#its so cold. but electric heating pad. makes me so warm

[wlw-cryptid]

I love you pillow I love you mattress I love you blanket. but most of all. I love you electric heating pad

[misc-obeyme]

🪱 hey, its two am for me and i just had a huge realization. Levis animal is a snake/serpent. Snakes have two reproductive organs and they are cold blooded. But Levi is envy. Do you think that he has passed out multiple times because he is cold blooded but wont ask for help because of how he thinks he is a “yucky otaku” or di you think he just clings to everything and everyone warm? Di you think his tub is heated?

(Sorry for bad grammar im half asleep)

Hello, 🪱 anon!

You know, I have not ever considered this, but if Levi can have two dicks, then he could certainly be cold blooded.

It seems to me that some brothers have more influence from their animals than others. And Levi definitely has the whole snake/serpent thing going on.

If he is cold blooded, I can't imagine that he wouldn't at least keep his own room warm for himself. His tub seems to be free standing so I don't know if it has a heating capability, since it would need to be plugged in. Though that's just based on what we've seen in official art. You could certainly headcanon that he has a heated tub and honestly that would make a whole lot of sense.

If you think about the set up for pet snakes and such, they usually need a heat lamp and require certain temperatures. So he would at least need to keep his room warm. If his tub isn't heated, he could have electric blankets or heating pads. He might even have a space heater to help keep the whole room warm.

Personally I looove the idea of him seeking out body heat without realizing it. Just imagine him snuggling up to MC or even one of his brothers, his attention fully on a game or something else entirely, not even noticing that he's pressing himself closer and closer to the warmth of the other person.

He might not ask for help directly, though. I could see him shivering and maybe saying that he's cold, but more because he can't help it than because he's trying to get someone to warm him up.

I think he might do something like sit next to Belphie on purpose with the hope that Belphie would fall asleep on him. Because if Belphie's asleep, it's less embarrassing for Levi, but he still gets the benefit of Belphie's warmth lol.

I also like the idea that some of the brothers would be aware of this particular trait of his and try to help him even if he didn't ask. Like I see the twins just sitting on either side of him 'cause they know he's gonna get cold without them. Satan always brings an extra jacket if he's going somewhere with Levi.

I like to think that by the time MC shows up, they've figured out his cold blooded ness and both Levi and his brothers are aware of how to prevent him from passing out. Assuming he wasn't like that when he was an angel, I do see him not telling them for a while until it becomes a problem. I could see Diavolo or Barbatos figuring it out first and telling the others.

[tinyshe]

Garden Report & Frugal Living 23.09.22

It is getting chilly. In the predawn hours the temperatures drop enough to grab a jumper, shawl or vest. This morning I went out to see the stars (what you can see through the city's light pollution). The morning star was rising over the roof tops, a very twinkly red-orange-red and as it climbed the sky, it faded to a buttery yellow. We have a break in the fog because rain is on its way so need to consider what's in the garden to get in.

The tomatoes (cherry and pear) are technically done now that they have started to ripen. There will be no more pollination and no more new fruits to develop. Will bring in all those.

Some herbs can ride out the weather but are looking pretty sad at this time of year. Considering small batch harvests like mint. Could do more rose petals with the amount of roses. Have to harvest the wild rose hips before the soggy rain (will incorporate

Blackberries are starting to molding in the heavy fog/dew so need to be careful to do a second sort before tossing in the freezer. Fruit flies are hanging heavy as well. The yellow raspberries are so delicious, the faint taste of flowery apricots or a melon. They are not heavy bearing for our hungry family (I have a 2m row) but considering doing root propagation to multiple ... but as always: where to put them! I am actually considering ripping up a small paver patio and taking down the pergola . Right now it is a landing pad for construction material (new and salvaged) and other junk has come to roost as well. I have to reclaim it as freed space before I can come to a decision. The apples are in. I need to keep an eye on them as some are ripe, others are green and they are resting/mellowing in the cold dark dining room. I don't want apple slush slime/sweat to work into the rugs.

The winter garden is vexing me. Its warm enough in the day but the night chill literally puts a damper on them, even under cover. I think the box that is planted just isn't getting enough daylight hours even though it is planted with things that can take partial shade -- we just don't get heat (yeah, global warming :/ ). The low sun in the sky and tree line just might not be conducive to happy plants even on a 'sunny' day. The hops might be ready to harvest mid october but we will have to see about the rain -- its a no win if they are contaminated with molds.

It feels rather strange not to be doing canning. I have been putting things through the dehydrator but have to watch the electrical metre.

And my frugal tips for the day: 1) make sourdough starter. The breads, even the artisan types are using so much conditioners in their dough that you can take the finished product and mash it into wet dough balls. And the price of bread has doubled and for some markets, tripled in price. Carving out time to make dough and bake on my day off for less money and better nutritional toothsome bread. 2) I had made some chicken curry using boneless thighs enough (so I thought) for two nights. The chicken was so waterlogged that it was floating the meat and the sauce had turned to soup. The chicken was consumed in one meal (hungry kids) and lots of soupy sauce was left. Saved soupy sauce and the next night stirred some hamburger crumble into it, adding chopped onions, bell pepper and carrot to serve over rice. Double dipping on the sauce was a great option/second use of the mess. It was like reinventing leftovers that might have gone to waste.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me A River - Chapter 15 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days."

Unwanted Guests

I awoke to murmurs of excitement and shrieks from nearby maids as they spoke in hushed whispers outside our room.

'What's going on..? Did I miss something?'

I turned in bed only to feel a cold spot from where Alastair's warm form had been previously causing me to frown in disappointment.

'Where did he go?'

"Did you hear?" a hushed voice sounded outside our door.

The curious side in me awakened as I tentatively creek out of our bed and sneaked towards the door.

As embarrassing as it is to admit I've always been a huge snoop.

In the marketplace, I always used to love to listen to the merchants gossip among themselves.

It's really bad but I just can't help it.

"Mating ceremony," one giggled.

My eyes widened.

Are they talking about what I think they're talking about..?

'How do they know? Did Alastair..? No. He wouldn't. Unless...'

I barged through the door scaring the living daylights out of the maidservants as I stomped my way to Alastair's office.

I barged through the door, not even bothering to knock.

"How could you..." Alastair began screaming towards his brother, veins popping angrily from his neck, mouth agape.

He turned towards me, eyes widening as he takes in my small form.

"Love, what are you..."

"How do they know?"

Alastair's eyes flashed towards his brother with a growl.

Keith raised his arms in mock defeat with a smirk plastered across his face.

"Guilty."

"Did you..."

"By mistake... rat out your mating ceremony punch line? Why, yes. Yes, I did."

"Why?"

He scratched his neck.

"Well before my brother decides to sever my head from my shoulders, I'd like to start with saying it was not on purpose."

A resounding growl came from Alastair's direction.

"And that if I could..."

"What the hell happened, ass-wipe? Stop dragging this out and just get to the damn punchline," Alastair growled.

His shoulders were tense as he hunched over in his leather seat.

'I have to do something.'

I scurried across the room as I placed myself in Alastair's lap, kissing his neck gently.

His hands froze midair for a few seconds before placing them on my waist and pulling me closer.

He stuck his face into my mop of hair and slowly breathed in my scent.

His shoulders began to unwind and his posture loosened as he breathed me in.

A smile etched its way onto my face as I pulled away to look at him.

He smiled down at me with a small, tired smile as he rubbed the pad of his finger against my cheek in a slow, gentle fashion.

He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips, allowing me to soak in the warmth and electricity that radiated off his soft, plump lips.

I whimpered as he pulled away with a pout.

It felt as if he took all the heat along with him as his lips abandoned mine in a quest to speak to the man across from us.

"So, how exactly did you make it that the entire kingdom knows now, brother?"

I kissed the veins that began to pop out from his strained neck.

"Well, I got a bit excited and rushed into Michael's office to tell him and I may not have realized that he had patients at the time."

He scratched his neck.

"Moron," Alastair growled but before he could say more the sound of rushed footsteps beckoned into the tense room.

"I heard the news," Michael declared with a smile as he pranced through the open door.

Keith's sullen face lit up as he took in his mate's form.

Michael was still in his white doctor's coat with a towel in hand as he wiped his hands of a suspicious red reminisce as Keith swooped him into a tight hug.

He kissed the side of his head with a large smile as Michael tried to play cool but it was easy for one to detect how his posture seemed to relax as he hugged his mate back just as tight.

"I missed you, Sugar," Keith whimpered as he placed his hands on Michael's butt.

"You saw me like twenty minutes ago, idiot," Michael mumbled into Keith's shirt.

"Twenty minutes without your heat is like half a century," Keith huffed.

"Moron," Michael smiled as he kissed his cheek before turning back towards Alastair still encased in Keith's muscular arms.

"I apologize for Keith's idiocy early today. He had gotten a bit overzealous and may have spread the news early than you would have wished."

Alastair huffed a reply as he rubbed his nose against the top of my head.

He was clearly angry and was trying to calm himself down with my scent.

I squeezed his white-knuckled hand with mine as I looked up at him.

"It's alright, they were bound to find out sooner or later."

I tried to reassure them.

"I know," he sighed.

"But I wanted us to make the announcement rather than them find out this way. Our people deserve better than finding out in a random gossip display."

He'll make such an amazing leader.

He always worries for his people more than anyone else.

I brought his hand up to my mouth and kissed it lightly as I peered up at him through my lashes.

"You will make such an amazing leader one day," I breathed.

"As will you, my love."

He cupped my cheeks in his large hands with a soft smile.

"I'm so happy for you guys," Michael smiled.

"You may be a complete moron sometimes, Alastair, especially..." he paused when Alastair sent him a look.

"I'm just so happy for you," his voice cracked.

"Even though you won't admit it, I know you've always wanted a mate, someone to cherish and love forever and now.. now you get to have that."

Alastair's hold tightened around me as he pulled me closer up his lap until I felt as if his muscles were engraving themselves into my chest.

"Mine," he growled into my neck.

"Yours."

'All yours.'

*

It's been four days since the news has spread about our mating ceremony.

The palace has been filled with florists and planners alike, all rushing around like flustered kittens as streams of flowers and silk streamed into the palace along with dishes of food that I hadn't know existed.

Each imported from kingdoms from around the world.

Princes, princesses and foreign dignitaries from far and wide had streamed into our once quiet palace in order to attend our mating ceremony.

How the news had spread as quickly as it did still remain a mystery to me.

It's a bit overwhelming always being surrounded by those of high-ranking all the time, constantly watching me like the posh hawks they were.

It's a bit intimidating when you walk into the dining area for a midnight snack and the princess of Bulgaria is sitting at your table with a smile plastered across her face.

I almost had a heart attack.

I had to watch the way I walked, talked and ate.

It was exhausting.

I have no idea how Alastair's dealt with this amount of stress all his years.

I'm afraid of saying something stupid and making a complete fool of myself in the eyes of all the upper-class people occupying the palace with their grand gowns, diamonds and silk.

I even saw one complaining to the chef the other day that her dish was neither salted nor spiced enough for her palate to detect any kind of flavor and that the temperature of her soup hadn't fit her standard.

I was as dumbfounded as the chef was.

She couldn't handle the idea of having to blow her own soup or reach across the table to add her own salt to her dish.

For God's sake how in the world did she walk to the dining room on her own with the amount of lacking stamina she seemed to express.

'It's ridiculous.'

At the moment I was seating at the dining room table to the right of the head where Alastair sat with an air of confidence around him.

How does he do it?

How could he sit in front of such intimidating people with so much confidence and class when I'm here shaking in my seat hoping that they'll just disappear so I could just be alone with Alastair and eat my food in peace?

My respect for my mate has increased by a tenfold as I watch his nonchalantly making small talk with the men around him, all watching him through eyes of awe.

The girls all seemed to push up their breasts and flutters their lashes when he would look in their general direction.

'What the actual hell? I'm right here.'

To think they presumingly came here to take part in our mating ceremony, yet it seemed as if they just came for an excuse to eye rape, my mate.

'Stupid, big breasted perverts.'

Wait.

'If they're royal are they considered royal perverts? Does being royal change the status of one's pervi-ness..?'

[miyamiwu]

My cat’s kitten died.

I didn’t expect it. It was such a strong baby. It moved around a lot and drank plenty of milk from its mama. I think it died from the cold, as it’s been rather cold over here lately.

Tianhen’s a first-time mother, and she’s been quite negligent in looking after it. After giving birth, she’d leave the kitten alone for hours while she frolics outside or plays with her siblings. I’d have to take my mom’s electric heating bag and put it under the cat’s bed pad just to keep the kitten warm.

Sometimes I literally have to get Tianhen from downstairs, put her beside her kitten, and stare her down until she settles by her child. I have to watch over them too to make sure she doesn’t crush the kitten underneath her.

I don’t know when it died. Tianhen had transferred the kitten to a box downstairs at some point. Then, earlier, she brought the kitten back to my bed. I thought she was just setting back in like usual, but when I checked, the kitten was so still. It was no longer breathing, and it had gone stiff. It would usually wake up right away if I so much carry it to transfer to a different place, but this time it didn’t react at all.

I don’t think Tianhen even realize it had died. She still tried to groom it.

We buried the kitten behind our house.

Although I’m not too sad about its death, it’s still really uncomfortable seeing a life die in front of me. Not the first time it’s happened, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

[weaselbrownie]

Can I request a draco smut with overstim and possibly squirting?? I'm a whore for that LOL. Thxx 💞💞

warning : smut

a/n : should i host a sleepover lol?

MASTERLIST

"You’ve got somethin to say?"

Draco hissed as he ruts into your overused cunt. Tonight he's a bit frustrated, having to lose to Gryffindor once again, he's taking his anger out on you– not that you mind. He's gotten you to cum three times already and you could already feel yourself slipping.

Your muscles ached as he gripped your calf– hoisting it up to his shoulder to get a better angle. You opened your mouth to speak but your body betrayed you, a whine falls out of you as your back arched– your high just around the corner.

"Yeah, I thought so... Enjoying yourself hm?" Draco proceeded to pound into you as his mouth lingers on the side of your jugular, sucking colorful hues into you that will unquestionably show tomorrow. His lips continued to travel down your body, stopping on your chest to catch your left breast in his mouth, sucking and slightly biting the hard bud– jolting electricity within your body.

"Drac– O-Oh fuck yes" You threw your head back– eyes shut as you found it hard to speak with the amount of pleasure you are receiving. Without having to see what's happening you could feel Draco's wet lips letting go of your nipple followed by the rough pad of his palm grabbing onto your jaw, shifting your attention to him.

