#I wonder how long it took for him to come up with that

[remmickgf]

second helpings (nsfw 18+)

❤︎ Remmick (sinners 2025) x female reader ❤︎ Remmick gets carried away eating you out after you have him undressed in front of you. man is needy, greedy, and hungry when it comes to his favorite meal! so he naturally goes back for seconds. and thirds. and fourths.

"I want to see you." You swallowed quickly after uttering those words, as if to swallow them back down to your stomach, where the ache of desire had already taken root. You wondered if Remmick felt the same sensation in place of hunger, if the throb of his gums could be equated to the heat leaking from between your legs. He stood before you, veined hands hanging loose by his side, his bottom lip parting from the top as his jaw loosened and his dark eyes searched your expression of longing. His nostrils flared as he brought more of the sweet stench of your neediness into his lungs and held it there like smoke, feeling his nerves nearly buzz with the tension in his muscles that tempted him to lunge at you. But he stood his ground, and merely pressed his mouth to a fine line before lifting his shoulders in a huff of frustration that was followed by his long fingers lifting to the first button of his pale blue button-up.

He always loved the way you watched him, especially when you began watching him watch you with a smirk on his lips, causing shame to stiffen your frame as if you were still a little girl getting caught stealing glances, sneaking something she wasn't allowed to have. When you looked away, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Nah, hey, look at me, keep y'eyes on me, darlin."

Pausing to shrug off thin suspenders, he proceeded to yank the shirt from his high-waisted black trousers, followed by the tossing of his white tank. He could feel your eyes then tracing the bulge of his biceps and the ropiness of his forearms. "That's it," he encouraged.

He could also hear the way your breath hitched when they landed on the slight roundness of his belly, the fluff of love handles being revealed once he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down alongside his underwear.

"Got me gettin' soft, sweetheart," he mumbled. However, he felt the corners of his lips tug upward just as the simultaneous tug of his balls sent a painful spasm through his length--where your attention naturally fell after taking in the rest of his body. "Not 'n that way, of course."

Paired with the soft curl of his black hair tossed over the top of his head with a cowlick that perpetually stood on end, the roundness of his ears and square of his jaw leading to a thick neck that matched the slope of strong shoulders, the curve of gentle brows which contrasted the blackness of eyes that glinted red from a perpetual hunger, and pout that was almost as convincing a the twitch of a growing erection--pink hues dripping from the tangle of black hair--your chest rose and fell heavy. You struggled to keep your composure while driving him to lose his.

Remmick knew you wanted to play with him some--you had that look in your eye, the flush of your cheeks, and the stillness of your limbs telling him he would have to wait a little while before you'd admit to yourself how bad that little cunt of yours wanted to be stretched open and bruised with the force of his thrusts. The thought made his cock kick upward, bobbing slightly as the reddened tip began pulsing and a bead of precum started to ooze from the slit. While you were distracted by the sudden movement, Remmick moved closer to you, slowly enough when he lowered himself to his knees at your feet and took your palm between his fingers to cup his cheek with, your frown only deepened, and you let his other hand track up beneath your skirt. Shivering at how he squeezed the soft flesh behind your knee, you rubbed his cheek with your thumb and felt the tickle of his hair over the tips of your fingers. Remmick nuzzled your palm and sighed, muttering something about wanting to taste you before he turned his face completely into your touch, and you found your fingers between his teeth.

For a vampire, he sucked gently around your knuckles as your pads pressed down atop his warm tongue, a pressure that mimicked the hollowing of his cheeks soon to send tightening coils of pleasure up your core as quivering and sensitive as a string to a bow. A popping sound following his release, his hand had stopped just below the curve of your ass, and he pulled at you softly. "I'll be good, 'm promise, just wanna taste you," his words slurred together as he retook your fingers, drool now smearing against his chin. "Wanna make ya feel good... let me pleasure ya, lassie..."

Concern passed over his face like a flinch when you pulled your hand back, until he saw you were yanking your skirt up to your hips and revealing to him the sight of your pussy, like placing a hot meal in front of a starved man, he immediately scooted forward slightly. He curved his shoulders, his other hand coming to the back of your other thigh while you parted them a bit more to make room for his head before his lips met your folds. He could practically taste that you'd needed him all day, that your body been calling out to his since you woke that morning with sun melting over you and his name wet on your lips, desperate for the pale moon to rise over the trees and for his scent to pass through the cool wind. He could also taste the soreness of orgasms already come to pass, their salty tears coagulated and catching in his throat as he swallowed them. You couldn't see the pained pull of his face nor would he say anything about wanting to be the only one--or thing--that got to deliver you these blissful releases, these little deaths, but as long as no other man's tongue got to lap at your cunt or fill it with his seed, as long as no other man's touch bruised your hips and teeth marked your breasts, he couldn't hardly find reason to complain.

Your knees weakening, and one hand planted itself on top of his shoulder. He didn't release his hold, though, tightening it and yanking your hips closer into his face while already gasping and panting into the wet slurp of your juices mixing with his drool. Strings of it dripped from his lips while his tongue circled and flicked the sensitive pearl of your clit until you couldn't help but lean into him for support.

"Remmy--" you hiccuped, breathless and finding the depths of his hair to tug with blotched knuckles. "Fuh-ck-"

His knees splayed, Remmick paid no attention to the numbing flush of blood to his cock nor the way it kissed below his belly button with heavy throbs as his thighs burned and his balls pulsed with as much anticipation as tension. He licked and sucked with more attention to where you liked it best until the adding of a finger, then two, to curve into your clenching walls was all you needed to flood his mouth and melt over him with a fluttering gush of sticky cum.

When you finally buckled over him, his mouth pressed to the inside of your hip and his hands caught your waist, keeping you upright enough that you landed in his lap, your skirt sliding from the crumpled bunch over his head to a pile between you. There, you caught your breath at the same time Remmick had you taste yourself on his lips, parting yours and slipping his tongue inside so another shiver was sent down your spine, and you arched yourself like a cat into him, deepening the kiss with a turn of your head. Just a few adjustments of your hips and the realigning of your knees to the sides of his thighs, and you would find the lingering hardness and wetness of precum beading down the underside of his head. For now, though, you stroked his hair and let him kiss you till both of you were panting again, at which point Remmick kissed your jaw and nuzzled his head into the crook of your throat. His cheeks still glistened with you covering them.

"Love making you cum," you heard him, his voice and thickened accent muffled. "Yer s'pretty when ya cry m'name. Could listen to it all damn day..."

You were too weak to push him back when he began lowering you. Although under normal circumstances, even if he were human, you wouldn't have been able to control where he went or with what strength he did it. You just had to let him yank your skirts up again, throw your legs over his shoulders and continue muttering about how good you taste and how much he wished he could survive off of your pussy before his words muffled again, this time from him sticking his tongue into your entrance and scooping more of your wetness out, causing you to clench your legs and your walls to do the same. His hands groping the underside of your ass, even when your hips lifted and you gasped, tears pricking your eyes, he only pulled you closer to him until his arms were wrapped around your hips to keep his lips suctioned to your sex and he proceeded to steal greedily from you enough orgasms for you to lose count as soon your engorged clit began burning and his growls turned rougher, meaner.

You could feel when he came, humping jaggedly down into nothiness and the sweat glistening in his hair greasy around your fingers and smearing against your thighs and dripping onto your belly, because of the vibrations his vicious groan and near snarl sent up your pelvis. Even in his submissiveness, he nipped at you and threatened to bite. Even with those doe eyes of his, sometimes you knew deep down he couldn't even tell the difference between lust and hunger anymore. Not with you, anyway. The only thing you were sure of was that you were his favorite meal.

[cherrygirlfriend]

(not) the lady of the house

older!rafe x maid!reader

warnings: smut, MDNI! i got this idea simply from cleaning my apartment, and from the fact that i like to clean... so, naturally, i had to bring it to life. ORIGINALLY POSTED IN SEPTEMBER 2024

when rafe got married, he swore to himself that he wouldn't be like the most men that lived in figure eight, having affairs with multiple women that were ten, or even twenty years younger than him. he swore that he'd stay loyal, that the only woman he'd have eyes for would be his wife.

and he kept to his promise. he pampered his wife, caroline, in any way possible, keeping her satisfied even when he was busy with work. but out of nowhere, she seemed to be coming home later and later, making excuses that she had bumped into a friend and gone for a drink, or that her work-out session had stretched out.

but one morning after one of her "long work-out sessions", his wife was in the shower while she got a notification on her phone, and even though he tried to, rafe couldn't resist the temptation to check what message his wife had gotten. and that was the final nail on the coffin.

"i had fun last night ;)"

it was like the breath had been knocked out of rafe's chest, and even though he put her phone back where he had picked it up from, and tried to forget it, he couldn't. and even as his wife came out of the shower, got ready for the day, and left the house, he didn't move a muscle.

only when an unknown figure appeared at the doorway to the bedroom, a soft "oh!" leaving the person's lips, did he finally pick up his head and look at who had come in.

"i'm sorry, mr. cameron. i thought you were at work..." you said, rubbing the back of your neck. rafe had never met any of the maids that worked for the cameron household, always being at work when they came by. he simply cleared his throat, getting onto his feet with an apologetic look on his face, "i'll get out of your hair." he said with an attempt at a smile.

but when he was passing you, you took hold of his suit jacket, before letting it go with a flurry of apologies, looking down at your feet, mumbling something to yourself before you looked up at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen, "is everything alright, mr. cameron?"

every day after that, the two of you talked; about your lives, your worries, your dreams, about everything between the heavens and the earth. and after a month of that, you had your first kiss.

now, it had been three months since you two had properly met, rafe thrusting into you as he whispered loving words in your ear as you moaned underneath him, his cock hitting that spot every time he thrust into you.

and when he came in you, he'd press soft little kisses on your neck, nipping at the skin as he mumbled against your skin about how precious you were.

you laid on his chest, your finger trailing up and down his defined chest, your mind filled with thoughts about the man who had just come in you, wondering if you were the only one who felt... whatever it was that you felt when you were with him. you didn't want to call it love, too scared of it, too scared of the thought that maybe he felt the same way.

little did you know, that rafe was thinking the same thing, wondering if you felt the connection between the two of you, or if it was just something he had pictured. and so, in silence, the both of you were wondering the same thing, from two different points of view.

[chronicowboy]

bet the house (watch it fall) | 1.2k

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession," Eddie says, a perfect recital of the line he'd spent all morning in the bathroom rehearsing.

For a long moment, silence. Eddie has to fight the urge to check there's actually someone on the other side. Then —

"Eddie?" It's a familiar voice. One that has the tension seeping out of Eddie's shoulders all at once.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "Yeah, it's me."

"It's good to hear your voice again," Father Brian says, a hint of a smile in the words. "I wasn't sure I would."

"I wasn't sure either, but, uh." Eddie digs his left thumb into the middle of his right palm until flesh yields to bone. "I needed to talk to someone, and I wasn't sure who to go to."

Not true. Knew exactly who he'd go to. Bobby. But Bobby was gone. And Buck would have been his next choice, but Buck was hanging on by a thread, and Eddie wasn't going to be the one to break it. He'd just be the one to catch Buck when it finally snapped.

"You're always welcome here," Brian tells him, and Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut against the tears.

"This was my captain's church, you know?" he rasps. "That's how I knew about it."

"Captain Nash."

"I, yeah. How did you —"

"He spoke about you a lot. Spoke about all his firefighters, but especially you and a... Buck?"

"Yeah." Eddie huffs a wet laugh. "That tracks." Wonders what exactly Bobby would say about him. Imagines he must have painted a pretty tragic picture.

"I was very sorry to hear of his passing. He was a good man. I find that's increasingly rare in the world right now."

"He was something else alright." Eddie takes a deep breath, gathers up all the grief and the guilt in the back of his throat. "I wasn't here when he died. I found out over the phone." His voice breaks, and Eddie takes a moment to gather himself. Father Brian lets him. "Buck told me. And, God, I've never heard him like that before."

Except that's not true, Eddie thinks. He's heard it once before. When Los Angeles was half-drowned, and Buck was dirty and bloody and soaking wet and shaking, and all he had left was Christopher's glasses.

"I moved back to Texas to be with my son," Eddie says suddenly. Can't linger in that memory for long. Not if he wants to make it out of the confessional.

"Ah, I see." Another smile creeping into his voice. There's something about the way he speaks that reminds Eddie so much of Bobby that he has to turn his thumb, so the nail digs a crescent moon into the soft flesh of his palm. "You followed your joy."

"Yeah." Eddie sighs, drags a hand down his face, laughs a broken noise. "Left a hell of a lot of it behind though." Holds his breath for a moment. "With Buck." Waits for God to smite him down.

Nothing.

"Well, you can only fit so much in a U-Haul," Brian says easily. It startles a laugh out of Eddie. A real one this time. Sharp but real. "I'm sure he took good care of it for you."

"He did," Eddie agrees, just as easily. Then averts course like a coward. "I'm just. Stuck. Now. I'm having a hard time getting myself back to Texas even though my kid's there."

He leaves out the part where Christopher keeps telling him he's not allowed to come back until he's sure Buck is okay. It feels too big for such a small space.

"And why do you think that is?"

"I wasn't here when my team needed me. I don't want to make that mistake again."

