#need to clear a spot on my bookcase for it but for now it can live w the guys on my dresser

[lightningbig]

look what came in today :D

[steddieasitgoes]

It’s Mother’s Day 1973 and Steve’s mom isn’t home.

Instead of spending the day with her only son, she’s left to follow her husband on his latest business trip. Steve doesn’t remember where she’s going, just that she promised to bring him back a snow globe for his collection. The one that sits on the highest shelf the bookcase in his room — collecting dust.

He’s been pawned off to his nanny again. Poor Ms. Anderson who has put her own middle-aged life on hold to raise a kid whose not hers. Steve’s not stupid. He knows his parents pay her well to take care of him, but he still wishes she’d tell them off. At least, put up a fight, so she didn’t have to spend all her weekends with him.

Usually the duo stay cooped up in the Harrington’s House. Ms. Anderson will cook him a nice meal and they’ll spend the afternoon playing games or watching movies. She’ll fall asleep early in the movie and Steve will disappear to play with his toys or snoop through his parents things to try to figure out where they’ve gone this time.

Today’s different though.

It’s Mother’s Day, after all.

Today, Ms. Anderson has taken him to Roane Hill Cemetery. She lets him hold a massive bouquet of pink carnations as she gathers a picnic blanket and basket from the back of her car.

“What are we doing here?” Steve asks, struggling to keep pace with Ms. Andersons determined steps.

“Visiting my mom.”

“But isn’t she…” Steve doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” she says, spreading out the blanket next to a small gravestone. “But just because someone’s gone doesn’t mean they’re out of our lives. Coming here makes me feel connected to her.”

Steve doesn’t understand that. 

How can Ms. Anderson feel connected to her dead mom if she can’t even look at her? He doesn’t even feel connected to his own mom when she’s in the same room as him.

Maybe it’s a girl thing, he thinks.

Steve sits down quietly, after that. Ms. Anderson clearly needs this visit and Steve’s not going to interfere with her plans. Not when said plans get him out of the house for the first time in a week. So he sits and listens to Ms. Anderson talk to the headstone. Watches as she digs out a small flower pot in the ground to place the flowers in.

It’s only when she ducks her head in a prayer that Steve decides to explore.

“Don’t go too far,” she warns. “And be mindful of others!”

The cemetery is full of older people. Some sit on blankets like Ms. Anderson with gorgeous flowers and picnic baskets full of food, ready to spend hours with their departed mothers. Others, stay for a few minutes. Set down flowers and tap headstones before ducking their heads while retreating to their cars.

There’s laughter and tears and Steve doesn’t know how to feel about all of it, except lonely.

He wishes there was someone his age around here.

Steve ventures deeper into the cemetery, where the trees are taller and fuller. Older, Steve thinks. It’s through a small clearing that he spots a boy about his age sitting in front of a headstone. An older man stands behind him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He’s too far away to know for sure, but he’s pretty sure the boy is talking to the headstone. Head tilted forward, shoulders hiccuping up and down like the boy is crying. Steve wonders who he could be visiting. Certainly not his mom, right? He’s much too young to not have a mom — Steve should know.

He watches as the little boy leans forward and kisses the headstone and Steve realizes it must be.

Steve must make a sound, a gasp or a small cry because the boy and the older man’s head whip around in his direction. He’s still too far away to hear, but he can tell the man is telling the boy something. Whispering in his ear before nodding his head in Steve’s direction.

He should leave. Ms. Anderson is probably done with her prayer now and she’ll be worried if he’s not back soon, but he can’t leave. Not when he spots the little boy trudging through the tall grass towards him.

“Are you lost?” the boy asks.

Steve shakes his head.

“What are you doing all the way out here then?”

Steve shrugs. “Was that… were you talking to your mom?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, looking over his shoulder. “Uncle Wayne says it’s good to come talk to her ‘cause she gets lonely too. Are you here for your mom?”

“Oh no,” Steve says. “My mom is, well she’s not here but—”

“Do you want to help me?” Eddie asks, before Steve can finish it. “Wayne wants me to go find a yellow flower in the field over there. It’s so big I could use some help.”

“Sure!” Steve says, happy to finally have someone his age to talk to. “But why yellow?”

“It’s my mom’s favorite color!” Eddie smiles. “She said, she always felt like the sun was touching her when she wore it. It was her happy color.”

Years later, when Steve and Eddie have reconnected and they’re going through Steve’s closet to find items to donate, Eddie will ask Steve why he has so many yellow sweaters.

“It makes me feel like the sun, warm and happy,” Steve says, smiling softly. “I used to wrap myself in yellow whenever my parents left me home alone.”  

And it’s then and only then do the two of them realize they met long before they crossed paths in the halls of Hawkins High and even longer before portals to hell-like dimensions open.

[kodaiki]

꒰ 4:46 P.M. ꒱ ❛ bokuto kotaro x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

it’d been twenty minutes since bokuto had noticed you walk into the library. the library was not a place he frequented often but with the results from his last exam and the verbal harassment from kuroo to go, he found himself sitting at one of those one-person seat/desks.

but then you walked in.

was he even studying anyway? closing his textbook, he slides it into his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder.

he probably shouldn’t be acting this creepy, especially at the fact that he doesn’t know you. well, he recognizes you from his literature course (it’s a core course he has to take in order to graduate) and it’d be a lie if he said he didn’t think you were the most gorgeous person he laid eyes on.

finding you settled in a spot between bookshelves, currently fiddling through the books on one of them, he finds his chance. lightly clearing his throat, bokuto walks by you and situates himself in a spot so he’s just next to you, only facing the opposite bookcase. 

bokuto hopes he’s appearing nonchalant as he cups his chin with his palm, occasionally humming at he skims the wide collection of books. yup, totally nonchalant.

while to you, he’s hoping he looks like he’s deep in thought, pondering over a book to read, he’s really gathering his thoughts about the best way to approach you without sounding weird. he knows you’re the best in his class. it’s clear as day by the way from just a row behind you, he can see the giant red ‘A’ on all your papers. you participate in class regularly and everything that seems to escape your lips is thoughtful in some way regarding whatever topic you’re discussing.

you’re way out his league.

but it doesn’t hurt to try and woo you with his social skills.

“ehm, do you need…help?” a voice behind him brings him out of his thoughts and he quickly whips his head around at the sound.

by his presence, your journey to search for whatever book seemed to have ended. feeling his cheeks flush under your gaze, he profusely shakes his head.

“no! er, no,” he lower his voice when he realizes he might’ve spoke too loudly, “i just love reading and i’m looking for my next…read…”

bokuto’s voice falls nearing the end of his sentence at the way your face twists into…confusion? amusement? he can’t tell.

“uh-huh,” you nod along with what he’s saying, taking a peek over his shoulder at the ‘collection’ he was looking at.

“i’ve actually read most of these,” he boasts, but the blush on his cheeks fails to subside. 

“…really.” your voice is lowering more and more with each statement of his and he thinks you catch his bluff.

“really! this…perso-author,” blindly, he reaches behind him for a random book. skipping past the title, he reads out the author’s name, “E. L. James? One of my favorites.”

that about does it for you.

the stoic expression on your face breaks as does your voice as laughs erupt out of your mouth.

bokuto’s…confused, to say the least.

what…what’s going on?

“please, i hope you’re not serious,” you gasp between laughs, wiping a stray tear from the corner of your eye. 

slumping forward in defeat, bokuto frowns. how’d you find out so quickly? did he choose an awful writer?

“i thought it was weird enough seeing a guy looking at ‘erotic romance novel’ shelf in the library but calling the author of 50 Shades your favorite? i knew it had to be some sort of prank.”

“oh,” bokuto says blankly, looking down at the book where the title was typed. ah, now he gets it. “it wasn’t a prank,” he murmurs.

at your confused head tilt, he continues, “i just wanted to impress you since i know you’re into reading.”

he’s expecting you to get freaked out and excuse yourself and probably never frequent that library again (bo, there’s one library on campus, what’re you talking about?). but to his surprise, you grin.

“wait, you’re that guy from my lit class! you compared hamlet to the lion king!”

to be fair, akaashi helped bokuto out with that assignment so whatever words he spewed out of his mouth were half of akaashi’s knowledge and half of bokuto’s bullshit. he didn’t even get a very good grade. but the C+ on his paper after seeing the way you smile at him about it looks like a golden A right about now.

“yeah…that was me.”

“you’re explanation could’ve had some work but i really enjoyed it. maybe over coffee, we can talk about it?”

oh.

OH!

“yes!” he just about exclaims, gripping onto your shoulders. “i mean,” he quickly lets go, rubbing a hand behind his neck, “sure, i guess i could go for some coffee.”

as bokuto leaves the library with you on the way to the coffee shop, he can’t help but thank the professor who gave him a D on his last exam and kuroo who wouldn’t stop bothering about studying. but above all, he thanks E.L. James for making it all possible.

✿ reblogs and interaction always appreciated !! ✿

[impishtubist]

@carlav-blogs and the Discord bullied me into this. An AU where the Marauders are all professors at Hogwarts, and the students can’t figure out who is dating who. @theresthesnitch has also written a fic in this ‘verse, and @carlav-blogs has done art for it. I am just jumping on the bandwagon :) 

----

“Hey, James.” Remus sticks his head in the Astronomy classroom. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“I’ve got some seventh year essays to grade.” James looks up from the parchment he’s bent over. There’s a smudge of ink across his nose. “Why?”

“Want to go make out behind Greenhouse Four?” 

James tosses his quill on the desk. “Absolutely.” 

It takes fifteen minutes for someone to catch them, a second-year who gasps when she rounds the corner to see Professor Potter snogging Professor Lupin. Remus pulls away from James long enough to wink at her, and she scurries off. 

“Good?” James says breathlessly. 

“We’ve still got fifteen minutes,” Remus says. “No reason to stop now.” 

He returns to class that afternoon with rumpled robes and messy hair, and his students spend the rest of the week whispering about it. 

---

Remus is in the middle of a tutoring session one Thursday evening when Lily pokes her head in his office. 

“There you are,” she says, coming into the room with a steaming goblet. She sets it on his desk. “Drink that right away.”

“Thanks, love.” He gives her a quick kiss on the lips. The third-year he’s tutoring tonight gives a tiny little squeak, and Remus smirks to himself, knowing that more rumors will be flying by dinnertime. 

---

“Lupin.” 

Remus looks up, startled, and sees Regulus standing in front of him, hands on his hips. 

“We’ve known each other for twenty years, Reg. I think you can call me by my first name by now.”

“No,” Regulus says bluntly. 

“Okay,” Remus says. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, I need you and your freakishly long limbs to get that book down for me.” Regulus points to the bookcase behind them. Remus gets up from the table he’s commandeered in the library and goes over to the bookcase. “The one with the red spine.” 

Remus rests a hand on the small of Regulus’s back as he reaches up to pull the book down. When he hands it to Regulus, he leans down and brushes his lips over Regulus’s cheek. “Anything else, sweetheart?”

Regulus steps back and clears his throat, his cheekbones dusted with pink. Behind him, a group of sixth years are shamelessly watching the whole exchange, eyes wide. “N-no, thank you, that’s it.” 

He practically flees the library.

