

“Well what kind of game are we talking about?” and then it occurred to you, the fire escape at your bedroom window. Got you, Tara. 

“You run, I’ll find you” and with that the lights in your apartment flicked off. You staggered passed the couch and through the entryway to the hall in the pitch black. Not even the lights on the tv display guided you, the whole power to the apartment was cut. 

You kept your guard up, your ears perked up on high alert. If she was already in the house, you would hear her open your bedroom door. You rested against the wall for a moment. All you needed to do was let your eyes adjust.

“Oh please don’t kill me, Mrs. Ghostface” your voice called out into the darkness, taunting her. 

“Boo” and suddenly she was here, pushing you back against the wall, hard. Her Ghostface mask was long gone, but the robe remained, drowning her small stature. Her perfume blended with the metallic smell of blood. 

“I’m ready to discuss those other fun options you mentioned earlier” Tara’s breath was hot against your ear, her hands leaving goosebumps where they touched along your stomach.  Her lips brushed against the side of your neck but never once settled. And then you felt it. The lace of Tara’s thong tickled your side as she tucked them into the waistband of your jeans. She then took your hand, and pulled you down the dark hall.

Yep, Tara Carpenter had stolen your heart.

[owlight]

hey bubba ☺️ i’ll help with the requests sooo could we get a self care/pampering law fic???? some good ole cheesy fluff under any kind of format you want honestly <333 take ur time!!!

Thank you babygirl I luv u ,this request inspired dearly to write for my other blobrs 🤗💖

Tags: self care,skin care day with partner, fluff

Law getting much needed self-care by getting some skincare by his lover, short fic

As the sun set on the polar tang, Trafalgar Law found himself begrudgingly dragged into spending quality time with his lover, He had planned on spending the evening alone, tinkering with his medical equipment, but his plans had been foiled by the persuasive powers of his partner who didn't take no for answer "Come on, Law, it'll be fun" you cooed, a mischievous grin on your face. "We'll do a skincare routine together and maybe your little grumpy face will shin with positive energy" Law scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't need a skincare routine,My skin is fine" he try to argue, yet he isn't stopping you from dragging alongside you

"Everyone needs a skincare routine," you chirp "It's good for your skin and your mental health and ah no offense my love you really need some skincare "

Law sighed, rubbing his temple,knowing that he wouldn't win this battle. "Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it ,I really don't see the point of it" The two of you made your way to the bedroom, where you already set up a makeshift spa area,Law begrudgingly sat down in the bed, watching as you out various bottles and jars of skincare products "Okay, first things first," you say as you grab a bottle of cleanser "We need to get rid of all the dirt and grime on your face" before law can protest that his face is clean,you start doing your magic,Law grumbled as you gently massaged the cleanser into his skin, feeling his tense muscles slowly relax. As you worked, you chatted about various skincare techniques and products, clearly passionate about the subject and passionate about making him feel nice

Despite law initial reluctance, Law found himself starting to enjoy the experience, The cool touch of the moisturizer on his skin was soothing, and the gentle massage of his temples and forehead had him feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks ,you notice as law start to relax under your touch "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" You beamed as you watch Law grumble but a small smile played at the corner of his lips. "I suppose not so bad...only because your touch is nice" he mummers softly with a gentle smile tugging on his lip

As the night wore on, the two of you continued the skincare routine, talking and laughing together, Law may have pretended to be grumpy at each joke you male, but deep down, he was grateful for the time spent with you, even if it involved face masks and exfoliating scrubs, he will probably make this a weekly occuring only to be able to have you caress for so long without having to word it out...he really is so thankful to have you with him as his partner

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 15: Love is... Co-Parenting (Prompt by... me! sorry-not-sorry for being self-indulgent)

wc: 1076 | Rated: T for swearing | cw: None

Tags: Steddie Dads (for my Joanie Munson AU), Valentine's Day Crafts, Co-Parenting Negotiation Tactics, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson

'Eddie vs. Valentine's Day Crafts'

Eddie splutters away, swatting at his face. He can see a speck of red glitter in his periphery, a remnant of his red glitter and heart-shaped confetti-filled afternoon. The offending shimmer is somewhere on his cheek and he needs to get rid of it this instant, or he is going to fucking scream.

He foolishly thought he had already removed all traces of Valentine’s Day crafts from his very being via what felt more like a decontamination scrub-down than a warm shower. Eddie grumbles, thinking about the monumental clean-up effort he endured right through to past dinnertime and his mind turns to the clothes hamper…

A job for Tomorrow Morning Steve, he smiles to himself, blinking and glitter free.

He holds out his hand for one final confirmation that the glitter has been vanquished once and for all.

Only he finds a little pink heart stuck to the middle of his goddamn palm.

“Fuck!” he curses, flailing on the bed and punching his fist into the sheets.

The mattress dips on the other side as a craft supply-free Steve finally joins him. The lucky bastard doesn’t know how good he has it!

“What’s wrong?” Steve chuckles.

Eddie rolls haphazardly onto his side, his legs tangling up in their bedding as he all but shoves his palm into his partner’s face.

“I take it all back,” he rants, “Our little girl is a complete gremlin. A stinky little bean who makes it her life’s mission to make a mess. Look!”

Steve grabs his wrist and moves it back at a (reasonable) distance, squinting without his glasses. He shrugs.

“Wonder where she gets it from?” he quips and Eddie all but yelps with frustration.

Steve gently curls up Eddie’s hand in his own and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I think we should drop her on Robin and Nance’s doorstep,” Eddie continues and scrunches his nose in every attempt to remain focused on complaining, even though his partner begins to massage his tense hand, “The glitter can be their problem. They love crafts!”

“I like my Valentine’s Day cards,” Steve says absentmindedly as he continues his ministrations, now rubbing at the skin typically covered by rings, “Made with love by my favourite munchkin...”

He leans over for a kiss when Eddie spots a red shimmer in his hair – an impossibility that causes him to throw himself onto Steve and dry-sob into his blue sleeping shirt.

“You know the trade-off,” Steve says, his hands moving to his hair with combing movements Eddie shouldn’t find so soothing right now, “I do Christmas crafts, you have Valentine’s Day and Halloween. I can’t help it if I’m better at containing glitter than you.”

Eddie pulls back and glares.

“Fuck you,” he spits with no real heat behind his words because Steve flashes a toothy grin and winks.

“Speaking of cards…” he purrs, taking his hand again and interlocking their fingers, “Where’s my naughty one?”

They both side-eye Steve’s pillow, a year’s old hiding spot for said obscene greeting cards, in unison.

Eddie yanks back his hand and slumps onto his own pillow, “Don’t know what you could possibly be referring to, Stevie.”