"Watch that mouth or I'll stuff my cock down your throat again" His movement stops, your eyes jolting open to meet his eyes piercing into yours to make up his point,  "Do I make myself clear?" He asked again through gritted teeth, the grip he had on your jaw tightens, slightly squishing your cheeks upwards. You gradually nod your head not wanting to upset him. "Good" His voice sharp before moving his hips again, his pelvic bone hitting you just right, rocking your whole body again.

It didn't take long for the euphoric feeling stacked at the bottom of your stomach to come back, your toes curling, and your muscles tightening. Your body is numb yet you can feel Draco's hand slithering down the side of your body, the sensation lightly ticking you before his hand rests upon your clit, bringing his thumb to rub circles over the sensitive nub, dragging one loud whine out of you.

"C'mon angel you're right there" He encouraged as he started pounding into you again, the feeling of the veins on his cock rubbing against your tight walls and his rough thumb circling your clit was simply too much. Your hand found its way home to Draco's shoulder, sinking your nails onto him– leaving your marks as your high approaches you. "Let it go... I'm right behind you" His breath raspy as he dips his head down to the nip of your neck, his lips lingering on your clammy skin.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth formed an o yet no sound came out, arching your back as you hooked your arm around Draco's neck to keep him in place– his thrusts starting to become uneven. Draco's fingers didn't stop moving, helping you ride out your high until you eventually become too sensitive. He gave you one last powerful thrust before staying still, emptying himself into you.

You could feel it as thick ropes of cum started to fill you up. The sensation of his fingers on your overstimulated clit and his member twitching every once in a while made you whimper his name. Draco started to leave small nips of kisses down the side of your face, drawing himself up before pulling out of you.

Your chest heaved up and down as the feeling of his warm cum slowly leaked out of your overused cunt and onto the emerald sheets below. You started to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen– closing your eyes to take a breath as you saw stars gliding across the closed lids of your eyes.

Just as you thought you were finished you felt his lingering touch on the inside of your thigh, guiding you to open your legs again as he settles in between them. "Dray n-no" You muttered as your hand roamed the sheets in search of his.

"C'mon, why don't we try to pull one more out of you... you wanna be my good girl, no?" He murmured into your thigh, leaving kisses up until he was met with your cunt. "Look at this... so beautiful hm?" His fingers tracing around the outer lips of your cunt, gathering all the leaking juices and shoving them back into your warm hole.

"N-Nooo I wanna shower... " A whine slipped past your swollen lips, your fingers wrapping around his hand to stop him. You could see Draco's head lift up from the space between your open legs– delivering soft kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"You wanna use the safeword?" His head resting on your thigh, waiting for an answer. You bit your lip and tightened the grip you have on his hand before slowly opening your mouth to speak.

"I mean– N-No it's jus–"

"Then don't interrupt me" Draco dives back into you before delivering a harsh slap on your clit. Your body jolted up as you slightly closed your legs just for him to open them again. "That's what you get, hm" He hums as he entered his middle finger into you– slipping in so easily as the juices leaked out of you, making you squirm under his touch.

Draco lets you hold his left hand as his right started thrusting into you at a rapid speed. Since he didn't give you time to cool down another orgasm was fast approaching, stronger than the last one– you squirmed under him, lifting your hips to try to get away from his strong grip. "Stay still, won't you," He slipped another finger, in which your cunt gladly accepted with ease, swallowing his fingers greedily.

The once silent room is now filled with the sounds of his fingers driving itself into you and the soft mumbles of his name escaping your lips. You knew it wouldn't be long before you reach your high again– the fifth one of the night.

"You like my fingers?... Hm, tell me how you feel angel" His soft voice luring in the air as you gathered yourself to answer a simple question he asked. You nod your head and squeezed his hand but he didn't take it. "No, none of that c'mon... use your voice" He tuts, purposely slowing down his fingers just when it felt good.

"G-Good... So g-good Draco– I like y-your fingers" Your voice slurring– feeling his cold tongue on your clit, tracing shapes as his fingers thrust at a much faster pace. Your free hand went to roam his scalp, gripping his blond locks as you grinded yourself onto him which you know he loves.

"So close aren't you..." He mumbled as his tongue began lapping at your sopping cunt. He didn't need an answer to know that you were, the grip you had on both his hand and hair is tight, your back arched off the mattress and your toes curling– whining his name as you shut your eyes. "...there we go, so good f'me yeah?" His voice vibrated through your body, adding an insane amount of pressure on your oversensitive cunt. “Cum for me angel,”

For a moment everything went dark, all you felt was the adrenaline rushing through your veins and Draco's voice– far far away. The ringing in your ear surfaces for a split second before everything came rushing down. You felt him again, his tongue and his fingers helping you ride out your high. Your breath started to become heavy again as you felt Draco slowed down his movements, coming to a stop and giving your sensitive clit a kiss before getting up.

You didn't notice it at first as your vision was still blurry but Draco's face was wet, wetter than it should've been– then it hits you "Shit!... I'm so sorry did I do that?" Panic lacing in your voice as you tried to get up just to be pushed down by Draco again.

"Hey hey hey, slow down... Why are you sorry?" He asked as he leaned to the side to grab a towel, wiping his face before placing the towel on your cunt. Your face heats up as the embarrassment starts to take over you, letting go of his hand to hide your face in your own. You could hear him chuckle from the other side before he gently removed the hand covering your face.

"Angel, I really don't know what to tell you, but that was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed... don't start apologizing cause this is definitely not the last time I'm gonna make you do that," He said, affirming you before bringing your palm to his lips, leaving a kiss on each.

"Y-You're not mad?" You asked, unsure and scared for his answer.

"No of course not...You did so good, always so good f'me" His hand taking yours to place them on the back of his neck. Your fingers trembling as you played with the hair on his neck.

"Now let's get you that shower you wanted, yeah?"

TAGLIST : @microwavedhampster @whenuwereyoung @o-rion-sta-r @willowmores @youreso-golden @mzmalice3 @desiredmalfoy @hyuckiesgf @yiamalfoy @acciodignity

[reidsnose]

Advil (spencer reid x reader)

overview: reader is on her period and spencer tries his best to make her life easier

genre: fluff

a/n: i think he would totally do stuff like this also this ones pretty short lol sorry ab that

-

masterlist

-

you sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as a cramp destroyed your lower abdomen, your hand flying to cover it instinctively. closing your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped taking down a picture from our board and doubled over waiting for the cramp to pass, frozen in a painful state.

"y/n! are you alright?" Spencer rushed over from the other end of the board, voice laced with worry as he tentatively rested a hand on your shoulder.

"yeah, im fine its just a stomach ache,"you breathed, still doubled over.

"no this doesnt sound very good. we should take you to the doctor this could be appendicitis or-" he began.

"no spence it isnt-" you interrupted but he cut you off.

"or it could be an intestinal cyst or tumor, this could be very bad!" he fretted, bending down trying to meet your gaze.

"no i really dont-" you began but were once again interrupted.

"this could be life threatening and what if you-"

"SPENCER!" you nearly yelled, looking up from your doubled over position, "its just period cramps."

"oh." he straightened up, feeling very embarrassed. "well um..in that case do you want me to get you some pain killers? or maybe a heating pad, i read that that can help!"

"i already asked around the station and nobody had any. i have some in my go bag ill take them on the jet."

"ok, just let me know if you need anything."

"thanks." you replied, sending him as warm of a smile as you could muster before straightening back up, hand still covering your lower stomach, and beginning to take down more pictures. luckily, you had just finished a case, and were beyond excited to cuddle up with a blanket and your comfort tv show on your couch.

as you all boarded the jet you sat down in a far away seat and curled up into as small of a ball as you could. you heard a few confused murmurs from the team but didn't want to explain, instead, you just curled up tighter. after a few minutes as everyone settled down you heard something get set on the small table and the seat beside you shifted.

you opened your eyes and saw a glass of water sitting on the table, shaking gently with the jet. you looked over at the seat beside you and were met with the kind eyes of a very apologetic looking Dr. Reid. he held out his hand, revealing two Advils.

"you didnt take your painkillers, and i could tell you need them." he told you, jutting his hand out slightly more.

"thank you," you smiled weakly as you let him drop the pills into your hand. in his other hand he had already taken the water and was holding it for you to take when you needed to. you popped the pills into my mouth and flashed him a slightly wider smile as you took a swig of the water and washed the medicine down.

"do you want me to stay or do you need space?" he asked kindly, hoping you wanted him to stay. he absolutely adored you.

"whatever you want," you answered, not wanting to sound desperate.

"well, i read once that warmth helps cramps and blood loss results in a drop in body temperature so ill stay here. because my body is warm. and yours is.." he tentatively touched your fingers, nearly shivering at the difference in temperature while trying to ignore the feeling of electricity shooting up his arm, "yours is cold right now."

"thank you." you repeated, curling back into a ball.

his hand began gently rubbing your back, "is this ok?"

instead of verbally responding, you snuggled closer to him, allowing his whole arm to drape across you. he let out the softest chuckle you'd ever heard before going back to soothingly rubbing your back, causing a content smile and light blush to dance across you face.

the painkillers weren't non drowsy so you began slipping in and out of consciousness as the jet slowly rocked you to sleep and Spencer's arms cushioned you like the worlds comfiest bed. he must have been very tired as well because you felt the weight of his head resting on top of your own. it was incredibly comforting and you felt as though you could stay like this with him forever. right as you were about to fully fall asleep, you could have sworn you heard the shutter click of a cellphone camera and the slight chuckling of morgan and prentiss.

you felt yourself being gently shaken awake and when you opened your eyes you were met with a goofy smile plastered on morgans face as he held up his phone revealing a picture of spencer and you.

in your sleep, the two of you had cuddled up even closer to each other, your cheeks lightly squished together. you widened your eyes as you peeled your now warm skin off of Spencer's, feeling him stir as he too began to wake up.

"morgan put that away!" you whisper yelled, pleading with him not to show Reid.

Morgan wasn't stupid, he could tell you two had a thing for each other; the whole team could. hell, the only people who didn't know seemed to be the two of you.

"put what away?" Spencer yawned, blinking in attempt to adjust to the light.

"this picture," morgan smirked, showing it to Reid.

you looked up worriedly at him, trying your best to read his expressions and body language.

"i-" Spencer squinted slightly as he spoke, a light smile tugging at his lips, "could you send that to me?"

worlds littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

[norabrice1701]

High Octane - Epilogue

A Powerboat Racer!Zemo x Fem!Reader AU Series

Series Main List

Chapter Warnings: Sweet, domestic fluff

Chapter Word Count: 1.9k

Epilogue: Monday

… 2 Years & 1 Month Later

The fire crackled across the living room of the private ski chalet. At first, you weren’t sure what to make of winter in the Swiss Alps – you much preferred the warm heat and humidity of Florida – but with Helmut at your side, you quickly learned its benefits. Cozy sleigh rides under fur blankets; sledding and snowball fights; curling up with hot toddies while he skied the slopes; watching him cut across the mountainside before turning down his umpteenth offer to teach you how.

“It doesn’t have to be me, you know.” He turned towards you with a teasing smile as he lifted his ski goggles. “I’m sure we can find a slightly less-attractive but still good-looking instructor over at the ski school for you.”

You snorted. “And pit me against a bunch of spoiled little brats on the bunny slope? Eight-year olds are fearless – they’re made of rubber or something. No doubt I’d break at least one bone - if not my skull - and I refuse to sit out next season.”

He shucked his gloves and helmet, running a hand through his hair – and it was still so unfair how damn good he looked with helmet-mussed hair and a cold-pink nose. “Alright, draga,” he chuckled gently as he gathered his skis and poles, “perhaps someday, and then you’ll see it’s not quite the career-ending endeavor you imagine it to be.”

You sipped from your champagne flute with a fond smile. The fur blanket puddled in your lap as you shifted against the couch and indulged the fire’s heat warming your skin. After a day of snowshoeing in a steadily increasing wind, it was nice to be warm and dry. Helmut had mentioned the hot tub later, but you planned to counter with a hot bath. Your wind-bitten cheeks were done with winter’s chill for one day.

Sock-clad footsteps padded towards you, and your lips curled against the rim of your champagne glass. Helmut came around the couch, dressed in black joggers and a cozy red Norwegian sweater. You knew firsthand just how soft the wool was, and as he settled beside you, you wasted no time cuddling up next to him. He pressed a kiss to your brow while leaning his own champagne flute over to toast yours. The glassware met with a gentle clink, your smile growing wide and happy.

Yet again, you wanted to pinch yourself – how was this possibly your life now? How were you possibly worth any of this? But any time you even hinted that he should reconsider, he just held you tighter, looked you in the eyes – and you melted in his arms.

He nuzzled your cheek. “Not having second thoughts, I hope?”

“No,” you teased him. “Just... just wondering how in the hell this became my life.”

His gentle hum warmed your skin. “Don’t they say love is more powerful than hate?”

You laughed gently. “I thought my hate for you was powerful.”

“Opposite sides of the same coin, draga.”

“Well… you helped me realize that.”

He arched an elegant brow. “I may have to write that down.”

You laughed louder. “Even if you do, I’ll still deny it. I do have a reputation to maintain, after all.”

At this point, it was largely a joke between the two of you. After the photos of your passionate embrace in the rescue boat two years ago made the front page of every racing enthusiast publication, there was no denying the love between you two. Iron Man Racing Team had worked overtime to reassure its fanbase that you weren’t going anywhere, and if anything, now you had more incentive to win for bragging rights.

But ever since Helmut’s rollover, his boat hadn’t performed the same. Team Cap won the season world championship that year, while you took second and Helmut took third – but you’d been too busy waiting for results of Helmut’s CT scan to care about the final standings. During your first race season as a couple, the media frenzy had only increased which didn’t help his mood when electrical system failures plagued his performance. But when you had a broken propeller shaft that knocked you out of the second day of racing in Key West, you knew first place wouldn’t belong to either of you. It had still been a bitter loss, but it was nice to see Pym Racing secure a long overdue victory.

This last season, though, you had shined. Iron Man lived up to her name and displayed the dominant prowess that you’d always known from her. Helmut’s black beauty had undergone an entirely new rebuild during the offseason, and he put up a valiant fight, but when you flew across the finish line ahead of him and claimed the world championship, he had been the first one to wrap you in a crushing hug.

But what would come next? As your relationship continued to grow, you couldn’t help but feel a growing conflict of interest. How much longer could you really go on competing against him? How much longer until Tony accused you of playing favorites and pulled you from the cockpit? He had tolerated your relationship with Helmut to date, but he kept a much stricter eye on your performance. Your win this season had probably secured your position for now, but could you keep it up?