---

Sirius has him backed against the wall of the cupboard, his hands under Remus’s teaching robes while he sucks a mark into Remus’s neck. He rolls his hips, and Remus moans, grateful that he’d remembered to throw up a silencing spell the moment Sirius pulled him in here. 

“Yeah, Pads, like that,” he says breathlessly. It’s like being fifteen all over again, rendezvousing with Sirius in various parts of the castle after curfew. 

The cupboard door opens, flooding the tiny space with light, and Remus yelps while Sirius curses against his throat. They both turn their heads to see a wide-eyed fifth-year Prefect gaping at them. 

“S-sorry, Professors!” they stammer. “It’s, um. It’s after curfew?” 

“Yes, thank you, Melinda.” Sirius reaches out to grab the edge of the door. “Excellent job. Good night, now.” 

He swings the door shut again, this time locking it with a wandless spell. 

---

Teddy drops into the seat next to Harry at lunch with a huff and slams a piece of parchment on the table.

“They’re at it again,” he complains. 

Harry scans the parchment. It’s a list of all the times in the past few weeks their parents have been spotted being affectionate with each other, including locations, times, and a description of what happened. He winces as he reads about Sirius and Remus being caught in a cupboard, apparently seconds away from shagging--he didn’t need to know that. 

The student body has been trying to figure out which professor is involved with whom since he was a first year. He’d thought they’d lose interest after a while, but five years later, the rumors are still going strong, and none of the professors seem to care. In fact, Harry is convinced that most of them are doing everything they can to fuel the speculation.

At the head table, James feeds Sirius a bit of pie from his own fork. Sirius makes a show of eating it, and then kisses James on the cheek, setting off a new wave of titters. 

“You get used to it,” Harry says, and Teddy scowls. 

“Our parents are so embarrassing.”

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

Fuck Buddies VI

Warning: swearing, drinking

You’re nervous as you check your hair for the millionth time in the mirror. You can feel your own heartbeat and it’s the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. You’re trying so hard to be excited about your date but all you can think about is Colson’s reaction when he hears about it. You tried your best to not make it seem like you wanted him to know. You casually mentioned it to Rook on the phone a few hours ago and you made it pretty clear you didn’t want him to tell Colson. However, you know Rook well enough to know that secret keeping is not his strength. You try your best to not feel disappointed that he hasn’t called or sent a text but it was a naive thing to expect. Colson has never done anything that is expected of him. Why would it be any different this time?

A knock at your door makes you jump and you have to remind yourself to chill the fuck out. You open the door, your best smile plastered on your face. When you look into Jacob’s kind eyes, your mind goes blank and all you can do is stare.

“Sorry I’m a little early. I guess I was a little nervous about being late,” he chuckles and rubs his neck anxiously. You remind your mouth and brain to reconnect and you let out a soft laugh.

“That’s ok, I like a man who’s punctual,” you reassure him, reaching out to squeeze his very firm forearm. You retract your hand quickly, not sure what came over you. “I just need to grab my shoes but you can come in and wait.”

You open the door further and allow him to come further into your apartment. You excuse yourself to your bedroom to grab your heels and check yourself in the mirror one last time. You do one more spritz of perfume and slip your feet into your shoes. Before you leave your bedroom you take one deep, cleansing breath and put the smile back in place. 

Jacob is looking through your bookcase when you come back into the living room and you watch him for a few moments before clearing your throat to let him know you’re back in the room. He takes you in, his eyes trailing up and down your body and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. His skinny jeans and button-up shirt are a confusing combination of neat casual and now your little black dress and strappy heels feels a little over the top for dinner.

Maybe lose the heels? Your subconscious scoffs and you blush.

“You look beautiful,” Jacob murmurs and you bite your bottom lip, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

Am I this awkward with Colson?

“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if I’d be overdressed but I guess it’s better to be overdressed than under dressed,” you ramble and you have to remind yourself to breathe again.

A knock at the door nearly gives you a brain aneurysm and you’ve honestly never felt so on edge in your life. Rook wouldn’t let Colson ruin the date would he? Naively you like to think that Rook has any control over the stuff Colson does but at this moment, you’re desperately hoping for a miracle. You throw Jacob a sympathetic expression but he just shrugs with a gentle smile.

You open the door and a very enthusiastic Sophie is grinning from ear to ear at you. Your blood pressure relaxes and you can feel your body relaxing. Sophie’s face falls when she looks at your outfit and at your perfectly styled hair.

“Shit, do you have plans tonight?” she whines and pushes past you. She stops short when she spots Jacob standing beside the TV and turns back to you, a now mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else was here.” 

“Yeah I um…I have a date with Jacob. Jacob this is my friend Sophie, Sophie this is Jacob. I met him last week at C-Colson’s party,” you stutter out a clumsy explanation for why there’s a strange man in your apartment on a Saturday evening.

“Well where are you guys going because there’s a group of us going to dinner and I do not want to be the only chick there.” 

She looks expectantly between you and Jacob and before you can conceive a shitty excuse in your mind for why you can’t go to a dinner where Jacob and Colson will be in the same room, and make it sound legitimate, Jacob cuts you off mid-breath.

“We’d love to join you! I would like to meet all of Y/N's friends.” 

Your jaw drops open and your heart leaps into your throat. You can't even hide your complete and utter shock at Jacob’s acceptance of the stupid invitation. Does he even realise Colson will be there? 

Well duh! He has no fucking idea how Sophie and you are friend genius! Your subconscious butts in again to yell at you and the blood physically drains from your face. 

The Uber ride to the restaurant is suffocating. You’re pretty sure neither Sophie or Jacob notice as they fill the entire journey with conversation. About 5 minutes into the 30 minute journey, Sophie drops the bombshell that she’s Colson’s guitarist and if that information made Jacob click, his face didn’t show it. Instead, he jumped into asking as many questions as he could about touring, travelling the world and performing live. If anyone was an outsider looking in, they’d think you were the third wheel by the way the two of them carry a conversation. Aside from having a large hand on your thigh, Jacob barely acknowledges your presence. 

When you arrive at the restaurant you immediately jump out of the car, practically gasping for air. Jacob puts his arm around your shoulders and you follow behind Sophie into the restaurant. You burrow yourself as far into Jacob’s side as you possibly can, shifting your eyes around the restaurant every now and again. The hostess leads you all to the back, into a private section that is saved for VIPs and private functions. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realise you’re the first ones to arrive. You take a seat in the corner and Jacob sits beside you. Sophie takes the seat opposite you and she nudges your leg under the table with the tip of her shoe. She narrows her eyes at you subtly and you shoot her a weak smile.

“Can I get you something to drink while you wait?” the hostess asks as you all settle into your seats. You’re the first to speak.

“Can I have a double shot vodka lime and soda with a sprig of mint, please?” you request quickly. 

Your go to drink seems like a safe choice, if you’re going to get through this evening, you’re going to need a lot of alcohol. Sophie narrows her eyes at you again but you ignore her this time. She shrugs and turns her attention back to her menu. You don’t want to be scolded for your shitty choices like a petulant teenager. You already know your own choices are dumb, you don’t need someone else telling you. 

“I’ll have a bourbon and cola,” Sophie says while looking through the food menu.

“Me too but can I get tequila and soda,” Jacob smiles at the hostess as he orders. 

You can see the way her eyes stay on him a little longer than necessary and you can’t really blame her. Even in the dim lighting, he looks drop dead gorgeous. She quickly excuses herself and mumbles something about a waitress coming back with your drinks. 

“What do you recommend?” Jacob whispers in your ear and a chill runs down your spine at his warm breath on your neck. 

“Hmm it’s tough to narrow it down to just a few things, everything is delicious,” you whisper back, your voice low and seductive as possible. 

Jacob grins at you and puts his hand high on your thigh, squeezing softly. You almost jump out of your seat as a pulse of heat travels up your inner thigh to your apex. Sophie pretends to be oblivious to us, scrolling through her phone and the menu but you see the way her eyes flick up every now and again towards the two of you.

A flash of blond brings you crashing back to reality as the hostess walks around the corner, a group of men following behind her. Colson is front and centre, Rook by his side with an attractive woman hanging onto his arm. Baze and Slim trail behind them, their eyes wandering through the restaurant. When both of them notice you, their eyes widen and they look like they’re desperate for an escape hatch. You feel like standing up and explaining that this whole thing wasn’t your idea and you just got dragged along. You want them to know that you’re aware that this is a disaster waiting to happen and you didn’t come here for the situation to blow up just for the hell of it. You’re not the kind of person that likes to watch the world burn. It’s not until another figure rounds the corner that you realise their expressions have nothing to do with your presence, but rather the person about to sit down.

Making their way to the table, Colson seems completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even sitting there. He’s so enthralled in a conversation with Rook that he doesn’t even look around before sitting himself down beside Sophie, directly across from Jacob. You’ve never wished for the ground to open up and swallow you whole more than you do right now. You look down at your menu, pretending to intently study it. The waitress finally returns with the drink orders and you breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Double vodka lime and soda with a sprig of mint?” she calls out from the opposite end of the table, looking around the table, waiting for someone to claim it.

Colson’s head whips towards her and then back along the table, finally spotting you in the corner. You kick yourself for ordering your usual drink. Any chance of making it through the evening undetected by him has gone completely out the window. His eyes widen as he takes in your appearance and then his eyes zero in on the man sitting next to and the way one of his hands disappears under the table. Before you can even say anything, a familiar shrill voice fills the silence space.

“Oh my god, have you seen the bathrooms in this place?” a woman squeals as she comes around the corner behind the waitress, taking a seat practically on top of Colson. 

You swallow harshly as you recognise where you know that voice from. Flaming red hair, long lash extensions, full fake lips, a deep tan, long red claws and a dress that barely covers her implants, pushing up under her chin so no matter how much you try, you can’t avoid staring. This night has gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes and you have whiplash just from sitting at the same table. The ‘date’ Colson brought to the restaurant is Carly, one of your old friends, who spent your whole friendship secretly trashing you behind your back and trying to steal your boyfriends. 

“That’s my drink,” you wave to the waitress and she seems relieved that someone’s finally responded. Even she can feel the tension in the room.

“Oh my god Y/N, is that you?” she whips her head around to give you the most malicious grin you’ve ever seen. “Damn girl! Long time now see!”

You don’t say anything, you just smile weakly and sip your drink. Rook and his date, who introduces herself as Chelsea and works with Carly, quickly take over the conversation and the air in the room begins to feel less smothering as time passes. You and Jacob seem to be enthralled in your own conversation, completely separate from everyone else but you don’t mind. You find it easier talking one on one than in front of a large group.

Carly is trying hard to maintain Colson’s attention but she can’t stop him from glancing over and scowling at you and Jacob every now and again. When no matter what she says can bring him back, she presses her chest against him and makes some comment about how hot he looks or how warm it is in the restaurant and she wishes she could take off another layer without being arrested. That usually brings his attention back to her and he’ll whisper something in her ear or kiss her neck. You have to try hard not to gag, instead focusing all your attention on Jacob. Her efforts were working pretty well until Jacob tells you a funny story from his childhood and has you almost spitting your food right at Sophie, that her tactics lose their power.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Colson growls at you, venom in his voice and contempt in his eyes. 