"Are you thinking about coming back?"

Eddie laughs again. Another empty thing.

"I've been thinking about coming back since I left. I just. I never thought it'd be like this. Because of this." He shakes his head. Doesn't bother fighting the tears this time. "I wanted coming home to be happy. That's the only reason Chris is still in Texas. I didn't want him coming home to another ghost."

"That makes sense," Brian says not unkindly. "But, Eddie, I have to say, it still sounds like you're denying yourself joy."

And there it is. That fucking word again. The one that's haunted him since the juice bar. Since Buck on his doorstep. Since Eddie flipped that goddamn tablet and it took his whole world with it.

"Maybe." Eddie shrugs. What right does he have to joy when Bobby's was taken from him so cruelly? "Bobby told me once. He said that I didn't have to lose everything before I allowed myself to feel something." Those words have been on his mind a lot lately. Every time he looks at Buck, and he wonders if Bobby had seen something Eddie had never been able to look too closely at. "I didn't know what he meant at the time."

"And now?"

"Now, I know I haven't quite lost everything, but I've lost a hell of a lot, and I don't want to have to lose anything else before I allow myself to feel joy." The words come out hoarse and hollow. Eddie thinks, in another world, he'd get to say this to Bobby. And he tries to imagine the smile he'd wear when Eddie said it. That thing so full of pride, so naturally paternal. It winds him a little.

"What does joy look like to you, Eddie?" Father Brian asks gently.

"Christopher." Eddie huffs a breath, looks up at Bobby wherever he may be. "Buck."

"Mm." Eddie glances at the partition, just for a second, catches Brian's smile as he ducks his head. He loses his breath a little, looks back to the doorway. "What are you gonna do about it?"

And that's the question. The one Eddie's been trying to answer since he left. Since before that maybe. Since a quiet, half-honest conversation in Buck's loft. The one he gave up for Eddie. Since the lightning strike. Since the shooting. Since the well. Since Evan Buckley.

"I've got joy right in front of me." He shrugs, smiles just slightly. "I'm not gonna walk away from it again."

"Alright then." The smile is unmistakable in Father Brian's voice now. The way Bobby's would be in the engine when he was trying to keep them all focused but, instead, found himself getting sucked in. "Your penance —" and Eddie supposed he should have expected it, bringing this into God's house, but he'd thought— "is one Hail Mary."

"Only one?" Eddie blinks. He looks back at the partition, finds Father Brian's warm eyes already there.

"Something tells me it's gonna be a big one," he murmurs. Eddie ducks his head to hide the flush of his cheeks. How terribly easy he must be to read. How many people must have read him cover to cover before Eddie could even bring it upon himself to open the fucking book. How inevitable it all seems now. It's Buck. Of course, it's Buck. "Good luck, Eddie."

[seitmai]

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away. The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

Not the only two women (who both extremely skilled and can definitely defend themselves!) being sus and on high alert about this situationwhy the men are just chilling and maybe curious, that is male privilege 🥲

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

Fair

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

Oh he knows her and her training too well to not put up his hands

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

Oh Bob 🥹

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

🥰🥰🥰

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

Haha it's giving age of ultron 😂

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

Could be longer 😂😂😂😂

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

He is so smitten and in love with his wife even in that situation 😍🥹

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

Valid

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

Oh baby, he sure has🥺

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

Of course she can, if she keeps Bucky in line she can with this ragtag group 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways. "For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

He deserved that and he knows it haha

I loved this and would love to read more of them if you ever feel up to it!

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

[mintedwitcher]

something I'm workshopping for my "Buck leaves the 118" fic below the cut:

He sits in his car for a long time, just staring out at the waves. He used to surf. He used to love surfing. When did that stop, he wonders? Was it when the tsunami happened? Or was it before that? He can’t remember the last time he went surfing.

His phone is in his hand before he really registers picking it up, and then he’s dialling a number that he’s been avoiding for weeks.

“This is Kinard.”

“Tommy,” Buck says, and it’s like he can finally breathe.

“Evan? What’s wrong?” Tommy asks immediately.

“I’m at the beach,” Buck says. “Just got off work. Did you know I used to be a surf instructor? I can’t remember the last time I went surfing.”

“Which beach?” Tommy asks. “And no, I didn’t know that. I can see it though, it suits you.”

“More than being a firefighter?” Buck asks. “I don’t know which beach, I wasn’t paying attention. I just ended up here.”

“No, firefighting suits you better,” Tommy says. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Buck says. He might be lying. He doesn’t really know. That last call did get a little hairy, but he doesn’t feel hurt. Mostly he just feels… “Tired.”

“Stay awake for me,” Tommy says. Buck can hear the sound of Tommy’s truck revving. He’s driving, too. He’s probably going to work.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Buck says. “I’m not even sure why I did, I just… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Evan, sweetheart, you’re scaring me,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds urgent now.

“I’m not killing myself,” Buck tells him, because that’s important. “I won’t do that. I’m getting a transfer next week. Can’t mess things up for my new Captain before I even start working for him.”

“Good, Evan, that’s good,” Tommy says. “I’m on my way right now, okay? Just keep talking to me, sweetheart. Tell me about your surf instructor job. I’ve gotta know, were you blonde?”

Buck barks a laugh. “Frosted tips,” he says. “It was Peru. Wait, no, that was the bartending job. God, there’s been so many, I can’t keep track of them all. Maybe I’ll ask Maddie. She’ll know. She kept my postcards.”

“You sent her postcards?” Tommy asks. Buck knows that he’s trying to keep him awake, keep him alert and oriented. He’s a firefighter, he knows the drill. He goes with it anyway.

“Yeah, one from every place I lived in, before LA,” Buck says. “There’s like, twenty of them.”

“You’ll have to tell me about all of them,” Tommy says. “How many jobs have you had?”

“Too many,” Buck says with a sigh. “I liked most of them. Surfing, carpentry, bartending… I was a ranch hand for a while. Can’t believe it took you kissing me to realise I’m into men. The signs were there, Tommy, let me tell you.”

“You checked out my ass the day we met, remember,” Tommy says. Buck laughs again. It still sounds wrong, but maybe it’s because he hasn’t laughed in a while. Maybe he needs to relearn how.

“In my defence, you have a great ass,” Buck says.

“You’re right, I do,” Tommy says, chuckling.

“And so modest, too,” Buck says. He’s teasing. They’re flirting. Buck’s smile feels a little more genuine this time.

“A triple threat,” Tommy agrees. “I’m pulling up now. I can see your truck.”

“Yay,” Buck replies, and Tommy laughs. The sound is warm and rich, like Tommy’s favourite coffee order. A few seconds later, Tommy’s truck parks next to his.

“Can I come sit with you?” Tommy asks, still on the phone. Buck can see him through the car windows. He nods. The call disconnects. A moment later, Tommy’s knocking on his passenger side window. Buck moves his duffel bag into the back seat and unlocks his doors so Tommy can climb inside.

He’s still in his sleep clothes.

“Did I wake you up?” Buck asks, eyeing the pyjama pants that he bought for Tommy back when they were dating. Buck’s matching set is in his dresser drawer at home, along with the few shirts he managed to pilfer from Tommy during their relationship that he hasn’t gotten around to returning yet.

“Yes, but I don’t care,” Tommy says. “You call, I come running. Or, driving, in this case. Are you okay?”

And maybe it’s the pyjamas, maybe it’s the forty-eight he just worked, maybe it’s the takeout boxes in the kitchen and the empty fridge at work, or maybe he’s just done. Buck gets one full breath in, and the next one hitches, and before he knows it, he’s sobbing. Tommy reacts immediately, pulling him in. It’s uncomfortable and awkward with the centre console in the way, but Buck doesn’t care. He hides his face in Tommy’s neck and cries, and cries, and cries.

[barefeet-only]

Say Shawarma Right Now

It was a rainy August afternoon when Talia arrived in Gotham. It wasn’t a shock that it was raining, it always rained in Gotham. A depressing city with a depressing atmosphere. Why her love and son were so obsessed with it she would never know. So while Talia was prepared with her umbrella as she walked through the streets, waiting for her son’s compatriots to notice she was in town, she did not expect the humidity. This city always found a way to make her miserable. 

While she waited for her son to come find her, Talia made her way to her favorite local street vendor. A wonderful immigrant woman from Iran who had married a Turkish man and moved to the United States with hopes of grandeur. She had a talent for seasonings unheard of on this side of the Atlantic and it always made suffering through her chattering worth it. 

Talia noticed him as she made her way down the international market. A tall man with broad shoulders and a fit build. Not too muscular but enough to prove he went to the gym regularly. He was laughing loudly as he talked to the shawarma lady while she made his food. The cook was talking about how her son had finally gotten a girlfriend but forgot her birthday and was desperately trying to make it up to her. 

“Say wallah right now!” He jokingly exclaimed. 

“Wallah! Now I have a moping son and a no good husband stinking up the house right now. What I wouldn’t give to have a good boy like you as my child!”

Talia was on edge, something about this man was familiar to her. She couldn’t place where, but instinctually the assassin knew she knew this man. In her line of work, being able to place a face was the difference between life and death.

Talia took a seat at a nearby bench and began studying his side profile. He had thick black hair with an undercut and longer bangs on the front, a black stud on his lower lobe, and lightly tanned skin that would allow him to pass as white as long as he stayed out of the sun. While his piercing blue eyes should have been the first thing anyone would notice about him, it was the small curving scar behind his ear that instantly clued Talia in on his identity. 

“How much longer do you plan on staying in Gothman Danyal?” The cook asked. 

“Ah, I'm only here for another week now. Looks like we are closing the deal and I’ll be heading home.”

Danyal gave a cheerful smile to the lady as she handed him his food. 

“It’s partly why I came here to visit you, Mina. No one back home knows how to season like you do.” 

He leaned in and spoke low, “Or give me as good a discount.”

Mina tsked and smacked the man, “What a beggar! Got yourself a big fancy job and you’re still here asking for money off!”

Danyal winked at her and took a bite of his food, groaning in appreciation. 

Mina smiled, “Well I’m going to miss you dear boy. Please come visit some time.” 

“Boy?! How many times do I have to tell you I’m thirty!”

Danyal smiled genuinely and handed her a bright green business card, “But of course I’m going to visit. Here, this has my number on it, remind me to come visit in a couple months when you realize your best customer needs to help you pay your bills.”

She took the card and giggled. 

“Green? Really Danyal, you ought to be more professional with the job you have, this is why I call you boy. That and you barely look a day past twenty-three.” 

Danyal giggled and walked away, taking his meal with him. Talia was no longer hungry anymore. After a few moments she stood up and slowly followed him. She needed to know why he was in Gotham, she needed to know why he was alive. 

As they walked through the streets Talia noticed that Danyal was dry, the rain hadn’t stopped the entire time she had been in Gotham yet somehow Danyal had not a drop of moisture on him. He must have some device on him that allowed him to stay dry, there was no natural explanation. Dangerous she thought. Yet the moment the thought occurred to her, she recoiled at the idea. Danyal was a pathetic assassin, he had no talent for the craft at all and after all this time he finally instilled caution in her? Something was wrong, and Talia was determined to figure out what. If nothing else, she would finally achieve her greatest regret and kill Danyal herself. 

[zozo-01]

His greatsword swung through another training dummy, slashing in into two pieces. It's a shame that none of these dummies could withstand his might and fury. Oh well, he would just have to keep going until he finds something more challenging. Perhaps one of the other heirs would be available for some friendly sparring?

Before he could ready himself for another swing, a voice perked up behind him.

"You know, Okhema may be blessed with Kephale's eternal light, but I think even They would tell you that night has come." He didn't need to turn around to know that it was you, your blunt yet teasing tone following him wherever he goes.

You were one of the Chrysos Heirs that greeted him alongside Lady Aglaea the day he was welcomed into Okhema not that long ago. A mysterious thing you were, always floating in and out of existence, never staying in one place for too long. Even the other Heirs he spoke to know not who you are nor your role in the Flame-Chase journey.

Nonetheless, Lady Aglaea trusted you and he trusted her.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure, my lady?" He didn't bother to face you, mind to focused on his training.

Phainon was going to continue his massacre of the training dummies, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Perhaps you should take a break," an uncharacteristic worried tone took over your voice, giving him the impression that you cared, for what reasons, he didn't know. It had been a while since he started his training, so maybe a brief pause wasn't entirely out of the question.

Phainon turned around to face you, taking in the sight of you. You were beautiful, no one in Amphoreous could deny that. A being blessed by Mnestia themself. You always had a way to leave him a little flustered, finding himself stumbling over his words whenever you simply look at him.

(He was taught that the most beautiful of statues are constructed to hide the most tragic tales. So what secrets do you hide behind those pretty eyes?)

You take a glance behind him with a raised eyebrow, taking note of all the destroyed dummies behind him.

"Someone of your stature could do better then lifeless mannequins, no?" you say with a smirk on your lips. "Is Mydei not available to train with you?"

"He went to his chambers a while back," Phainon responded. Mydeimos had provided him a wonderful training partner, but he wasn't going to let the Prince dictate his schedule.

"Don't you think if the Prince of Castrum Kremnos is taking a break, it should be a good indicator that you should rest as well, Deliverer?" you ask as you cock your head to the side.