Their particular brand of Valentine’s Day celebrations can wait. He needs to renegotiate this whole co-parenting over holiday crafts thing…

“Think you do…” Steve coos, rolling on his side and shimmying closer, enough that he can press himself flush against Eddie’s side.

Eddie screws his eyes shut. It was cold today but of course, Steve runs hot. So hot that he thinks if they took their clothes off…

He can feel Steve’s breath against his ear as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, “The one where you say all the things you want to do to me…”

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, gulping as his very limited willpower quickly crumbles away. He thinks he’ll do anything to get out of this arrangement by Halloween - or god forbid, whatever random celebration Joanie’s preschool conjures up next.

Funny Hat Day? Easter? Favourite Character Day? Impractical-For-Preschool Clothes Day? Make Your Parents Stay Up All Night In A Glitter-Induced Nightmare Realm As They All But Glue Themselves To The Goddman Kitchen Table-Day?

His eyes shoot open at the thought of possible years to come of this – his vision blurred by a small pale dot of paper sticking to his left lashes.

“God damn it!”

He swishes his hand in front of his face again – at least until Steve bats him away, leans in and delicately plucks the rogue heart off. Steve even has the sense to reach for a tissue on the nightstand and squish the paper inside a balled-up clump, hopefully locking it up for good.

“Here,” he offers, sliding his hand under Eddie’s pillow with ease to retrieve a comically large red envelope, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve pecks him on the cheek before quickly settling to rest his head on his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, dipping his neck to watch Steve snuggle in tight, eyes closed and looking a little bashful.

“Hiding,” he mumbles.

“Did you write me some sappy sonnet, my love?” he asks, tearing the envelope open and filling their quiet bedroom with an abrupt riiip.

“Just... some words,” Steve yawns, as Eddie frees the card and tosses the destroyed envelope onto the floor, “I don’t know, it probably sounds pathetic.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie says, giving the card a once over, his free hand finding its way into Steve’s impossibly soft and fruity-scented locks.

The card features two brown teddy bears, cuddling and cozy as they sit amongst a bed of rose petals. Above are floating glittering red hearts and the words, ‘To my Dearest Husband on Valentine’s Day’.

“Steve,” he sighs, opening the card to a message that spans the whole inside.

“I know you aren't my husband, not technically anyway,” Steve mumbles, peaking through one eye, “But I meant everything I wrote…”

His voice trails off, any grip he has around Eddie’s middle going lax.

“Love you, Steve,” he whispers, “G-get some sleep, hmm?”

Eddie falters in his words, overcome with love for the man wrapped around him (one who is rapidly approaching a state of sleep that leaves him snoring like a jackhammer) as he begins reading about just how much Steve loves walking through life hand-in-hand as they raise their daughter together, confetti hearts and glitter or not.

[grandmother-goblin]

When Soap Isn't Enough

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: No matter how many times Astarion scrubbed himself down, he just couldn't feel clean. So he accepts Cas's offer to help him out.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: Hair washing, references to past trauma, non-sexual nudity.

Astarion tilted his head back onto the lip of the bathtub and closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the clean water and the soothing aroma of lavender scented bath oil. It was technically his second bath of the evening. The first one had been dedicated to ridding himself of so much filth he was surprised he was allowed through the doors of the Elfsong. The second was just for his own sanity.

As if traversing the sewers beneath Baldur’s Gate wasn’t bad enough, some lunatic had summoned an army of grease mephits and one thing led to another and… well, Gale blew them up. But not before one of them managed to slime Astarion head to toe. Blinded and covered in grease, the little bastard then shoved him into a puddle of sludge. But everyone was so concentrated on surviving the encounter, Astarion did not have time to feel embarrassed about his condition.

The only thing Cas could offer him on the long walk back to the Elfsong was a cloak and a few rags to wipe himself up. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than nothing and he appreciated the gesture.

He was also grateful that Cas had gotten them a separate room from the others. It meant that fewer people got to see him in such a state, and he enjoyed the privacy it afforded him and Cas for several reasons.

The space wasn’t very big. Beside the washroom, all their room had was a bed big enough for two and a dresser to keep their belongings. But it was cozy. Rich wood tones and warm lantern light gave the place a very homey feel. He kind of liked it.

Astarion splashed a bit of water on his face. No matter how many times he scrubbed himself down, he still felt the grease. It wasn’t there. He could see it wasn’t there. But, somehow, he still felt like he couldn’t get clean.

“Astarion?” Cas called from the outside the washroom, her voice just loud enough to hear through the thick wooden door. “Do you mind if I pop in for a second? I just want to grab my hairbrush. I promise I won’t look.”

He rolled his eyes. “Darling, you’ve already seen everything,” he said and picked up the bar of soap again. “The door’s unlocked.”

Cas slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Though he really didn’t mind if she looked, she kept her eyes off of him. Instead, she made a beeline for the vanity and quickly found her hairbrush. “Are you starting to feel better?”

“Mostly,” he said and began to scrub his arm with soap again. “But I still feel like there’s grease everywhere. On my skin, under my fingernails, in my hair. I’m sitting in water and I’m still probably flammable.”

There was a soft snort of laughter. “Want to try washing with some vinegar?”

The suggestion made Astarion’s lip curl with disgust. “I’m trying to smell better, my love, not worse,” he said and started washing his other arm. “Though if you have any more of that lavender scented shampoo, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Of course,” Cas replied brightly and retrieved the bar of shampoo from her toiletry bag. “Do you have any interest in letting me wash your hair for you?”

Astarion’s brow drew together as his hand paused mid-scrub. “Wash my hair?” he repeated back dumbly. “Why?”

She shrugged. “It feels good and I want to,” she said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “No pressure. Just thought I would put the offer out there.”

“I— Why are you like this?” he asked, making her laugh again. “You know how I feel about you being too nice to me.”

It was a conversation they had countless times in a dozen different ways. The answer was always the same, but he still struggled to wrap his head around it. It was because she cared about him. She cared about him in a way that no one else ever had. With patience and respect, but willing to stand her ground with him when she needed to. Even if she flooded him with sweet gestures, they all came from the heart.

For Cas, one of the main ways she showed affection was through physical touch. Due to his complicated feelings towards sex and other such activities, they decided to have a more caste relationship for a while. Given how frequently they found themselves tangled in blankets during the early stages of their relationship, Astarion thought Cas would have some difficulty with the change.

But she didn’t.

It had been almost a month, and Cas never once tried to pressure him into anything more. Though there were a few instances where their kisses turned a little too heated, she never had a problem with pulling back. Never got upset with him for denying her the physical pleasure she so clearly craved.