“Just a story Jacob told me,” you explain dismissively, annoyance clear in your tone.

“Why not share with the group if it’s so hilarious,” Colson quips back.

“Kells,” Rook warns but Colson is so hellbent on proving whatever point he’s desperate to make that he completely ignores him.

Anger begins to boil in your blood. Sure, throwing the occasional dirty look is one thing but trying to now purposely start shit is completely uncalled for. You stupidly thought that maybe Colson would just be mature and let the evening play out without trying to start anything but you should’ve known better. Maturity has never been his thing.

“It’s fine babe,” Jacob grabs your hand and squeezes it before putting his hand back on your thigh. Colson’s eyes zero in on the movement and his face pales.

Jacob begins to tell his story and everyone at the table is snickering under their breaths as he does. Even Carly has a genuine smile on her face as she listens intently. You smile at him as he speaks, telling his story so enthusiastically that your heart flutters at little and your chest warms. You feel a burning on the side of your face and you look over at Colson, his eyes ablaze as he watches you intensely. His big blue eyes look like they’re trying to convey something that words couldn’t but you can’t decipher it. The table erupts into laughter as Jacob reaches the conclusion of his story and the intense gaze between you and Colson is broken.

“Wasn’t that fucking funny,” Colson mumbles under his breath. Carly blindly agrees with him, even as she’s wiping tears from under her eyes. She senses herself losing Colson and when you think she’s about to give up, she directs all her attention towards you.

Fuck. 

“So Y/N, how did you and Jacob meet?” she gives you her biggest fake grin and your heart begins to pound.

“We met last weekend at Colson’s party,” you reply numbly, trying your best to seem unaffected by the sudden attention of the whole table.

“Oh so you and Kells aren’t fucking anymore then I guess?” she smiles again and you see the twinkle of evil in her stare.

The air in the room is sucked away and everyone is visibly uncomfortable, everyone except Carly and Colson who now has the same evil glint in his eyes. Sophie is choking on her drink, Rook’s mouthful of food is about to fall out because his jaw is on the table, Baze and Slim look like they want to leave and Jacob is avoiding everyone’s eyes. His hand is still on your thigh but it’s tense.

Fuck.

[inscryptions]

every year poses the same conundrum: what to gift the feeble scholar for his birthday? one would argue that it's an easy feat, considering kaveh has known the man longer than most. what they are unaware of, however, is the balancing-act that comes with this relationship of theirs. a gift should be thoughtful, yet not over the top. creative, yet still practical. an extravagant gesture would hardly do (though would alhaitham truly understand the subtle nuances of sentimental gestures?)

the sound of opening doors has the architect scrambling to get into position. hurriedly, he pins a sheet over the study's back wall and places a simple cake on the scribe's desk.

now, kaveh stands in front of it and waits.

//

"it only took you forever to get back," kaveh huffs, stepping back to reveal the dessert. "i was starting to worry the cake would go stale." he sighs. with nothing else to add, kaveh makes his way behind the desk. a tug of the sheet reveals a new set of bookshelves entirely — all carved from a rich wood. their sturdy frames bear intricate patterns of swirling vines and delicate filigree, each detail meticulously etched by skilled hands. his roommate's well-loved collection of books sit organized in neat rows, flanked by new additions kaveh has thought to add.

on the left side of the bookcase sits a lone, mounted glass shelf. kaveh clears his throat. "that's for your grandmother's book. i thought you might want a designated spot for it considering how important it is to you. anyway...happy birthday, alhaitham. no matter how you choose to spend it, i hope it brings you some joy."

The distinct feeling that Kaveh is doing something stupid prickles at the back of my neck, and I sigh as I do my best to brush it off. If all goes well, hopefully I won't have too much of a mess to drag him out of when I get back. Honestly, I just want to go home, have a nice bath, and curl up with a new book. It's been a game today of attempting to get my work done while also avoiding people with questions that don't actually need my help (is it seriously so hard to look up the latest research in the House of Daena? You'd think these researchers were practically bottle-fed by the Akasha), and as entertaining as it can be to dodge the rest of the Akademiya, after a while it gets exhausting. Today more than most, I do not want to be bothered beyond what is absolutely necessary, and though I am usually quite adept at being anywhere but where people want me, for some reason the fact that it's my birthday must have leaked, because I can't imagine why else people would be trying to find me now of all times (it's not a national holiday or festival, and there are hardly any meetings that need me, I checked and triple-checked). It's all bordering on overwhelming, so I really, really hope Kaveh hasn't gotten himself in too bad of a jam.

(He is smart, but still. This is Kaveh we're talking about.)

Once I'm off, I take a long and much-needed walk around the gardens, the sweet scents of the flowers and the calm quiet soothing my senses and bolstering me for the trip down into the city. Unfortunately, it's almost past dinnertime by the time I make my way down into Sumeru proper, and I debate whether it's worth it to go eat at Lambad's or just head straight home. My hunger wins out alongside my rationale and previous experienceーcan't think on an empty stomach. Which means it's long past dusk when I finally make it back home, moonlight spotlighting my door. The prickle returns, and I head in with a tired sense of unease. Whatever you've done this time, Kaveh, it better be able to wait until tomorrowー

Except the man is standing in front of my desk when I enter the study, and a giant sheet covers the back wall of the room. That can't be good. The blond steps back to reveal... a cake? And then takes down the sheet, and there are bookshelves, glorious and beautiful and filled with my things and so well-crafted, oh the details! There's even a place of honor for Grandmother's book? It's... it's all a bit unexpected and yet not... and so utterly Kaveh, to throw his whole heart into a single piece, especially if it's bound to get plenty of use like this one will. Were I a more emotional man, I might have teared up at the sight. As it is, I can't help taking a crack at him (he kind of deserves it for the anxiety he caused me today). "Don't tell me you spent all day working on this just for me. But... thank you. This is... it's good. You picked a good spot for it. As expected of the Light of Kshahrewar." I make to head towards my room, then turn back. "Go ahead and cut that cake, I'll join you in a moment. Seems that New Year's wine you gave me might go well with it."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Bitten: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

The film cuts to Kate crying and packing up her belongings. Brian entered the house with a smile on his face. You can just tell he forced the professor to turn him whether the professor wanted to or not.

"Hey. What are you doing?"

"We're leaving in the morning."

"What? Why?"

"Those guys--look, they might find Michael, and--"

"No, Kate, you don't have to worry about that. You don't have to worry about anything. I took care of it."

"You took care of what?" Michael asked, walking into the room.

"Brian, what did you do?"

Brian held out his arm and showed them a bloody bandage on his arm. He peeled back the badge to show them that there was a bite there, and it healed right in front of their eyes.

"Oh, my God," Kate gasped.

"What are you? Insane?"

"You're welcome for saving your ass. Look, watch."

Brian walked to the main desk and played the recording of what happened in the professor's office. Watching this film now, you realize you missed Brian by minutes. Soon after he left, the professor got angry and was tearing his office apart to find the camera that Brian put in there.

The professor spotted the camera in the corner of the room and tried to take it down, but this is when you and the brothers came busting into the room. Sam held Joanna to keep her out of harm's way because this one was all on you.

You and Dean grabbed the professor and yanked him down to his desk. The professor is a lot stronger than you thought, so he easily knocked you and Dean back. He wolfed out and lunged at Dean, grabbing him by the collar. Your eyes and hands turned blue and you blasted him with three powerful shots of magic, slamming his body against the bookcase by the door.

Dean took out his gun and fired upon the teacher with silver bullets, killing him instantly. Your magic misted away from your hands but not from your eyes.

"I've never killed a pureblood before," Dean commented.

"What was he looking at?" You turned and looked at the wall with your blue eyes, cocking your head to the right. Sam passed Joanna off to you, and you calmed yourself enough for your eyes to go back to normal. "What the hell?"

Sam reached up and removed the camera. The film switched back to the kids, but two of them are not happy.

"See? Problem solved. They killed the pureblood, they're moving on, and we're in the clear, just like you said."

"I never said--"

"Kate, I, uh... I did this to protect you. I did what you couldn't," he barked at Michael.

"They saw the camera, Brian. You don't think they'll trace that back to you? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. You told me that. I just finally figured out what I want, and now I'm going after it. You thought I was hiding behind a camera? I was hiding behind you. I am done living in your shadow. I've always lived in your shadow. But now we're equals. Anything you can do, right?"

"What? You think this is a game? Do you have any idea what you've done to yourself?"

"Well, you wouldn't bite me, so I had to--"

"You asked him to?" Kate gasped, turning to her boyfriend. "He asked you to bite him?"

"I didn't, okay? I didn't want to hurt you, Brian. I would never hurt you. This thing inside of me--you don't want this."

"Oh, well, it's too late for that now."

"I remember attacking Scott. I remember ripping his beating heart out of his chest. I remember the look in his dead eyes when I bit into that heart, Brian. Above all, I remember how sweet, how delicious it tasted, and ever since I've tasted it, I've felt more powerful and more out of control."

Brian grabbed Kate and held her to his chest, but you can only see Michael's reaction since the film switched to Brian's POV.

"More weak. You don't need someone like Michael. You need someone that can take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Let her go."

"Or what? You gonna cry some more?"

Michael wolfed out and lunged for Brian, shoving Kate to the side. They started an altercation of who can be the best werewolf. They were throwing each other across the room, punching and kicking each other. Kate was in the background screaming and crying, yelling at them to stop fighting.

Michael and Brian crashed into each other, sending one another flying into the bedroom through the closed door. They fought each other to the kitchen area where Michael knocked Brian down to the ground. The blonde man kneeled over Brian, but the dark-haired man grabbed his friend and shoved him to the side, revealing that in the altercation, he had stabbed Michael in the chest with the silver knife.

"Oh, baby. Oh, baby. Oh, please don't die. Please don't die. Please don't die," Kate begged, kneeling down next to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you, baby."

"I love you," too," Kate cried.

Michael went still, and you know that he is dead. Kate cried over his dead body, but she needed to be strong. She pulled out the knife from his body and crossed the room to where Brian is. She slashed at his arm with the knife, hurting him with the silver.

"Kate, listen to me," Brain caught her arm to stop her from slicing his skin again. "I love you. I love you. You'll understand. You just need to see what I see. After I bite you, you'll understand."

Kate cut his arm again and broke free of him, running to a room he isn't in. However, when she gets to the kitchen, he's standing there waiting for her with his wolf face on. She screamed and ran back, only to run into his arms. He picked her up as she thrashed and screamed, but he didn't stop there. He bit her shoulder, turning her.

The film cut to the bathroom. Much like Michael, she was filming herself in the cracked mirror from where Michael hit it. She is crying and staring at her wounded shoulder. It healed right in front of her eyes, and this was when she knew she was a werewolf.

"Kate?" Brian knocked on the bathroom door. "Let me in. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. We can fix this. We can... Just let me in, okay?"

Kate screamed and pushed the shower curtain aside, throwing things and breaking the sink in anger. Something clicked in her head, you can see it in her eyes. She stopped screaming, grabbed the camera, and smiled at her reflection.

"Brian? Brian, I'm coming out. I see it now. I understand."

She opened the door and Brian smiled when he saw her.

"I told you it would be alright."