You hated the unease that settled in your gut, intruding on your lovely evening with Helmut. Trying to brush the thought away, you snuggled into his side. It was usually so easy to let the stress of racing life melt away in this private haven of fluffy snow and roaring fires, but your anticipation for what lay ahead still lingered.

He took a sip of his champagne, glancing over at you with a small, almost hesitant smirk. “If you’re feeling up to it, I have something that I would like to discuss with you.”

Your brows climbed as your anxiety increased. “If I’m feeling up to it…? Shit, that doesn’t sound good….”

“It would be a big change for us, but one that I’m hopeful about. But before making any final decisions, I would value your input.” He shifted to pull out his phone, unlocking the screen and pulling up his email.

You looked on with confused curiosity as he opened an attachment and handed you the phone. An image of a black and purple catamaran greeted you, only… it wasn’t the same paint job. In fact, the pitch of the bow points, the slope of the canopy hatch, the arrangement of the exhaust ports – you were looking at a brand-new boat. Scrolling through the rest of the attachment, you took note of the specs. Everything about this new boat was bigger, faster, and more powerful than any boat allowed in the Super Cat racing class.

You turned back to him with the question on your face, and his mouth pulled to an almost sheepish, closed-mouth smile before he spoke. “What would you say if I bought a new boat and moved up to the Extreme Catamaran racing class? The longer that we’re together, the more that I want it to stay that way – and the last thing I want is racing to pull us apart.”

Your mind spun. Had you really been so easy to read? Or was this an initiative all his own? You wet your top lip as you glanced back down at his phone. “You… you would change racing classes for me...? For us…?”

He fixed you with an earnest gaze, his eyes glittering with the love that still took your breath away. “I can’t think of a better way to start building our future together - a better promise of things to come.” He found your left hand with his, interlacing your fingers. “First a boat, and then… when we’re ready, a diamond ring.”

Your heart stopped, stunned by his words. You couldn’t look away from him, overwhelmed by the implication. Forcing a swallow against your dry mouth, you found your voice. “A diamond…?”

“Or a sapphire. Or an emerald - whatever stone you prefer.”

“Oh, my god…,” you chuckled, giddy as a wide grin lit your face. “The stone doesn’t matter - well, yes, I mean - it does, but that’s not… you’d….” You trailed off, catching your breath against the rush of words. “You’d… you’d consider asking me that question?”

The corners of his smile tightened with a playful tease as his eyes saw only you. “Yes, draga. I would - and I already am - considering asking you to marry me someday. But only once we can do so without the media scrutiny of being direct competitors - assuming that’s what we want, and you’re comfortable-.”

You cut him off with a searing kiss as tears stung your eyes. His tender, champagne-sweetened kiss made your toes curl, and you didn’t stop the smile that split your face. “Yes, yes, yes,” you murmured against his lips. “I know you’re not asking me to marry you now, but god - if you change racing classes, then I won’t have to worry about you while trying to drive my own boat. I can actually watch you - and catch all of your mistakes! And no one will have to wonder if I’m slow in a turn to give you an advantage! And then, we can -.”

He sealed his mouth to yours, cutting off your enthusiastic ramble. You melted into his kiss, never having felt so secure and excited for your future. As the kiss slowed, you nuzzled against him with a deep sigh. “Your announcement about changing racing classes is going to make waves, you know.”

He chuckled, rich and throaty. “Not as much as any future engagement announcement.”

You laughed as you shifted on the couch to reach for your phone. “I can already see Stephen refusing to be my man of honor, but I’ll have to start working on him now to soften him up.

Helmut winced around a mouthful of champagne. “With that honorific, perhaps it’s a request better made in person.”

“Fortunately, I’ll have plenty of time.” You sat back against him, taking a sip of champagne and unlocking your phone. Opening the camera, you angled your champagne flute in front of the fireplace with both of your legs outstretched under the fur blanket in the foreground. His champagne flute joined yours, tilting together in another toast.

You snapped the pic as your heart soared. “You know, you’re far more romantic than I ever gave you credit.”

“So are you – when you want to be.” He leaned forward, setting down his champagne flute and hooking an arm around your waist. Shifting under the blanket, he reclined against the couch and tugged your back to rest against his chest. You shot him a playful glare as you opened Twitter, tweeting the photo with a simple caption.

Cheers to next season! 🥂🎄🛥

Closing the app, you dropped your phone back to the coffee table and settled against Helmut’s absurdly soft sweater. Fat snowflakes fluttered outside the dark window, landing on the snow-blanketed landscape. You sighed as contentment welled in your chest.

“You have to admit,” he whispered near your ear, “this isn’t a bad way to spend the offseason.”

“Well,” you teased with a shoulder shrug, “it’s no motorcoach, and I definitely prefer my water much less frozen… but on that note, what do you say to a hot bath?”

He hugged you tighter. “Race you there.”

Fin

Series Main List

Tag List: @hiraeth-the-dreamer @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @glimmering-darling-dolly @linkpk88 @groovyponypatrollamp @thedaisycrownwitch @reallystressedhoneybee @janine-007 @revolution-starter @lorna-d-m @strayrockette @raniiaaa

[sukirichi]

golden days

GOLDEN DAYS ; what it’s like dating Inarizaki’s golden boy

NOTE. kita shinsuke is amazing. he’s perfect. yeah, that’s it. i love him.

[THE FIRST MEETING.]

“I look forward to working with you!” You bow deep as a greeting, hands trembling as they wrap around the test packets. You’ve recently been appointed as the class assistant to help him balance his duties, whatnot being class president and captain of the volleyball team and whatnot. Kita Shinsuke is one of the most impressive students in your school without a doubt, and to be chosen as his assistant, the pressure is quite closing to choking you.

Gosh, you haven’t even ironed your vest down today.

With a grimace, you pat your skirt down in hopes to make yourself more presentable when he hums, silently taking the heavy stack of papers from you.

“I look forward to working with you as well,” his voice is smooth, cool, and gentle like going to a sunny beach on a cold day. It’s both chilling and warming at the same time, and you stare up at him with wide eyes. “Follow me. I’ll help you take this to the faculty room.”

“Oh, y-yes!”

You don’t miss the way he carries more packets compared to your load, but he doesn’t mind. Years of playing volleyball definitely gained him some strength in those muscles. Unable to help it, your lips tug upwards in a smile as you fall into step beside him, feeling weirdly giddy that he doesn’t seem to be that scary, after all. You both keep to yourselves all the way there, a comfortable silence stretching over.

Usually, you prefer noise filling in the gaps to avoid awkward moments, but with Kita, its appreciated, peaceful even. You welcome it wholeheartedly, that warm blossoming feeling erupting all over your chest even as you made it back to your classroom.

You fidget at the doorframe, wondering if you should say thank you or see you at the meeting after class, hands fiddled with one another while your eyebrows pinch together.

What can you say to Kita Shinsuke?

He beats you to it as he passes you by, his hands faintly grazing against the pads of your knuckles as he tries to fit himself through the door with your body blocking his way. “Thank you,” Kita nods politely, “I’ll talk to you later again in the meeting.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” you stammer, ignoring the loud beating of your heart. Could it just be you, or was there a spark of electricity when his skin came into contact with yours?

[THE FIRST STUDY SESSION.]

“Ugh,” you groan before falling onto the book right in front of you. Kita sits next to you, completely unbothered as he keeps studying his notes, his focus as unwavering as him. “Kita, I don’t understand a single thing.”

“Hmm, which part don’t you get?”

Your groan grows louder as you turn your head to the side, about to complain that proverbs just weren’t your thing, only to stop and flush heated. Kita’s leaned closer to you, unbothered by the lack of space or the fact that he’s close enough you could count his lashes, both bottom and top row. His eyes skim over the messy scrawls of your notebook, humming to himself before nodding.

“That one’s easy. I can teach you that,” Kita scoots closer, his pen spinning in his pretty fingers before he sees your quivering lips, cheek bitten inside your mouth. “What’s wrong?”

Of course he doesn’t know!

“Nothing at all!” you sit back up, spine straight and clearing your throat awkwardly. You make sure to keep your gaze averted from his the whole time, nails dug into your skirt as you pray to whoever diving being that he won’t get to hear the pumping of your heart in this proximity. “Oh yeah, I don’t understand this part. You get it though, don’t you?” That’s a rhetorical question – what exactly didn’t Kita know? – you can’t help yourself from asking just to hide your nervousness.

“Yes. It should be easy. Now, take a look at this passage…”

Although it’s your idea to join the volleyball captain the moment you saw him studying by himself in the library, you found to regret it afterwards. You couldn’t focus on a single thing at all, not when his fingers are so slender and pretty as they point to words blurring over the paper, his scent both calming and intoxicating.

You offer mindless nods every now and then, though his words enter one ear and out into the other. Minutes pass – maybe it’s even been an hour – you don’t really know.

Kita closes your books shut with a sigh, a sound he only makes when really tired. You panic and ready yourself to apologize for being such a burden when Kita closes his eyes, his chuckles soft and a little teasing as he shakes his head. “You didn’t understand a single thing, did you?”

Caught red handed.

There’s no point lying now that he’s easily seen through you, and your shoulders deflate, head ducked in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I was just distracted.”

“I know,” although his voice is nonchalant as ever, Kita is hiding a smirk and blushing cheeks behind the palm of his hand. He reaches over to get another book, English this time around; a subject you’re better at than he is, as a silent way of saying now it’s your turn to teach him. “Next time, focus on the lesson instead of staring my face, yeah?”

[THE FIRST HAND HOLDING.]

Life has been so sweet and golden ever since you and Kita started dating.

It’s honestly still so hard to fathom that Kita actually likes you – likes you enough to date you! Steam is pouring out your ears and your lips won’t stop shaking as you fight back a smile, in complete disbelief that Kita is walking right beside you, handsome and sweet as ever as you guys go out on your first date. He’s been the one to ask you out but lets you choose where you want to go anyway, but being the flustered, nervous mess you are, you just blurt that a walk in the park is nice.

You snicker at yourself while the memory replays. Walk in the park? What are you two, dogs?

Just thinking about makes you turn your head to the side, chin planted on your shoulder as you grimace. Kita doesn’t seem too bothered, but then again, he’s always been hard to read.

You gasp a little when Kita suddenly holds your shoulders, blinking rapidly as he switches positions with you. His face is blank, nodding once upon seeing you’re on the other side of the sidewalk now while he’s closer to the road. It’s such a respectful, polite act that isn’t even romantic at all, but you can’t help but smile anyway, giggling to yourself while Kita shoves his hands down his pockets.

“Something funny?”

“Nope,” you say with the ‘p’ popping, “Nothing at all.”

He raises a brow in question, but doesn’t pry further. You’re swinging your arms side to side, perhaps a little too giddy that you’re with him until your hand is rendered motionless. Brows furrowing, your gaze lands on the sudden warmth spreading all over you.

Kita is holding your hand, his thumb gently forming circles over yours.

If you were feeling giddy before, your eyes are pumping heart eyes now. It dawns on you that your hands are shaking and embarrassingly sweaty, soft against his rough ones, and you try to pull away to rub the sweat onto your skirt. Kita doesn’t give you the chance and tugs you closer instead until your forehead knocks onto his shoulder, making the docile guy snicker.

“Something funny?” you taunt this time around, using your other hand to rub at your sore forehead. He’s a lot muscular and firmer than you thought, making you look like a soft marshmallow in comparison. You don’t hate it though – if anything, it just makes you happier.

Kita notices this written all over your face as he smiles, leaning close until he’s looking at you in eye-level. “Nope,” he repeats, “Nothing at all.”

[THE FIRST KISS.]

Your hands are gripping Kita’s jacket so hard you fear you’ll break it. His hands are gentle and tender as they grip your waist, his little sighs into your lips enough to break you. Your eyes are shut tight, warm lips above his moving cautiously as to not weird him out even though he’s the first one that leaned in.

In your nervousness, your knee beside his body slips farther to the side until you’re falling from his grasp. You gasp at the sliding sensation as you pull away from Kita, hands clutching his clothes while you fall.

Kita, fast and careful as ever, simply places a solid hand flat at your back, wasting no time to bring you back into his lips again. This time around, he’s no longer soft, dominant even as he places you firmly above his lap, hands strong and wrapped around your waist.

You moan when Kita slips his tongue in, tasting the strawberry lollipop you were sucking earlier, the sweetness of it earning you a low groan from him as a reward.

At this point, your heart is about to combust. His hands are everywhere, lips and tongue tasting every inch and spot of yours like he’s been dying to have a taste this whole time. Your confidence grows the longer and harder he kisses you, hands moving up to his shoulders then to his jaw, cupping his face to press your lips harder against his.

Kita smiles into the lip-locking, bending his head sideways to kiss you deeper, his large hand now lingering at the back of your head. Faster than you would like, Kita pulls away, his eyes hazy with something unreadable – something different than what you usually see from him.

His lips are red and moist, and you breathe harder at the thought that your usual composed boyfriend is tethering at the edges because of you.

It makes you wonder just what else you could do to fluster him and bring out more different sides of him, but as always, Kita is one step ahead of you, your recent thoughts an old and never-ending plan of his.

“I love you,” he blurts out, rendering you speechless one more time. When you groan in embarrassment and hide your face in his chest, Kita laughs, the sound a heart warming one as if he isn’t enjoying how fun it is to tease you. Nevertheless, he only tightens his hold around you, pushing you over the edge again and prompting your heart to do unhealthy back flips the moment he kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

[2goth2moth]

What Kind of Fun do Vampires Have? (M!Vampire x M!Reader, NSFW)

Pretty sure that “willing blood bag for colony of vampires” is my new dream job. This is probably going to turn into a series, let me know if you’d be interested in me uploading versions with an AFAB reader :) 

Word Count: 2436

Includes: Blood, biting, consensual aphrodisiac (kind of), coming untouched, mild d/s overtones

Every second that you spent standing in front of the old building was another second you questioned your decision to come at all. It loomed, dark and imposing in the dusk, looking like the kind of place that would take a great deal of joy in eating up a person like you. You had gone looking for the mysterious building because of a rumour and an address handed to you by your friend, a piece of paper slipped into your hand with a wink and a quip about your “taste in lovers”. As if she had any room to judge…

But the rumours were about an entire vampire colony, and you just couldn’t help but be intrigued. Historically, vampires tended to be solitary creatures and actively hunted for their prey (and some still did), but modern colonies were said to actually keep humans in their fold, like employees.

Or pets, your brain supplied. 

A shiver went through you. It was impossible to deny that the thought was appealing. Now that you were here, though, you were starting to second-guess yourself, no matter how much the idea of being kept by a vampire colony set your nerve endings buzzing. 

“Looking for something, pretty boy?”