Of course, Astarion didn’t hold it against her. She still had certain needs, and he was glad that she didn’t try to deny that for his sake. But he was also glad that she respected his wishes and didn’t try to guilt him over his decision.

Cas held out the bar of shampoo to him and said, “Up to you.”

“Fine,” he replied, sounding about as enthusiastic as a teenager who had been told to wash dishes. “Just try not to get soap in my eyes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to get soap in your eyes,” she said as if he were being completely ridiculous. Then she pulled the stool in front of the vanity over to the tub and took a seat behind him. “Sit forward a bit so I don’t get water outside the tub.”

A little reluctantly, he did as he was told, letting his arm rest atop his bent knees as casually as he could. Yet, despite his outward demeanor, his stomach knotted and his throat tightened. He couldn’t quite place why.

Cas had seen him naked plenty of times between changing his clothes in front of her or when they went to bed together. So it wasn’t his nudity. 

Maybe it was just the position.

Naked, vulnerable, with his back presented to someone seated behind him. His teeth clenched as his fingers dug into his leg, hidden beneath the soapy water. He exhaled, but tried to make the sound seem bored or impatient instead of a calming exercise. It wasn’t Cazador, and there wasn’t a knife. It was Cas, and a fucking bar of soap.

He needed to pull himself together.

“Close your eyes for a second,” Cas said as she dipped a cup into the water.

As soon as he closed his eyes water cascaded over his hair and down his neck. It was warm and soothing. Then she poured another cup of water on him, slowly, until every bit of his hair was dripping wet. 

Ever so carefully, Cas ran her fingers through his hair and pulled it back away from his face. A little smile came to his lips. “How would you feel if I started slicking my hair back?”

“I have no opposition as long as you don’t use so much product that your hair looks crunchy.”

He furrowed his brow. “Crunchy?”

“Like Raphael’s.”

“His hair looks more greasy than anything.”

Cas hummed, sounding skeptical, and lathered up the bar of shampoo. “Take a closer look next time he slithers out of Hell. I bet if you touched it it would sound like a crumpled newspaper.”

“I’m not risking getting grease on myself again to find out what that devil’s hair sounds like,” he said, sounding indignant even as he wanted to smile.

It was funny how that worked. One second he was slipping back into one of his worst memories, and then the next Cas was making him want to laugh. It was so easy. It felt almost natural. That whenever he began to slip into darkness, she was always right there ready to direct him towards the light. Sometimes without trying at all.

Cas tilted his head back gently and began to work her soapy fingers through his hair. She started near his hairline, rubbing her fingertips in tiny circles as she worked her way over his scalp. It felt nice. Really nice.

Soon, Astarion found himself closing his eyes. The smell of lavender, the warm water of the bath, and a soothing massage relaxed the bundle of anxiety in his belly. Most of it, at least. Even though he knew in his heart that Cas wouldn’t take advantage of him, he couldn’t completely suppress that twinge of fear.

Part of him still expected Cas to push him. To trail her fingers down his chest, or to dip her hand beneath the water and tread even lower. Cas had never done something like that, and he didn’t think she ever would, but the worry lingered. That, somehow, this kind and sweet woman he knew was just a facade. That Cas was just like everyone else who wanted him just for his body.

Cas placed her hand just above his brow and said, “Keep your eyes closed.” Shielding his face the best she could, she washed away the shampoo. Between each rinse, she massaged his scalp and combed her fingers delicately through his hair. 

“I think I got all the grease out,” she said and dunked her hands in the water to remove the lingering suds on her skin. “I have a light oil for your hair if you’d like. It smells nice and it’ll make your hair soft and easy to comb.”

It sounded wonderful. Especially the thought of her fingers gliding through his hair again as he melted into her touch. But his stomach knotted, and he shook his head. “I think I’m alright, my love,” he said and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

If Cas was at all disappointed by his refusal, it didn’t show on her face. She just gave his hand a little squeeze. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his damp forehead and said, “Any time.” 

With that, she dried her hands off on a towel hanging over the edge of the tub and put the stool back under the vanity. Then she picked up her hairbrush and started towards the door. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said and gave him a smile before she left the room.

Astarion sighed once he heard the door click shut behind her. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he already regretted turning down her offer. If her shampooing his hair was anything to judge by, it would have been just as nice and relaxing. Maybe they could even talk about something else as ridiculous as what sound Raphael’s hair would make. Who knew? He certainly didn’t because he had let his fear get the better of him.

Yet Cas was patient and she didn’t seem to take it personally. There was just only so much touching he could handle before his train of thought ventured down a dark path. No matter how he tried to redirect it towards the light, he wasn’t always in control, and his mind went there anyway. As frustrating as it was, and though he knew he was safe (or as safe as he could be) with Cas, two centuries of conditioning didn’t go away overnight.

Still, he was getting better. Little by little. And Cas was there with him for every step of the way.

After he scrubbed his body down with soap one more time, he drained the tub and toweled off, finally feeling like all the grease was gone. His hair especially felt good. His hair was still a little damp when he changed into his pajamas. 

Cas had gotten the pajamas for him as a gift, and thought neither of them slept, they were soft and nice to lounge in while he did his trance. Just simple, loose, burgundy pants and a stretchy, long-sleeved, gray shirt. Nothing fancy, but he didn’t really need fancy so long as he was comfortable. 

When he exited the washroom, he found Cas lounging on the bed clad in her own pajamas, a pencil in hand as she jotted down something in her journal. She glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile. Like she was simply happy to see him. It still felt so strange, no matter how many times she gave him that look. “Feeling better?” she asked, closing her journal to give him her full attention.

The mattress dipped as Astarion sat beside her. He used the movement to tuck her against his side, his arm wrapped around her lithe frame and her head tucked under his chin. “Much better, darling,” he said and rolled onto his back and pulled her fully on top of him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone wash my hair like that before”

She pushed up with her hands on either side of his head, relieving him of some of her weight. “How did you feel about it?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again,” he said as he let his hands wander from her ribcage, to her hips, down to lightly grip her upper thighs. “Perhaps, next time, you might join me in the tub.”

Cas smiled at him. “I don’t think we’d both fit.”

“Not with that attitude,” he said, earning himself a laugh because she was right. Even if the idea sounded nice, there was no way they could both fit comfortably. “I bet this place has a room with a bigger tub. They have to, right? For half-orcs or goliaths or other massive folk. Those would surely fit two little elves.”

She hummed. “If you want to ask the owner to switch rooms, be my guest,” she said, effectively putting the ball in his court. Leaving the decision up to him, with no real pressure one way or another. 