How could he rest knowing the Black Tide continues to take over more and more of Amphoreous every day? That one day he will come to face the phantom that took his home? He wasn't strong enough back then and he refuses to make that mistake again.

"I have to get stronger to face off against the Black Tide, my lady." He turned back to the training dummies.

"Oh no, what hell will befall us if the great Deliverer fails to destroy all the training equipment in Okhema," you laugh and he could tell you rolled your eyes behind him. Phainon knew you were joking, that you were simply teasing him, but that didn't stop the rage flooding into his heart, like a tide taking over a beach.

Without even thinking, he dropped his greatsword and marched over to you with anger etched onto his face. He stopped just a breath away from your face.

"If you have nothing of worth to say, then I suggest you leave." Phainon was shocked by the steel and venom he was letting out. He usually was better at controlling his feelings, but tonight, he was ready to burst at the seams.

You didn't yell back, you didn't raise your weapon. You barely even flinched. Instead your own gaze turned to ice and you asked him a simple question.

"Do you think you're the only one who has lost everything to the Black Tide?"

He was taken aback by your question, taking a literal step back before responding.

"No, I-"

"Then hear this Deliverer," you didn't give him the chance to respond. "You don't need to shoulder this burden alone. All of us have lost something and all of us are willing to fight to take back what is rightfully ours. There are multiple heirs because even Kephale knew an individual could no do this alone." You take a breath with a sigh, your face softening. "You're no good to us Phainon if you're dead tired from all this training. So hear me when I say that you should take a break for today, okay?" He was damn near hypnotized by the gentle eyes you gave him.

He gulped, not knowing how to respond other then to simply nod his head and accept that he will not be training today.

"Wonderful," you exclaim. Phainon doesn't even realize that you have hooked your arm around his, dragging his tired body towards the City Square. In that moment, his stomach grumbled and he wondered when was that last time he even ate something.

"I'll promise you a sparring session tomorrow, to make up for tonight," you offered to him. "I know I'm no Mydei, but I think I could keep up with you." Phainon knew damn well that if there was anyone who could beat both him and Mydeimon is a battle, it would be you.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady." His mind is already dreaming of what tomorrow would bring.

In that moment, he realized that he had gain something that he thought wasn't possible after the massacre of Aedes Elysiae. He thought he buried his need for human connection, his desire to let someone into his heart. He was even considering telling you his real name

But in you he found something he hadn't had in a long time.

A friend. Maybe even something more. He was going to make sure he wouldn't lose you too.

(It was too late, for your fate was sealed in the stars that hung behind Calamity's Gate. Poor Deliverer, destined to rule the world alone.)

(Not if he had anything to say about that.)

My poor, sweet Phainon, the horrors that await you are numerous ;-;

Shoutout to @baeshijima for not only feeding the Phainon obsession, but also been inspring me to write *gasp* fanfics for other fandoms?? The audacity of me T-T. The big one is coming... soon... I think.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

How simply he soothed her worries, and for a moment she wondered if there was nothing she could do that might dissuade him from pursuing her. Goodness, she hoped not. She never wished to let him out of her sight. Her heart absolutely swelled at the thought that he would come for her as early as he was able.

Without thinking or hesitating, she pressed a kiss to his lips, her fingertips resting against his cheek as she did.

"Thank you, queirdo," she breathed. "For everything. My life truly changed the moment I met you."

But now, she knew she must get up and get dressed and return home, loathe as she was to do so. She wished to stay with him, always.

A heavy sigh left her, and she sat up, pulling away from him. "Would that I could stay with you, dearest. But should I not take my leave now, I might find sleep overtaking me right here."

She combed her fingers through her hair a moment, but did not bother to straighten it entirely. What did it matter? She was going to bed as soon as she got back. Her eyes scanned the room, attempting to locate her clothes in the dimness of the stable. They were scattered about, and that was both amusing and thrilling. They had taken so little care to get to this moment, while also being keenly keyed into one another.

Then she took a long moment to just look at him lying there. He was so entirely beautiful, and she knew that he was her freedom in every way. "I shall miss you every moment that we are apart."

He stroked her cheek adoringly, pressing kiss after kiss to the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. He shifted to lie properly on the blanket he had laid out on the straw pile, then gathered her into his arms, nice and close and safe. There was something so warm about this moment - he was certain it wasn't just the proximity.

Her yawn was simply adorable. He beamed and kissed her forehead again, stroking her hair away from her face with gentle fingertips. And then he yawned too. "Excuse me," he said with a faint laugh in his voice. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like to have her fall asleep in his arms. It would be all too easy to escort her inside, ascend to his room and tumble sleepily into bed together. He could scarcely imagine a more comforting thought.

But her expression fell and her words brought the reality of their situation back into focus. "Of course," he assured her. "If you wish me to be there, I shall be there. And you know you are always welcome here... even at two in the morning," he added playfully, nudging his nose against hers. "She may not be guarding you or your interests, darling, but I shall. As fiercely as I must."

[rexhya]

boss at work nanami —- modern office au.

the office crew go to celebrate the end of a years hard work and share drinks!!! reader gets super drunk, boss nanami lets down his cold exterior?!

risky celebration — ✦ ✦

warn — none

incl — nanamin ;> ♡ + bonus texts !

It was around 7pm when you were dragged into the end of year celebration your company was holding, if you were being honest, it was a much needed reward after an entire year of excel spreadsheets and annoying customers you had to deal with.

"[Name] you made it!" Gojo said excitedly, causing a few of many heads to turn towards you and cheer drunkenly, the party had already gotten started.

"Yeah, couldn't miss out on free beer and barbecue now could I?" you laughed taking a seat quietly next to him. Before Gojo could respond another eruption of cheers occurred when Nanami, your boss walked into the room. You were surprised, it wasn't typical of him to attend any gatherings no matter the occasion but you were happy to see him nonetheless. He took a seat next to you before greeting the rest of his employee's ( not Gojo, which made you laugh ).

You looked at his appearance, chiseled jaw, his tie was undid slightly and wrinkled lines under his eyes that gave you the impression he was in much need of a break as well. You'd never understand how Gojo could annoy the man so easily, although he was patient, you never pick up on how the white haired freak was able to cross the fine line between a friend and being a nuisance to the man. You guessed it was because they had been working together for so long.

The barbecue was passed around slowly and you were starting to feel awkward as Gojo socialized with everyone but you. You glanced at Nanami's face trying to converse, "You should give a speech," you whispered and Nanami's cold dead eyes switched to you.

"Well I'm not sure I have it in me after this year." he sighed.

"Oh," you coughed. How embarrassing, it was obvious he wasn't in the mood for talking, and after dealing with everything and now you, you should have known better. The night continued on like this, everyone else partying their asses off, Nanami sitting quietly drinking his beer and you trying to be as sociable as he would allow. You felt awkward, sipping your sorrows away eventually it led for a very delirious and confusing night.

You were completely plastered, to say the least.

"Wooo, go 'Toru!" You cheered quietly, he was standing in the middle of the room, champagne bottle in hand singing his heart out. Nanami rolled his appropriately.

Satoru, who'd had a keen eye on you pointed in the air, "Okay, this one goes out to my favorite girl." and began mockingly doing a peace sign between his tounge, your co-workers erupted in shouts, Gojo was as usual teasing you but it made you blush nonetheless. Next to you Nanami squinted his eyes but you hadn't noticed, continuing to clap clueless as he sung.

Eventually things had simmered down, most people had already headed home and so It was just you, your boss, Gojo and a few stragglers left. You were stumbling your way to your car when Nanami stopped you.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked his arms crossed.

Your heart jumped in anxiety, had you done something? If you didn't you hadn't a clue what it was. "H-home?"

"Not like that you aren't, your extremely intoxicated."

A beat of silence passed before you had It in your right might to say something.

"Well then, how will I get home?" You asked softly, your words slightly slurred. Nanami cleared his throat before speaking.

"Well, I could drop you off, if you're okay with it of course." you beamed at him so brightly he almost took your cheeks and squished them between his palms right then and there.

"That would be wonderful, yes, thank you!"

He led you to his car thoughtfully, he'd messes up at the party. His attempt at a joke had come out flat and you didn't speak with him for the rest of the night (understandably) this was his chance to smooth things over, you sat in the car, struggling to buckle you seat.

Nanami watched the clip miss the slot 3 times before deciding to waft his smoky vanilla scent into your presence and help you, smiling politely as he did it. You tried not to smile, instead giving him this dopey look of pleasure instead.

"Thanks haha."

"Not a problem."

The two of you sat quietly in the car, Nanami stressing over a way to make himself seem less..distant should he say.

"So–"

"I–"

You both started, and laughed. "You go first." he said.

"I was going to uhm, apologize for earlier ya' kno' i didn't mean ta' pressure you into speaking i was just trying to socialize and yeah." you nodded to yourself proudly like you'd been rehersing it in your head all night. (you had)

"Oh there's nothing to apologize for, I was only joking when i had said that, it was nothing personal." he stated glancing at your figure in the passenger's seat.

"Really? your voiced sounded watery, and soo enough you were crying, "We'll that's great because I honestly thought you'd hated me for the longest especially after today, gosh i'm just so lonely nowadays it's just really reassuring to know someone around here likes me ya' kno'".

Kento face paled at your tears, it was obvious yiu were an emotional drunk which was on a side note: adorable but what had confused him more the words yous said to him.

"Miss. [Name], you mean to tell me you're lonely?"

You nodded, sniffing and hicing slightly, "Well, yeah I mean, It's not like I really talk to anyone besides 'Toru and a couple others. Even then were not that close.."

Now he was even more confused, "Really, you and Gojo aren't close? Then what was that thing about, eailer when he was singing for you."

You sputtered, suddenly very aware that this was your boss you were talking to. "Oh well, you know. He just likes to tease me as usual, it doesn't meant anything. And anyway's Nanami aren't the two of you closer? I havent a clue how he gets away annoying you like that."

"Call me Kento. And yes, well, we are close. I just had no idea that you were too."

"I see."

You and Nanami rode the rest of the trip in silence, eventually reaching your house seeing as you tripping over the stairs on you way out of the party Nanami decides to help you in. His chest is warm and you try to focus on the steps to help. When you finally reach the steps Nanami is disappointed, he'd got so caught up in his own mind he'd forgotten ther'd be a time you'd actually have to leave.

"Well," he started, "I suppose this is good—" but he didn't get to finish before a sloppy wet kiss was placed on the corner of his mouth.

"Goodnight Kento, I wish you a wonderful evening."

"You to—" he was cut off my he loud slam of a door.

++ bonus !!

[for-your-modesty-dude]

Valentine pt. 3

Part 1 … Part 2

A/N: Y'all I am so freaking sorry it's been so long. I literally showed up, started writing fics, and then disappeared forever. I'm not gonna lie, life has been absolutely insane recently. There's been so much going on, and my family is dealing with some stuff that is way far out of our control. Am I panicking? Maybe. Am I also fine? Yes. I don't know how it works. I'm sure my therapist plays a part in that LOL. Anyway, here it is. Part 3 of Valentine. I'm not going to lie to you, it really did not turn out nearly as good as I'd hoped. But I really really wanted to finish this so I could maybe get back into writing again. I need to fall in love with my hobbies again. I hope it's not too crappy. Please send in requests or fic suggestions. Maybe one of them will inspire me. I love you all forever! - Hy <3

Summary: Eddie finally makes his move!

Warnings: None that I can think of. Maybe some gross fluff, and like... subpar writing.

Word Count: 2k

Gareth and Jeff gave him the best advice they could. They tried, really. But they were hardly the romantic type, so Eddie took some of their advice- but the rest he let fly out the other ear. He eventually grabbed his backpack and ran out to his van, driving home as quickly as he could without getting himself another traffic ticket. 

He ran inside and threw his backpack onto the couch and kicked his boots off before sliding in his socks to his phone, picking it up and dialing your number. 

“Hello?” You picked up with a yawn, and Eddie wondered if he’d woken you up. 

“Heeey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“God no,” you tell him. “I was rereading the same page of this book for the fourth time. Can’t keep my focus, ‘m just bored. How was D&D? You’re home so early. Wait… Did you kill them?” You ask with a breathy laugh, imagining the night ending with Eddie decimating the party. 

“It was good! And- nah. The guys were restless, had places to be,” he lied, and there was a pause of comfortable silence. “But honestly, it was alright. Not the same without you there, don’t worry,” he smiled to himself. His kindness made your cheeks go pink. 

“Oh, please,” you scoffed with amusement evident in your voice. “Like you don’t love not having me around to bother your boys’ club,” you mostly joked. Eddie did not find it funny. 

“What? Don’t say that. We love having you around. You know that,” he said seriously. The seriousness of his tone made you smile. 

“Okay, okay, Ed. Thank you,” you tell him softly. “Gimme the rundown, then.”

He started to tell you all about how far they got in the campaign, having to make some stuff up to not give away how little they’d actually played. You seemed satisfied, and you believed him. “So… any fun plans tomorrow?” He asked. 

“Nah. Commiserating. Wanna join?” 

“I can come over?” He asked, hopeful. 