A silky voice sent you nearly jumping out of your skin. You whipped around to find its source, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a young man dressed in a dark green shirt leaned against a tree. He pushed off the trunk and started making his way towards you, each movement steeped in easy, confident grace. 

“H-hello,” you said shakily. 

“Hi,” the young man replied, voice tinged with humour. He stopped a pace away from you and smiled, a charming thing made of slightly crinkling eyes and very nicely shaped lips. “Looking for something?”

“Um...yes? I was told...I heard about a vampire colony. They live here?”

The young man’s eyes widened a touch. “Looking for a colony? You don’t look like the type to hunt monsters.”

 “I’m not. I’m here for...a different reason.” Your face heated, almost embarrassed by the implication. 

The young man raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “‘A different reason’? And what might that be?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you grumbled. 

“You don’t?” he asked. He stepped closer to you, so close that you could see each one of his fine, dark eyelashes. His lips split into a grin. Long fangs, pure white and wickedly sharp, snapped down over his teeth. “How about now?”

Your mouth went dry. “Umm…”

The young man-- the vampire-- chuckled quietly and stepped even closer, now almost chest-to-chest, and ran his pointer finger along the neckline of your sweater. You tried to look anywhere except for those gorgeous fangs in that very nice mouth, focusing instead on the small golden buttons on his shirt. They contrasted nicely with the bottle green fabric, and the first two were undone, exposing the very top of his chest. You absently thought that it was a good place to focus.

“My name is Sana, pretty boy.” His voice snapped you back to attention. “Are you going to stand out here all day, or do you want to come inside?”

“Come-- can I come in?”

He smirked at you. With practiced ease he hooked his finger into your collar and led you into the imposing building. He walked you through the doors, and into a room with a plush couch. He rounded on you, stepping close again. You swore you could feel his chest brushing up against yours through your clothes.

“Now, what’s this ‘different reason’ you’re looking for vampires?” He asked, voice saccharine-sweet and dripping with innocence. “You said you weren’t a hunter, but I can’t possibly think of why you would come looking for a colony.”

It couldn’t be more obvious that he was teasing you, that he wanted to make you spell out why you were there. 

You pushed through the embarrassment of having to explain. “I, um...my friend told me about this...your colony. And I know the rumours about how…”

“How we keep human members?”

The way he cut you off in such a matter-of-fact way made you snap your mouth shut.  

“Uh, yes?” You stammered, feeling your face heat up. “And I wanted...well, I was wondering if you needed a new...human.”

A little overwhelmed by having to admit it out loud, your eyes dropped away from Sana’s and back to the inches of skin exposed by his open buttons. It was still a very good place to look. A hand, shockingly cold in the already cool room, gently grasped your chin and tilted it up, forcing your eyes to meet his again. 

His thumb rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “And you wanted to…’apply for the position’?”

You nodded. 

Sana smiled sweetly, and turned your head back and forth with that same tender grip, looking at you with an appraising gaze. He made a quiet noise of approval. “I know that I wouldn’t be opposed to having a pretty little thing like you around the house, and I’d be shocked if anyone else would complain about it.” 

A whimper threatened to escape from your mouth at that. 

“But I’m the only one here right now. And it’s very rude to take on a human without the whole colony wanting them.”

Your heart dropped. “O-oh. Okay, I can leave then. Sorry to intrude…”

“Hey.” The hold on your chin tightened. “Who said anything about you leaving?” Sana stepped towards you, making you back up until the back of your knees hit the beautiful couch you had noticed earlier. His hands, firm and steady against you, guided you to sit down. He settled down next to you. “I can’t decide that you’re our human all by myself, but there’s no rules about us having a little fun while we wait for everyone to get back.” 

He let himself drift closer to you, and you could feel his cold presence raise goosebumps on your skin. 

“What kind of ''fun”?” You asked.

“I’m a vampire. What kind do you think?”

Those beautiful fangs flashed across your mind again. “If you want to bite me...I’d like that too.” The awkward wording sent embarrassment through you, and you dropped your gaze again.

Sana laughed, the sound clear and sweet. “I’m glad that you’d like it too.” He shifted even closer, and his voice dipped sharply, suddenly low and sultry. “Because it’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

His cold breath fanned out over your neck. You groaned under your breath, lifting your chin to expose more of the warm skin for the vampire to nose up against. The tip of a tongue flickered over your jugular. The trail of saliva tingled slightly, sending sparks into your fingertips. A thought crossed your mind. “Sana?” A quiet hum into your neck was his only response. “Is your spit an aphrodisiac?”

He pulled back from you, a thumb replacing the tongue rubbing over the side of your throat. “Kind of,” he said. “It numbs down pain and heightens pleasure, but it doesn’t mess with your head. And it doesn’t absorb through skin.” A slow drag of the pad of his thumb sent a shiver rippling down your spine. “Do you still want this?”

There was no question in your mind. “Absolutely.”

A soft kiss was pressed to the column of your throat before those fangs sunk deep into your neck. Even though you had been prepared for it, the sudden pain of it made you gasp. It lanced through you sharply before slowly melting into a gentle warmth. The feeling was comforting as it thrummed through your veins. You couldn’t help but sigh and lean closer to Sana. He worked his fangs a little deeper, and sucked lightly. 

“Ahh.” 

The moan slipped out of your mouth unbidden. The barely-there suction felt unbelievably good, and you pushed even closer to Sana. He smirked against your skin. His hand-- skin still cold to the touch-- came up to cradle your face, tugging your head backwards to expose even more of your neck. The touch made you moan again, and you could feel your cock start to harden, pleasure coiling deep in your stomach. The grip on your throat loosened and his fangs slid out of you. Something warm and wet-- probably blood, maybe spit-- dripped down before Sana’s tongue darted out to lick it up. The flicker and drag of the tongue against your skin pulled more quiet sounds of pleasure out of you. The hand not occupied with holding your head in place crept down to grasp at your hip. The chill seeped through your clothing, and the pressure made your hips buck involuntarily. A dull throb settled in around the still-bleeding bite.

“Are you okay, darling?” Sana crooned to you. 

That sinful tongue ran over the shell of your ear before his mouth lowered to suck lightly on the wound again.

“It just feels so good.” Your chest was starting to heave with heavy breaths. Every touch on your skin felt electric, like a livewire connected to each of your nerves. 

“I told you it would.”

The hand that was holding onto your head tightened suddenly and pushed you to the other side. He licked his bloodstained lips before lowering his mouth to the unmarked side of your neck. Lips, warmed to room temperature by your skin, just barely ghosted over you, raising goosebumps in their wake and sending more heat pooling in your gut. 

Your moans were breathy and muffled as you bit down hard on your lip, trying to be as quiet as possible. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this."

“Is it too much?” Sana asked, pulling away a little bit. The loss of contact made you whine and arch towards him.

“N-no,” you groaned, “I just don't think I’m going to...last much longer.”

The hand that had been gripping your hip trailed up to slip under the hem of your shirt. His fingers stroked teasing circles into your abdomen, tightening the pleasurable coil in your belly. “I didn’t expect you to.”

You didn’t have time to react before he once again sunk his teeth into your undamaged flesh, lovely mouth finding its place right where your neck met your shoulder. The pain was almost nonexistent, just sharp, deep-seated, irresistible pleasure. Sana’s soft lips suckled on your skin with hellish gentleness, pulling blood from the wound around his fangs. Your hips bucked up again, thrusting into nothing, trying desperately to get some friction against your cock. He unclamped his jaw from your shoulder, fangs slipping free. Warm blood flowed down from the bite, catching briefly at the base of your throat before sliding further down and touching your shirt. A delicate, cool finger hooked into your collar and pulled it down before it could get more stained. His tongue chased the blood back to its source, lapping it up with intoxicating deftness. Each stroke left a trail of chilled spit over your skin, cooling even further in the air of the room. Choked-out noises of ecstasy fell from your lips with every slick drag. You wriggled about, trying to twist far enough to get Sana’s leg between yours, so riled up that you would happily hump yourself to completion on the thigh of a vampire you just met. It was a hopeless pursuit, his hand returning to your hip to keep you pinned to the couch with superhuman strength. His thumb stroked the crease between your hip and thigh as his mouth went back to sucking on your neck. 

“Please…” you began begging. Your hips were stuttering up into the air and your gut tightened even more. 

Sana’s lips disconnected from your throat. He kissed the wound and then the soft skin behind your ear. You were practically drooling at this point, your hips twitching constantly into the air. All of the feelings were getting so overwhelming that you felt the slightest push in any direction would make you completely unravel. The hand that still pulled your head back tightened, fingertips digging into your skin. The one at your hip began stroking the area through your clothes, straying up under your shirt, drawing torturous loops over the side of your stomach. His mouth landed over his bite once more and he sucked hard on your neck. You could feel the moment when that lovely tongue flicked out of his mouth and swirled over your heated skin.

The coil snapped. 

You arched violently off of the couch as you climaxed with a broken, sobbing cry. Waves of impossible pleasure washed over you as you came in your pants, completely and utterly untouched. The world went fuzzy around you, warmth and ecstasy still coursing through your veins. All you could feel was the world around you melting into a syrupy haze in the aftermath of such an intense orgasm. 

Something icy-cold touched your lips, and a sweet and tangy liquid was poured into your mouth. Orange juice. You noticed a hand cradling your head, and a gentle voice speaking quietly.

“Drink this, darling. You just lost a lot of fluid.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and saw Sana sitting next to you, holding a bottle of juice to your lips. The corners of his mouth were stained red with your blood, and his skin had taken on a warm, flushed appearance that you hadn’t even noticed it was lacking. 

“How was that, sweetheart?” He asked with a voice drenched in fondness.

Taking the bottle from him, you took a few more gulps, steadily feeling much less wrung-out, though the wonderful afterglow remained. “Mmmm, it was amazing.”

Soft fingertips smoothed over the bite marks on your neck. “Are you in any pain right now?”

“None. It still feels so good.”

He chuckled, moving forward to kiss your cheek. “It will for a bit longer. They’ll heal fast, probably by tomorrow, but you’ll feel pretty achy and bruised in a few hours. I won’t need to feed for a week at least, but you shouldn’t let anyone else feed from you until the bites are healed.” He absentmindedly rubbed a finger along your earlobe. “That is assuming that you’re still interested in staying to meet the rest of the colony?”

Draining the orange juice, you put the bottle down on the floor and leaned into his touch. “Of course I am.” The statement was simple and to the point, disarming in its honesty.

The smile he gave you was pink at the edges and could have outshone the sun. 

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hii i'm just wondering if you're taking regular requests? Like, not the nsfw ABC one? If you are, then can i maybe request a hc of how the boys would react when they're getting turned on from something MC does but she doesn't realize it? (If everyone is too much then just Arthur, Vincent, Isaac, Dazai and Mozart hehe) anyways, thanks in advance!

Yes I am still taking requests. (I really enjoyed this one) Thank you for requesting and if you would like me to do the rest of the residents just say so and I shall do as you ask. Enjoy.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Le Comte, Sebastian, Arthur, Vincent, Dazai, Mozart, Isaac

Pairing: x Female MC

Word count: 2183

Warnings: mentions of blood, character unwillingly being watched while naked, nsfw (barely though)

Le Comte 

His body rocked gently with the carriage; the movement already lulling her to into a deep sleep. Moonlight trickled in from the window, caressing her skin like ghosts dancing across a marble floor. Her breathing is interrupted, speeding and slowing at times as is she was being pleasured. Her lips parted slightly to release a breathy moan, “…comte.”

The scent of arousal stained the air in the carriage as Comte’s face pinches in pain. “Ma Cherie,” he whispers; the wisps of his voice inaudible to any soul other than himself. “Such a wicked temptress you are.”

He reaches out; her skin warm against the cold pads of his hands. His fingers trace the curve of her reddened cheek, ghosting over the sharp cut of her jaw, dipping lower to kiss the rushing vein of her neck. His fangs pulsed, chest heaved, eyes stalking the female like a wolf would its prey. The pureblood hastily jerked back, hissing as if her skin had scalded him. A quick movement and fangs penetrated the tendon of his thumb, his eyes rolling closed as he reigned in some semblance of control. Releasing his hand, Comte panted, a thin trail of saliva connecting his abused flesh and lips as his nails raked tears in the plush seat below causing white feathers to float down like snow on a cold winter’s morn.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so vulnerable to me, Ma Cherie… after all, I am a still beast,” he paused his smooth words to watch a ribbon of red seep from the healing marks on his flesh, “and you, a lamb ripe for the taking.”

Dazai

Her skin was flushed from the heat of the thermae, her features relaxed in a soft smile. The candle light illuminated her curves causing her to appear to be what Dazai could only define as a fertility goddess basking in the warmth of light, unbashful to any who might stumble upon the ethereal sight. Her soft breast surrounded by ringlets of wet hair raised as she placed a towel along the top of her head, shifting her hand along the white threads. Water droplets slid down her flesh forcing pale yellowed irises to stalk the clear liquid.

The mysterious turn of his lips seemingly permanently chiseled into the planes of his face dropped into a frown; the want to overtake and claim her body was demanding and too fresh.

Like a wounded animal lapping at its bloodied paw, the beast inside his heart curled, growling, daring anyone to approach him and his possessions. Blood dropped down his chin as his fangs chewed wildly at his lip. His cock raised, sliding against his thigh, swelling with lust and need for the vulnerable female before his trembling form.

Her eyes shot towards the widow mimicking the shiver sliding down her spine; her mind reeling with images of feral yellow eyes watching her, memorizing every dip of her body, but was greeted by a lone tree branch swaying gently in the breeze.

Dazai heaved against the trunk, nails clawing at the harsh bark, moans muffled by the tight palm of his hand as a wet stain slowly spread over the fabric of his clothing, concurring the cloth like the pleasure tumbling through his mind. 

“How far I have fallen,” Dazai whispered, pleasure still rolling through his body, “she who was oblivious to the monster peering through the glass barrier will surely gaze at my dilapidated form with astonishment when the sun kisses the horizon. Innocence dripped from her womanly body like the water warmed by her flesh.”

Dazai smiled a broken smile only men who had been starved of all hope would recognize, “my, how these sinful fingers would corrupt that innocence she holds so close to her breast.”  

Vincent

The stroke of his brush against the canvas was wild, vigorously hurried. The thought of losing the memory chiseled into his mind’s eye fastening his pace. His heart beat with a fury the painter didn’t know was possible as his breath stopped; the air only releasing from his lungs when the pounding in his head became too unbearable.

All she had done was smile, her lashing fluttering, colored orbs bashfully glancing away, a blush staining her cheeks as she tucked a stray piece of silken hair behind her ear. Behind the same ear that glinted with a sliver cuff matching both Theo’s and himself. Vincent’s eyes had widened in absolute disbelief in what he was witnessing. Beauty beyond humanly possible had stood before him; enchanting him, leaving him a slave for her touch.