“I bet they’d have bigger beds too.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her down for a kiss. Something chaste and sweet, and he could feel her smiling into it.

Gods. He might very well be in love with her.

“I’ll ask about it tomorrow,” he said. Despite his earlier nerves, it was something he still wanted to do. Especially with Cas. It might be good for him, he thought. Just a small way to be intimate with her that didn’t involve sex.

It would take more than just soap to wash away all of his complicated feelings towards intimacy. Perhaps, he would never be rid of it entirely. But it was a start.

That was something.

[kitashousewife]

we're in trouble now

an: Halloween vibes? but not really? idk sort of kind of based on bad, bad, bad by LANY

pairings: geto x fem!reader

warnings: MANGA SPOILERS (vol 0, geto's past/high school years) mentions of: killing, curses, death, blood, police, crime, throwing up/gagging. sorcerer au, reader is not a sorcerer. established relationship, pet names, angst to comfort kinda? geto is just a little troubled, lowercase intentional

-

geto has been...off lately. and you're not sure why. he's been coming home later and later each night, causing you to lie awake in your shared bed, staring up at the ceiling, worried out of your mind.

it must be his job.

you've been dating for three years now. you knew before you started to date that he was a jujutsu sorcerer. he told you one night at the fanciest restaurant in tokyo, flushed cheeks and stuttering over his words. you couldn't care less, though. if anything, it was fucking hot to have a sorcerer as a boyfriend.

his job never got in the way of anything, though. he had amazing friends, who you've spent lots of time with. he was always home before dinner, never leaving on missions any longer than two days, even offering to take you along.

the last time that happened was about five months ago.

now it's 3:30 am, and you've found yourself in bed by yourself. again. calling him again, the line goes to voicemail almost instantly. you huff and throw your phone on the bed, watching it bounce before it lands face up. to your surprise, he's calling you back. rushing over, you leap onto the mattress, answering as quickly as possible.

"s-sugu? baby, are you alright?" your voice shakes. you're not sure why your chest feels so tight, why your breaths seem harder and harder to take.

geto feels the same way. he always does after he finishes off another one.

phone between his ear and shoulder, geto stands in front of a public restroom sink, scrubbing his hands for the third time in a row. the cheap soap does nothing to get rid of the blood that stains his fingers, deep in every crevice of his skin. looking at himself in the mirror, he feels an incredible sense of guilt.

"yeah, i'm fine baby. hey can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

you can hear his voice echoing, almost as if he's in a pool.

"s-sure, where are you?"

geto feels guilty. he doesn't mean for you to be this upset. he also doesn't want to lie to you.

the four bodies behind him in the open stall are making it a little tough.

"oh i've just been finishing up work," one of the bodies, eyes still open, stare right at geto through the reflection of the mirror as he speaks. "i'll be home soon though, darling. i promise."

he hits mute as a shaky sigh leaves his lips. he peeks at his reflection once more, watching as the shirt worn by one of the dead bodies soaks up more blood. one of the bodies lets out a liquidy gurgle that echos off the tile walls. geto can almost see the last bit of life escape them, floating up into the air to join the rest of those that died the same way these ones did.

"what was the favor you needed?"

geto feels sick now. your voice so sweet, so innocent and airy. he can't you're with someone like him.

a killer.

sneaking out of the bathroom and to his car, he unmutes himself.

"could you grab a couple suitcases from the closet? pack up enough for a few days, and could you pack a little for me as well?" he buckles himself in and just as he starts his car, the sound of sirens appear in the distance.

"yeah, i can do that," you stand up, heart still racing. did you have a trip planned?

turning down different back alleys, stalling for a second as the sirens get closer, geto takes a deep breath.

"you're an angel. i'll be there soon. i love you, my perfect girl."

you end the call and begin to do as you were asked. filling the suitcases as quick as you can, you don't pay much attention to the outfits you've created. you don't even know where you're going, anyway. you smile, picturing in your mind a quick little getaway for the two of you. sightseeing, sleeping in, and spending time away from work.

you still feel a little off.

where was he?

the door bursts open, presenting a very flustered geto. his bun is almost out, dark tresses barely hanging at the nape of his neck. the pieces that fell out stick to his face from what looks like sweat. his pupils are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he breathes heavily. you drop the t-shirt of his out of your hands and scramble to your feet.

"s-sugu? oh my god, what happened to you? did you get mugged? d-did someone try to kill you? oh my god," you gasp, hands reaching for every part of his body to make sure he was in one piece.

geto swallows back the guilt induced vomit that sits at the back of his throat. "no, baby, not at all," he coos down at you, but his eyes look anywhere but your face. they check each window and door, before eyeing the suitcases. "thank you so much for doing this. we're going away for a few days, is that alright?" he says with a smile. cupping your face ever so lightly with his slightly stained fingers. he's thankful you forgot to turn on the lights.

"of course, suguru. are we going far? let me make something to eat," you pull him towards the kitchen, but he tugs you back.

"we can eat when we get there, i promise. let's just get going," he speaks quickly, eyes still checking the windows.

"is everything okay?" you say, copying his stares out the window. he notices and grabs his suitcase and yours, before heading towards the door. he almost throws up again, torn between telling you everything and keeping you in the dark. he swallows hard.

"the car is on, i can explain everything later. we'll be just fine, i promise." you smile, feeling a little more at ease. with a nod, you grab a jacket and head out the door.

as soon as you get to the car, geto opens the passenger door for you and puts the suitcases in the back with speed. you haven't even buckled your seatbelt by the time he starts to drive away.

"it's 4:30 am baby, we don't need to race! it's not like anyone is on the road," you laugh and reach your hand to hold his. he jumps when you touch him. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean to scare you," you mumble, and he gives you a small smile, which fades as soon as the faint sounds of sirens fill the air. his stare jumps up to the rearview mirror, and he takes a sudden sharp turn that has you jumping in your seat.

"suguru! what is going on?"

he turns down another street and speeds up a little bit.

"angel, i've gotten myself into a bit of trouble, okay? everything is gonna be just fi-"

"what did you do?" your voice is stern, but geto gives you a smile, eyes softening as he drives down a back road.

"i'll explain everything later, just like i promised. for now, i need you to trust me, okay?"

your mind and stomach scream no no no at you, but your heart takes over.

"okay, i trust you."

-

you must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive, because when you open your eyes you're met with sunshine and costal views.

"there she is, good morning darling. we're almost there."

blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize that you have pulled into a small town next to the ocean. geto appears to be more relaxed. you reach around for your phone, but you can't seem to find it.

"are you looking for your phone?" you nod. "i put it in my bag for you. i thought it would be good for us to stay off of our phones for the next couple of days. just time with each other, how does that sound?" his face beams at you from the driver's seat. you can't say no, especially not when he's being so kind and sweet.