“Course you can. I’ll make room on the couch. I’ll even push aside the stale bag of chips for you to sit down next to me,” you joked. The two of you kept sharing jokes and silly comments until you got too sleepy to go on, so you hung up and headed to bed. 

The next morning, Eddie got up - way earlier than the Munson boy ever woke up on a Saturday - but he had so much to do. He first packed a duffel - necessary for his date, later - and then freshened up as much as he could. 

When he was finally ready, he dialed your number and chewed on his lip as he waited for you to pick up. 

“Mornin’,” you greeted, sleepy but awake. 

“Hey sweets, it’s me,” Eddie said, full of nervous energy. “We never decided on a time last night. Do you wanna hang now, or…?” He twirled the phone cable around his finger and back the other way. 

“Oh, that’s right. Honestly, now’s totally fine. I’m just finishing my coffee now. Wanna stop at the Family Video for us? I’ll pay you back when you get here.” You offered him. 

“I’ll stop by there, yeah. And no need, keep your cash, doll. I’ll see you soon, then!” He hung up before you could even respond, leaving you to laugh to yourself. He was so easily distracted. 

It gave you just enough time to prepare for his arrival - you changed into nicer sweats and actually styled your hair a little, fighting the urge to put on some makeup. This was just Eddie. You knew you wouldn’t make him fall in love with you with some mascara, not after he’d seen you at your worst so many times before. You just needed to accept that he was always going to remain a wonderful friend and nothing more. 

When Eddie showed up, he looked nicer than he usually did for movie dates at your place, but you didn’t think anything of it. You would just secretly admire him from across the room. Better him here with you than out with another girl, you supposed. 

The day started off normally enough. You had some snacks and watched a couple of movies, but Eddie seemed to keep checking his watch. Something about it was weird, because he didn’t seem in a rush to leave, but almost like he was expecting someone. It got to be too much when he checked his watch for the third time in less than 5 minutes, so you kicked him lightly with a socked foot from your side of the couch. 

“Why do you keep checking the clock, you weirdo? Did you invite someone to my house?” You ask with your nose slightly scrunched in displeasure. 

“What?” He blinked, “no- no. I wouldn’t- no. Uhh… you probably wanna go get ready, sweetheart,” he let his head fall back against the couch cushion lazily, making your brows furrow. 

“Get ready? For what?” You sat up, eyes searching his face which was- unfortunately unreadable. Damn DM instincts. 

“Do you trust me?” He turned his head to look at you, and something about his gaze in that moment made you blush, and you nodded. “Then go get ready. Wear somethin’ nice. I’m going to make use of the bathroom here. Let me know if you need any help,” he pushed himself up off of the couch and grabbed the duffel bag he’d packed himself, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to stare at him with a bewildered look. It took you a moment to shake off the surprise, but you managed to, and dragged yourself up the stairs to shower and get ready. You styled your hair in your usual favorite going-out style, not knowing just how dolled up you were supposed to get but figuring more was always better. You’d rather be overdressed than underdressed. 

And of course, because Eddie would see you in this outfit, you couldn’t help but to choose a dress you’d been secretly saving for just this kind of occasion. It fit like a glove, but you’d never actually gotten the opportunity to wear it out before. Wearing it now felt foreign, but looking at yourself in the mirror helped your self-image considerably. This dress looked good on you, and you hoped he’d think the same. 

You exited your bedroom to find Eddie’s duffel bag on your couch, and his ratty sneakers by your door, but… no Eddie. The bathroom door was open, showing it was empty, so you searched the kitchen before peeking through the blinds to the parking lot. You didn’t see Eddie’s van, but he’d left his things, so… he was probably coming back, right? You paced a bit in your heels, chewing on your lip as you considered all of the possibilities. 

Before you could decide to change out of your nice outfit, you heard a knock at the door, and hurried to answer it, finding Eddie standing there with a bouquet of black peonies and deep red tulips. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you blinked up at him, realizing he looked incredibly put together and handsome. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but as the blush reached your cheeks, you simply floundered for the words to say, and you stood there in an awkward sort of silence. 

“I uh- these are for you,” he cleared his throat and told you, wiping a clammy hand on his black jeans. You took another moment to flounder before taking the flowers and staring down at them. You eventually found your voice. 

“Oh. Thank- thank you,” you managed quietly, “what are these for?”

He ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. It was now or never.. “Uh- well- see- you mentioned how upset you were to never have anyone interested in you, but… it’s just not true, you know? Cause I have been interested in you probably since we met, and you never seemed interested back. But I figure, even if you’re not into me, I can show you a good time and prove to you that it’s not true, and someone really does like you, like a lot. If- if you’ll be my valentine, that is. I spent so long hoping you’d just magically realize that I liked you, because the idea of actually telling you- almost killed me. I was terrified. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knows me the best, and the one girl in the whole world who ever saw past my weird and gave me a chance to be her friend. This might be totally insane, but I just want you to know how- loved you are. By me. Romantically.” He felt he was digging himself into a hole, so he added an awkward “okay… I’m talking done now.”

You stared at him for a long while in stunned silence, and he looked anywhere but your eyes, growing increasingly restless as your silence swallowed him whole. He almost backed out and said it wasn’t actually that insane, he didn’t love you, don’t worry, but before he could, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, wordless. He returned it with enthusiasm, squeezing you tight and burying his nose in your hair. He held you until he heard your quiet “thank you.” Only then did he pull back to look at you, your eyes a bit misty. 

“Hey, no way, don’t thank me. I’m the one who’s been in love with you, remember?” He joked, “if anything, thank you for letting me take you out and live out my dream for one night.” 

You could tell he was being self-deprecating, and couldn’t bear it. You pulled him inside, placed the bouquet on the nearest surface, and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him down for a sudden kiss. He fumbled a moment, hands up in shock, before gripping your hips and pulling you into him, eyes squeezing shut as he deepened the kiss. If this was a dream, he wasn’t going to waste it. He was going to enjoy every goddamn second. 

Eventually, you pulled back with a breathless giggle at the way he chased your lips. “Let me breathe, Edward,” your voice was light, airy, and full of laughter. His eyes opened to watch you with the dreamiest expression. 

“Pinch me. I must be dreaming,” he said simply, making you laugh more. You pushed him away, cheeks red, still giggling. 

“Shut up. I- yes. Of course I’ll be your valentine. But where are we even going?” You asked him, picking up the bouquet to go put it in a vase. He still hadn’t shaken out of his trance, so he stared after you in silence a moment before coming to his senses again.

“Oh- uh- that’s a surprise. But you- damn- dressed for the occasion. So not to worry, it’ll be great.” He promised, following you into the kitchen and reaching up to grab the vase you liked from the higher shelf. You thanked him and unwrapped the bouquet, filling the vase before placing it into the water and placing the arrangement on your kitchen table. 

“I’ve been totally obsessed with you since, like, the day we met,” you confessed, which had his eyes nearly bulging. 

“No way. You- no way. You’re like, way out of my league.” That made you laugh, and you pulled him down for a kiss again. 

“Shut up, Eddie. And take me on our first date,” you hummed against his lips. 

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed breathlessly, pulling you flush against him. 

“And by the way, Eddie…” You started at a whisper. 

“Yeah?” He matched your tone.

“I didn’t ‘see past’ your weird. I saw your weird. And I needed it in my life.”

He nearly melted at your feet just then, but pushed forward to kiss you again, to keep from saying something stupid or embarrassing himself with getting emotional.

“I love you,” he told you. “I really, seriously, love you.”

“I- Eddie, I love you too,” you told him in return, butterflies erupting in your stomach and heart racing out of your chest before kissing him again.

You would definitely be a minute or two late to that reservation, but damn, if it wasn’t worth it.

Taglist: @am0iur @ali-r3n @hellmastereddie @ziggeddie @nojamsonmytoast @seedlingghost @loveu2themoonandsaturn @aliceheart247 @littlemissholy @daydreampending @justalotoffanfiction @midnightdragonzero @iyskgd @girlwedontcare

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 5

The second picture Danny sent to Jazz was of him, Alejandro, and their family at the table full of foods that he'd helped Papá Antonio make. He'd captioned it, "My first friend on the road."

The first picture he send to Tucker and Sam had followed an essay length apology and explanation. It was of the first bus stop on his way from Monterrey to Linares, captioned, "Abuela Maya clocked me as ghost the second she saw me, and I think it's because of the town she's from. Or she's just like that."

The fourth picture he'd send Dani was when he'd finally arrived in Linares. On the steps of Ayuntamiento, eating a churro. He'd captioned it, "We should meet up soon."

The first picture he sent to Alejandro was of the birds inching closer to him.

None of them had responded right away, but he didn't expect them to. Instead, he put his phone away and opened the sketchbook Maria had given him before he left. The first few pages had been filled on the bus ride over, head shots of the people on the bus with him. Some got off before him, some long after, some with him. Now, he drew the birds sharing the steps with him.

Linares, Nuevo León, Mexico was a fairly small city, and Danny knew he wasn't going to be staying there for nearly as long as he'd stayed in Monterrey. Really, the only think that had brought him here in the first place was because Abuela Maya had told Alejandro to tell him to come here. Who was he to deny Abuela Maya?

There was nothing in the Wiki for the town that he could find that would explain why Abuela Maya was the way she was, so he planned to spend the next few hours exploring to see if he could find anything. If not, then he'd be on his way to San Luis Potosí.

But what Alejandro said kept him from leaving the steps. "You might find some of the answers you're looking for there." What could they have possibly meant by that?

"You're a sad li'tle thing, aren't ya."

It took Danny a moment to register the language change, going from Spanish to English. When he did realize what was said, he blinked up at the man standing in front of him.

A lot of things ran through Danny's head, though he only said one thing aloud, "Who wears a trench coat in this kind of weather?"

Nothing about the man's physical appearance changed, but Danny could tell he'd already gotten on his nerves. Oh, this was gonna be fun.

"I do," he sat beside him and lit up a cigarette, "An' don't get any ideas, you li'tle shite, I can hear the cogs in yer head turnin'."

Danny couldn't just let that slide. "Who, me? Why I'd never!"

"Layin' it on thick ain't gonna do you any favors, kid."

He pouted. "You're no fun." He blinked again and scooted away. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

He took a drag of his cigarette. "John Constantine, at your service."

"And why'd you approach me, Mr. Constantine?"

The man cringed. "Don' call me 'mister', I ain't tha' old."

Danny took a long look at him. Finally, he decided, "Old Man Connie." Old Man Connie spluttered as Danny stood up and stretched. "I don't know what you want, Old Man, but I ain't yer kid."

Constantine stood to chase after him, crushing his cigarette underfoot and catching up easily. Danny let him. "I'm not old!"

"You're grey hair says otherwise."

"It's blond!" he retaliated. Under his breath, he muttered, "If I have any grey hairs, I'm going to murder that fuckin' Bat, consequences be damned."

Danny didn't say anything, but he had to wonder about who "that fuckin' Bat" was, especially because he could hear the capitalization on 'Bat'.

Amity Park didn't get a lot of outside news, most preferring to stay in the tiny bubble they'd carved for themselves during the Witch Trials.

"You're not human." Old Man Connie said after following him for nearly ten minutes.

Danny ignored him because how does he know?

Despite what Jazz says, ignoring his problems until they go away has worked wonders in the past.

Old Man Connie didn't leave. "You're not from here, either. you're obviously a native English speaker, and I'd place your accent as midwestern USA."

Danny walked a bit faster. If he could just loose they guy...

Old Man Connie popped up in front of him just as he turned a corner. There was no one else around. "You ain't gettin' rid 'o me tha' easy, kid."

Danny scowled. "I can sure as hell try." He aimed a punch at the man's stomach before booking it. He didn't make it more than half a block before Old Man Connie grabbed the back of his hoodie and lifted him up like a dog in air prison.

"That wasn't very nice of you, now was it?"

There was an officer coming their way. Danny spotted her and waved before Old Man Connie could stop him.

"¿Hay algún problema?" she asked.

Old Man Connie waved his hand and shook his head, still speaking English, "None at all, officer. My nephew here's just being a pain."

Danny could find his voice. It was gone. He couldn't speak. He started panicking.

Somehow, the officer understood Old Man Connie. She nodded and, reluctantly, left them on the street corner.

Scrambling at the hand holding him up, Danny started thrashing, eventually forcing Old Man Connie to put him down.

"Alright! Jeez, kid! I'm not gonna hurt you."

Danny didn't care. Where was his voice? Where did it go?! He gestured wildly at his throat, pleading to have his voice back. Then, just as sudden as it had left him, it was back.

"You bitch!" Danny screamed. He felt he was well justified in his reaction. "You can't just-just take someone's voice after accusing them of not being human! What the hell?!"

Old man Connie backed up a few steps with his hands up in surrender, though that didn't do anything to make Danny feel any less cornered, "It maybe was a bi' harsh, bu' you star'ed it."

"I started it?!" Danny screeched, "You did! I was minding my own business, eatin' a churro, when you come out of literally nowhere and say I'm not human! Who the fuck does that?!"

"Will ya stop screamin' if I buy you another damn churro?"

A compelling argument. Danny had to consider it. "Fine. But I don't like you."

"You don' need to."

"Good," he huffed, "'Cause I don't trust you, either."

Old Man Connie's eyebrow twitched. Danny took it as a win.