Every emotion he possessed was being laid bare on the canvas with each brush of color against the skin of the canvas. He worked until red stained the sky, rising over the horizons like the god of war riding a flying chariot. His fingers throbbing with pain from the constant movement, never being allowed a break. He gazed at the painting like a lover would their other half. The oils still vibrant was moisture. Vincent craved for the color of her skin to be beneath his fingers, warming the rough flesh of his palms, not stuck, forever frozen in time, trapped in the same position for all eternity.

His cock strained against the confines of his trouser, lips being tugged into a pained whimper. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine refused to drown out the overwhelming scent of her very being still coating the insides of his lungs. His tongue traced over his fangs; the wonder of the taste of her blood running through his mind. His eyes rolled back as he imagined the softness of her body against his own. His soul was on the canvas- the act a declaration of his love and lust for the woman he had yet to call his. 

“Will you ever look my way, I wonder,” Vincent murmured into the night. His words never being heard by another soul.

Arthur

The door creaked as Arthur pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit room, the candle on his desk burned down to a nub from the hours of being aflame. It was well past midnight when he had returned from the tavern with Theo, he had told her not to wait for him, but she had tried to stay awake; that much was obvious with the scent of chilled coffee mixing with the sweet smell of her flesh and old paper staining the air. A dark mug placed beside her sleeping form on the nightstand as well as a book, forgotten, tucked between the pads of her fingers. Lips parted slightly to release soft, comforting snores, her hair flowing around her form like wings, the curve of her hips being insinuated by the wrinkled, white fabric of his shirt that clung to her slowly breathing body. The sheets of his bed bunched around her knees; the sweat lightly dampening her forehead a sign of overheating.

Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of her heart shaped bottom peeking out from under the shirt. How he would love to see the flesh of her bare bottom rippling from his thrusts as he pounded into her, making her squeal with pleasure.

“Did you do this on purpose? You naughty little minx,” rumbled Arthur. His jaw clicking with movement as he advanced towards his desk, shaking his head to clear his lust filled mind. His stomach grumbled, mouth watering when he noticed the small, mesh pouch of packaged fudge resting on the wooden surface of his desk. Arthur threw his head back, groaning with pleasure, eyes drifting closed as he whispered, a content smile tugging at his soft lips “ass and fudge… damn I love this bird.”

Isaac       

 Isaac shifted his shoulders, forcing a crack to resonate down his back- a regular occurrence the entirety of the day. His form was hunched over his desk, his cheeks flushed, and brows furrowed in concentration; gentle metal clicking reaching her ears. The sheets were soft against her bare legs as she shifted, placing her book down against a nightstand; stretching her arms above her head.

“Isaac,” she hummed.

It took the physicist a few second before he recognized her voice slipping through the air. “Yes, my love?” He responded.

“Does your back hurt?” He didn’t realize she had left her place on his bed to tip toe behind him until her breathy whispers tickled his ear, causing him to jolt slightly.

“A little. The damned thing refuses to stay connected,” the chair creaked under him as he leaned back into his lovers hold, gesturing to the trinket pieces resting on the wooden desk. The warmth from her arms seeped into the skin around his neck while he continued, “I might have to ask Leonardo about it, unless I find-.”

Isaac was irrupted by the strong caress of female fingers shifting over his shirt clad shoulders. Her lips pecking once at the top of his head, thumbs tracing the curve of his tense shoulder blades, digging into his muscles in a pleasant motion.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Stuttered the pale haired man, his hands raising slightly off his lap in shock.

Her slow, relaxed sigh sent a pang of electricity straight to his slowly hardening member, “taking care of you. What else would I be doing?” The flirtatious tone of her voice paired with the warming friction of her fingers against his skin forced Isaac to tug at his tightening trousers; a low whimper being muffled by his teeth, an embarrassed blush warming his ears.

“…the gods help me,” he whispered.

Mozart

The piano was chilled as Mozart leaned against the whitened wood, her giggle forcing a small trimmer to befall his lips. The sweet taste of the chocolate paired with the strong hints of coffee filling slid over his palate like the words falling from hers, “do you like it?”

Her eyes were bright, humorous with a small, barely-there tint of insecurity as he swallowed, smacking his lips to further live in the taste. “It is alright, I suppose,” he mumbled.

She smiled softly, returning to nibble at the half-bitten piece of chocolate resting between her thumb and forefinger. “Ah, its melting!”

Mozart rolled his eyes at her disbelieving tone of voice, answering with his own, “yes. It does that. I thought you weren’t idiotic enough to not acknowledge that-.” His words were caught in his throat as he saw her finger disappearing into the cavern of her mouth; her cheeks hallowing slightly as she sucked at the digit. Her eyes stared at the floor in concentration, her brows being pulled together from the thoughts running through her mind. Slowly her finger reemerged, her lips releasing the flesh with a soft pop.

Mozart swallowed thickly. Denial ran rampant through him at the feeling of his trousers becoming tighter to a point it was somewhat uncomfortable. He could still see the melted brown on her tongue as it darted out, licking at her thumb like a snake scenting the air.

“Wolf? Are you feeling okay? You’re a little red,” her words were close, her breath smelling of cocoa as she placed her lips to his forehead, checking for fever. He sputtered, falling back to place his hands roughly against the ivory keys forcing a deranged concoction of notes to shift through the air, “do not- do not do that…,” he huffed. Wishing nothing more than for the earth to split and swallow him whole at the high-pitched crack of his voice.

Sebastian

His hair was a mess, water still dripped from his chin, his tie loosely dangling around his neck, his breath coming out in hurried pants as Sebastian launched himself into the kitchen, throwing himself into motion only freezing when his lover’s laughs penetrate his ears.

“I’ve never seen you this frazzled Sebastian,” she giggled walking over to him, taking the tie between her fingers and knotting the fabric. She had yet to notice the panicked scowl on his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I don’t see how being late to wake is a laughable matter when it concerns the wellbeing of the residents.”

She glanced up, a brow raising slowly at his accusing tone of voice, “I woke up early and did your portion as well as mine,” she paused, placing a gentle kiss to his wet cheek, smiling gently, “you have been more tired than usual so I figured I let you sleep in.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his head fall back, his eye lids closing as a low groan left his lips, “I love you.”

Her love-drunk giggle made him smile brightly; his stone façade non-existent as his lips locked and parted with her velvet hills quickly. Hands slid down his back to rest against his hips making a shiver run up his spine; heat pooling into his eyes at her affections. He growled lowly, nipping at the shell of her ear, “good girls get rewards, and you’ve been a very good girl.”

Breakfast was a little late that morning.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

[caffeinatedopossum]

would b interested in the other stuff u wanted to add to the heating post if u feel like sharing (if not ofc feel free to just ignore this)

Of course! Unfortunately I feel like this will be more of a warning than any advice but I hope that's still something at least.

So for context, the first winter, me and my mother were living with my sister in her new house, where the heater was actually broken. The house was between 40 and 9 degrees F at all times. The second time, there was no reason it should have happened. My mom bought an uninsulated shed with no electricity and plumbing that she wanted to turn into a tiny home. And me and her slept there but spent most of our waking time in my sister's house (because obviously the shed was miserable).

My mom had a very strange idea of what was and wasn't a necessity and heating, electricity, and plumbing seemed to go in that unnecessary category. 🤦‍♂️

So first off, starting with the best advice I can give if you're unavoidably stuck in a home with no heat: if you have electricity or hot water, get a hot water bottle or heating pad for every person there. Put it under your blankets with you anytime you have to sit/lay down. Blankets/coats/etc alone will not be enough as your body eventually loses energy. Drink hot teas and eat warm foods- it's ESSENTIAL that everyone eat enough as those calories will go towards warming you up. Wear shoes in your house as your floor will get very cold. If you can, spend as much time in heated buildings (even if its public- like a store or library) or vehicles.

If you have hot water and decide to take showers in a house with no heat, just be prepared for excessive steam. You'll want to stay in the blissfully warm water for hours but the steam may become so thick that it's actually difficult to breathe (and I'm pretty sure this could make you sick as well though I'm not sure). On a less dire note, it can also cause water damage to any wood and the ceiling/walls of your bathroom so brief warm showers are probably the best.

I have more advice if anyone wants it but this is already really long >_< so lmk if any of you want a pt. 2

[love-and-monsters]

Cold Sea Monster

M sea monster X GN reader, 2,713 words.

Winter is a rough time for monsters who usually live in the tropics. Luckily, he can rely on you to keep him warm. 

There was a lump in the blankets of your bed. You prodded at it, lips pressed together to hold back a giggle. “You can’t stay in there all day. You know that, right?” The lump wriggled away from your touch. “Come on. I need to make the bed.”

“No, you don’t.” The voice was muffled beneath the cloth. The lump curled into a tighter ball.

 “I do. And you need to get out of bed sometime today.” You tugged at the edges of the blanket, trying to force it up. Claws hooked it from the other side, pulled it back down. You swallowed hard against the tidal wave of giggles.

“I’m hibernating.” The lump shifted and you managed to get the grip you needed to wrench the covers up. Your partner wailed as the cold air touched him. “No! Give me back the blankets!”

 “Get out of bed,” you said, staring firmly down at him. “It’s past noon.”

He slunk slowly out from under the covers, gazing at you with enormous, sorrowful eyes. His dark, fishy eyes gave him a look like a kicked puppy. Luckily, he’d given you the look so many times, you were immune.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “You can go get in the hot tub, if you want.”

Getting a hot tub had been expensive, but absolutely necessary when your partner was amphibious. He was covered in pale blue scales that melted into skin on his belly. Brightly colored fins stood on the top and sides of his head and his long tail ended in an enormous, frilly fin, though it was folded down most of the time. He crouched on his long, digitigrade legs, peering at you with soulful, sad eyes.

“It’s so cold,” he whimpered. You rolled your eyes.

“I turned the thermostat up.” Keeping a tropical boyfriend warm in the winter was a pretty big task- even with the thermostat in the seventies, he still shivered and complained.

He looked sorrowfully at the electric blanket as you tucked it away. His mouth gaped in an enormous yawn. It was quite a change to see him now from the summer- he was usually energetic, but the instant the temperature started to dip into the forties, all his enthusiasm seemed to drain out of him.

“I set up a fire downstairs,” you said. “And a humidifier.” The drying effect of heating a house wasn’t great for an amphibian either. He yawned again, standing to his full height. He was much taller than you, with long limbs that helped him move through the water.

“Okay.” He snagged a quilt from his blanket pile and wrapped it over his shoulders. “Are you done?”

You smoothed down the last of the bedsheets. “Yeah, I’m done. Do you need me for-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he had seized you and pulled you into his arms. You yelped, startled, though not entirely surprised. He had a habit of picking you up and hauling you around. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, he simply pulled you into the living room. The fireplace was going, and there was a humidifier humming away in the corner. A heating pad sat tucked in a pile of soft blankets.

He wasted no time burrowing into them, you still in his arms. “Hey,” you said, squirming. “Come on, Morgen, I have to go to work.”

He rolled over, smushing you underneath him. “You work from home!”

“Yeah, on my laptop. Which is in the office. And not here,” you said. Morgen grumbled.

“What I mean is, there’s no way they can tell if you’re in the office on time or not. So…” He squirmed over, trying to give you another sorrowful, big-eyed look. It was a bit diminished by the fact that he was mostly covered in blankets and it was hard to see his face.

 “Look,” you said. “It’s past twelve. I’m technically on a lunch break right now, but I am going to have to go back to work eventually. And you’re going to have to let me go eventually.”

 “That’s what you think,” Morgen said, puffing up his chest. “I could lie here all day. And you’re going to lie here with me!”

You stuck out your tongue at him. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh.” He gave you a playful shove. “Why do you always have to ruin all my perfectly laid plans?”

“If reality has started screwing up your plans, maybe they weren’t perfectly laid in the first place,” you pointed out. Morgen wrapped you in his arms and pulled you further into his enormous nest of blankets.

“Shh,” he said. “Be quiet. Let’s take a nap.”

There was more work to be done and a billion other things you could be taking care of at the moment. But it was so warm under the blankets and Morgen was rubbing at your tense shoulders in a way that felt so nice after hours of bending over a computer, and the idea of crawling back into the cold office and staring into a screen was sort of depression.

You groaned and rolled over, pressing your face into his shoulder. He made a quiet noise of triumph next to your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “Yes. I win!”

“Yeah, sure,” you grumbled. “Hope you like going to bed alone because I’m going to be staying up late finishing all my editing.”

“Noooooo,” Morgen wailed. “I hate going to bed alone! It’s so cold.” Despite that, he didn’t make any attempt to release you. If anything, he clung tighter. You snorted, stroking your fingers along the top of his head. His fins twitched as you ran your fingers along them. They twitched and jerked under your ministrations. His fins were so delicate and sensitive. Apparently, they could pick up subtle changes in the currents when he was underwater. On land, they made him very ticklish if you played your cards just right.

One of his ear fins twitched wildly as you ran a calloused fingertip over it. “Cut that out,” Morgen said sleepily.

“Yeah?” you said, scratching at the thin membrane. “What are you going to do about it?”

Morgen made a noise that could generously be described as a snarl and less generously described as a snore and rolled over onto you. “Gotcha,” he mumbled, wrapping his tail around you. “Now you’re never getting out.” You were completely smushed under him, though he was leaning back so you could still breathe. His tail was twitching, fins slapping against your back. It was rather funny, the way he wagged his tail when he was comfortable.

There was very little you could do to actually get him off you. He was pretty heavy and as he started to relax, the weight only seemed to increase. It was still pleasantly warm under the blankets, though his skin was cool against you. You closed your eyes, running your hand along the top of his head.

You startled awake abruptly. Your head was hazy and confused and your sense of timing was completely lost. It could have been thirty minutes or six hours for all you knew.

Muzzily, you poked your head out from under the pile of blankets. Morgen was still on top of you and he protested sleepily against your movements. After a moment of craning your neck, you caught a glance at the clock.

“Morgen, you need to get up. It’s two thirty.” He groaned, attaching himself even tighter to your side. “I need to work, come on!”

“No! I’m sleepy and you’re so warm.” It was impossible to get up with Morgen attached to you. He was so tall and his gangly limbs meant that he could very easily attach himself to you and he couldn’t be pried off.

“It’s past two! I need to work.” You kicked the blankets away from you and shivered. Even with the fire on, the warm was still pretty chilly. Morgen whined and retreated back into the blankets like a deep-sea creature recoiling from sunlight.