"Yeah. It will be. Here."

She handed him the camera, but as soon as it was turned on her, she lunged at Brian with her werewolf face. She ripped into him, spraying his blood everywhere on the wall. The film cut to Kate placing a white sheet over Michael's body. It cuts again, and she was sitting at the desk now clean. The video cuts to her speaking into it, a message for you and the brothers.

"I didn't finish Brian's movie to justify what happened. To be totally honest, I'm not really even sure if I understand it at all. I just wanted you to know that--that Michael wasn't always a monster. None of us were. I'm leaving, and you'll never hear from me ever again. Look, I know that there's another way. I can eat animal hearts." A tear rolled down her face at her words. "I've never hurt anyone. Nobody human, anyway. I didn't choose this. Please... please give me a chance. Oh, and please don't let the blue demon come after me."

The video ends there, and you sigh sadly when you look back at Michael who is covered by the sheet. Dean and Sam get up to inspect the body on the ground.

"Okay, so, this is Michael, which means that that is Brian," Dean observes.

"They were just kids," you sigh.

"What, she's got about a half-day jump on us?"

"Mm-hmm," Dean mutters quietly.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Look, Kate is not a monster. She didn't ask for this to happen to her. She's a victim. She deserves a chance at a normal life. We shouldn't be the one to take it from her," you say.

"Yeah, let's give her a shot."

"Seriously?" Sam asks, shocked.

"Yeah."

"Look, if Kate pops back up, I mean, if she strays, then no questions asked. We do what we have to do and, um, we take her down," Sam says, unplugging the laptop and the hard drive so that no one else finds it.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I really say 'awesome' a lot?"

"No," Sam says too quickly and heads for the door.

"Sam is lying. You do," you whisper and wink at him.

When you take one step outside the house, the magical barrier mists away, revealing Brian's guts and blood over the walls. Dean chuckles and he puts the iPod back into the dock so that Michael and Kate's song is playing.

Case closed.

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[audiovisualrecall]

- I have a ton of things that belong hanging up in my closet that constantly are a giant pile on my dresser instead. I hate having to hang clothing up. I start the pile after laundry as a 'to hang up later' and then never do it and each time I wear anything from the pile or pull something else from the closet, after its washed it ends up on the pile, too. I don't know a solution. These things can't be folded bc they get wrinkled, which they currently ARE, and now it also feels silly to hang up wrinkly clothes. I also have to keep the closet door closed when not on use for anxiety reasons, so leaving it open isn't a solution.

-I have a lot of desk drawers sitting empty and the contents and papers etc are in piles and on my desk waiting to be organized and put into drawers but idk how best to use the spaces. Also once my new bookcase is done, the smaller of my current ones will be mostly empty and still in the room (the larger one is what I'm replacing, but the books in the smaller one should also fit in the new bookcase as well) so I'll have additional *open* storage space eventually as well so brain says wait till I can have all options at the same time to organize everything....and not have to do it twice....

-stuffed toys are in a fabric box at foot of my bed, I don't want to keep them hidden away but I don't have anywhere else to put them at the moment. These are the ones I don't want Edison to snatch and drag around the house, he has an entire box of my stuffed toys and beanie babies that are his to carry around. I don't want all the toys on my bed, I have 4 small new ones stacked on my headboard and my iron man tsum on top of my art unit, and a bunch of small toys on top of my curio cabinet on the wall, and a couple scattered around other spots. I have a bunch of Big toys (like my build a bears) and more beanies in the bin and I want to put them somewhere I can see them but they won't be in the way or easily snaggable by a kitty... idk.

-breakfast bar area on main floor is messy in part due to my dried flower collections, since they're taking up horizontal space in dishes and trays. I want to see if putting them in shadow boxes instead will help but haven't bought the boxes yet bc ?????

- spare bedroom/steph's room/guest room is also partly an arts space, craft storage space, and also my etsy business storage. Also materials for other projects as well are in there. But it's also a mess, like half of it is organized and I don't like being upstairs when no one is home and if people are home I'd rather be around them anyway so I don't really work in that room at all, especially since my old easel started failing. I just go in, grab what I need, and go back downstairs to work on art stuff at the dining room table. I Should use the spare room more at least for some projects but idk. Between anxiety and not being sure how to make the space work for my needs, I'm not able to atm.

-need to finish illustrating steph's book already its been ages and I meant to have it done by their wedding and I didn't, and I haven't worked on it in months now. And things are only going to become more stressful with work and current health insurance ending at the end of feb and everything else the next few months. It's hard to find motivation and time to be creative. If I set up at the table with my laptop and tablet today, I'll have to put it away again by this evening bc we do dinner at the table for friday nights. And the setup is bulky which is fine but annoying to have to move around and stuff.

-if I can clear the breakfast bar maybe I can use that space for some projects at least

-theres a lot of 'maybe useful' stuff all over the dining room table as well that I can't decide about and so it continues sitting and messy. I don't know what to do with it even if I keep it. I reorganized my supply drawers and storage and art cart but still no solution to a lot of stuff

-since I mostly work on the table, most of my supplies I need for projects are nearby, which is convenient and means I'll actually use them, rather than forgetting they exist, but also despite neutering and organizing I feel like it's messy bc it's not supposed to be an art studio. Idk a solution.

- I bought an accordion folder for some work related stuff I wanted to put away but I put it in a box temporarily and now I'm not sure I need to keep it all after all but I don't want to have to go thru it but I can't rlly put it in the folder without going thru it anyway. So I'm stuck there too.

[justmoreocs-writing]

I feel sick. This is one conversation that I really didn’t want to have. The idea of doing this goes against everything I feel, everything I know. It doesn’t matter that there are old loyalties, friendships that have long since been shattered between our families. Everything has changed. Honestly, that shared past, that knowledge of exactly what I’m walking into, somehow makes this all the worse. I can’t let those things cloud my judgement. After all, Thomas Shelby is no longer the cheerful guy I used to know. He’s ruthless and powerful, and dangerous.

Someone clears their throat and instantly I’m up; hands balled and every fibre of my being prepared to fight.

The maid raises an eyebrow, and I allow a little of the tension to slip from my muscles. I refuse to relax fully though. Not in this house. Not ever.

‘Mr. Shelby will see you now.’ Her voice is curt, as if she thinks this whole thing is wrong. She doesn’t know the link, doesn’t know that this isn’t as scandalous as her head is probably rewriting the whole thing to be. Nonetheless, she opens the door and motions me into the office.

I had no idea what to expect when I step into the room, no thoughts of what I might be greeted with, but as soon as I walk in I know that it was nothing like this. Bookcases line the walls, stuffed with enough books to give every child in Birmingham one each - or, at least that’s the impression it gives. Two windows at the back of the room filter in too bright light, allow it to spill across the large desk and practically reflect off the papers on it.

Thomas Shelby stands between the windows, his back to me. Smoke curls in the air beside him. The whole thing gives the impression of power, of how little this meeting really means to him. But I’m not going to let it get to me.

The door is eased closed, still the sound is a little too sharp and it draws my attention. Not that I turn my back - I know better than not to keep an eye on Tommy. Already he’s facing me though. I’d heard the rumours of his need for glasses, but I’d yet to see it. Now, faced with his familiar blue eyes framed and more pronounced for it, it’s easy to spot the danger in him. The differences that he’s had since the War.

Despite that, despite the odd little shiver of concern that ripples down my back, I stride confidently towards the desk. My heart slams against my chest, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Without invitation, I sit opposite him and level my attention on him. The barest quirk of amusement flicks across his lips. It’s a look from the past I half wish had remained there.

He blows out a mouthful of smoke. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see here, Elysia,’ he notes, cutting straight to the chase. He taps ash in the tray, takes his seat. ‘What changed?’

‘Nothing,’ I practically growl, balling my hands on my knees. I know he’s trying to figure something out, trying to work this to his own advantage before I can make my own move. Slowly, I release my fists, mentally counting the seconds. ‘I see you have an Italian problem.’

Any ghost of amusement evaporates at my words. I can see the moment his eyes shutter against the pain they’ve already caused him.

‘But it’s more than that,’ I press. ‘They pose a threat to Small Heath. To anyone who refuses to cave to their extortion.’ I don’t mention how similar the gangs are on the outside; it wouldn’t help any, but I allow the implication to hang in the air, there if Tommy is willing to acknowledge them or not.

‘And you can help?’ Tommy asks, the scepticism obvious. He’s contemplating me as he takes a long drag of his cigarette, as he releases the smoke. This isn’t his idea, so he needs to weigh up the options, see if there’s any real strength behind it. ‘Little Ellie’s all grown up.’

‘Not quite,’ I murmur, earning a questioningly raised eyebrow. ‘But that’s kind of the point. Spence used to tell me stories about Italians when he couldn’t sleep. About their family ties. About their own kind of morals.’

Tommy’s expression is carefully blank, and I know that’s more dangerous. He’s thinking, weighing up his options properly. He needn’t do it though; I’ve already figured out what I’m really offering, the possible consequences of being little more than a human shield.

‘Why?’ he asks eventually, forcefully putting his cigarette out in the tray. ‘What do you get?’

I want to scream at him, to throw all my anger his way. There’s only one reason that I’d make this deal, the only reason I’d sneak to his house instead of speaking to him in the Garrison. But I know it’ll do no good. He’s expecting an explosive reaction, and I will not give him that. Instead, I take a steadying breath.

‘Spencer stays out of it all. This fight, your little games, everything.’ My voice is surprisingly steady; pride blossoms in my chest.

Tommy bobs his head, but I’m already shaking mine before he can try ordering me about.

‘I want it in writing, Mr. Shelby.’

The barest ghost of a smile passes across his lips.

I stand, smooth down my skirt and nod my consent.

‘Michael will have the paperwork tomorrow,’ he says, ‘Miss Carr.’

I nod briefly before walking out of the room. I’ve finally caved, finally made a deal with the devil to try and protect my family. I just hope that I won’t regret it.

[homoose]

A Timely Reminder

Summary: Prof!Spencer has been thinking about having sex in his office for a while now. Reader helps him make it happen. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: established relationship, exhibitionism, light sub!spencer (but really just whipped!spencer), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, insecure!reader, jealous!reader, loud af!spencer, v light hand over mouth action

Word count: 4k

a/n: Because this Tuesday has been hot garbage... have a treat. An anon asked me if reader was a switch... here’s your answer. Also because we already got to see Spencer be jealous af, we deserved to have jealous reader, too. ♥️

a/n 2: This is a companion to the latest chapter of my series, but it can mostly stand alone! All you need to know is it’s an established relationship and she’s been invited to visit him at the university. 

Series Masterlist 

———

Y/N watched from her seat outside his office as a student slipped out through Spencer’s half-open door— looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped in the office. 

It took another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last coed made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wingback leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames. 

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He ran both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her. 

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but truthfully, his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. 

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

He leaned in to press his mouth to hers, soft and sweet. Then his hand was back on her waist and pulling her flush against him, drawing a small gasp from her mouth that had him deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue. His mouth was hot and hungry, moving over hers with a quiet desperation. He slid his free hand to the nape of her neck, fisted it in her hair and tugged. 