"i think that sounds lovely."

you pull up to a motel, which looks as if it doesn't get a lot of business. you start to feel a little uneasy, and geto can sense that.

"wait right here, i'll get us checked in," he kisses your cheek and walks towards the motel office. now that you're a little more awake, you start to become hyper-aware of your surroundings. based off of the looks, you're at least four hours from home. you start to think a little more. was he running from the cops? what type of trouble is he in?

he returns quickly, room key in hand. he grabs the suitcases out of the car and you follow close behind him all the way to your room. as soon as you enter, he quickly shuts the door and locks it behind him. you have a seat on the old motel bed without a word.

feeling a little more relieved, he sighs and looks at you. worry all over your face, wringing your hands that are placed in your lap.

"isn't this nice? our own little place, right on the ocean. i know how much you love the ocean, we could even go check out the shops later!"

you don't say anything. geto begins to panic.

"are you hungry? would you like me to get some food for us? if you want, we could go-"

"why did you take me here?" your voice is nothing more than a whisper. you feel sick, you know something is terribly wrong. he kneels in front of you on the floor and grabs your hand.

"sweetheart, do you think humans are good people?"

you give him a confused look. "maybe not everyone, but most people i know are good people," you think out loud. geto's stomach feels a little uneasy.

"your asshole manager? you think that guy is a good person?"

"no, not him. but my other coworkers are great people, remember? you've met them!"

of course he has. he's been to many work dinners and events.

he also killed one of them last night, but he won't tell you that.

"darling, why do you think there is so much crime in the world? so many good people like you say, having their lives ruined by these terrible humans. wouldn't the world be a better place if they just...went away?"

your mouth opens slightly and you blink at him a few times. you start to sweat a little bit, and the room feels like it's caving in on the two of you.

"what are you suggesting?"

he comes to sit next to you on the bed and holds you in his arms.

"do you know what i do for work?"

he feels you nod into his chest. "you fight curses, right?"

"that's right. do you know why curses exist?"

you shake your head.

"because of humans. regular humans, like you, who can't fight or see curses. curses only exist because of them. they are able to flow through people and hurt them, which makes my friends and i come in to save them. that doesn't seem very fair, does it?"

you disagree. you know deep down that this isn't right, what he's implying is evil.

"w-well no, but-"

"do you know hard it is to fight curses? to even be around curses?" he stands up, voice raising. hot, angry tears fill his lash line. "do you know how disgusting my cursed technique is?"

your mouth opens and shuts, unable to form any words at all. you want to speak, but you simply cannot find the words to say. you know there is nothing. you can say to help him feel any better.

"i don't know but i want to, i want to understand you better," you mumble, lip quivering and voice cracking slightly. you feel terrible, you had no idea how much pain geto has been in. he paces back and forth in front of you, wiping his tears with his hands. suddenly he stops.

"you'll think that i'm gross, that i'm a monster," he rambles. you stand up, grabbing his hand and holding him close.

"i promise i won't. i love you,"

he takes a deep breath and backs away, leading you back to the bed to sit down. you continue to hold his hands in your own, attempting to provide any sense of comfort.

"i can summon curses. i can call them to help me fight, whenever i need them," he starts, glancing at you to see your reaction. to his surprise, you're completely neutral.

"that sounds really cool, sugu. what do they look like?" you ask, eyes wide and full of curiosity. geto can't help the smile that grows on his face at how innocent you are.

you are exactly why he wants this perfect world.

he raises his hand and a small curse appears. something kind of silly looking, much like a kids drawing with wings. you look at it for a second, before he interupts.

"can you see it?"

you nod. "that's good. some humans can see them, and some can't. this little guy is harmless," he waves his hand and the curse flies away, out the door and into the world.

"can you make bigger ones?"

he chuckles. "yes, some ten times his size, maybe even bigger. they all have different abilities, some are stronger than others," he looks at you once more, relieved to see that you're smiling.

"how do you get them, do you make them?"

geto doesn't say anything, but continues to stare at the carpet at his feet.

"i swallow them," noticing your confused face, he elaborates. "it turns into a ball, fits right in the palm of my hand, almost looks like a crystal ball," he swallows hard. "then i just...swallow it."

you nod and stroke his back. he shivers a little at the thought.

"it tastes so vile, so disgusting. i can't even describe the taste," he shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes once more. "tastes like death. which make sense," he sniffles.

"why, sugu?"

he looks at you, tears streaming down his face at this point. you brush them away with your thumb, but they keep falling.

"i'm a killer. you don't deserve me. i try to make this world a better place, one where i don't have to watch my friends die. one where i don't even have to worry about curses, one where i don't have to think about ever losing you," he raises his voice, each word coming out through choked sobs.

"i want to keep you safe. i want to be away from this, from everything. i want to protect you," he cries, and you pull him close. "god, everyone probably thinks i'm so fucked up. they probably thing im ruining your life,"

you shake your head. "people can think whatever they want." with a nod, he lays back down on the bed. you push the fallen strands out of his face, playing with them a bit to help him calm down.

"how long do you want to stay here?"

he wipes his face and props himself up on his elbows. "i dunno, couple of days at least,"

you nod. the two of you sit in silence. geto has run out of things to say, as have you.

it’s light outside, sunny and bright. the exact opposite of the mood inside of the dingy motel room. seagulls sing outside as they perch, happy tunes that almost make you laugh. you’re not sure what to think, what to feel.

“are we gonna be alright, sugu?”

he sighs. “i think so.”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Bad Snake Day

Requested: No

Summary: Gorgon!Reader’s snakes are shedding, Valeria helps.

A lowly mumbled “fuck” was what woke Valeria up from her light sleep, brown eyes snapping open, still on edge despite having lived with you in your cave for going on four months now. Old habits die hard she supposed, not that she was keen on getting rid of them. They kept her alive, but apparently now they only kept her awake, no matter how quiet you tried to be. Every shift of your feet on the hard stone floor, every hiss of your snakes, every bitten back whimper of pain, it all kept her alert and unable to return to her slumber.

It took several minutes of this to force her to get up, resisting the urge to glare at you as she stood, scratching as her belly with a loud yawn before looking towards you, watching you struggle to pick at the dried skin of your hair, your snakes hissing and crying out as you try to hold them still, a futile effort.

“What are you doing?” She finally asked you, quirking her brow when you jumped. You were usually overly aware of her presence, of her every move. If she was even beginning to wake up, you knew. It showed how absorbed in your task you were that you didn’t even notice her getting up. She firmly told herself that the small feeling nibbling away at her belly was not concern.