Part 7

Translation 1 - Spanish: City Hall Translation 2 - Is there a problem here?

[lucydixon]

Neighbours Part 6

GIF by bestie @sweet-dr3amer This is a part of a miniseries. You can find part 1 here if you're new.

Summary: Now that you and Øystein have made up, things get a little more confusing, even after talking about your feelings. You run downstairs to return something he left behind the night before and find yourself staring back at a slightly panicked-looking Øystein and several extra pairs of eyes. Warning: NSFW, Unprotected P in V, masturbation talk, and a shocking amount of fluff given the circumstances

Strap in, friends, this might be it for this miniseries

Neither of you was sure how long you stood in the hallway, wrapped around eachother, but by the time you pulled away, you were both exhausted. 

Neither of you had been sleeping right over the last few days, and you both yawned at the same time. 

“I should probably go,” Øystein muttered after a minute. 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, taking a step back to let him through. 

A part of you was hoping he’d kiss you, but instead, he just slipped out the door without so much as a goodbye. 

You sighed tiredly. 

It was fine. 

He didn’t have to kiss you, especially after whatever the fuck had just happened. You both needed time to be alone and process. 

You went to bed wondering what if might have felt like if he had. 

In the morning, on your way out the door, you frowned at the guitar case sitting in the hallway, then your eyes widened slightly. 

Øystein must’ve left it behind. 

You’d be at work all day and it seemed pretty important. If you didn’t get it back to him in that moment, he’d be stuck without it all day. 

You grabbed it on your way out the door and felt the weight of it in your hand, wondering if it was just a guitar in there. It was heavy as fuck. 

You hauled it down the stairs and into the store. 

“Hey,” You called out as you maneuvered your way in through the door, “you left this-” 

You trailed off when you looked up and found several pairs of eyes staring back at you, including Øystein’s, which were wide with obvious panic. 

The question in them was very clear 

‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’ 

“Outside.” You finished awkwardly. “You left this outside. It is yours, right?” 

He looked relieved and even a little sorry as he nodded, but he had no intention of introducing you to his friends, which was fine by you. 

He stepped forward to grab it, but one of the boys standing around the counter rushed over to take it from you. 

You blinked at him, a little startled by the abruptness of it all. 

“Let me get that for you!” He took the case from you, blatantly leering at you. “I’m Varg, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Oh.” You smiled politely, although it was strained. “Hi.” 

“You must be the pretty girl upstairs that Jan is always talking about.” he just kept going, oblivious to the way Øystein’s grip around the counter was growing increasingly tighter, knuckles going white with the strain on them. “How come I’ve never seen you around?” 

“I work a lot.” You muttered, glancing up at Øystein’s poorly concealed jealousy momentarily. 

You almost smirked, but thought better of it.

“Anyway, speaking of work.” You waved, turning right back towards the door  “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah, you will.” Varg muttered to himself as soon as you were gone, “Wow.” 

“She’s been upstairs this whole time?” He turned to ask Øystein.

“She’s got a boyfriend.” The words spilled out of his mouth so easily that it almost felt like they were true. “A real jealous one too, so I’d be careful if I were you.” 

“Oh, I’ll be careful.” Varg chuckled, eyes wandering back over to the door. “Does he live up there with her?” 

“I don’t fucking know.” Øystein snapped suddenly. 

Everyone paused to look at him. 

“She dumped coffee on me!” He reminded all of them, doing his best to play it off “excuse me for not being her biggest fan.” 

They all seemed to accept the explanation for his outburst and went back to what they were doing while he stewed in annoyed silence. 

The last thing he needed was Varg sniffing around you. Especially after you’d just made up the day before. He hadn’t even had the chance to fuck you yet. To mark you, even.  

He’d gone almost four days without even kissing you and felt like he was going to start pulling his hair out. 

He should’ve kissed you the night before. 

He’d thought about it, but he’d never kissed you without fucking you after and the thought of it freaked him out a little if he was being honest. It would make it all feel so real. 

He wasn’t sure he could keep pretending that he wasn’t your boyfriend if he started kissing you just for fun.  Yet, here he was, telling people you already had a jealous boyfriend, knowing damn well he meant himself. 

When you got home, you half expected Øystein to be waiting for you. 

You coudn’t deny the little bit of disappointment you felt rush through you when you saw that he wasn’t. 

You lowered yourself onto one of the steps and just about jumped out of your skin when the boy from that morning, Varg, rounded the corner suddenly. 

You were startled enough to let out a gasp. 

“Sorry!” He took a step back, giving you a little room. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just leaving” 

“No, you’re good.” You sighed, lighting a cigarette. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy.” 

“Can I sit?” He asked, nodding towards the stairs. 

You knew Øystein would lose his mind if he saw the two of you out there, but you shrugged anyway and watched him sit far too close to you. 

Without thinking, you shifted up a few steps. 

“Sorry.” He frowned, “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t be happy to find you sitting with me. I don’t want to get you into trouble” 

Your brows immediately pulled together. 

“Øystein says he gets really jealous.” 

“Who does?” You were a little confused, but pretty sure you understood what had happened. 

“Your boyfriend.” 

“Ah, yes.” you nodded, with as much conviction as you could muster. “He does get pretty jealous. Over very minor things actually, so he’d probably lose his shit if he did see us, you’re right.” 

“So, I should probably go then?” He was very obviously waiting for you to say no, and invite him to stay. 

“Probably.” You shrugged, too tired to be polite. 

You didn’t wait to see what he did next and stubbed out your cigarette abruptly before standing and heading towards the door. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered to yourself as soon as you were inside. 

When Øystein showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you opened the door and fought to keep from looking smug. 

“You know,” you said, leaning into the doorframe “I had a very interesting conversation with one of your friends earlier.” 

“What were you doing talking to my friends?” He snapped, immediately defensive. 

“I wasn’t doing any of the talking.” You shrugged. “I was just trying to come home after work. And one of your little long haired fuckers pulled up on me.”

“Which one?” He rested his hand against the doorframe, a couple feet over your head, and leaned in “Was it Jan? What’d he say.” 

“It wasn’t Jan.” You shook your head, unable to help the way your lips curled upwards. “It was the other one, from this morning.” 

“You know what he said to me?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“He said, that he’d better be careful in case my boyfriend sees us, because, apparently, you told him that I have a very jealous boyfriend and that he should be careful talking to me.” 

He faltered and you saw the same panic as you’d seen that morning in his eyes, but only for a half a second before he was back to trying to act aloof. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, Øystein.” You teased, stepping aside to let him in. “Are you coming in, or did you just swing by to glare at me?” 

He made a huffing sound and brushed past you while you chuckled under your breath. 

“You wanna tell me what that was-” You asked, shutting the door, but gasped when you felt his body press into yours from behind. He spun you around and pinned you to he door, gazing down at you hungrily 

“Not really.” He muttered, before slamming his lips onto yours roughly. 

Your entire body melted into him and your hands immediately found his hair, trying to pull him closer while your lips fought to keep the pace he’d set. 

His tongue snaked it’s way inside your mouth and you let it tangle with yours, muffling the breathy sounds falling from your lips. 

Øystein’s big hands cupped your ass and hauled you up into his arms so you could wrap your legs around him. His bulge ground itself against the aching spot between your thighs, and you both groaned loudly at the feeling.

It had been four days. 

Four days since he’d kissed you. 

Since he’d been able to rub up against you through all the layers of clothes. 

To manhandle your tits and shove his fingers into your cunt. 

To taste you.

Four days since he’d fucked you, and yet, it felt like a lifetime.

The kiss had slowed. 

No longer frantic, it had devolved into a sloppy, passionate display of what was left unsaid. 

What you were booth unwilling to admit out loud. 

He found himself almost muttering that he’d missed you into your mouth, but somehow, he managed to bite back the words and settled for a soft ‘fuck’.

The sound of it made your chest ache. 

Your thumb ghosted along his jaw, almost as if you wanted to cradle his face in your hands, and he shuddered. 

Øystein stared working his way down your neck, trailing sloppy, open mouthed kisses along your skin until he settle on a spot and started teasing it with his teeth, nipping at it lightly. He realized after a moment that it was the same spot he’d marked up before and pulled back slightly to look at it. 

“It’s almost faded.” you could feel his lips moving against your skin “No wonder you’re distracting everyone downstairs. They think you’re fair game.” 

“Can’t have that, now can we?” You breathed, a little surprised by how badly you wanted him to mark you up again. “You gonna give me another one?” 

“You want me to?” He muttered, allowing his eyes to flutter shut, only because you couldn’t see him trying to regain his composure. 

“Yeah,” Your voice was so soft, so quiet, that he barely heard you “I think I really do.” 

He inhaled sharply before clamping down on the side of your neck, drawing a low moan from your lips, then a hiss. The sound only egged him on further as he bit and sucked on the flesh hard. 

When he was finished, he pulled back to admire his work with a little smirk. 

It was a little bigger than the last one, but it was sure as hell a lot darker. 

Your fingertips brushed over it and you could feel the distinct shape of the slightly raised skin. 

“They’re gonna think I’ve been strangled if anything.” You chuckled, still pinned to the wall, in his arms 

“Oh, you want me to strangle you?” There was a slight teasing edge to his words “is that what you’re trying to say.” 

“I don’t know about full on strangling.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was some truth in them that came with a warmth in your cheeks “A little choking, maybe.” 

“Yeah?” he smirked, ducking down to kiss you feverishly “You want me to choke you?” 

You nodded into the kiss, melting into him. 

“What else do you want? Huh?” he growled in between kisses, quickly getting you both worked up. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting tossed around” You panted, arching your back into him “could bend me over the counter.” 

“No teasing though.” You added, clutching onto his shoulders when he pushed off the wall and started carrying you into the kitchen, still kissing you in between words “I don’t wanna be teased.” 

“That’s a long list of demands.” He muttered, setting you down on the counter before pulling your top off “Not sure I can make any promises.” 

You made a whining sound and he threw his jacket aside, shrugging off his shirt while you undid your bra, freeing your tits. Øystein was on them as soon as he’d gotten his top half undressed, mauling them with his hands and mouth so roughly that he almost knocked you over before you could brace yourself against the counter. 

You gasped when you felt his teeth graze your nipple, then groaned, relishing in the wamth of his mouth enveloping the sensitive nub. You grabbed onto his hair with one hand, more to keep yourself steady than anything and arched your back into him, pressing your tits against his mouth and hands eagerly. 

He sunk his teeth into your soft flesh and you felt your panties soaking through. 

“Take your pants off.” You breathed, trying to undo his belt for him. 

“Now you’re telling me what to do?” he raised a brow, smirking at you as he helped get it unbuckled “That’s not really how this works, sweetheart.” 

“You asked me what I wanted you to do to me.” You reminded him breathlessly, “And what I want you to do, is fuck me. Now.” 

“Coming off a little desperate here,” Øystein teased, working with you to get your pants off. 

“Maybe I am a little desperate.” You raised your hips off the counter so he could slide them down your legs. 

“Yeah?” he scoffed, sweeping you off the counter and onto your feet. 

Your brows pulled together briefly, but then shot up when he spun you around and bent you over the counter, just like you’d asked him to. 

He reached around and dipped his fingers in between your thighs, groaning when he felt how soaked you were. 

“I think you’re more than a little desperate,” he couldn’t help but feel a bit special, knowing you were that wet before he’d even really touched you. “You want me to fuck you that bad?” 

You nodded, trying to reach behind you to tug at his pants. He’d stopped undressing once he’d got his belt off. 

Øystein grabbed your wrist and pinned it behind your back, dropping his pants by himself while you squirmed under him, growing increasingly impatient. 

“You been thinking about me?” He taunted, running the tip of his cock through your folds, coating it with your slick. 

You jolted at the feeling, hissing as your body shook in anticipation. 

“What have you been thinking about?” 

“Øystein,” You whined “what’d I say about teasing?” 

“What did I say about you telling me what to do?” 

You felt him pressing into you from behind and gasped when the head of his cock popped inside you. But then he stopped, obviously waiting for an answer. 

He was glad you weren’t facing him and couldn’t see how much he was struggling not to just sink right into your warmth. Feeling your hole strangling the head of his cock was doing things to him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. 

“What do you want me to say?” You panted, trying to push your hips back, but he just used the leverage he had on your arm to pin you to the counter “That I was thinking about you in the shower this morning?” 

“Were you?” He tried not to sound too interested, but you could hear it in his voice. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed. 

“What were you doing in there?” Øystein’s voice was raspy, dark with lust “Were you touching yourself in there? Huh?” 

“Maybe.” You purred, inhaling sharply when he allowed himself to sink an inch deeper. 

He fought not to groan at the feeling. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been thinking about you since last night.” You were way too far gone to be embarrassed about what you were confessing, desperate for him to keep inching forward. “So yeah, I was touching myself in there, wishing it was you with your fingers or your cock instead.”

He gave you another inch and you both moaned softly. 

It was the first time he wasn’t just slamming into you, but neither of you acknowledged it. 

“You’re gonna have to show me that sometime.” He muttered, beyond turned on “How many fingers did you take when you were thinking about me? Huh? How many of those pretty little fingers?” 

“Three.” You breathed, arching your back when he pushed further, stretching your walls around his glistening cock. “Nowhere close to the real thing though.” 