She sucked in a breath and bit a little harshly on his bottom lip, moving a hand up to grasp at his forearm. He pulled out of the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, chest already heaving. His voice was raspy when he warned, “The door doesn’t lock.”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“But I’ve kind of… been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, dragging the tip of his nose along her cheek.

She swallowed. “Mm, what— what’ve you been thinking about?”

“You, always.” His breath was hot on her ear, and now he had both hands on her hips. He used them to push her gently back into the bookshelf. “But specifically, I’ve been thinking about fucking you in here.”

“Oh,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.” He ghosted his mouth over her neck, dragged his teeth a little to make her shiver. “Would that be okay?”

She tilted her head back to bare more of her neck to him, and he closed his mouth over her pulse point, sucking wetly. He slid his leg between hers, lifted his thigh to press against her, and she could feel her underwear sticking to the wetness already gathering there. Her breath caught in her throat as she ground down on his leg. He sucked hard on her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot and lifting his head to look at her. 

“Do you wanna do that?” he asked again.

“God, I— yeah,” she nodded.

He brought his hand up to stroke this thumb along her cheek. “You’re sure?”

The knowledge that he’d been thinking about being with her in this space was more than a little overwhelming. His gaze was earnest and lustful, and she knew he was telling the truth— that she had no reason to be jealous, that he was always thinking of her. His declaration didn’t quite douse the fire of her insecurity, but at least it wasn’t burning quite so hot. And the idea that she could bring this fantasy to life, make sure his head was full of her whenever he sat at his desk or pulled a book off this shelf— that was almost too much. “Yes. Very sure.”

His mouth was on hers almost before she got the words out, his tongue sliding against hers. He brought both hands to the hem of her dress, hiking it up and slipping his hands underneath to grab at her ass, pulling her closer. He turned and walked her backwards toward his desk, bringing their entwined bodies around the corner of it, pushing her back, and half-hoisting her to sit on top. 

His warm hands trailed along her inner thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and forcing her legs apart. He stepped in between them and attached his mouth to her neck once more, sucking and licking and nipping a path along where her dress cut low in between her breasts. 

“What did you think about?” she breathed, winding her fingers into his hair. “What’s your fantasy, professor?” He bit down a little harshly where his mouth had been sucking. “You want me on my knees for you?”

He lifted his head and stepped even closer, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her ass to the edge of the desk. “No. I want to be the one on my knees.”

With that, he dropped down in front of her, eye level with her pussy. He looked up at her from his place on the floor, laying his hands flat along the tops of her thighs and pushing her dress up to her waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down.

She watched as he brought them up to his nose, briefly inhaling and then folding them up into a neat square. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and placed them inside, closing the drawer and then looking up at her from under his lashes. She could barely breathe. 

He started at her ankles, taking one gently in his hands and kissing a warm path up to her knee, and then crossing over to the other side and back down.

“So soft,” he murmured, dragging his open mouth along her shin. He ghosted his fingers over her legs, pulling them up over his shoulders and settling in between her thighs.

He pressed featherlight kisses along her inner thighs, and she sucked in a breath as he inched closer to where she really wanted him. “Don’t tease, Spence.” 

She could feel his smile against her skin, and she brought her hand up to wrap his curls around her fingers, tugging a little harder than she normally would. “I’m not asking.”

He let out a moan that vibrated across her skin, and she tightened her grip on his hair. She pulled him against her, and finally he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a soft whine. “Mmhmm, there you go.”

He wrapped his hands over the tops of her thighs, using his grip to hold her even more firmly against his mouth as he sucked and swirled his tongue around her clit. He brought his tongue to a point and flicked it rapidly against her, and she had to bring her other hand to his hair as well, holding tight. “Shit, baby, just like that.”

She used her hands in his hair to hold him still as she rolled her hips against his face, and his quiet groans had her heart flipping in her chest. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Never met another man who loves eating pussy this much.” 

He nodded as best he could between the press of her thighs. “Use your fingers, professor,” she demanded. She smiled when he immediately complied, bringing one hand off where he was holding her against his face and trailing it between her legs. He shifted his mouth back to her clit, circling it with his tongue as he began to press his middle finger into her. 

She tightened her grip on his hair and held back a moan. “I said fingers, Spencer. I know you love to drag it out, but we don’t have time.”

He whined but added his index finger, slipping them into her and curling them up immediately. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle the moan that threatened to echo off the walls of the office as he began to fuck into her, dragging his fingers against that spot inside her on every out-stroke. 

He hummed around her clit as he thrust his fingers inside and then sucked as he dragged them out, over and over and over again, his plush lips covered in her arousal and working magic over her cunt. The sound of how wet she was had them both groaning a little too loud for their current venue, and then she was coming with his name on her tongue. 

He didn’t let up after she was finished, still lapping at her entrance and pressing kisses to every inch of her pussy, whining and moaning against her like a man starved. “How are you so good at that, hm?” she gasped. “Had a lot of practice?”

She opened her eyes, slightly unfocused as he worked her to another orgasm, much less intense but still just as good. And then her gaze fell on the shelf behind him, and for the first time she noticed that the picture frames were filled with… her. 

She finally tugged him off by his hair when his mouth became too much, and as he pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, she counted eight different framed pictures of the two of them. There were also pictures of him and the team, his mom, and the boys. But the vast majority of them were of her. 

There was one of her sipping coffee at Soho— from their first official date there. Another of her smiling against the backdrop of the arboretum. One where she was tucked under his arm with his lips pressed to her cheek. Another still where he was hugging her tight in front of the Smithsonian. 

She let out a long breath and then looked down to see him watching her, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she knew that she really, really had nothing to worry about. “C’mere.”

Spencer scrambled up off his knees, crowding in close and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues slid together, and she tasted herself as he brought his clean hand up to her face. Her hands made their way to his ass, pulling him flush against her, and his hips jolted forward and she could feel his erection clear as day. He groaned and rolled his hips against her, and she smiled against his mouth. 

“So hard, baby,” she praised, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “You love being on your knees, huh?”

He hummed in confirmation, and she trailed a line of kisses down his jaw, then his neck. When she reached the collar of his shirt, she brought her hands up to loosen his tie. “You were so good for me.” She got the tie undone and dropped it on the desk. Then she popped the first two buttons on his shirt, dragging her mouth along the column of his throat. “You wanna fuck me now?”

“Yes, yes, please.” 

She dragged her hands down his chest and began to work on his belt. When that was undone and hanging loose, she popped the button on his trousers and lowered his zipper, then palmed him through his underwear. 

“You’re such a pretty boy, Spence,” she breathed. “You know that’s why they come to your office hours, right? Because you’re so pretty.” She squeezed a little where he was so hard and leaking from the tip. “They’re hoping maybe you’ll fuck them over this desk.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. “Y/N, I would never—”

“I know, baby. I know,” she assured, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You probably never even thought about it.” 

“I don’t.” His voice was a little bit desperate, like he was afraid she didn’t believe him. “I only think a-about you. I— I’m always thinking about you, even when I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Mm, I’d say ‘sorry,’ but... I’m really, really not.” She brought her hands to his hips, forcing his trousers and underwear down over his ass to let his cock spring free. “Is that why you’re keeping my panties? To help you out when you’re thinking about me in here?” 

“Y-yes.” He watched as she dragged her palm over her slick entrance, and then brought her wet hand to circle around his dick. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

“How do you wanna fuck me? Wanna bend me over your desk?” His fingers dug into her hips as she pumped his cock, and he shook his head. “No? You want me to blow you?” His hips jerked forward into the tight circle of her hand, but he shook his head again. “Then tell me what you want, Spence.”

His flush had traveled all the way down his chest, pretty and red and sweaty. His gaze was settled on her fingers wrapped around his cock. “Can you, um— can you ride me?”

She smiled and then gave him one last stroke and dropped herself off the edge of the desk. She hummed and stepped closer to him, grasping his chin and pulling him down into a hot, possessive kiss. “Should have known you’d want me on top,” she teased.

She leaned down to his desk drawer. “Do you have condoms in here, too?” She opened it and retrieved her panties, wiping off her hand on them and then folding them back up and replacing them in the drawer. 

He whimpered at the sight and then fumbled in the pocket of his suit coat, slung over the back of the chair. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have one in there?”

“No,” he defended, ripping open the wrapper and rolling it on. “Only when I know you’re gonna be around.”

He moved to sit on the desk, shoving the student essays and extra papers haphazardly out of the way to make room for her. She stepped in between his knees and laughed a little at the way he reached for her. She kissed him quickly before climbing up onto the desk, shifting around him and cursing under her breath. “You’ve picked possibly the most awkward position for this fantasy.”

“We— we can do it another way or— or not at all if—”

“Just—” she put a finger up to his lips “—shut up and make sure I don’t fall off the desk?”

He smiled a little sheepishly and grasped her hips, and she clung to his shoulders as she got situated over top of his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her and leaned in to press their mouths together. “Thank you for making this work,” he mumbled. 

She kissed him again and then rolled her hips down over his cock, pulling a whine from the back of his throat. She did it again just to tease him, and then reached between their bodies to line him up. 

His grip tightened around her waist as she began to sink down on him, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. The stretch from this angle was always more intense, and it had her gasping out his name as he bottomed out. He rubbed his hands soothingly over her lower back as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and keeping as still as possible. 

She finally let out a breath and circled her hips, and Spencer sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “You feel so good, so fucking thick.”

She got into her rhythm quickly, mindful of the fact that she was riding her boyfriend in his office in the middle of the day with an entire university just on the other side of a flimsy door. She worked her hips over his cock, bouncing on him and ignoring the burn in her thighs. She dropped down and he held her hips in place, grinding himself deep. She buried her face in his neck and tried to hold back the obscene moan that threatened to escape. 

Spencer didn’t bother to do the same, letting out a groan that reverberated in her eardrums and throughout the small space. She clapped her hand over his mouth and lifted her hips slightly, pulling back to whisper, “Jesus, shh— you’re so loud, Spence. Gonna get us caught.”

His eyes slammed shut and he fucked up into her, whining underneath her hand. Her eyes widened a little as he continued moaning into her palm. She rolled her hips down hard, forcing him deep, and he cried out again. 

“You want that?” she asked. “You want somebody to hear us? Want them to know you’re fucking me in here?”

He didn’t answer, just gripped her hips a little tighter and used what little leverage he had to thrust his hips roughly into her. She kept her hand over his mouth and leaned forward, partially to bring her lips closer to his ear and partially to find that perfect angle. “You want them to know I belong to you?”

He whined pathetically against her hand, and she circled her hips and kept him deep, moaning quietly into his ear. “Or is this about who you belong to?”

She felt his dick twitch where it was buried inside her, and he nodded frantically. She began to rock her hips forward and back, her breath hitching. “Is that why you have all these pictures of me?” she asked, and she saw his eyes shift to the shelf behind her. 

“You don’t think about fucking them, but they think about you.” She punctuated the thought with a slow roll of her hips. “You want them to know that you’re mine?” 

He brought his eyes back to hers, and there was a softness there that made her chest ache. She removed her hand to cover his mouth in a kiss, and he brought his hands up to cup her face, licking into her mouth and trying desperately to prove his loyalty. 