“My snakes are shedding.” You grumble out after a moment, wincing as you yank off a particularly stubborn patch of dry skin, the snake attached to it showing its protest by trying to nip at your hand, baring its fangs with a hiss.

“And you are, what? Hurting yourself like this for fun?” She asks, reaching her hand out to pet along the head of the snake, chuckling when it nuzzles into her palm, forked tongue flicking out to show its pleasure, big beady eyes blinking up at her pleadingly, as if asking her to help make it stop.

“I have to do it like this. If I don’t then it gets all itchy and inflamed.” You huff, glaring at your snakes when they all seem to flock to her touch, reaching out for comfort. “Or worse, they’ll get infected and die. And I don’t want to be stuck with a dead snake on my head.”

Valeria hums, slapping your hand away when you reach to continue your scratching and picking, shaking her head at you. “Stop. Don’t touch.” She says, pointing a finger at you when you give her a confused look, watching her pick up a large wooden bowl from the makeshift table before heading out of the cave, coming back in a few minutes later with it full of water. She must have gone to the waterfall, you thought as she grabbed a small and slightly coarse rag from your laundry pile before coming back to you, pushing you until you were facing the wall.

“What are you-?” You start to ask, flinching when she suddenly runs the now damp rag over the scales of one of your snakes, gentle but also firm as the dry skin flakes off onto the floor beneath you. Your snakes give small little hisses at her but overall don’t protest, letting her do as she pleased and just seeming content that they no longer had to put up with your rough scratching. The water was cool but not freezing, and it tingled through your snakes and into your scalp in a way that wasn’t all that unpleasant. It was relaxing, in fact, and your eyes slowly closed as she started to hum quietly under her breathe, occasionally lowering in sound or stopping completely when she reached a particularly stubborn patch of skin, scrubbing just the slightest bit harder of having you lean your head back to soak it in the bowl while she did some of the others. By the time she was done, you felt practically rejuvenated, your snakes bouncy and excited, each of them bumping heads or nuzzling against your cheek as Valeria dumped the water just outside of the cave entrance.

“Thank you.” You whisper, not surprised when all you got in return was a soft grunt. You hoped she stuck around for a lot longer, you enjoyed this human.

[lustrousbratz]

New Year’s Eve Cleaning🏠

With the new year literally right around the corner, I love to clean my home and self both physically and spiritually! Here are some of the things that I do💞

*******************************************************

1. Clean up your home! This includes;

- Doing all of your dirty laundry. Fold and hang up all of your clothes after each load and do not leave them in the laundry basket🧺

- Clean your floors. I clean mine in this order: vacuum/sweep and then mop/carpet clean.

- Change and wash your sheets. It’ll feel nice going into the new year with a fresh, clean bed.

- Put objects in their rightful spot. You’ll feel so good after being able to find everything and your home will look much more neat.

- Get rid of damaged, old or unused clothes/items in your home.

2. Journaling

Write down all of the things that you want to release and/or work on going into the new year e.g being late, negative mindset, anxious attachment etc. Your cleansing your mind of anything that no longer serves you!

3. Cleanse and protect your energy🧚🏾

Smoke cleanse your space with incense or by burning herbs (Please leave the sage alone! Many Indigenous peoples use it for their smudging rituals).

You can use herbs like lavender, bay leaves, thyme and eucalyptus!

Make sure you open up your windows to allow any negative energy to exit your home! Think about what you’re releasing and what kind of energy you want to bring in.

If you like using crystals, cleanse them as well💞

I also love using a diffuser with my favourite essential oils (sweet orange, peppermint, lavender).

4. Cleanse your body🫧

I love taking an everything shower on NYE to feel brand new going into the new year!

- Use a body scrub/shower gloves to exfoliate your skin and have it feeling baby soft.

- Wash your hair and body!

- Shave or wax if you like being hair free.

- Clean under your toe nails with a toenail brush and clip your nails after your shower. Use a pumice stone to remove dead skin from the soles of your feet!

- Moisturize with your favourite moisturizer and lotions ( i love using cocoa butter and renpure lavender and honey body lotion).

- Use deodorant and use your sprays and body oils if you’d like!

*******************************************************

This is everything I personally like to do on NYE prior to the New Year so hopefully this is helpful to anyone interested in doing something similar.

Have a happy new year!✨💘

[pedge-stuff]

PLEASE WRITE A PART 2 for accident! I’m obsessed

I hadn't planned on it, but... this has been arranged.

accident p. 2 (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always.

summary: you let him fuss.

It's well past midnight as you key into the apartment. Pedro busies himself by getting you settled, although his movements are almost as sluggish and haggard as your own. Six hours in the ER had taken its toll.

"Why don't you head up?"

You'd sat on the chair by the door, intent on untying your shoes, but had apparently been staring at them for the last few moments. Without a second thought, Pedro kneeled before you. "I'm gonna take the dogs around the block, and then I'll close up down here."

You are struck, not for the first time this evening, by an overwhelming wave of gratitude. How did you get so lucky?

He jingles the leashes, pausing to kiss your forehead before heading out.

It takes you way too long to get up. Some combination of exhaustion and low-dose Vicodin have you zoning out, effectively sleepwalking without Pedro to move you along. There is a pharmacy baggy on the counter, but by the sluggishness of your thoughts, the remainder of the prescription might need to go untouched.

Eventually, you drag yourself upstairs.

Everything feels dirty. The loaned scrub pants come off easily, shed in the doorway of the ensuite, to be dealt with later. (Thrown away, burned, ripped to shreds... Dealer's choice. Anything to be rid of them and put the whole evening behind you.)

You want to take the hottest shower possible, and scrub off the invisible hospital residue until your skin is raw. But the prospect of standing for long enough to get clean is... logistically impossible.

At least your dominant hand is uninjured. You reach around, fumbling with the buckle on the back of the sling. For a broken bone, it wasn't very high tech— just a few pieces of fabric holding the two halves of your left clavicle in place. But the damn thing may as well have been a rubik's cube, for how impossible it was to unstrap.

That's about where Pedro finds you: back down to your underwear, hunched on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated to tears.

"This is so stupid."

"Baby," he starts softly. His dinner attire has been pared down to slacks and an undershirt. "Please let me do this for you."

A brown paper bag is set on the counter, so he can gently remove the sling, followed by the scrub top. Eyes closed, you wilt on the lid. Pedro reaches to plug the tub, without asking, though you nod slowly as he looks back.

The man busies himself as you watch on: changes into a well-loved pair of flannel pajama bottoms, tosses some lavender epsom salt into the slowly-filling water, swears a blue streak doing something suspiciously loud in the other room.