“Did you make yourself cum?” His words were coming out breathy, quickly losing all composure. 

“Sure did.” You moaned, taking another inch “Twice.” 

That did it for sure. 

He slammed the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt. 

You both gasped. 

Øystein had very little self control left. 

He withdrew and slammed back into you, grunting from the sheer force of it. He wanted to get as deep inside you as he possibly could. Wanted you to be completely filled and for you to miss the feeling the next time you were toying with yourself. 

He let go of your arm and pulled your upperbody flush against his chest, arching your back while resting his palm at the base of your throat. 

He could feel you fluttering around him as he restricted your airway slightly, muffling the soft sounds falling from your lips. 

Despite the overwhelming stimulation, your hips slammed back to meet every thrust, grinding themselves against him. You were loving the feeling of having his hand wrapped around your throat. He wasn’t squeezing too hard, but it was enough to make your heart race in your chest. 

He allowed himself a few more thrusts before pulling out of you suddenly. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact, turning to look at him, but then shrieked when he tossed you over his shoulder and headed straight for your bedroom while you giggled breathlessly. 

He tossed you down on the bed and immediately crawled on top of you, sinking right back down to the hilt. He groaned into your ear while you bit down on his shoulder to muffle the yelp threatening to force it’s way out of your throat, not having expected to be filled again that abruptly. 

Your legs wrapped around him, angling your hips so he could get a little deeper. 

His lips slammed onto yours and you found yourself completely and utterly wrapped up in the feeling of him. This felt so much more intimate than anything you’d ever done. 

Kissing, while you fucked?

Unheard of. 

Despite him slamming into your cervix with rough, brutal strokes, there was something so tender about the moment, even when your teeth started gnashing and you started biting eachothers lips. 

Tongues started to roam and finally, he slowed the pace of his thrusts.

Øystein found himself not wanting it to end. 

The two of you were wrapped around one another so tightly that it was starting to restrict his ability to move, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting as close to you as he possibly could. His arms were wrapped around you, keeping you flush against him. 

Your chests were heaving against one another so hard that it almost hurt, but neither of you were complaining. 

Despite his effort to slow his movements, Øystein could feel himself coming undone and could tell from the sounds you were making that you were just as close to reaching your peak too. 

You were both too worked up to keep kissing and clung to eachother, gasping and moaning as you both came crashing over the edge. 

Breathing raggedly, he allowed himself a few more lazy thrusts, shuddering at the feeling of his balls emptying themselves inside of you, before slowing to a stop. 

Still buried inside you, he rolled onto his side and kept you clutched to his chest while you panted into the crook of his neck. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but it was long after the two of you had leveled out and caught your breath. 

Øystein’s grip on you had slackened slightly as he came down, but was still firm. 

Neither of you said anything for what felt like hours, each trying to figure out what the fuck was going on inside your own heads. 

“I don’t think I want you to leave,” You said finally, hiding your face in his chest. 

“I don’t think I want to.” He admitted after a moment , resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Then don’t.” 

“And what? Stay here and sleep in your bed?” it almost sounded like he couldn’t believe it. Like he couldn’t fathom you wanting him there. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, pulling away slightly to look up at him with tired, fucked out eyes. “We could just pull the blanket over us and go to sleep.”

“Like this?” He raised a brow, acutely aware of his softening cock still nestled in between your thighs. 

“Sure.” the corners of your lips curled upwards “Why not?” 

“Yeah.” He muttered, unable to deny how tired he was and how good it felt having you wrapped around him “Okay.” 

You reached for the blanket and maneuvered it over the two of you before settling back into his chest and shutting your eyes. 

You didn’t say anything, but you pressed your lips to his bare skin and after a moment of hesitation, you felt Øystein press his to the crown of your head, tightening his grip around you slightly.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[pukefactory]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do Shadow the hedgehog x reader romantic headcanons? Like they’ve been together for about a year now and their anniversary is coming up? Thank you!!!!!

•───⋅☾⊱ HEAVEN’S NIGHT ⊰☽⋅───•

♱ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Shadow The Hedgehog X Reader Where He Plans For Your Anniversary

♱ Character(s): Shadow The Hedgehog (Sonic The Hedgehog)

♱ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

♱ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

♱ Image Credits: @schizsou

✮ Shadow doesn’t mark the passage of time like others do, but he remembers everything. He doesn’t say a word about the approaching anniversary—not because he forgot, but because he’s quietly planning. He’s memorized the date, the exact hour he met you, what you were wearing. His memory is infallible. When he finally brings it up, it’s brief and blunt: “Next week. I’m not making plans. I already have.” That’s Shadow’s version of asking you to clear your schedule.

✮ He doesn’t like parties. Too loud. Too many people. Too many eyes. But he crafts something else for the anniversary—a quiet evening in a place that means something. Somewhere sacred to him. The ruins of the ARK, cleaned and stabilized. A room that once overlooked the stars. “I wanted you to see where I began. If you’re going to stay… I want you to know everything.” It’s his version of a vow.

✮ He gives you a gift. Small. Heavy. Made by his hands. It’s a silver pendant, shaped like a Chaos Emerald, etched with your initials and his own. You watch him hand it over with hesitant fingers—he doesn’t look you in the eye as he does. “I didn’t know what to get. But I wanted it to be permanent.”

✮ He has remembered every single thing you’ve said in the past year that made your eyes light up. The scent you liked once in passing. The book you couldn’t find. The city you said you wanted to see under the stars. He stores them away like coordinates, and on your anniversary, he makes sure they all appear in the itinerary. No fuss. No grand declarations. Just: “Put this on. We’re going.”

✮ Shadow’s not good with affection, but he tries. On the anniversary night, he lets his hand stay wrapped around yours longer than usual. He doesn’t flinch when you kiss his cheek. And when you thank him for the day, he replies, voice low and still: “You’re welcome. I… like that you’re still here.” It’s the softest he’s ever sounded.

✮ He’s never forgotten Maria. He never will. But tonight, sitting beside you beneath a half-shattered moon, he quietly admits something he hasn’t told anyone else. “You’re the first person since her… that I’ve let close. You remind me what it’s like to be more than a weapon.” He doesn’t say he loves you. He doesn’t have to.

✮ In combat, he’s more ruthless now than ever. Because he knows you’re waiting for him. He’s started pulling punches less—because to get home safe, he has to make sure the battle ends fast. But he’ll never say it’s for you. He just brushes the blood off his gloves and mutters, “I’m not letting anything delay me tonight.”

✮ You once joked that he’d never make you breakfast. Shadow took it as a challenge. So for your anniversary morning, he somehow learns how to make something close to pancakes. They’re uneven. Slightly burned. He sets the plate down in front of you with his arms crossed, crimson eyes daring you to laugh. “Eat. It took too long to figure out the batter.”

✮ He wears something different. Just this once. Ditches the gloves. Doesn’t let you see him vulnerable often—but on this night, he lets his walls drop just enough. Lets you rest your head against his chest. Lets you hear the faint thrum of energy under his skin, like a heartbeat made of Chaos. “You’re the only one who gets this. The real me.”

✮ At the very end of the night, he speaks the words slowly—like each one is a weapon he’s disarming. “I thought I wasn’t capable of peace. That I didn’t deserve it. But this year has proven otherwise.” A long silence. Then: “Happy anniversary. I won’t ever let it be our last.”

[mystique-shanty]

Fortunately enough, the Bible surprisingly opens on “Matthew” and your eyes just so happen to land randomly on the verse 18: 20…

In a panic, you don't exactly read what it says, much less process it, you just hope it is enough to remind your friend of his beliefs, convince him maybe. A dirty tactic, really, to use his religion against himself… Not your proudest moment.

“Then- Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?” you raise your voice and even go as far as to raise one of your hands. Was it not for your trench coat, you might have passed as a pastor “As many as seven times?”

You're aware the ‘brother’ this Peter mentions is not a brother by blood and yet your mind drifts to your own… Your twin who may be in trouble. For once you want to be there to help him… it's the least you can do after he helped Bill steer off the [Journal 1].

Fiddleford has that look of shock that you always had to fight not to laugh at, it's silly and definitely not fitting for the situation but it twists into an ugly scowl soon enough.

You're vaguely aware he's reaching for something but your eyes skim over the words on the page and your passionate hand, that had lifted as if you truly cared about the Word, slowly began to drop as you said the words softly to yourself:

“Jesus said to him… “I do not say to you seven times… but seventy-seven times”

The smell of toffee peanuts assaults your nostrils and you scratch your nose despite knowing it's all in your head. You recall the sidewalk you saw through your window and wonder if Stanley had seen the window from the sidewalk…

It's a silly thing to wonder about. Of course he had.

Stanford had forgiven Stanley plenty, really. Stanley had a knack for messing up after all, always getting into trouble in class, with father and even mother.

…

How many times had Stanley forgiven Stanford?

How many times has Stanley gotten into trouble because you were always seen as the well-behaved one? And how many times had Stanley been wrongfully accused of some science project of yours gone wrong or haywire?

How many times has Stanley been ditched for said science projects? How many times had Stan waited for you to turn up at the beach to work on the Stan'O'War, that silly ship you two loved so much, but were too deep in a book to remember to?

And how many times had Stan come and made a problem about it? Had made a fuss?

You… don't recall. There's nothing to recall… Stanley simply never really took it to heart-

No… He simply never confronted you about it.

Suddenly, you're reminded of a young Stan, sitting alone on the beach hugging his knees like he wasn't nearing 16. He refused to sit on his swing, opting for the ground for whatever reason…

You were late. Extremely so.

You two had agreed to meet at the end of school, just after you were done with homework. It was long past sunset.

How many times have you forgiven Stanley?

When you look up, when the smell of the sea water and toffee peanuts leave your mind, you're faced with the memory gun pointed straight at you… What you see, however, is the moisture in your friend's eyes as he shakes in place.

“You dare use my faith against me?!” Fiddleford roars, the gun in his hold making a clattering noise with the tremor in his hands.

“You don't have to forgive me, Fiddleford” you find yourself saying, surprised by how soft your voice sounds to yourself and by the small smile that you feel on your face “I'm pretty sure you've forgiven me far more than seventy seven”

Defeat. Warmth. Grief.

A series of emotions cross your friend's gaze and the judge gently sets the gavel down. There is no slam of a weapon, no destruction or cheer to never go back to it… The memory gun is simply placed back inside his robe.

“Admitting you were wrong and being okay with not having your way” the man before you massages their scarred temple as he steps down from the altar, a weary smile appearing upon his lips “you've changed, Stanford Pines”

“Although” Fiddleford steps closer to you tentatively, it reminds you of a wild animal, checking if you are safe to approach as though he isn't the one with the fangs and claws

“Sure is hard to imagine you came here without anything prompting you to”

[604to647]

Gahhhhh TIMMMMMYYYY!! 😭😭😫😍😍

I just love how you describe them both! Especially the bee analogy - genius! That last line "Then you went back to pollinating" immediately conveyed her flitting, sort of aimless dating behaviour perfectly!

And Tim! *SIGH* so kind and patient, and respectful, and wonderfully not giving off any of those "nice guy" vibes (you know the ones 😒😒) - just loving her gently and honestly, giving her what she needed, supporting her always. You're right - SUCH A GREEN FLAG 🥹

Of course it would take a near miss for him at work for them to both wake up to what they were missing right in front of them 🥹🥹 Even then, Tim's so self aware and gives her all the power:

“It’s ok. It’s ok. You don’t have to say anything. I know that you don’t see me like this.”

He glanced at you again, trying to smile, trying to comfort you, as if you were the one who needed it. But he failed, his smile vanishing before it reached his lips and it tore your heart in two. You wondered how long he'd been seeing you like… this. How could have you been so blind? You thought of all the times he comforted you because of other men and it made you feel sick.

MY HEART is torn in two!!! Luckily our girl has a good head on her shoulders, she just needs the time and Tim, of course, lets her set the pace:

It's strange how kissing your best friend feels so familiar yet so bizarre. Like you're in the most comfortable place in the world, but you had to brave the "no entry" sign to get there.

It was what you were feeling, kissing Tim. The skin under your fingers, the scent in your nostrils, you knew them perfectly well. But you didn't know them like this, dedicated to you at that moment, turned toward you. Intimate. 

YES GIRL, WORK THROUGH THE FEELINGS AND WE WILL MEET YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

And then once they let themselves fall, OH BOY! Everything is so playful and sweet and needy, there's no hesitation or awkwardness because they already care for and know each other so 🥹

“Awww, bossy,” you replied with a smirk until the urge of having more of him became unbearable. “Take off your clothes, Tim.”

“Who’s bossy now?” he started to chuckle, but quickly stopped when his cock twitched against his lower abdomen. He took off his clothes that had fallen to his ankles, kneeled at the foot of the bed and slid your panties down.

“So many times, I thought about how you’d taste. Imagining your fingers lost in my hair. You moaning for me.”

AND JESUS so your Tim is a dirty talker, eh? OK YUM.

“Yeah, that's it baby, come for me,” he said, straightening up, eyes fixed on yours. “I got you, you're so goddamn pretty, all spread for me.”

His praise made you clench one more time on his digits.

“Oh, so you like it when I talk to you like that,” he said, eyes full of desire and lust.