She broke out of the kiss and rolled her hips again. He kept one hand on her face and moved the other to wrap around her dress and keep her seated. She threw her head back as he rocked his hips to have his cock bumping against that spot inside her. He repeated the motion, bringing her closer to orgasm with every shift of his hips. 

She came with another gasp of his name, riding out her high and clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin. She continued the movement of her hips, working her sensitive cunt over his cock. “I don’t think they’re taking the hint, professor. Did you want to give them another reminder?”

He nodded, surging up to kiss her and then planting his feet to help drive himself up into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned forward into him as his hips began to falter. He grasped her ass and gave one final rough thrust, whining high and long into her mouth as he came. 

She began to press soft kisses to his nose, his cheek, his jaw. He wrapped his arms back around her waist and then hugged her close, panting into her neck as he came down. She rubbed one hand over his back and smoothed the other over his curls, gently twirling the hair at the back of his neck. He gave her one more squeeze before loosening his arms and lifting his head, his eyes dazed and practically sparkling. 

“Wow,” he breathed. 

She laughed. “I can tell you that this is not where I thought I’d end up today.” She lifted off of him and clutched a little at his arms as she navigated off the desk. She sucked in a breath as her feet made it to the floor, her knees and thighs already screaming. “I bet your fan club wouldn’t be this sore,” she joked. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him, bringing his free hand up to brush her hair back. “There’s nothing to bet on, because that’s never going to happen.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You know that, right?” 

She covered his hands with her own, rubbing her thumbs over the soft skin. “I know.”

“Good.” He leaned forward to press their mouths together, unbelievably soft and sweet in comparison to the way it had been just a few minutes ago. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree,” she whispered. She pressed one more kiss to his lips and then stepped out of his embrace. “Now, put that thing away before we actually do get caught.”

He gaped at her, fighting a grin as he tied off the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. She retrieved his tie from where she had discarded it earlier and dragged it from her knee all the way up to her inner thigh under her dress, cleaning herself up as much as she could.

She lifted her head to see him staring at her, his mouth hanging open. “You don’t mind, do you? I figured it was an even trade since you’re keeping my underwear.” She dropped the messy tie into her bag and draped the strap over her shoulder, tilting her head innocently. 

He lunged forward to crash their mouths together, and she clutched at his waist. “You are so fucking hot,” he mumbled, nipping at her bottom lip. 

“Mmhm, and don’t you forget it.”

“I’m literally incapable of forgetting it.” He kissed her again. “Thank fuck.” 

She laughed and used a light hand to push him off her, taking a second to take stock of his appearance. She fixed the tuck of his shirt and smoothed a few rogue curls back into place. He looked decidedly fucked out, sweaty and flushed all the way down his chest, his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons still undone… and she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered. 

He held his hand out to her and smiled radiantly when she accepted it and laced their fingers together. “I was thinking we could get a late lunch?” he offered. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

He grabbed his suit coat and his bag, and they crossed to the door together. He opened it and allowed her to step out into the hallway, following close behind. She swung their hands a little as they made their way down the hall. “That was so fun. Thanks for letting me come.”

Spencer choked on air, looking surreptitiously around the hallway. She laughed brightly and squeezed his hand. “Funny how you’re so modest all of a sudden. Thanks for letting me come visit, professor.”

They walked out together into the quad, hand in hand, and with more than one pair of eyes on them.

———

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[voltagesmutter]

Obey Me x Heat

Obey Me - Satan and Leviathan Head-canons

Prompt: ‘I’m in heat’

Warning: NSFW, Female MC.

Satan:

The avatar of wrath had learned to keep his emotions in-control, harvesting his anger and reining it in. But when heat comes it’s all thrown out of the window.

“Fuck you smell so good,” Whispered between his lips as he presses wet kisses to your weak spot on your neck. The blonde pushing you against the dusty bookcase in the remote corner of the library, a section that doesn’t look like it’s had contact for years, grinding into your waist from behind as he presses his erection to you through the layer of your clothes. “This fucking heat man… I don’t think I can wait to get back,”. One hand pops the button of your jeans, a deep groan from his chest to slide his hands down the fabrics of your clothes to feel the dampness of your underwear, “Oh kitten, it appears you can’t either,”. The shuffling sound of jeans unbuckling and material shifting comes from behind you, cool air hits your skin as he pushes your jeans down just enough, pulling your underwear to the side to feel his pulsing heat pressing against you, “Don’t scream too loud now kitten, we don’t want anyone to catch us,”.

Normally prefers you naked but in heat he’s weak for you in lingerie. Especially white. Feeling as if he’s tainting you and stripping you from your purity. 

Sharp teeth curl around the waistband of your panties, tugging them slightly before letting the material ping back against your skin. A small yap from your mouth follows causing a sinister chuckle from him. “Hush now kitten,” He purrs, teeth now licking down the stream of your underwear until it means the damped material between your thighs. Jewelled green eyes tinted with yellow meet yours, dominance and power pulsating from them as he rips them clean off your skin with an audible growl. Hands spread your thighs so he can delve his face where the cloth was sitting only milli-seconds ago, inhaling deeply before biting his lip hungrily, “You’ve been a good girl kitten, let me reward you”. No chance to register his words as lips suckle against your clit, rolling the delicate numb between his teeth leaving you at his mercy.

Want to see him lose all self-control? Dress up as a kitten, ear pieces, a bell collar, a cream bralette with matching underwear and he’s gone. Call him master for bonus points and you won’t leave the bedroom for the whole duality of his heat.

On the war path when it comes to his emotions, sparks flying between him and Lucifer before Beel’s even had his second breakfast. A lot of these emotions are pent up and spilled into his actions, thrusts fuelled by his attitude.

“Fuck,” It ripples off the walls and ceilings, loose items on the near by desk rattling from the volume on his groan. An argument with Lucifer had set his anger ablaze, demon form breaking through as his chest heaved whilst he gritted his teeth. That anger now reflected into his actions, dragging you by the wrist to his room and within minutes he had you pressed against the wall, bouncing you off his cock with no-end of stopping. “Satan!” You cried but it got lost in your throat, words lost as you felt another wave of release coming over you as he pounded against that delicate spot inside you. Bruising you from the inside whilst his fingertips left marks upon your waist. The sheer intensity ripped through you, leaving you a boneless mess in his arms as he continued to thrust into you. “One more baby, I’m close,” A hint of softness beneath his storm brewing eyes. His tail snaking up your thigh to rub circles of your clit, pace never faltering in a display of his strength continuing to move you over him. Small hands move from the back of his neck to fist his horns, gripping them with urgency as he pushes you over the edge one more. The growl that leaves him would wipe fear into any living being, dark and angry as he spills violently inside you, cock pulsing and twitching until he’s fully spent. 

Leviathan:

He’s the kindest of the brothers when it comes to heat, trying to hide it from you as if ashamed. But it’s only because heat brings out the darker side of him, the fine tuned self-control just slipping from his grasp.

“Levi, I refuse to have this anymore, what is going on with you!” You snap, cornering him in the living room, the first time you’d seen him in days. “It’s nothing I’m fine,” He grumbled unable to look you in the eye, his cheeks flushed red. “It’s your- your heat isn’t it?” You questioned, only to be met with a meek nod of his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just- the urges are so much, I- I’ve jacked off several times in the night but it’s not enough,” Levi finally opening up to you. “I mean… I could always help, it’s not as if we haven’t been having sex for months already,” You let out a light laugh, “I miss you, I miss being intimate with you,”. Taking a step forward and leaning into his purple hair, catching his lower lobe beneath your teeth causing a hiss from him, “Beside, I want to see what real demon Leviathan is really like when he gives into his needs,”. No more was said but a groan, Levi gripping you and pulling you down on the nearby sofa with his lips attacking yours.

He tries to continue his life like normal during heat, you and gaming being his number one priority, often mixing the two together for his pleasure.

Riding him in reverse, his tail swiping of your clit as his forefinger and thumb tugs your nipple, his left typing endless commands on his computer whilst playing games like normal. His teeth latch on to your ear, sucking it before tugging it proving to be the end of you as your walls pulse over him, letting your body rock to the waves of pleasure. “Tch, I though I made it clear you wasn’t to come until I finished this level, it’s a good thing my headphones are off, I don’t want anyone hearing the noises but me,” Biting again at your ear before sucking a red mark upon your neck, ‘Guess we’ll have to restart since you put me off,”. “Levi- Levi please,” You whimper, fingers digging into your thigh in desperate ache for him to give up his game and just fuck you properly. “Sorry my love, but you knew the rules, only once this level is finished will I give you what you really need, now be a good girl and let me finish or this time I’ll edge you until I’ve completed the whole game”.

He collects scratches on his skin and wears them like medals of honour, using them as a silent claim to you. After all the god of envy has to prove your his to keep his brothers away, often making them the jealous ones.

“The fuck is that!” Mammon scowled, Leviathan purposefully lifting his arms up so his hoodie would show the deep red scratches peaking from underneath. “Oh nothing, just a few tokens of appreciation from ____” He can’t help but smirk seeing the blood raise into Mammons head. “The human is mine!” He snarled, fists slamming down and standing up. “Funny that it’s my name she’s screaming,” Leviathan threatened, taking a step forward into the kitchen. Just as Mammon was about to throw something quick witted back, you called for Levi. “Babe, I didn’t realise how flexible I was, do you think we could do that one from last night again, it just hit all the right…” You mindlessly rambled, stepping out from his bedroom in just his shirt which skirted back your bum, “Spots… Fuck…”. Your face went as red as Beel’s hair, not realising the audience that was in the kitchen, all of the brothers bugged eyes and opened mouths to see you with deep bite marks tracing up your neck and collarbone. “Sure whatever you want babe,” Levi winked, quickly pushing you back into his room before his brothers could gawp any longer. Him and Lucifer could have swapped demonic titles in that moment, the prideful one lustfully jealous, whilst the jealous was beaming with pride.

Lucifer and Beel - Heat

Mammon and Asmodeus - Heat

Belphegor -Heat

Diavolo - Heat

Obey Me - Masterlist

[wanderingcas]

a ficlet for @gyokujyn​, who requested something based on @fromcenotaphy‘s amazing post: Dean and Eileen coming home from a very successful hunt only to find Cas and Sam doing something chaotic. 

hope you enjoy! :) 

- - - -

“Dude.” Dean grinned over at Eileen, who sat next to him in the passenger’s seat. Their clothes were covered in grime and dirt, but they both had huge smiles on their faces. “You were amazing.”

Eileen waved him off, but shrugged all the same. “I guess I kind of was.”

“You guess?” Dean turned the Impala into the bunker’s underground garage, shaking his head. “I mean the way you got that ghoul? Even my aim isn’t that good.”

Grinning, Eileen unbuckled her seatbelt as they came to a stop. “Well, maybe you need more practice on the shooting range. It’s just a few steps away.” 

“Only if you promise to give me some pointers,” Dean said, shutting the passenger door. 

It was the first time hunting with Eileen, since Sam was nursing a broken ankle from the last hunt. Cas had offered to stick around and keep him company, leaving Eileen and Dean on their own—and Dean had a blast. Not that hunting with Sam and Cas wasn’t fun—but something always seemed to go a little pear-shaped on their excursions. Not with Eileen. She was efficient, sharp, and filled in all the details where Dean didn’t. 