“You’re going to abandon me,” he said. He blinked at you from under the blankets. Somehow, having the blankets tangled around him only served to make him more pathetic. “Your boyfriend… all alone… cold and abandoned.”

“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to be one room over! You’re going to be asleep, you’re not even going to notice that I’m gone.”

“I’ll notice,” Morgen said sorrowfully. “I always notice.”

You hesitated, then crouched down next to him again. “Okay. I think I have a plan. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

 He looked suspiciously at you, but he let you leave. You trotted to the office and carefully pulled your laptop free from its nest of wires.

Morgen had fully buried himself under the blanket when you returned. He peeked out as you stopped next to him. “You brought your computer,” he said.

“Yeah. Budge over, make some space for me in the blanket.” Morgen was only too happy to do so, rolling over and lifting the blankets so you could shuffle in next to him.

It was sort of hard to write while lying on your stomach. Resting all your weight on your elbows hurt after a bit, and it was awkward to type. Morgen didn’t help in any way. He was half-sprawled over your back, a heavy weight that pressed you into the ground. Despite all the discomfort, though, you didn’t want to change your position. Morgen made little, sleepy noises of contentment as he pressed his face into your shoulders. Occasionally, he would even move to press kisses to the base of your neck. It was utterly delightful.

The afternoon dragged on. It was impressive how much Morgen could sleep, really. And such a change. It was strange to think about how much temperature affected his mood. You looked at him, curled against your side. He wasn’t quite entirely asleep, you thought. It was more like the sleepy hazes your childhood cats had gone into. His eyes were closed, but his fins twitched at the slightest sound and you could see his eyelids twitching every now and then.

You only ended up working for a couple of hours. Not only were you getting stiff from trying to type on the floor, but you were also growing increasingly distracted by Morgen. He had started to stir and was clearly trying to get your attention.

“Do you need something?” you said, finally pushing your laptop away. Morgen beamed, tail wagging so hard it shifted the blankets aside.

“I think I just got it,” he said. He tucked the blankets securely around you. “Want to put on a movie?”

“Are you actually going to stay awake through the whole thing or do you just want something in the background while you go to sleep?” you asked. Morgen tried to look innocent and utterly failed.

“It’s not my fault the cold makes me sleepy,” he said. “You can put on whatever movie you want! I won’t even complain if it’s one of those really boring ones.”

“The Poltergeist is not a boring movie. You just have no appreciation for subtlety,” you said.

 “It’s so subtle that nothing happens,” Morgen said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get why humans are so scared by it.”

There was no way either of you were going to win the argument, so you just grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Morgen wasted no time in sprawling himself across your lap, still smothered under several blankets. In the end, you put on an animated move you’d both seen several times before. Morgen said the way the water was shown reminded him of home, and you liked the story and bright colors.

Morgen dozed on your lap as you half-watched the movie. In truth, you were more paying attention to him. you worked your fingers over his scalp, scratching against the fins. He made little noises of satisfaction, leaning into your touch. For a water creature, his cat-like behavior was rather funny.

“I can’t believe how much you can sleep,” you said as he started awake and shifted his position on her lap. “You’ve barely been awake for two consecutive hours.”

“It’s the cold,” Morgen said. You ran your hand along his head and he pressed into the touch enthusiastically.

“Does the cold just make you more sluggish or does it actually make you need to sleep more?” you asked. Morgen rolled onto his back, his head still resting on your lap.

“This is just a guess,” he said. “I’m totally speculating here based on some stuff I’ve heard, but I think it’s mostly accurate. So, my species lives in tropical areas, yeah? But it was thought that in the past, we lived somewhere a little more temperate, that sometimes got cold snaps. And when there were cold snaps, in order to conserve energy, we went into a hibernation mode, where we all gathered together and slept until temperatures rose again.” He yawned, showing off his large canines. “Sorry. Anyway, when we moved to more tropical areas, we stopped needing to hibernate, but we still have the genes for it.”

“Which means that spending time in the cold is triggering your need to hibernate,” you said. “That’s why you’re sleeping so much. Your body is trying to hibernate.”

“Mm,” Morgen murmured. “My body wants to find somewhere warm where I can sleep until the temperature rises.”

You stroked your hand over his head again, fingers twitching. There was an abrupt feeling of nervousness coalescing in your stomach. “It must be hard. To fight that.” You played with one of his fins. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“I’m sleepy a lot. And cold a lot,” he said. “It’s a little uncomfortable, I suppose.”

You pursed your lips. “Would it…” There was something choking happening in your throat. Morgen blinked up at you, waiting for you to keep speaking. You cleared your throat a couple of times. “Er. Would it maybe be easier for you if you did hibernate? I mean… If that’s’ what you’re supposed to do in the winter? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Morgen looked up at you with his big, soulful eyes. “If I’m asleep, then I can’t spend time with you.”

You snorted. “You’re avoiding hibernating because you’re afraid I’m going to miss you?” It was unreasonably sweet and it was also fairly accurate. You pushed your sorrow away, though. It wasn’t fair to him, to force him to stay awake for you. “I mean, I will, but it’s only during the winter. And you’ll be awake sometimes. I’ll manage. You’re not the only person I talk to, you know.”

Morgen’s fins drew close to his face and he gave a small, slightly sheepish smile. “I wasn’t really worried about you missing me, exactly. I was more worried about me missing you.”

You made a noise of surprise. “You’ll be asleep. Are you even going to notice?”

He flicked his fins out and in, his version of a small shrug. “I think so,” he said. “I haven’t just been wanting you around because you’re warm. I love you a lot. I want to be with you.”

“I know,” you said. You couldn’t keep the emotion out of your voice and Morgen smiled, pressing his face into your stomach. “But I don’t want you to make yourself sick or something because you’re not doing what you should during the winter. And I really don’t want you doing that on my behalf.”

“I’m not doing it on your behalf,” Morgen said, his voice muffled. “I’m doing it because I want to.” He turned his head to blink sleepily up at you. “Trust me. I’d much rather spend time with you, even if I’m a little sleepy, than spend all winter asleep.”

Your eyes stung with tears. You sniffed. “That’s the sweetest thing I think anyone’s ever said to me.”

Morgen lifted his head toward yours, smiling. “It’s true.” You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed, reaching a hand up and pulling you down to kiss you more firmly.

“See?” he said as you broke apart. “I can’t get that when I’m sleeping.”

[teddyylou]

FLASHOVER: Klance - teddyylou

Post-mission hurt/comfort klance. Enjoy xx

-

“You really can’t come out of one day without a new purple mark on you, can you?” Lance called behind to Keith, his hand intertwined with his, hastily leading him over to a table in the observatory to tend to his bruises.

They were probably better off in the hospital wing, but everyone was still buzzing from the mission, giving everyone else a look over to make sure each team member was still intact. They liked it better when it was just them. Lance had stocked up a storage compartment by the lounges with some first aid, so that they could look at the stars and just sit with each other, alone, out of the way of anyone else’s gaze. They could process the fact that they’d lived to see each other another day, in peace.

Lance smiled as he helped Keith sit up on the table, eyes bright and tone casual and chipper, pretending that he didn’t tremble as he opened the first aid kit, or that he didn’t almost drop the box of band-aids he picked up.

Keith did the same: He pretended it didn’t hurt his back to sit up, and that he wasn’t completely and utterly exhausted both physically and emotionally. It had been a rough battle, they’d both been scared beyond their wits, but for the moment they could set it aside and purport the idea that everything was fine.

“It’s my body itching to be Galra, what can I say,” Keith shrugged, a giddy smirk on his lips as sarcasm bled into his words. Lance sighed a laugh.

“No, it’s you being impulsive and you can say sorry?” Lance’s tone was still upbeat for the sake of their juvenile ritual, but the seriousness of his words weighed down on Keith’s aching shoulders. Lance really wasn’t alright, even if they both were pretending not to know it.

“We won, no one got hurt,” Keith assured him. Lance raised a brow. Instead of retorting, he jabbed a finger into Keith’s rib, casing an immediate jerk reaction from his boyfriend who slapped his hand away. Lance pressed his lips into a think line pointedly. Keith stared back for a moment.

“No one got badly hurt,” He corrected. He could feel the weight of reality weighing down heavier, but it was easier for the both of them to ignore it for a little while longer. They were both so drained from the fight, it was better to keep up the loving banter, shovelling the dread off to future Keith and Lance. Lance rolled his eyes with a huff, eager to let it go for the moment as well.

Lance sponged a disinfectant wipe over Keith’s cheek before placing a band-aid on his wound, a small cut under his eye. He shook his head to himself, breathing out frustrated words under his breath that he didn’t let Keith hear as he used another part of the wipe to sop up the blood that had dried under Keith’s split lip.

Lance stood back and thought for a second, he tugged his lip to the side as if to shrug saying, ‘can’t put a band-aid on that’. So instead, Lance leaned down, offering a warm smile before pecking Keith’s bottom lip gently. He relaxed his shoulders as he stood. ‘All better’.

Lance placed his palms flat to the table, one either side of Keith’s legs. He looked down for a second, eyes darting back and forth, the previous few hours swimming in his head so impactfully Keith could almost pinpoint what part of the mission he was reliving. “You didn’t have to jet off away from the group though,” Lance told him. His voice was suddenly dull, gently being drowned out by the growing feeling of tension building up in the small space between them. Electrical currents zapped around in the mere foot that separated their faces. It was still a quiet hum, but it was also them. The dull roar was almost at its tipping point, like the muffled speaker of a house party that would become clear if someone just opened the door.

“I knew I would have him if I just pushed red to full speed, I had to take the chance,” Keith explained, his tongue the wistful hand that turned the knob.

“Yeah well, we couldn’t see you,” Lance shouted suddenly, his voice dark and deep as he slammed his hands down on the table where they laid. Keith jumped a little where he sat, not expecting the outburst. They were usually pretty good at keeping their cool until they settled their object permanence. Lance took a breath, closing his eyes in silent agreement. They were not about to fight. “Are you feeling okay?” He asked, voice calmer, quivering slightly, eyes darting to all the bruises he was yet to rub Altean healing cream into.

Keith could feel the tension under his voice like it was lacing his throat, sticking to each word as it passed but not quite willing to bubble over again. It was a really stressful battle when it could have been easy. They hadn’t been prepared. Keith knew how scared Lance got when they weren’t prepared.

They were best as a team when they all knew exactly what they had to do, saving some room for someone, usually Keith, to break line for some improvisation. He could see it in the tight miosis of Lance’s pupils, small with bright piercing blue irises showing like he was shell-shocked. Lance was angry at him. Very angry. And he probably deserved it too. But right now, they both just wanted to be close.

“Yeah, the hand-to-hand left me a little dusty though,” Keith said casually, not wanting to alarm Lance any further, attempting a last-ditch effort to lull the unrest back to sleep.

“Let me see your wrist,” Lance said flatly.

“My wrist is fine.”

“Let me see it…” he repeated sternly. “I told you to keep the brace on for longer.”

Keith hesitated but reluctantly held his hand out to Lance. The brunet took it gently and Keith watched intently as he pressed down on different parts carefully. He was afraid of another flashover. He never used to let people help him, scared to show people that he needed it. But Lance was so kind and understanding. He made things feel less serious than they were. But that spark of trust could ignite a conversation to come alive. The delicate circuits they kept insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounded by the emotional charge of tension. They’d get heated like they always did. They’d fight. Keith didn’t want another chance to lose him.

Lance trailed the pads of his fingers up over Keith’s palms to prod the centre of his wrist joint. Keith flinched, feeling the pain shoot straight up his arm like a jolt of electricity. The sudden movement pulled a hiss from him as his entire forearm was encased in pain. It was silent for a moment

“You just don’t listen, do you?” Lance looked up at him from where his head hung, depleted. There it was, the flashover. He wasn’t yelling anymore but his tone was so cold Keith would have preferred it if he’d gotten heated. He’d rather be screamed at by Lance than have to stare into his eyes as the truth settled in that Keith had lied to him, to everybody.

“I tell you,” Lance pushed himself off the bench to pace on the floor in front of Keith. His hands were clenched tight like he was trying not to punch something. “I tell you every. Single. Time. Keith. Don’t push yourself or you’ll be out of commission and no help to anybody, but you just don’t listen. It’s like my words don’t even matter!” Keith winced, he sounded exasperated.

Keith drops his eyes to his lap. They do. You know they do,” he grumbled, face red hot with shame and trepidation.

“Yeah, right,” Lance muttered as he came to a stop in front of Keith again, catching his wrist before he can pull it away. He took some bandages and began to strap the injured limb. Keith felt the heat in his face subside a little. Even when furious, Lance still took care of him, still showed him he loved him.

“Listen… You have to take better care of yourself. If not for you, then for the team. For me. So I know that you aren’t going to get hurt, the kind of hurt we can’t just fix.” Lance went on as he wrapped another layer of bandage, pulling it securely tight. “Look, I know you’re reckless, that’s you and I have learned to love you for it. You like to have a stab,” he even laughed a little. “But being reckless is about not knowing if you can do something and trying it. That’s basically how we run in Voltron. But when you know you can’t do something then doing it anyway isn’t reckless, it’s stupid. You are human Keith, even if it’s only half. You have limits and it’s okay to not be able to do everything. You have to stop this silly one-man team bullshit. You could hurt yourself and get in some sort of trouble that I can’t pull you out of.”

Lance took a deep breath, finishing his work. “I can’t lose you, Keith.” And the fighting was done, the banter was done. The pretending was over as Keith pulled Lance into a desperate kiss, afraid to ever let him go again.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered against his boyfriend’s lips. They ended up on the floor against the table, sitting side by side to look at the stars and revel in the aftersome of the war. How they ended up loving each other so much.

Keith was astonished to think of the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought them to that moment—as if he’d spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decisions, any one of which might’ve changed everything. It made that moment feel so impossible.

“You know, it’s 5 pm home in Texas, all the cadets would be heading down to the mess hall, classes and training done for the day. Life was so easy when you didn’t have to think about it,” he said, almost in disbelief that he’d ever been one of those cadets in this lifetime.

“It’s 4 pm in Havana,” Lance replied.

“Hmm,” Keith hummed, “happy hour.” Lance snorted at that, shrugging as he opened another storage compartment in the table. He pulled out two beers, handing one ice-cold brew to Keith before uncapping his own.

“Always past noon somewhere.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Supposedly 

A/N: this was a request sent in that inspired me a lot for some reason and i figured i’d do it cause i haven’t done any demon!h and demon!reader in a while so i gave it a go and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D enjoy!