When he returns, slightly red in the face, the bath has been filled.

A not-insignificant part of you had hoped he'd be joining, but Pedro chooses instead to perch on the side, running a hand through your hair as you settle against the porcelain. From within the paper bag, a bag of mini Reeses cups are presented.

"Bodega dinner," he says proudly, adding, "you gotta eat something, baby."

"I'm okay," you whisper, though you're not talking about the peanut butter, at all.

"But you almost weren't," he says hoarsely. "I keep replaying that phone call over and over again in my mind. I think my heart stopped for a second. I just..."

You can only nod, mutely. The feverish, borderline frantic look in his eyes traps any response in your throat. (Honestly, he'd been looking at you like that all night. Hasn't really taken his eyes off you since he found you in the hospital hallway.)

So, you let him fuss.

Out of the tub, you lightly dread bedtime, though you've been fantasizing about sleep now for hours. The doctor had specifically warned against sleeping on either your side or back, instead sending you home with a diagram of how to sleep sitting up. Which sounds worse than a car accident, frankly.

But, upon entering, you discover the bedroom has... transformed? Your bed, normally centered, has been pushed into the corner. One nightstand has been abandoned in the middle of the room.

"I'll move that later," Pedro says sheepishly.

All the pillows on the bed, and from the chaise in the opposite corner of the room, have been gathered in a clumsy pile. The dogs have already assumed their positions against the footer.

Pedro shucks off his undershirt, and crawls into the makeshift nest. With pillows to support his often-fragile back, he reclines against the wall corner. Pats the mattress.

"You can't lay down," he warns, as you shift onto the bed. "The doctor was really particular about that."

"Sitting up," you echo. Although, at this point, you'd crash standing up if it meant you could finally fucking sleep.

Pedro splays his legs. "Come here."

Carefully, one-handed, you maneuver yourself according to his gesturing. Settling, back-to-chest, against him; legs between his legs. Propped up like a rag doll. As if on autopilot, Pedro's arm comes up to wrap across your stomach.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," you protest.

His lips brush your temple. "I promise." His grip tightens; you are a human teddy bear, which feels appropriate, since your brain is full of stuffing.

Each rise and fall of Pedro's chest presses warmly against you. There is nothing to wake up for tomorrow, no alarm to set— you'd cancelled your Sunday Brunch plans sometime between the IV and the x-ray.

"Hey." You loll your head against his shoulder. Can't meet his eyes, from this angle, but in the darkness of the bedroom, it doesn't really matter.

"Hey."

Your fingers lace with his, where they clutch around your side. "I love you."

"Mm." His chin hooks over the top of your head. "You have no idea, sweetheart."

[spencerreidswhore187]

Checkmate (Part One)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

TW: Death, violence, brief mentions of kidnapping, rape, alcohol/substance abuse and guns.

A/N: Hi! This is my first Spencer Reid fanfic and I’ve also not proof read it so please don’t judge if it’s not very good. It’s inspired/named after the song Checkmate by Conan Gray and influenced a little by the film Mr and Mrs Smith.

“I’m sorry Reid,” Emily whispered. When the team found out, they had to draw straws in order to decide who’d be the one to tell Spencer. Penelope had tears in her eyes and Emily chewed her nails down to the finger. None of them wanted to be the one to break his heart, not after Meave.

Spencer had experienced heartbreak before but not like this. Whereas before, when he watched the girl he loved get shot, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It hurt him so much, like a physical wound. But now? His heart was fine and, yet, it were as if the rest of his organs had shut down. He couldn’t feel anything. He was floating. He could see Emily’s lips moving but all he could hear was your voice, playing over and over and over again in his head.

Spencer remembered the day he told you that he loved you as though it was yesterday. It was late at night, stars splattered across the midnight sky; your legs were draped over his as you lay stretched across Spencer’s sofa. You both had spent the day binging the Star Wars franchise for what was probably the a hundredth (in release order, much to Spencer’s dismay.) You’d looked so beautiful with the crimson and azure lights reflected from the lightsabers on the TV dancing across your skin.

Your mouth was full of pistachio ice cream when the words slipped out, “I love you.” Spencer recalled the way your eyes widened - as if no one had ever said those words to you before. “I love you y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Your lips stretched into a soft smile.

“I love you, too, Spence. More than anything, never forget that.”

Spencer would have sacrificed anything to go back to that moment: every IQ point, every novel in his possession, his role in the FBI. But no matter what happened, Spencer could not turn back time. He could not return to a time before he knew you were a killer.

—————————————————————

“He’s a fucking FBI agent.” Ben spat.

“No he’s not,” you protested, “he’s a surgeon.”

It’s why he had so many spontaneous shifts, why he’d suddenly have to leave in the middle of the night or during a date, it’s why he’d sometimes be gone for long periods of time.

You hated the way Ben laughed at you. You hated Ben. Full stop.

“How can you be so ignorant y/n. You are so god damn naive.”

“He’s a doctor. I swear.” Spencer wouldn’t lie to you. He’d promised you, the night he said he loved you, that he would never lie to you.

Ben slung an arm around your neck and pulled you into him, overwhelming you with the vile scent of alcohol and piss.

“Then fucking explain this,” he grinned, showing you a photo of your boyfriend. You lurched forward as you read the headline of the article: ‘Dr Spencer Reid of Quantico’s Behaviour Analysis Unit’.

It hurt. So much. This betrayal consumed you. You shoved your boss off of you and vomited. You could hear Ben’s laugh reverberating off the grim walls of the basement you were in as he stumbled away.

You scrubbed at your lips, trying to rid yourself of taste.

Your boyfriend, your best friend, worked for the FBI. And you were a killer.

You were eight years old when it happened, they’d grabbed you off the street as you were walking home from school. The police would have found you if they’d looked. Then men go took you did not wear masks, nor did they bother disguising themselves or the van they tied you up in the back of. It had taken your parents four days to realise you were gone. It had taken the police two hours before they gave up searching. No one had cared enough to find the little lost child. No one had ever cared about you, until Spencer.

You learnt quickly that the only way to survive was to do what they say. Deal drugs, steal, you didn’t care. You would do anything to live. And these men exploited that. They manipulated you. They corrupted you. They were the first people you killed. You slept better than ever that night, in an abandoned alley. Alone. Free.

That’s where Ben had found you. Ben, the leader of a minor gang, paid you to go after those who’d wronged him. The people who broke his rules - rapists, pedophiles, murderers. You enjoyed being a vigilante at first. But soon you learnt you could hurt them in way worse than death…Ben agreed with you.

You would frame them for crimes, rob them, plant drugs in their possession. You would stand from the sidelines at watch their lives collapse.