He was going to have to figure out how to get more hunting time with her in the future without hurting Sam’s feelings. 

“So, traditional post-hunt celebration?” Dean asked as they walked to the door connecting the garage to the house. “Grab a cold one, maybe throw a frozen pizza in the oven?”

Eileen scoffed, giving him a look. “That’s your idea of a celebration?”

“Well, yeah. Frozen pizza is one of the best foods on earth. Second best only to fresh pizza.”

Chuckling, Eileen shrugged. “If you say so.” 

She stopped short at the threshold into the bunker, frowning. Head tilted, she sniffed the air. “Wait—do you smell that?”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. Yeah. You think Sam tried to cook again?”

“God, I hope not.” Eileen grinned over her shoulder. “Remember those omelets he tried to make?” 

Shuddering, Dean followed her through the door to the library. “Couldn’t look at an egg the same way again for weeks.”

“Yeah, well I—” Eileen stopped, her eyes widening. “Oh my god.”

Dean followed her line of sight; his mouth dropped. “What… the hell?”

The first thing he saw were the fires. One was smaller, in the corner of the room with its flames licking at the bookcase as Sam beat at it frantically with his flannel. The other was in the middle of the room, in a perfect circle, with a very pissed off demon in the middle of it, black eyes flashing and all. Cas stood on the library table, a large book in one hand, the other flapping at the hundreds of insects swarming in the air.

“Dean!” Sam shouted as he spotted them. “Dean, I think Cas somehow summoned the ten plagues!” 

“Uh,” Dean replied.

Eileen held up a hand, pointing at the insects. “Are those... flies?”

“Locusts, I think,” Dean said.

Her finger trailed to the ground, where frogs hopped across their feet. “Are these the ten plagues or something?” 

“All we’re missing is the death of a firstborn,” Dean commented. His eyes went wider. “Hang on, did Jack—”

Cas jumped off the table, visibly out of breath. “Jack is fine. He flew to Jody’s house to hang out with Claire hours ago.” He nodded at Eileen in greeting. “How did the hunt go?”

“How did the hunt go?” Eileen asked. “Why is there a demon in our library?” She gestured to the ring of holy fire. 

Cas winced. “Unfortunately, that’s how this all started.”

“How did—wait, you know what?” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.” 

“It started as research,” Sam yelled from across the room. His arm briefly caught on fire before he frantically patted it out.

Rolling her eyes, Eileen strode to the corner where Dean had installed a fire extinguisher months ago. With a click of the glass container, she opened it and pointed the hose at Sam with a sharp, “Stand back!” 

Sam obediently backed away as she extinguished the flames. He ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “One of the plagues was fires, I guess.”

“No kidding,” she deadpanned, setting the extinguisher on the ground. 

“Sam,” Dean began, slapping a locust away, “we were only gone for 24 freaking hours.”

“A lot can happen in a day!” Sam protested. 

“It’s probably worth mentioning that all of this happened within a few minutes,” the demon added, crossing her arms.

Cas glared at her. “We were handling it.” He turned to Dean. “We were handling it.”

“It was just a spell,” Sam added. “Rowena showed it to me before. Unfortunately doing it wrong could release the plagues from when Moses tried to get his people out of Egypt and all that. But it was going well until…” He glanced at Cas.

“Until we misread an ingredient in the book,” Cas finished, sighing as he held out the pages for Dean to read.

Dean stared down at the book. Then up at Cas. Then at Sam. “You thought this book said to get demon juice… instead of lemon juice?” 

Sighing, Sam hung his head. A group of locusts were tangled prisoners in his long hair. “Yeah.”

“And you didn’t think that… demon juice sounded a little weird?”

“We.” Cas cleared his throat. “We thought perhaps it was referring to blood.”

Dean carefully closed the book, handing it back to Cas. He turned to Eileen, and calmly said, “I’m going to have a beer now. Probably five. Would you still like to join me?”

She smiled. “And a frozen pizza?” 

“With a side of ignoring that this ever happened,” Dean agreed. He gestured toward the hallway. Eileen nodded and led the way out of the room.

“So you’re not going to help us fix it?” Cas asked, voice pitching with anxiety. 

“Call us if something catches on fire again,” Dean yelled over his shoulder. 

As he rounded the corner, Dean heard Sam mutter, “I told you he was still mad about when we accidentally turned Jack into a baby.” 

[slytherinspired]

Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine

Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.

Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)

Masterlist

Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception. 

He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools. 

‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.

Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.

‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face. 

His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.

Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already. 

‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.

Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest. 

‘Really?’ he asks. 

Sirius snorts.

‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.

‘And how much courage did you drink already?’ 

‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit. 

He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.

After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way. 

‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say. 

‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.

This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests. 

He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air. 

He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty. 

‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’

‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand. 

Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.

‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.  

Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.

He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.

He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space.  He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family. 

‘Mm, mm.’

Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away. 

‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway. 

He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.

‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.

He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped. 

‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’

‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.

She nods, giving him back his cigarette.

‘A real pest.’

There is an awkward silence. 

‘What were you doing here?’ she adds. 

‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’

‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’

‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’

He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.

‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘ 

He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’

He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts. 

‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’

‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits. 

Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him. 

‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden. 

‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air. 

‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.

‘Not anymore?’

‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’

‘So am I.’

She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how. 

‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away. 

‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.

He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor. 

He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now. 

‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’

Y/N nods. 

‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’

‘You don’t sound American.’

She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth. 

‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’

He nods.

‘It’s in Italy – ‘

‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.  

But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down. 

‘First time in London, then?’

She nods. 

‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.

She licks her lower lip without realizing it.

‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases. 

Praised be Godric. 

‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’

‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Rarely.’

‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’

He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.

‘I see.’

Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.  

‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’

‘What, did you never apparate before?’

‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’

‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’

Sirius shakes his head nervously. 

‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘ 

He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.

‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’

He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in. 

‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’

Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers. 

‘Shall we?’ she suggests.

‘Who says I want to share?’

She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.

‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’ 

She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs. 

‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’

He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly. 

‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘

‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’

‘Oh,’ she repeats. 

He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs. 

‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms. 

She turns her head and looks at him. 

‘Do you feel heavy?’

‘Kind of,’ he laughs. 

He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.  

‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’

‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.

He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.

‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers. 

She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear. 

‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud. 

‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes. 

‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’

She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything. 

‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.

‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.  

She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means. 

‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back. 

But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him. 

‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now. 

But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.

‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.

For fuck’s sake. 

He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers. 

Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there. 

He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them. 

He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.

She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.

He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t? 

She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.

‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’

He nods. There’s so point in lying. 

‘Do you want to stop?’

Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up. 

They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better. 

She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating. 

It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks. 

‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her. 

She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away. 

‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N. 

The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room. 

‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’

The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl... 

‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.

‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’ 

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from buckybrns@gmail.com

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

[devildomdisaster]

I'm sending this assuming that requests are open. If not, feel free to ignore this, haha

Can I request the bros reacting to mc getting annoyed and worried during a thunderstorm, and when they ask why mc answers with something akin to "my dog is terrified of thunderstorms, so it's become instinct to find him and comfort him"?

I've been slow to answer requests lately. Sorry, this took so long.

Lucifer:

Your constant pacing is annoying him. Lucifer can’t figure out why you are so agitated, and your pacing is starting to distract him from the paperwork he has to have done by morning. “It’s just a thunderstorm, Mc please.”

You whip around to glare at him so quickly he is taken aback.

Nothing in your expression says fear, and to be honest, Lucifer is relieved you don’t seem to be afraid of the storm. He hadn’t handled the situation well and he wouldn’t ever want you to think he cares so little for you that he would brush aside your fears as if they meant nothing.

Now that he is thinking clearly again he changes tactics.

“Mc, my dear, what has got you so upset?”

“My dog hates thunder, and I always have to comfort him during a storm. He’s not here. But I can’t help but worry. And it’s just instinct now I guess.

Lucifer seriously considers bringing your dog to the Devildom.

But the trouble that would get him into, the paperwork, Diavolo, the chance that some sort of harm could come to your pet dissuades him from that idea.

“I’m sorry mc.” and he really does look distressed that he can’t help you.

Until he realizes that Cerberus isn’t the biggest fan of thunder either. Cerberus’s room is more protected from the noise of the storm but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like attention and comfort during a storm.

Lucifer takes your hand and silently leads you down to Cerberus.

You are understandably reluctant at first but Lucifer assures you that Cerberus is completely docile while he is around.

Soon you are snuggled up against the three-headed dog and Lucifer is finishing his work on the ground next to you.

Mammon:

Mammon bluntly asks you what has you so annoyed

“Oi human, what’s got ya all antsy?”

The way he says it makes you want to fight him just a little.

But he’s a demon and there’s no way a human could scare him with a little glare. Well normally your glare might scare him just a bit, but the look in your eyes now is tempered by the worry that is so clear on your face.

He drags you to his room and has you explain exactly why you are so worried.

Mammon asks you all about your dog.

He somehow distracts you by getting you to tell him all kinds of cute and funny stories about your dog.

You end up sitting with Mammon for hours, music playing in the background, almost completely forgetting about the storm.

He definitely wants to meet your dog now.

He’ll even go to Lucifer to get permission to visit your home in the human realm so you can both see your dog.

Levi:

You are distracting him from his gaming and it takes Levi a second to process that you might need his comfort.

“If you are going to be a distracting normie, could you at least not pace in front of the screen Mc?”

You apologetically move away from the screen towards the door.

“W-Wait! I didn’t mean you should leave! What’s wrong?”

You hesitate not sure if you want to tell him now, but then you spot Henry in his fishbowl.

“My dog hates thunder,” you say refusing to look at Levi and staring at the fishbowl instead “I usually have to go find him when a storm starts. But he’s not here, and I dunno… I think it’s just like instinct to comfort him but I cant so…”

Levi gets it.

He has so much love for his pets. Even the ones that grew into giant demon-eating monsters that don’t even recognize him.

He’d do almost anything for them.

You can’t go comfort your dog, but maybe Levi can comfort you?

He’ll try, even if he is blushy and nervous.

You’ll spend the storm exchanging stories about your pets and watching animes that are eerily similar to your situation. Like ‘My demon dog hates storms but I’m in the human realm and now the storms make me anxious because I can’t help but worry about him.’ and ‘My crush is worried about her pets and I almost messed everything up, but don’t worry I think I can help!’

Satan:

It’s no secret this demon is more of a cat lover.

But he still cares about your dog because he cares about you.

Blunt demon 2.0

Straight up asks you about your behavior as soon as you start acting weird. Although he is much more polite about it than Mammon.

“Mc, is there something you want to talk about? You seem distressed.”

“No!” you snap “Yes? Maybe? I don’t know Satan. This storm is driving me crazy! Every fiber of my being tells me I need to go find him. But he’s not here and I can’t help but worry and I know you mean well but there is nothing you can do to fix this.”

“Oh, well I don’t know if I would say there is nothing I can do. But who is he, kitten?” he asks gently, trying to understand

“My dog.”

You stare at him as he goes rummaging through the piles on one of his bookcases. After several minutes he turns triumphantly to you holding an ornamental metal hand mirror out to you.