Anonymous: This may be too cutesy for them, but do demon!harry and demon!reader ever cuddle after they fuck? Or they fall asleep separately but wake up in each other’s arms and just try to play it off awkwardly 

word count: 4.5k

content: some angst but nothing major, fluff, mentions of nudity, and some cocky asshole demon!h because that’s his Brand laidese and germs!!

///

Despite the emotionless, unattached agenda demons tend to uphold, let it be known that Harry didn’t really mind what was happening at the moment. 

On the surface level, from an outside perspective, this definitely doesn’t fit the bill for what is expected from his kind. Cuddling is an action reserved usually for real couples that have a sentimental bond, which he and Y/N are very much not. He’s not even quite sure what they are, really. Their relationship— if he can even call it that— was born out of three very important, adequately limiting notions: a mutual understanding, the desire for a convenient warm body, and sheer boredom. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The mutual understanding was that neither of them wanted a genuine significant other, given what they are, so it was established that feelings were to be kept out of this arrangement completely. Emotions lead to complications, complications lead to a falling out, and a falling out would be inexplicably messy considering that they’ve shared the same friend group for well over a decade now and neither are willing to let a booty call mishap ruin that. Feelings stay dormant, end of discussion. 

The desire for a convenient warm body is pretty self-explanatory— Harry and Y/N had known each other for a while now so there was no annoying getting to know you phase, they both agreed that they found the other attractive, and they both live relatively close to one another so it was a pleasant set-up with minimal issues. Harry could shoot her a text at three in the morning and she’d be at his place in less than five minutes, or vice versa. There was no spending hours at a bar trying to pick someone up, no time wasted learning what the other person likes and dislikes, and certainly no fretting over birth control tactics to keep up appearances— they were both dead, which is a morbid advantage but an advantage nonetheless. It was easy access, easy fun, and easy clean-up. 

The sheer boredom aspect was just that. It had started on a drunken night out with friends, where— by a series of fortunate events— Harry and Y/N had ended up together post-bender, sitting in his car in the parking lot of a club. They had been waiting for him to sober up to drive them home and she had made a passing comment about not wanting to turn in for the night quite yet. He’d blinked at her sluggishly, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind her ear because he was getting secondhand irritation from it tickling her nose. He’d spoken up, voice numb and thick from the alcohol. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Y/N had glanced over at him, eyes half-lidded as they had raked down his lean tattooed chest, his unbuttoned silk sheer shirt leaving very little to the imagination. When she’d pinned her gaze back up to his, her eyes had inked black as they’d flitted to the palm of his hand for a second, a suggestive glint washing across their reflective surface as the corner of her pretty mouth had quirked. “I have a decent idea of exactly what I wanna do.”

And now here they were, with many restless, heated nights, ruined bed frames, and rumpled sheets littering their past, as well as their immediate future. 

And here Harry was, slowly blinking awake after one of those said nights, cruel scratches itching across his back as they finish up healing, an empty content still bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 

His lashes flutter open as he inhales a large sigh, flinching at the bright sunlight filtering its way through the lightly swaying curtains. The only sound in the room is the soft thrum of the air vent at the far corner of the ceiling, alongside Y/N’s soft, rhythmic breathing. 

In his barely conscious state, Harry goes to do what he always does the morning after he’s spent a night doing Y/N’s back in: he goes to stretch. He does most of the work more times than not— courtesy of his dominant tendencies— but she always gives him a run for his soul. Anything he dishes out, she usually returns with the same amount of energy and will. Last night hadn’t been any different and the ache at the bottom of his spine and along his inner thighs proves it. 

Harry instinctively goes to lift his arms above his head, reaching for the top of the headboard to use it as support. He is stopped cold when he realizes a foreign weight is keeping one of his arms pinned to the bed. 

He knuckles at his eyes with his free hand, ridding them of the last residues of sleep, and then drags his palm up his face and through his mussed curls to comb away his disorientation. He cranes his sore neck to the side and downwards, eyebrows jolting up in surprise when he’s met with a wall of fluffy, tangled, mandarin-scented hair. 

Harry lifts his head up slightly, neck straining to see over the back of Y/N’s wild halo to make sure that the image before him isn’t some type of exhaustion-induced mirage. 

It’s odd for her to be so near him— she usually likes her space; says that being too close in proximity for too long is irritating. It’s why she usually sleeps with her back to him at the other end of the bed, and why he’s gotten accustomed to giving her the majority of the mattress space. Despite the fact that it’s his flat, she’s stubborn, hard-headed, argumentative and frankly, he’d rather just forfeit the extra leg room instead of bickering for thirty minutes just to end up losing anyways. It’s gentlemanly, in a sense. Minimal, but it’s something.

Given Y/N’s general disgust for excess contact, it’s no shock as to why Harry is utterly baffled right now. He’s about ninety-eight percent sure she’d fallen asleep all the way across the expanse of his sheets so how did they willingly end up here? How did they end up with her bare back pressed to his chest, her legs intertwined between his, and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist, wedged between her hips and the bed. 

Harry would never outright admit it but...he’s not necessarily mad about it. 

As he lays there for a few more seconds, absorbing the situation with an expression of pensive dismay pinching his face, he slowly comes to terms that he’s actually starting to enjoy this.

The warmth of her smooth skin gradually undoes the knot of confusion between his brows. The sensation of her back flushing against his chest as it rises and falls with her breathing erases the unease dipping the corners of his stinging mouth. The way she’s started to unconsciously rub her calves gently up and down his own makes the last traces of unsettlement melt off his face, replaced by an appearance of subtle affection, lips parting in blank wonder. 

Harry relaxes back into the plushness of the mattress, eyes remaining glued to a blissfully ignorant Y/N. His thoughts are scurrying around the inside of his skull, attempting to get accustomed with this new experience, having a difficult time arranging into place. He’s aware that he seems to be taking easily to what’s unfolding, but there’s an unsteady bubble inflating in his chest. He knows that if he lets himself dwell in this too much, it’ll end up biting him in the ass later, most likely as a wave of undealt emotions and crippling loneliness; that’s baggage he’s spent too many years compartmentalizing for it to all just come bursting out. 

All those decades of locking away his issues are in danger of resurfacing, and all for some harmless hugging? Doesn’t seem like a fair negotiation, and he knows plenty about negotiations. 

However, he can’t seem to make himself pull away. 

Especially not when Y/N suddenly shifts in her sleep, turning onto her other side so that she's now facing him, snuggling deeper into his body and tucking her head into the junction between his neck and collarbones. Her annoyingly soft, hot lips smear against his throat, settling into the dip at the center where a pulse would normally be present. The feeling of her exhales washing across his cold skin sends a wringing down his spine, a hushed “fuck…” escaping his dry mouth as the warmth behind the gesture spreads upwards, spilling redness into his cheeks and along the shells of his ears. Her hands come up as loose fists, pressing between his pectorals lightly, her own naked chest flushing against her forearms. 

Surprisingly enough, her supple chest isn’t at the forefront of his mind at this instant. Instead, he’s focused on the intimacy they’re sharing in this moment, unbeknownst to her and stressfully beknownst to him. 

Harry’s free hand acts of its own accord, coasting upwards towards her face and moving her chin over a bit until his palm can comfortably nurse her jaw. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly, every ridge and bump sending miniature shots of electricity surging through his veins, his eyes falling shut at this strange form of pleasure he hasn’t felt in ages. 

Y/N just looks so beautiful like that, in such a vulnerable state that he knows for sure no one else has ever gotten to witness— at least not in a very long time. 

No one else has gotten to see the way her lashes sit atop her cheekbones so delicately, her face soothed by sleep, not a wrinkle or grimace in sight. She looks as if she were made of porcelain, her features nothing short of perfect. No one has gotten to witness the way she mumbles a handful of incoherent, groggy words, her mind lost in a meaningless dream, or the way her nose twitches in the cutest manner as a draft from the air conditioning runs across it, causing her to sniffle. No one has seen the way she gives into his touch, her face cradling deeper into his hand, chasing the uncommon gentleness behind his demeanor and it hadn’t occurred to Harry that maybe— just maybe— she’s craving this type of innocent bliss, too, though he’s certain she would never confess to it if she were awake. 

Harry runs his hand down the slope of her bruised neck and across the curve of her shoulder, tracing the teeth marks he had left the night before. The tip of his fingers follow down the incline of her torso, wriggling around her side, his wrist resting upon the faint dip of her waist. He cups her lower back with his large hand, borrowing a moment to appreciate the way it fits flawlessly. He then leans forward some to give his reach more length, his digits carefully trailing up the middle of her spine, the action timid and tranquil. 

He looks down at her from over the tops of his colored cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he continues to lull his fingers up and down her back. Y/N releases a shy whimper of gratitude, her whole body bathing in a light shiver. She does like it.

Harry swallows thickly, moving away a few locks of hair off her shoulder with the tip of his nose, glassy jade irises studying her facial expressions to make sure she’s still asleep. He puckers his tingling lips, pressing a bundle of chaste kisses to the fading bite marks on her staticy skin. If his heart still beat, he feels like it would be glowing right now. 

He tilts his chin up, settling it on top of her head and sighing in satisfaction as he feels her steady breathing wash across his Adam’s Apple, her flyaway hairs tickling his nostrils. 

He decides to stay like that for a while,  just basking in her company within this tender setting that he knows he probably won’t receive again anytime soon. Harry lays there, limbs woven between Y/N’s as his black-polished nails scratch gently at her back, swimming in his numb thoughts. 

After what feels like hours— but is realistically just ten minutes— he goes to gingerly shift the arm stuck beneath her body, trying to regain some circulation. Y/N stirs, resulting in him freezing in place to prevent a mishap, his mouth finding her warm forehead and placing a lingering kiss between her brows. It eases her. 

Harry waits five minutes before trying again.

He manages to escape this time around, lifting his arm above his head and twisting out the cramp in his wrist, then folding it behind his head. He allows his eyes to shut once again, intent on spending a bit longer milling in this bubble of domestic peace.

His plan is shattered to pieces by an alarmed, angry sentence. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyelids fly open, ice materializing across his entire nervous system. 

Shit.

Y/N launches upwards, sitting up rigidly with her face contorted in startled repulsion, clutching his blood red sheets to her chest as her hair stands up in tousled tuffs. “What in Lucifer’s red, barren hell are you doing?”

Harry now has two distinctive routes to pick from: confess to partaking in the unorthodox cuddling, or fake it and say he was asleep as well and that it had all been an unintentional mistake. 

It’s hardly a choice. 

He flings his arms away from the other demon’s body as if sickened, shooting up into a seated position and slouching back onto his palms, a look of agitated horror plastered across his sleepy, handsome features. “What do you mean what am I doing? What the fuck were you doing?”

Y/N blinks at him as if he’d just stabbed her between the eyes with a demon blade, irises momentarily flitting black with nerves, the area under her waterline webbing with dark veins. “What do you mean what was I doing? You were the one with your arms around me!”

Harry narrows his sight at her pointedly, thick brows furrowing with faux resentment. “You were the one with your head snuggled into my neck and your hands on my chest!”

“You were the one kissing my forehead!”

“You were the one rubbing up on my legs!”

“Because you were close to me!”

“Because you rolled over here!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh, so what?” Harry snaps sarcastically, drawing forward and crossing his arms over his chest adamantly. “Did an angel sneak in and place you there? Because as I recall, you always sleep on the left side of the bed, so what were you doing on the right?”

Harry’s accurate counter renders Y/N speechless, her mouth parting quizzically as if waiting for a response to magically appear. Her eyebrows cinch down begrudgingly, the gears in her head spinning on overdrive, trying to piece together an appropriate rebuttal. Her grasp tightens on the blanket covering her bare body. “Well, I...I don’t know—I don’t think I—”

Harry cocks his head to the side expectantly, loose curls falling across his forehead as he shrugs his brows with a condescending air. He mimics her with a high-pitched voice. “Well, I— I don’t know— I—I don’t think I—I—I—”

Y/N’s face goes sour as heat floods her cheeks, fire threatening to spark across the tips of her sizzling ears. She yanks the sheets off of him, holding them with one hand as she uses the other to begin crawling across the bed towards the edge, a haphazard defense thrown over her shoulder. “Shut up! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Harry scoffs in dark amusement, not even bothering to cover himself up. He bites into his cheek to keep from exploding into a round of triumphant laughter; he can’t believe he managed to turn the tides so quickly. “Oh, so you admit it was you, then?”

Y/N dismounts the atrociously tall bed, stumbling over the long linens as she desperately searches for her clothes. “No! I’m just saying that whatever happened, it didn’t happen intentionally!” 

“Obviously.” The brunette demon snorts, shaking his head for subtle emphasis, crossing his ankles offhandedly and returning both arms to the place where one had been prior— tucked behind his head casually. “What do you think we are, mortal?” 

“Of course not.” Y/N agrees quickly— a little too quickly, which hints to Harry that she might be trying to cover something up. Perhaps she wasn’t as disgusted by this as she had led on…

He watches as his friend— he uses the term lightly— shuffles around his room, peering at the floor in an determined quest to find her jeans, underwear, and black lace blouse. Or maybe she’s just hellbent on avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Y/N…” His tone has lost its arrogantly mocking edge, softened by what she can only decode as...guilt? 

She ignores it and doesn’t answer, nearly passing out in relief when she spots her panties and bra hanging off the doorknob to his closet. She snatches them swiftly, panning her gaze around the rest of the room for her leftover clothes, spotting them in a pile sticking out from underneath the opposite corner of the bed. They’d probably gotten kicked there in the heat of the moment. 

Harry repeats himself a little louder, adding onto his comment to try and stifle some of the embarrassment radiating from her. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave. You usually stay for breakfast.” 

Y/N scoops up her outfit, settling it into the crook of her right elbow and squaring her shoulders as if ready to brace a hellhound. Their gazes lock and he feels his stomach flop when he sees the vulnerability she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s good at it, he’ll give her that, but if he stares intently enough, he can just make out the traces of conflicted longing leaking into the disinterested facade around her pupils. 

“It’s fine, Harry.” She sighs heavily, her tone drastically different from the unkempt girl that had been floundering about just seconds ago. She’s now calm, cool, collected, and scaringly so. “I have somewhere to be later. Meeting someone to close a deal.”

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently, grabbing a handful of the sheets arranged around her figure and pulling away, dropping the bedspread at his feet and leaving herself completely nude. 

And there she is, the Y/N he so well knows. The same one that uses sex appeal as a shield. 

She’s managed to spackle the cracks that had appeared in her typical barrier of heartlessness, her confidence and ease leveling off once again. She places her clothes on top of the crumpled sheets, picking out her cheeky bright red panties from the heap and working them up her tempting legs. Harry can’t help but notice the hickies covering her inner thighs, as well as the finger prints staining her hips. 