You were a needy mess, your eyes silently assenting for you, and he kissed you, his big hands holding your face. You felt like home and your heart was about to explode, while you were still moaning in his mouth.

You felt like home??! 😭😭😭 GOD I LOVE A GOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS - thank you for delivering, bb!

(And thank you for the shoutout 🥹 you’re too kind to me!! 😘😘🥰)

Friend zone

3k4 | Tim Rockford x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: an event leads your best friend to reveal a secret he's been keeping from you for years, and you finally find what you've been searching for Warnings: 18+ mdni. best friends to lovers, soft!Tim, a few pussy and dick pronouns, praise kink, size kink, Tim can lift reader, intimacy, closeness, feelings, fingering, oral (m/f), piv, creampie. No age specified

a/n: This is probably one of my softest fics, but I guess I needed it this week? this is written for @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality ‘s "writing through the seasons" challenge (masterlist) I got Tim/fall with the prompt "Come on, a few kisses won't ruin our friendship" and a beautiful mood board you can see at the end of the fic ❤️ thank you so much for this challenge 🙏❤️ thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me and for helping me when I was stuck with this fic 😘🫶 If you wanna read another “Timmy” fic, go check Tiny Timy @604to647 and The Rockford Portfolio I love these two 🥰🥰 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏

Tim was the epitome of reliability. Responsible, mature, always the designated driver for your group of friends when you were spending a night at a bar, always ready to hold your hair when you were throwing up from too much alcohol, always there for you when you were crying in his arms after another random asshole broke your heart.

A pure green flag.

You… you were a bee, fluttering from flower to flower, drawn to the carnivorous ones. The bigger red flags the men were, the faster you flew towards them. Never learning from your mistakes, chasing something they couldn’t inherently offer you, you dried your tears on Tim’s shoulder, while he would slowly stroke the back of your neck, holding you against him, telling you they didn't deserve you. 

Then you went back to pollinating.

So when he called you that night, his voice slightly wavering and tinged with alcohol, you rushed over to his place. It wasn't like him to drink too much.

You used the key he had given you long ago to open his apartment, just like he had the key to yours, and went straight to his bedroom.

He was lying on his bed, a glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey sat on his nightstand. You put your jacket on a chair in the corner, settled down next to him and leaned against the headboard. You told him softly to rest his head on your stomach and brushed his curls. He mumbled a string of words and you listened to each one of them, even if you didn’t understand what he was saying, until he stopped talking and sighed. 

“I’m gonna get you some water, ok?” 

You held the glass while he drank, then undressed him, taking off his shoes, the suit jacket, the shirt, his pants and socks, so that he would be more comfortable sleeping.

You stayed with him all night, checking on him a few times. 

When he woke up, you were making breakfast wearing one of his t-shirts, since you had left your apartment in a hurry the evening before, forgetting to grab some of your stuff.

You handed him a cup of coffee and sipped from  your own mug, looking at him as he sat down on the kitchen’s stool and placed his cup on the counter. He had put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was disheveled.

“You’re ok?” you asked.

“Yeah…” He took a sip of coffee and put the mug down, his gaze lost in the brown liquid.

It wasn’t like him, but you didn't want to rush him, and you knew he'd talk when he was ready.

“I made scrambled eggs and toast, you want some?”

He nodded and you both ate in silence. 

“See? I can do better than burnt toast sometimes. Despite your doubts, which are very hurtful by the way."

You wanted to lighten his mood, lift the weight off his shoulders, whatever the cause. He smiled, and it eased your heart a little. It was a start.

“Thank you for the breakfast, sweetheart. Didn’t have to.”

“ ‘course I did. You need to evaporate all that alcohol…” you told him, raising your eyebrows. Playing the role that had been his so far. Maybe a little harsher than him.

“I know what you’re doing,” he smiled.

“Oh really? And what am I doing, Detective?”

“Playing my usual part. You like it?”

It made you chuckle, until you realized how much you'd been relying on him all these years. The stress you must have put him under. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me what happened, you know. Otherwise, I'll still be here at noon, and I'm not promising anything for lunch with my cooking skills.”

You expected him to laugh, but he frowned and withdrew, his shoulders hunching inward. 

“Shit, Timmy, what’s going on, you’re scaring me,” you said as you got up from your stool and placed your hand on his shoulder.

You called him Timmy in two situations. When you were drunk, or when things were really serious. It always made him laugh, using that ridiculous nickname in difficult moments. He knew that calling him like that had always been a way for you to calm down, and when he looked up at you with his sad brown puppy eyes your heart melted.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you, sweetheart.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok, just… Maybe I can help if you tell me what happened?”

He sighed, and you waited, preoccupied. You’d never seen him like this in all your years of friendship. He finally gave in and said, “I was on a mission last night. It… went bad.”

“What? How bad?”

“A bullet flew an inch by my head.” His gaze was set on his plate and you squeezed his shoulder harder.

“Oh my god, Tim!”

“My partner shot the guy…probably saved me.” He paused, then added “when I got back here I started to drink. To ease up the adrenaline, maybe. But… that’s not what I needed.”

You were in shock. Of course you knew his job was dangerous, but it had never been that bad. Imagining that the bullet could have hit him made you tremble, as the fear of losing Tim gripped your mind. You tried to push the thought away.

“What did you need, then?”

He cleared his throat, obviously thinking about choosing his words carefully.

“People say when death is close, you see your whole life flash before your eyes. But I didn’t see it. I saw…”

He stopped, and you had no idea what he had in mind. You grabbed both of his shoulders to turn him towards you, to make him face you.

“What did you see, Tim?”

He looked up at you, hesitant, and you nodded encouragingly.

“I saw you. I was terrified that I would never see you again.”

You frowned, wondering why you had been in his thoughts like that, at that moment. 

And then it hit you. 

Your eyes widened as he lowered his, unsure if you would release his shoulders or hold on tight to them.

“Tim…”

“It’s ok. It’s ok. You don’t have to say anything. I know that you don’t see me like this.”

He glanced at you again, trying to smile, trying to comfort you, as if you were the one who needed it. But he failed, his smile vanishing before it reached his lips and it tore your heart in two. You wondered how long he'd been seeing you like… this. How could have you been so blind? You thought of all the times he comforted you because of other men and it made you feel sick.

“Get up, Tim, please,” you asked. 

You hugged him once he was standing, wrapping your arms around his broad frame to soothe him. He was tense at first, as if petrified by the closeness, hesitant to hold you, until you felt his muscles relax slightly and he placed his hands on your back. You tilted your face up towards him and your lips gravitated to each other.

You don't know who initiated the crush of your lips, his hands on your hips, yours around his neck. You just knew it felt like a desperate need. Maybe for Tim it was a response to the shock of what had happened the day before, and years of yearning. Maybe for you it was the acknowledgement of needing him differently.

You dragged him towards the couch while you were still kissing and collapsed on it, pressing him against you.

It's strange how kissing your best friend feels so familiar yet so bizarre. Like you're in the most comfortable place in the world, but you had to brave the "no entry" sign to get there.

It was what you were feeling, kissing Tim. The skin under your fingers, the scent in your nostrils, you knew them perfectly well. But you didn't know them like this, dedicated to you at that moment, turned toward you. Intimate. 

He ran his nose down your cheek and nuzzled your neck, and you were already moaning, your body tingling. Was it possible that the sensation you'd been chasing for years was actually waiting for you right at your fingertips?

“I don't wanna lose you, by doing this. You’re the one I care about most in the world, always have been,” he said suddenly.

“Come on, a few kisses won't ruin our friendship.”

You didn't know if it was a lie you were telling yourself, didn't know what the consequences would be. Your brain was foggy, full of desire and need. You didn't want to slow down, push him away, end that unexpected moment that your whole body was craving.

His hand wrapped around your neck as he peppered kisses to the other side, just below your earlobe. Eyes closed, hands running through his hair, thighs pressed together trying to ease the tension that was already burning your core, your breathing hitched.

“Tim,” you whined, your tone needy, just as your hands roaming his body.

“Yeah,” he said, before crushing his lips on yours again, then dragging his beard and moustache along your skin down to your collarbone. His hand slipped under your shirt and cupped your breast as if it were one of the most delicate things in the world. 

“You smell like me”, he groaned. He grabbed your tit harder, unable to suppress a grunt.

“Shit,” you said, clasping the hem of your top to pull it off. His eyes landed on your breasts and he bent down to take one in his mouth and suck on it. You always thought that that zone was not sensitive for you, almost annoyed when some of your dates would focus on them, and you were realizing how wrong you were. It’s just that no one had been able to do it like you needed until then, to the point that you wondered if you were going to come just like that. 

Feeling how responsive your body was, Tim groaned from the depth of his chest and buried his face between your breasts before licking the other tit.

“Give me your hand,” you croaked, your voice hoarser than it had ever been. You pulled your panties to the side and pressed his fingers against your heat. Feeling your arousal made him growl. “Jesus, you're soaked, baby,” he breathed, hastily pushing two thick, warm digits into your cunt, deeper than any man before him, making you pant.

You curled your fingers around his wrist, setting the pace you needed. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re droolin’ for me. How does it feel?” he asked, his voice soft like velvet, before taking your nipple back in his mouth.

“Good. Fucking good, Tim. Oh my god!”

Instinctively knowing what you needed, his thumb rested against your clit then rubbed it, his fingers still pushing into you.

“Fuck you’re so wet… You're gonna come for me, baby? Just by me sucking on your tits and fingering you?”

You nodded vigorously, biting your lips, knowing it was only a matter of minutes or even seconds before it would happen.

“Good girl,” he smirked, licking at your breasts again, your eyes rolling at the back of your skull at his praise.

You mewled when you came, squeezing his wrist, pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Yeah, that's it baby, come for me,” he said, straightening up, eyes fixed on yours. “I got you, you're so goddamn pretty, all spread for me.”

His praise made you clench one more time on his digits.

“Oh, so you like it when I talk to you like that,” he said, eyes full of desire and lust.

You were a needy mess, your eyes silently assenting for you, and he kissed you, his big hands holding your face. You felt like home and your heart was about to explode, while you were still moaning in his mouth.

“I dreamed of this,” he murmured between kisses. “Dreamed of seeing you collapse in my arms, hearing you whimper and moan for me. And it’s even better than what I had imagined.” 

“Tim, please…” you whined against his soft lips.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

Your foreheads rested against each other, your breathing slowly calming while his only increased.

“Everything. I want everything,” you said, gaze locked with his. “I need all of you.” 

He nodded, in his own Tim way. As someone who wants to offer everything he has to give, someone who means it.

He stood up and took off his shirt, while you were looking at him. Not the way you used to look at him when you went to the beach and walked side by side toward the ocean in your swim suits. Or when he helped you to renovate your home and ended up shirtless because of the heat.

Your eyes sparkled as if you were seeing him and his body for the first time. Broad, strong, reassuring. Your eyes roamed from his broad shoulders to his bulging biceps, and finally reached his happy trail peeking out from his sweatpants that he was wearing low on his hips.

He reached out his hand towards you to help you get up and you faced each other.

“Take me to your bedroom,” you murmured.

He grabbed your thighs to lift you up, and you held onto him, pressing your lips against his, searching his tongue with yours, as he led you to his bed where he gently set you down.

The outline of his hard cock traced a curve across his sweats, so you grabbed the waistband and slid them down, his thick cock springing free up against his stomach.

“Shit, Tim…”

He brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart, you know that?”

“Are you kidding me? She’s gorgeous… your cock’s gorgeous.”

He stroked your cheek again, gently, and murmured a soft "okay."

You'd kissed, sucked, and fucked several men. Some of them were quickly forgotten, some weren’t. But when you circled Tim’s shaft with your slightly trembling fingers, then licked and sucked him, it felt different. It probably transpired in the intimacy and softness you displayed. As if you wanted the love (deep, but friendly until that day. And so indefinable right now) you felt for him to shine through the care you put into it. 

A mixture of tenderness and need.

His hand froze at the back of your head several times, grunts falling from his mouth when you sucked his tip, licked his shaft, or took one of his balls in your mouth, worshiping every inch of his delicate skin. Your hand ran up his thigh to his ass. You listened to his “oh fuck, baby,” his “shit, sweetheart,” his “you’re doing so good.” Praised by his words and sounds, you could have done it for hours, but his panting increased, until he mumbled, “baby… I’m afraid to come if you keep going.”

You pulled back, wiping the saliva that had dripped down your chin with the back of your hand, your gaze slowly moving up from his stomach and his chest to his eyes. You couldn’t keep your gaze from him.

“You’re so beautiful, Tim,” you said. You’d always known he was, of course, but your eyes saw so much more now.

Your words made that 6’ tall and strong man blush. “Oh come one, sweetheart. You’re the only beautiful one here, and I don't wanna hear otherwise."

“Awww, bossy,” you replied with a smirk until the urge of having more of him became unbearable. “Take off your clothes, Tim.”

“Who’s bossy now?” he started to chuckle, but quickly stopped when his cock twitched against his lower abdomen. He took off his clothes that had fallen to his ankles, kneeled at the foot of the bed and slid your panties down.

“So many times, I thought about how you’d taste. Imagining your fingers lost in my hair. You moaning for me.”