It looks beyond old, and it’s surprisingly heavy and sturdy when he hands it to you.

“Just think of your dog and look in the mirror.”

“Like beauty and the beast?” you joke.

“Where do you think the ‘beast got the mirror in the first place?” Satan asks.

“I-What? You mean you-”

Satan’s eyes glint “That’s a story for another time, but yes I gave the ‘beast’ his magic mirror. But the fairy tales butchered the actual story,” He sighs.

You look in the mirror as instructed and see your dog with your family, tale wagging, dashing across a grassy field after a ball.

You smile “Thank you, Satan. This really helps.”

“Anytime Mc”

Asmo:

Asmo is telling you about his latest Devilgram post and how his followers “simply loved seeing the picture of you on the Ferris wheel with him,” when the first clap of thunder rolls through the air above the house of lamentation.

When you jump up at the sound Asmo thinks you’re afraid of the storm.

He carefully places the top to the nail polish he was using back on the bottle before focusing on you. “Darling, are you ok?”

You shake your head, pacing to the door then back to your vacated seat on Asmo’s bed.

“Mc darling can you tell me what’s wrong?” Asmo analyses your expression quickly, he’s looking for fear but doesn’t find any.

“It’s the storm,” you murmur “My dog can’t stand thunder and I’m used to going to find him when a storm starts. But I can’t really do that here so I’m stuck not knowing what to do with myself.”

“Oh Mc, that’s absolutely adorable!”

You glare half-heartedly at the demon.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Asmo pouts “I can’t help but react when you act so sweet.” he hums in thought for a moment.

“Is there someone taking care of him now?”

You nod “Yes, but I still worry sometimes.”

“I know darling. How about we go ask Lucifer if you can go for a visit tomorrow?”

You perk up at the thought and Asmo grins “Good, then we’ll do that first thing tomorrow morning. But for now, do you think we can distract you with a movie and some facemasks?”

Beel:

Beel doesn’t want to intrude, but he can’t help it when your mood starts affecting him.

He can’t enjoy the snacks he just bought when you seem so upset.

“Mc… will you tell me how I can help you?”

The sincerity of his question shocks you for a moment.

You blink up at him, feeling heat blooming in your cheeks.

“I’m sorry Beel, I didn’t mean to ruin your snacks”

“It’s ok Mc, you're more important.”

“It’s just that storms bother me. My dog hates them and when I can’t be there to comfort him I get… well like this.”

Beel nods and asks if you’d like to do something to take your mind off the storm.

“I don’t really know if I can just forget about the storm, you know?”

“That’s ok, how about we make some comfort foods then?”

Beel has you choose some music to play in hope of concealing the sound of thunder and you end up talking about your dog and cooking your favorite foods.

Beel is content helping out even if you aren't in the best of moods as long as he can help cheer you up just a bit.

Belphie:

Belphie is already annoyed that the thunder is keeping him from sleeping.

So your mood fits right in with his.

You can both be anxious/ annoyed little terrors together.

The rest of the brothers are giving you both plenty of space.

Somehow having someone in a similar mood as your own is helpful.

You can both be a little snappy without the other being offended or impatient.

You probably end up in a pile of pillows and blankets with Belphie. You're both a little restless but eventually, the comfort of the blankets and Belphie’s warmth calm you.

He’ll make sure you’re ok, with gently probing questions to find out what caused your mood.

He can’t exactly help your situation, after all, he doesn’t have the power to bring your dog to the Devildom and he doubts Lucifer would let him anyways.

But he can, and will let you talk if you want, and if not he’ll support you in silence.

He likes it best when you are happy but he knows there are problems he can’t solve.

He’ll ask if you’d like to dream about being home with your dog and if so he’ll influence your dreams.

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed together chapter 6: First training

‘Morning, darling’ Loki replied when he saw you entering the training room. ‘Morning’ you grumbled back. You were still mad at him, especially since he didn’t even try to apologize like Thor said he would. ‘I must admit that I never inquired about your abilities. Could you please explain to me what you are able to do?’ he asked.

‘I can heal certain wounds and cuts, given they’re not to deep and there is not too much damage to any important veins or organs. And I can conjure up certain shields, heatshields, frost shields and physical shields. But that you knew already.’ you explained to him.

‘If you can conjure up shields, why are you never in the middle of the battle?’ he asked.

‘The team prefers to keep the healing abilities away from the battle’ you said.

‘Not after I’m done with you’ he smiled. You ignored it. ‘I thought we start simple and heal bones first’ he went on. He explained that healing bones was the easiest thing to do, because you just have to rearrange fragments or mend bones back together. He made you repeat the spell over and over again, before he finally summoned broken animal bones for you to practice. To say it gone extremely slow and frustrating would be an understatement. ‘Darling, you’re thinking too much. Trust your instincts’ Loki tried to encourage you. It took you the whole morning, but eventually you were able to mend three of the ten bones. Sweat was trickling down your forehead and you felt exhausted. ‘I think that’s quite enough for today’ Loki said when he saw how tired you were.

‘No, I can keep going’ you argued. Loki made all the bones disappear with one hand gesture. ‘No. You cannot’ he said sternly. You sighed heavily and got up. There were tiny black spots when you moved, but you tried to ignore them and keep your balance. Loki rushed to your side but you pushed him away. ‘Everyone learns in his own space. You know what to do, and it will get easier with practice. And practice takes time’ he said.

‘That’s not what you said yesterday’ you snapped.

‘About that.. (Y/N), I wanted..’ he started, but you cut him off.

‘I don’t want the here it. I’m going for lunch and then visit Steve. I don’t want to see YOU for the rest of the day’ you said while walking away. You walked to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. Eventually deciding to make an egg-salad sandwich. When you walked towards the table you were rather annoyed to see Loki there. ‘What are you doing here?’ you said while glaring at him. He was nonchalant reading a book with his feet on one of the other chairs. ‘I’m not leaving you before we talk’ he said.

‘I don’t want to hear it’ you replied.

‘I think you do. But I’m patient. I won’t leave until you do want to hear it’ he answered with a smirk on his face. Annoying bastard you thought. ‘I heard that’ he replied without looking up at you. You groaned in annoyance. You ate your sandwich in silence. After that you cleared your plate and walked towards the medbay to check up on Steve. Loki was following you, but you did your best to ignore his presence. When you entered you saw Steve still laying unconscious, hooked up to several machines. You stopped in your tracks. This was harder than you thought. Loki put a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off. ‘Don’t follow me’ you said while entering Steve’s room. To your surprise Loki actually stayed outside. You could still see him through the glass wall, but at least he gave you some space.

You sat down next to Steve and grabbed his hand. It was hard to see him in this state. ‘You should have walked it off’ you whispered to him. You knew Steve was going to be fine, but it would take a while. They didn’t know how long it was going to be before he wakes. You played the event back in your head and couldn’t help thinking what you did wrong. Tears were starting to form in your eyes. You closed your eyes and leaned against Steve’s arm, silently sobbing. You hadn’t noticed that Loki had entered the room until a pair of strong hand grabbed you and he pulled you in his lap in the chair next to you. ‘Shh, I got you’ he shushed while stroking your hair. It felt actually nice in his arms and you sobbed in his chest. ‘You can’t think like that. There was nothing you could have done differently’ he reassured you. He kept stroking your hair and telling you that you did nothing wrong. When you finally stopped sobbing he put his hand under your chin and made you face him. ‘I’m really sorry for snapping at you. I didn’t mean it, love’ he told you. You noticed how you felt a little giddy when he called you love, but for now decided to ignore it.

Loki carried you back to his room. He laid you down on his bed on top of the blankets. There were a lot of pillows, but it felt comfortable. He laid down beside you and you instinctively nuzzled against his chest. His arms were wrapped around you ‘Take a nap, you are really tired’ he said.

‘Are you here when I wake up?’ you asked him.

‘I promise, kitten’ he said while giving a kiss on your head. You saw a green shimmer and wanted to ask what he did. But before you could your eyelids felt heavy and you fell asleep immediately.

When you woke you looked up and saw Loki reading a book, while he was stroking your hair. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked when he noticed you were awake. You nodded and pulled yourself from his grasp. ‘What time is it?’ you asked him.

‘It’s 3.30 pm’ he said while snapping his book shut. ‘And you are not done for today’ he added. You cocked an eyebrow. But Loki got off his bed and motioned for you to follow him. He led you to the library and handed you a book. ‘Now, to be a healer you need to know things like autonomy. So, I want you to start studying with this book’ he said. You eyed the book and it was about the human body. You flipped through the book, the text was rather long and dry, but the information was important. Loki leaned closer ‘I’m going to quiz you next week, and if you don’t want to end up naked with my cock deep inside of you, I suggest you start studying every afternoon after physical practice’ he purred. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, causing Loki to lean in and starting to kiss your neck softly.

‘Loki, not here’ you mumbled. The truth was that you started to like him. You started to like his snarky comments, how good he could make you feel and loved it when he showed you his softer side. But he still was moody, possessive, egotistic and incredibly insensitive sometimes. So, you were torn. ‘Can’t have you studying too much. Because I really want to end up with my cock deep inside of you next week’ he whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine. When Loki kissed you, all resistance left you. You kissed him back eagerly and slid your tongue inside his mouth. Loki moaned approvingly while his hand was under your shirt, unclipping your bra, and started to play with your breasts. One of his hand travelled downwards and he undid the button of your pants. He slid down beneath your waistband and felt that you were already wet. He pulled your pants and underpants down and moved you, so you could step outside of them. You were roaming his chest underneath his shirts, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch.

Loki broke the kiss, undid the buttons of his own pants, and pulled his pants and underwear right down below his ass. In one smooth motion he lifted you up and your legs wrapped around his waist. He trapped your body between his and the bookcase behind him. You felt yourself stretched as his cock entered you, he had you impaled on his cock and you moaned loudly. One of his hands covered your mouth to muffle the sounds you were making. He started to thrust into you, in a very fast pace. It felt like he needed you. Like he hadn’t seen you in forever. It was different from the dominating way he had taken you before. Not that you minded, his cock was hitting just the right spot at this angle. Loki was grunting and you were moaning helplessly against his hand. You felt your pleasure wash over you and you clenched down on his cock. Loki snapped his hips a few more thrusts before spilling inside of you. After that, he slowly lowered you down and caught his breath while staring into your eyes. He pulled you in for a loving kiss. The library doors opened and the two of you quickly pulled up your pants and tried to make yourself as decent as you could. ‘Ah there you are, brother’ Thor’s voice boom throughout the library. He stopped when he saw the two of you, and you felt him look you up and down. Loki took a step before you, blocking his view. ‘What do you need?’ he asked in a rather bored voice.

‘We were going to spar together, unless you are occupied with other things’ Thor smirked.

‘I’ll be there in five minutes’ Loki replied, ignoring Thor’s suggestion.

With that Thor left. Loki turned around ‘I guess I should get going. Don’t study too hard’ he mused. He took a step closer and kissed you again. His hands went underneath your shirt and you felt him hook your bra back together. You blushed, realizing why Thor had made his suggestion. He winked at you before teleporting away.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream @l0nelyasian​ @the-best-phineas