Y/N catches him ogling, smirking to herself now that she has her composure back in order. She hooks her index finger around one of the straps in her bra, lifting it up and bouncing the lace lingerie in front of him teasingly. She raises her eyebrows at her lover provokingly, a sultry air pouting her lips. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Harry licks at his slightly chapped lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the article hanging off her hand to the sly grin decorating the edges of her pretty mouth. When he speaks, it’s low and thicker than usual, accent heavy. “Of course, pet.”

His legs thunk emptily off the bed and onto the floor, a small grunt catching the back of his throat as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He is most definitely sore. 

His footsteps are soft against the carpeted ground, faltering as he rounds the corner of the mattress. 

Y/N eyes his every move, suckling her bottom lip at the way his muscles flex and contract under his sun-kissed skin. She doesn’t let herself wander below his waist though; she’s never one to pass up flaunting her power of will. 

Harry stops about a foot away, taking the bra from she is offering and holding it out for her to slip into. She does so at a mind-numbing pace, her toes curling as she feels his warm fingertips running the material up her arms and onto their designated spot on her shoulders. He tugs at the hooks gently, pinning them into place and tucking the tag in, exactly how he’s seen her do countless of times before. 

He then runs the palms of his hands up her arms, sighing softly at the silky sensation of her skin and giving her shoulders a dismissive squeeze. “All done.” 

Y/N turns on her heels to face him, looking up innocently through her lashes, lips quirking into an easy smile. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.” 

Her playfully seductive personality is unbearably contagious, seen in how Harry returns her action with a coy scoff and a simper of his own. “For you, always.”

“Well…” Y/N turns her lower half to the side, showing him her ass for significance, which is covered in the unmistakable print of his hand and rings. “I wouldn’t say always.” 

Harry’s pursed lips break into an even wider shit-eating grin, his cheeky laughter echoing across the walls of the apartment, his arms absentmindedly folding across his broad chest. “Yeah, well, you can’t say it’s one-sided, can you?”

He points towards his neck, stretching his chin upwards so that she gets a good view of all the fading love bites she’d left there the night before. 

Y/N’s giggles match his. “Touché.”

Harry rummages through his drawers as she finishes getting dressed, shimmying into her tight jeans and throwing her shirt on, finger-combing her hair into a decent state. He comes up with a pair of maroon briefs, slipping them on as he walks back towards her, letting the elastic band snap into place against his lower abdomen. 

The two demons with benefits stand before each other, Y/N with her braided black sandals swung over her shoulders and Harry with his hands fixed on his hips nonchalantly. 

“You really can’t stay for breakfast?” Harry inquiries one last time, lifting his eyebrows curiously. “I’m making those cinnamon bun waffles you like so much.” 

Y/N sighs grandly, clutching her chest dramatically as if it physically hurts her to decline his offer. “I’d love to, but work is work. Don’t really have a say.” 

Her friend nods in understanding, well aware of the truth behind her words. “It is what it is, then.” 

“However...” Her sudden continuation makes his head perk. She reaches up, carding her fingers into his messy curls and combing them back from his face, tucking a handful of rebellious ringlets behind his small ears and giving him one final self-assured smile. “Do y’think you could maybe save me two and I can come pick them up tonight?”

Harry cranes his head to the side, placing a slow peck to the palm of her hand and then biting into her skin jokingly, a certain lewdness painted all over the deed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great.” Y/N quips happily, wrapping his curls around her knuckles roughly and hauling him in for a sloppy, dirty kiss that leaves his teeth numb and his face buzzing. 

Once she breaks their mouths, lightly panting with her skin a darker shade than before, he has to blink three times in order to reign himself back in. His ability to form coherent sentences right now is about as useful as alphabet soup; he just gives her a jerky nod instead. 

Y/N wipes at his swollen lips with the pad of her thumb, giving his cheek a playful pat. “I’ll see you then, H.” 

Harry can’t tear his eyes away as she leaves, his bedroom door clicking shut behind her, the soft, distant thunk of his front door accompanying the sound a bit later. 

Fuck, that was something is the first comprehensible thought that registers in his mind. 

It was absolutely something and who knows how differently it would have gone if he had admitted giving into the weakness they had both sworn off of. 

That notion haunts him for a while— the idea that he could have driven her away for good if he had confessed that his emotions had bleed through their arrangement. Sure, it had only been this once, but Harry has a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that he’s unlocked a box deep in the back of his skull that won’t easily be chained down again. 

He thinks this over again and again as he prepares his morning meal, the looming uncertainties of it all causing him to check out of reality here and there, resulting in a few burn marks across his hands and two charred waffles in the bin. 

As Harry finally sits down to enjoy the food that had nearly not made it to his plate, he finds himself mentally running through the awkward encounter he and Y/N had faced this morning. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on the expression he had seen crack through her eyes earlier— one that showed she seemed to be feeling the same kind of emotional turmoil he was. It opens too many unanswered questions for their future and he hates himself for being so worried when nothing had truly happened. For all he knows, it could have just been a trick of the sunlight that had been streaming into the room. He’s getting himself out of sorts for nothing. 

However, as he goes in on a forkful of his cinnamon-glazed pastry, one pesky detail suddenly launches him into a coughing fit. 

It was so minuscule he had missed it the first fifty times he had run through the events, but it had decided to prick him in the brain now, the weak dam of reassurance he had built crumbling to ashes.  

After Y/N had woken up, saw what was happening, and their fight had ensued, she had made a comment about how Harry had kissed her forehead. 

On the surface, it had seemed unimportant because yes, that is exactly what he had done. The problem arose when he remembered that she had been dead asleep when he had done that. 

Supposedly.

He had gone to remove his arm from below her body, she had fussed a bit, he had pressed his lips to her forehead to ease her, and she had remained asleep for a while longer until he decided to finish removing his arm. That final motion was what had awoken her.

Supposedly. 

If she had been unconscious the whole time they were cuddling, then how did she know he’d kissed her?

[yujikuna]

when the night is over

summary: bucky comes home to you after a long mission

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fluff, angst, and like two lines of smutty action

a/n: i always said i would never post my stuff on tumblr, but here i am. also, i’m sorry in advance. inspired by when the night is over by lord huron.

The white house across the field is illuminated like a mirage in the desert. The scene is picturesque in the way that dawn has begun to take over the sky, and the large willow tree that sits by the pond east of the house flutters in the breeze.

Every light is on, and the sconce above the front door is lit as a silent invitation for him to enter. Small lanterns line the path leading from the driveway to the porch, beckoning him forward.

He strips himself of his gear before he ascends the porch steps. There was no place for it there. This was holy ground not meant to be tainted by the dirt and blood caked on his soles and his heart. Each piece he takes off feels like a layer of skin being pulled back until he is left with only a bruised and tattered soul longing for solace. His boots are left in the yard.

The second step creaks under his weight and the rusted hinges of the screen door screech when he opens it. He would have liked to remember to fix them later, but all of his worries and responsibilities are forgotten as soon as he steps over the threshold into the metaphorical Eden that he shares with you.

There’s no need to knock. This is their sanctuary. A safe haven far, far away from the terrors of the world.

“Bucky? Is that you?”

Of course it’s him. It’s always him. No one else knows that this place exists.

His bare feet pad across the cold hardwood, following your voice and the smell of breakfast to the kitchen. It makes him think of someone else, someone older with blue eyes and brown hair like his who sang as they cooked and made him their certified taste-tester. But the thought is fleeting, and he pushes it away.

You’re a vision standing there in front of the stove. A dream. But you have to be real. There’s no way a man as twisted as he could ever create something as ethereal as you.

Bucky takes a moment to watch you. You’re humming and swaying to the song coming from the radio sitting by the window as you flip blueberry pancakes and sizzling bacon and stir scrambled eggs. He can’t see your face from where he’s standing, but he doesn’t need to.

He’s happy. He’s so utterly, devastatingly, happy that he can’t contain everything he feels within his cracked heart and has to let it pour out of him. Has to let it go wherever it can find a home. It always ends up finding its home with you.

He found his home with you.

He doesn’t think twice as he crosses the kitchen to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your hair, the strong scent of your shampoo tickling his nose. His titanium hand grasps your hip as his flesh one gathers your hair to push it over your right shoulder. You let out a soft sigh when you feel the tip of his nose trace a line from your shoulder up your neck, ending with a kiss behind your ear.

“If you want breakfast you’ll stop while you’re ahead, Sarge,” you tease. You don’t move away, though, just close your eyes and tilt your head back to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t need food,” Bucky says, the words muffled by your neck. “Just need you.”

The song changes, slightly more up-beat than the one before, but he just presses his chest closer to your back. He feels seventeen again, swaying with you to the mellow jazz in the background. The hand that was holding your hair trails down your side, stops to give your hip a little squeeze, and then continues its journey to your leg.

His calloused palm is rough against the soft skin of your thigh. A hum falls from your lips when his fingertips dance across the peach fuzz there, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It travels upwards again, but stops at the delicate hem of silky fabric.

“This a new dress?” Bucky’s face is still burrowed in the juncture between your shoulder and neck, a grin on his face when he feels you try and fail to suppress a shiver at his lips moving across your skin when he asks the question.

“Mhm. Got it on sale a few weeks ago,” you say. The kitchen is quiet for a moment, only the sounds of soft music and sizzling bacon filling the silence before you speak again. “You’ve been gone so long, Bucky.”

“I know. ‘M sorry. ‘M here now, though.”

You turn in his arms to face him. Something warm that he hasn’t felt since he left bursts in his chest when he sees your face. He had been gone longer than usual this time. Mission after mission after mission-- they never seemed to end. But even after all that time, here you were, just as beautiful as always. It was like you never changed.

A smile takes over your face when you look at him. “Your hair’s longer,” you say, running your fingers through the tangled brown tresses before swiping your thumb across his cheek to remove a smudge of dirt. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and breakfast will be ready by the time you get back?”

He wants to protest, wants to stay there in front of the stove with you and sway until the food is burnt and the sun finishes rising and sets again in the night. Wants to hold you until the house gives in on top of you and you both turn to dust and become one with the earth below.

He would be okay with that, content with the thought of his aching bones finally being laid to rest entwined with yours, but you just kiss the tip of your pointer finger and press it to the dimple of his chin before shooing him away and turning back to the food.

Breakfast is spent with you on his lap, his metal arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from getting up, the two of you basking in the first light of daybreak as it filters through the sheer curtains hanging on the window. In between bites he kisses your shoulder blade, and when you finish you cuddle against him while he goes back for seconds.

You’re so warm against him, and he can’t help but tuck his hand underneath your dress to feel the heat of your skin on his. He swears he can almost see his own breath.

‘S cold, he told you there in the kitchen. The furnace is acting up, you had replied. Another thing to add to the nonexistent list he was keeping.

Dishes are left on the table. Pans are left on the stove. The sink is so full that it’s overflowing to the counter. They’ll clean later. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. It can wait, but they can’t.

In the living room, a basket of laundry is taken from the couch and deposited on the arm chair instead. A stale cup of water from the night before is moved from the coffee table and poured into the overgrown pothos by the window and Bucky watches you sit the glass on the floor. It can wait.

It’s so achingly domestic, he thinks, coming home to a well-loved house and being well-loved by the woman in it. There are no false pretenses, no need for the two of them to pretend to be someone they’re not. It’s almost like he never left-- like time in the little white house in the field was frozen, allowing the two of you to pick back up exactly where you left off.

Bucky dutifully follows you to the couch, and the last of the tension in his body melts away when he opens his arms for you to fall in to.

He plans on staying there forever.

Soft touches and soft kisses and even softer words. The radio plays softly in the background as you tell him what he missed, and he listens diligently while you run your fingers through his hair. Eventually you pick up a thin book and a pen. You tried to show him how to solve the puzzle in front of you, but each time you looked at him you noticed the spaced out look and dopey smile he always got when he was watching you, and gave up soon after.

“…Six, seven, eight, nine.” The last number is nearly cut off by a choked giggle when you feel him start to kiss down your neck. He can tell you’re trying to ignore him, but he continues mapping his way down your body, looking up at you as he kisses the inside of your knee. “Bucky.”

The expression on your face is adorably stern, but the almost imperceptible quirk of your lips and the benign tone of your voice tells him everything he needs to know.

It’s there on the couch that he is given his final homecoming with your arms wrapped around him tightly and his hands, one warm and rough and the other smooth metal, grasping your legs. You’re a vision above him. A dream. Beautiful. Ethereal. He feels your warm breath ghost over his face and your eyelashes brush his cheek before you cum around him, a whispered ‘I love you’ and one final kiss urging him to follow. He would follow you anywhere. His beautiful girl. His home.

The air between the two of you is electric as you fall into his chest. He swears he can feel it in his fingertips, his toes, his brain, his heart. Every nerve in his body feels alive.

Another giggle and a slow, languid kiss is shared between you. “Do you think that was it?”

Bucky reclines on the couch, bringing you with him. “I hope so,” he mumbles into your hair. He pulls the discarded blanket over you to slow the creeping chill seeping into his bones. “We gotta get a move on if we’re gonna have four.”

You pinch his side and push yourself onto your elbows. “Four?” you ask, a teasing glint in your eye. “I’m pretty sure I agreed to one.”

“Nope, I vividly remember you telling me we could have as many as I want, and I want four.” The sun has set, but he ignores the darkness outside, instead focusing on your blissful smile and the way the soft light of the lamp on the table dances over your skin.

“Absolutely not. There’s no way I could handle four kids.”

“Okay,” he says, a cheeky grin on his face, “we’ll compromise and have six instead.”

“Six?” you squawk, your tone full of mirth. “Why stop there? We might as well have enough babies to fill an entire freight car.”

The electricity that runs through his body in response to your final two words is enough to make his jaw lock and his muscles seize. He can’t speak, can’t think, can’t hear your worried pleas for him to look at you.

Bucky wants it to stop. It’s too painful, too much, too soon, and he can see you above him still through the fog of his mind-- his shining sun. He can see you, can feel your hands on his face but you’re soon eclipsed by the current running through his body.

Too painful, too much, too soon. The night wasn’t over yet. He was supposed to still have time. Too soon, too soon, too soon.

Did he tell you he loved you? He knows he does, he knows you know, but did he tell you? He can’t see the sun anymore. Was it even there to begin with? He can’t remember.

Bucky closes his eyes, unable to move. He feels lost inside his own mind. Where was he?

When he opens them he thinks he sees the sun. But it’s not soft daylight being filtered through lace curtains or your warmth melting him down to his core. It’s harsh and white and he’s so, so cold.

A man steps in front of his chair.

“Доброе утро, солдат.”

“Я жду приказаний.”