And now it was your turn. This was a strange sense of Karma.

You and Spencer played a game of Chess every night before you went to sleep. You were waiting for him to come home as you slipped a vail of hemlock into his drink and placed the glass next to the board. Staring at pieces, you heard the front door open.

“Checkmate,” you whispered.

—————————————————————

Spencer pressed his loaded gun firmly behind his back, breathing heavily as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. He knew what would be waiting for him, the same thing that awaits him every evening when he returns from work.

You were sat crossed legged in your chair, leaning over the chess board analysing the pieces. You’d been playing this game for the last three weeks - both of you always managed to escape being checked.

You had a glass of water in hand and there was a glass for him next to his seat. Neither of you drank alcohol. Spencer had been sober since his drug addiction and you refused to drink after he told you that he was ten years sober. It was things like that, the small things you did, that made Spencer believe you were gentle and kind. He chided himself for being so stupid.

You looked up grinning at Spencer who was leaning against the doorway. He loved that smile. He hated himself for still loving it.

“Hey Spence.”

How could you be so glib when your hands are covered in the blood of innocents?

“Hi y/n,” he said, fist tightening around the gun.

“How was work? I saw or the news there was crash near the hospital. Did many people get-” you were interrupted by the sound of a gun cocking.

You abruptly stood up and stumbled away from Spencer.

“W-what are you doing.” You tried your best to sound scared when he pointed the gun at you.

“What do you think I’m doing? You are a criminal. You are a fucking murder!” Spencer did not feel guilty when you flinched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Baby, please, I’ve never heart anyone. Please put the gun down and we can talk.”

Spencer had never noticed your tell before but it was clearer than ever, now. You chewed on the corner of your lip. This was all the confirmation he needed.

He would not be played like a pawn.

“Cut the act, y/n.” You searched his eyes but they were void of any emotion. Her loving Spencer was gone. Dead.

“What act?”

“You know what bloody act. No more games.”

Fine. You couldn’t help but think that things were finally getting fun.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Spencer, you’re an FBI agent. You have a code of conduct. You have morals.” You mocked, disdain evident in your words. “That’s right, isn’t it? You have doctorates but you are not an actual doctor. What you are is a fucking liar.”

That was the first time you’d ever called him Spencer. It had always been ‘Spence’. The facade was truly gone and he felt wretched.

How could you use him like that?

He walked towards you, pressing the barrel of his gun against your temple, forcing you to walk backwards until you hit the wall.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you repeated.

And you were right. Despite Emily telling him to shoot if necessary, Spencer could not bring himself to do it. He was better than you. He had to be better than you.

“Yes I am,” he whispered.

He was not surprised when he felt the cold metal of a blade kiss his neck. Spencer had walked into your trap.

He was surprised, however, when a lone tear slipped down your cheek. His fingers itched to brush it away.

You looked up at him, “did it mean nothing to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This. All of it. You knew who I was…what I was the whole time and still you made me love you. You made me believe that you actually loved me.”

This was perhaps the first time Dr Spencer Reid had ever been confused.

“I-what?”

“Why did you have to make me love you?” You breathed.

“Y/N. I don’t understand.”

“You lied about being a doctor. You were undercover. You orchestrated this entire relationship just so you could arrest me. I want to, no, I need to know why.”

“That’s not true. I lied to protect you. My job gets people hurt, it gets people killed!” Spencer cried, “I lied to protect you!”

You pulled your knife away from his neck.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You have a gun aimed at my fucking head!”

Spencer dropped the gun and kicked it away from the two of you. You were so close that your noses kept brushing with every movement.

He inhaled sharply, “how many people have you killed?”

“I-none.”

“Margaret Sheppard, Claire Daugherty, Travis Smith, Lance Chen and Aidan Keith. Do those names ring any bells?” Spencer pressed into you, his long fingers curled around your upper arms.

Spencer tried not to think of the nights of the murders, the ones you spent as a knot of limbs - not knowing where one of you began and the other ended. He tried not to think of the way you would gasp or how, afterwards, you would pull him to you, leaning your forehead against his, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The betrayal was the most painful thing Spencer had ever experienced.

“I did not kill any of them. I didn’t,” you protested.

“So explain to me how they all ended up dead within days of each other. Their necks slit and an ‘x’ cut into their wrists?”

“Spencer, I promise you, I did not kill any of those people.”

“It’s your MO y/n. We know it was you.” Or, he thought he did. You weren’t chewing your lip. “You’re telling me that you have never killed anyone?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me!” He shouted, slamming his hand against the wall. “Please. Please just tell me the truth.”

“I have killed people before. I have killed to survive. I have killed because I had to. I have killed because I wanted to. I have killed for fun. But I have not murdered anyone in the last three years. I have not taken a single life since the day I met you!”

Spencer couldn’t breathe.

You continued, “Margaret Sheppard drowned her newborn baby because it was crying too loud. Daugherty ran a sex trafficking ring, Smith and Chen took turns raping their 15 year old daughters. Aidan Keith beat his wife black and blue. They are…were…rich. They were going to get away with it. I did what I was told to, I made them stop.

“I stole millions of dollars from Sheppard. She had no choice but to claim bankruptcy. I helped every single girl escape Claire Daugherty before I put her in a coma. I planted very incriminating evidence on Travis Smith and Lance Chen - evidence that landed them both a life sentence in a high security prison. And Keith? I wanted to kill him. He was one of the men who kidnapped me when I was a child, but I didn’t. I saved him for last. I destroyed what mattered most to him: his reputation.

“I lied and I stole and I hurt but I did not kill any of them. I would not have done anything that would have risked my relationship with you, Spencer.”

He pulled away from you and started pacing around the room. You stood frozen as he reached for his drink.

I have killed to survive. Those words were replaying in his head (curse his eidetic memory). He wanted to know what you meant. He needed to know. What did you mean by one of the men who kidnapped me? Neither Emily or Rossi had told Spencer any of this. None of the BAU had. He mentally went through all of the cold case kidnappings from around eighteen years ago in the area but none stuck out. Were you lying? Was this some elaborate trick? A trap? His head was spinning.

Spencer reached for the untouched glass of water next to the chess board and took a sip.

You lurched foreword and pulled the cup out of his hand, throwing it against the wall. Tiny fragments of glass flew around the room as it shattered, water staining the wall.

It all made sense to Spencer, in that moment, as his eyelids grew heavy, you had poisoned the drink. That was why you had kept glancing at the glass. But, if you wanted to kill him, why did you stop him from drinking more? Why did you break the glass? The last thing he did before the world went dark was whisper “I love you.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Part two soon ◡̈