He placed his hand on your stomach, urging you to lie down, legs spread on either side of his torso, and his nose ran a line from your clit to your folds, before giving way to his tongue, warm and curious. His hands grabbed your thighs and he placed them on his shoulders, feasting on you as if you were a fruit in the heat of summer. Your hands found their natural place in his hair, just as he'd predicted. Your moans mingled with his, his tongue lapping at your pussy so perfectly, so intimately, repeatedly. It didn't take long for you to come in his mouth, his name escaping your lips, and when your shaking stopped, he pulled you towards him, setting you down on the carpeted floor of his room. 

“You came so quickly for me, baby. You’re perfect,” he said and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. Time froze for a moment, until he pulled back a little and settled between your thighs, his dark, lust-filled gaze fixed on you, beard and moustache glistening with your arousal, his hard cock swinging between your bodies.

“Kiss me again, Tim, please,” you murmured, and his soft lips brushed yours, teasing at first, but soon they were against yours, kissing you like no one had ever done before. Tenderly, so different from the fire that was burning your core.

Your hand traveled from the back of his neck, down to his shaft, nestling his tip at your entrance, and he pulled away just enough to look at you as he matched your thrust and pushed into you. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation of his cock spreading you open, and your heart exploded like Fourth of July fireworks.

His hand on your cheek which he caressed with his thumb, it was almost too much, to feel him inside you, on you, against you.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his gaze lowered to you, set on you, he seemed wrecked and so were you probably.

“I know, Tim. Oh god, I know,” you whined. Your hands gripped his hips, pulling him deeper into you, if that was possible.

“I wanted this, baby. Needed this for so long. To feel you around me, and it’s… so good,” he said, panting, kissing your neck before returning to your lips, his hands running over your body. Yours were on his shoulders, holding him tight, as if you were afraid of letting him go, of losing him. 

His shaft brushed against that perfect spot and you felt another climax build, squeezing him between your folds, clinging onto him with your whole body.

Tim wrapped his hand around your neck, the back of it rubbing against the sheet with each of his hip thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna… gonna make me come.”

“Come with me, Tim. Please, I’m so close, and I wanna feel you come at the same time. Please….”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he managed to say, licking at your neck, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You dug your fingers into the skin of his biceps as you came and you felt his cock twitch, his cum covering your walls, making you nibble at his freckled shoulder.

You stayed as one for several minutes, you caressing his shoulders, him kissing your temples, until he pulled away slowly and grabbed the sheet to cover your bodies then held you against the warmth of his chest. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing your arm with his fingers, giving you another set of goosebumps. 

“Yeah… Yeah,” you answered, trying to process what happened, understand your feelings. Trying to contain the worry that was about to smother your heart, whispering in your ear that things would go back to the way they were before. 

And you didn’t want to.

“You sure?” he insisted, feeling you weren't really ok, reading you like an open book as always. You raised your face to his, chewing on your lower lip.

“You know you can tell me everything, right? No matter what, sweetheart.”

“I want you to hold me in your arms and tell me you won’t let me go,” you admitted, offering him the candor you’d always shown each other. “I want you to tell me that you want this to happen again.”

“Oh, baby…” He opened his arms and you cuddled against him, as he held you tight. “I won’t let you go, and I want this to happen again. I want you as my everything. Best friend and… mine.”

“Yours?”

“Mine. Anything else is impossible now.”

You nodded.

“Yours, Tim.”

Tim masterlist

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[calmingmelody96]

The Dragon's Niece

Chapter 18 - The Dragon's Rage

Warnings: medival sexism, forced marriage, uncle-niece incest, rape, non-con/dub-con, forced oral, sexual abuse, sexual punishment, abusive behaviour, dirty talk, humiliation, name calling, spit kink, cum swallowing, breeding kink, possessiveness

Masterlist

The chamber door shut behind her with a soft, echoing thud. The firelight cast restless shadows over the stone walls, but the true heat in the room came from the man sitting by the hearth.

He was seated in the high-backed chair by the fire, a glass of wine in hand, boots stretched out lazily. But there was nothing relaxed in the way his eyes found her... sharp, glinting with an edge that made her stomach tighten.

“Come here,” he said, his voice smooth, but heavy with purpose.

She obeyed, chin lifted though her heartbeat fluttered with something between anticipation and dread. When she stopped before him, Daemon’s gaze trailed over her slowly, like a man assessing what belonged to him.

“So,” he murmured, “you thought you could keep secrets from me, little wife?”

She froze, lips parting slightly.

The look on his face was dangerous, frightening enough to send a chill crawling down Maeliora’s spine. She could feel the echo of his words from the day before, ringing like a warning bell in her mind:

“Everything you have now — the freedom, your son, this comfort... it’s because I allow it. Because I want you happy and kept. So be good, Melly. Be obedient. Don’t give me reason to reconsider.”

Now she had given him reason. A big one. And she could see in his eyes. Did he know about the moon tea — she wondered. No, it cannot be that. Lyra would never betray her. Then how did he find out? Her breath caught. The room felt suddenly smaller.

He stood up and took a step toward her. Then another. Slow, deliberate. Each footfall seemed to shake the air around her. Maeliora stood frozen, her hands clenched by her sides as Daemon came closer and closer, until she felt impossibly small beneath the weight of his fury.

He seized her chin in his hand rough, unyielding. His fingers dug into her skin, forcing her to meet the blazing fury of his violet stare.

“You little bitch,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “you thought you could kill my child and I wouldn’t find out?”

Maeliora tried to speak, but her throat locked. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. The grip on her jaw tightened merciless.

“Answer me!” Daemon shouted.

Her breath hitched. Her lips parted, but no sound came. There was a knot in her throat thick and painful, strangling the words before they could form.

“You little whore,” he spat. “Going behind my back. You really thought you could trick me like some dim-witted lordling? Perhaps I’ve been too merciful. Too soft with you. But that ends now.”

He released her face abruptly, and she stumbled a half step back, dazed and breathless.

“Uncle, please…” she finally choked out, voice shaking. “I’m sorry…”

Daemon didn’t respond at first. He just looked at her, his breathing heavy, his jaw flexing. Then, slowly, he circled her like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You're sorry?” he repeated quietly, but the quiet was more dangerous than his shouting. “No, sweetling. You’re not sorry yet. But you will be.”

He stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.

“Kneel.”

She froze. The command struck like a blade.

The silence stretched too long, until his hand pressed between her shoulder blades, pushing her down onto the fur rug beneath them.

“You want to act like a whore?” he hissed, voice low and venomous. “Then you’ll serve like one.”

Maeliora knelt, trembling, her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest, shame prickling over her skin like thorns. She dared not meet his eyes, not with the way he loomed above her, a storm barely restrained behind those violet irises.

Daemon’s voice was a low growl, laced with contempt and hunger. “You know what whores do on their knees, don’t you, niece?”

Her breath hitched. She did.

She knew what was coming, and her entire being recoiled. This wasn’t love. This was punishment. Humiliation. Brutal and degrading.

She shook her head faintly, whispering, “Please… don’t make me…”

But Daemon only let out a humorless laugh, dark and low.

“You look afraid, Niece,” he said with a dark smile. “You should be. Actions have consequences.”

She wept openly now, torn between shame and dread, a sick twist of emotion coiling in her gut. Her knees throbbed. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. And her face burned with humiliation.

He reached down, taking her chin in a firm grip. “This is what happens when you try to rid of my child like a whore hiding some bastard sired by a stranger. Except I am your lawful husband.”

He undid the ties at his waist with slow, deliberate precision, never taking his eyes off her like a predator savoring the stillness before the strike. When his breeches fell, Maeliora’s breath caught. She dared a brief glance, and what she saw made heat coil low in her belly, equal parts shame and something darker, more dangerous.

He stood hard and ready, his length proud, the tip flushed and smooth. Every instinct screamed this was wrong... yet beneath the conflict, something primal stirred. A pulse of heat bloomed between her thighs, treacherous and insistent, and to her own horror… she wondered how he might taste, even though she’d never imagined herself doing anything so depraved.

“Open,” he ordered, taking hold of his length and pushing it towards her face.

He stood so close she could already smell him — an overwhelming mix of heat, leather, and something unmistakably male. His musky scent filled her senses, heady and inescapable.

She shook her head once, feebly. A sob escaped her.

“Open your mouth, Maeliora. Do not test my patience.” he commanded, firm and unwavering.

When she hesitated, he gave her a light slap with his hard cock, enough to sting but not truly hurt, and then gripped her jaw again, rougher this time, guiding her where he wanted her.

Maeliora looked up at him, broken and burning with humiliation.

His fingers in her hair were unyielding, and when she finally relented, when she let her lips part and gave herself over to him, he let out a sound that was almost feral.

Daemon’s dominance was absolute. He didn’t ease into her... he claimed her, slowly at first, but with growing intensity. His hand rested at the back of her head, holding her steady, guiding her rhythm. Her knees burned against the stone, her jaw strained, and yet… beneath the tears, beneath the shame, a flicker of arousal grew in her.

His length felt hot and heavy on her tongue, the taste of him unmistakable — bitter at first, then musky and salty, lingering on her palate with every movement. He used her mouth for his pleasure, slow and unrelenting, and she could do nothing but yield.

“Look at you,” Daemon said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “A highborn princess… on your knees, like one of the brothel girls on the Street of Silk. Is this what you’ve been longing for, Niece? To be treated like a whore?”

Tears gathered in her lashes, but her thighs pressed together, betraying her. She wanted to deny it, to shake her head, but her body burned, pulsed, responded. She hated how much she ached for him, even in this moment of humiliation.

She felt the loss of his warmth and then the return of it, his hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, breaking her pride with every movement. But even as he moved inside her mouth, there was something else beneath the anger. A hunger. An ache that was darker than lust. A need to own her completely.

He used her mouth as both punishment and possession, groaning low at the way she looked like this — lips parted around him, cheeks flushed with shame, eyes wide and glistening. She hated how much she felt her own need, the sticky warmth between her thighs becoming unbearable.

How did I end up like this? she wondered, humiliated, breathless, undone.

When he finally pulled back, Maeliora gasped, face wet with tears and spit, body shaking. She looked up at him, broken and burning, but still aching for more.

Daemon towered over her, gaze smoldering with possession, one hand curled beneath her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his.

"Open, my little slut," he said, voice low and unmistakably commanding.

She hesitated, confused and unsure what he wanted. Without warning, his hand struck, not hard, but enough to jolt her, to stun her still. He gripped her chin again, harder this time. “I said, open,” he hissed, his thumb brushing the edge of her lower lip.

She did, breath shallow, her lips parting for him.

Daemon leaned in slowly, eyes locked on hers, the weight of his dominance pressing down like a storm. He gathered the moment... and let it fall. His spit landed in her open mouth, a deliberate, claiming gesture.

Her breath caught the moment it happened... warm, sudden, unexpected. For a heartbeat, she froze, wide-eyed, stunned by the intimacy of it. She hadn’t expected that. Not this. Not from him. Heat rushed to her cheeks, not just from the act itself, but from how quickly her body responded, how the shock bled into something darker, deeper. Her pride flinched… but her mouth stayed open.

“Swallow, Maeliora,” he said, voice low and unrelenting. “You’ll take everything I give you.”

Her body trembled, shame and obedience warring within her. And yet… her throat worked without hesitation, her eyes meeting his.

He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. A smirk ghosted across his lips.

"Good girl," he murmured, and it wasn’t just praise, it was approval, ownership, and affection, all tangled together in that single phrase.

Her cheeks burned. She felt the shame rising, but also a deep, unspoken thrill... the way her submission was being demanded, not asked.

Daemon moved with dark confidence, gripping her hair and shoving himself back into her warm inviting mouth, claiming control not just of her body but her breath, her will. It was a punishment, but it was also a reminder. Of who held the reins. Of who she belonged to.

Her knees ached. Her jaw tensed. Her pride burned, but she didn’t stop. Because underneath the discipline, underneath the words meant to humiliate, there was something else: twisted devotion. And desire.

Daemon’s breath grew heavier, each exhale brushing against her skin like the coming storm. His hand tightened in her hair, firm and possessive, as if anchoring himself in the moment. The tension in his body sharpened. He could feel his stones tightening, signaling he was close. He firmly pressed her lips to his pelvis, holding her there, commanding without words as she choked and struggled for a breath.

She felt the tremor that ran through him — raw, fierce, unrestrained as he reached to his peak, releasing his first shot of hot and salty seed right into her throat. Retracting slightly he continued to shoot his seed into her mouth allowing her to savor his taste.

Swallow, wife," he said, voice like smoke and iron. "Since you have no desire to carry my seed in your womb, you’ll take it where I give it."

He held her there for a moment longer, not letting her pull away, fingers threaded tightly in her hair, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. Her lips were swollen, her knees aching, her cheeks stained with the tears of shame and submission.

Daemon looked down at her, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and something darker... possessive and proud. There was no praise in his gaze. No gentleness. Just the satisfaction of a man who had broken past her defenses and claimed the part of her she was too proud to give freely.

Maeliora remained still, her breaths shallow, her lips trembling as the bitter taste lingered. Her throat burned with the effort as she swallowed more of his essence unwillingly.

Daemon stood over her, slowly withdrawing once he was certain she had swallowed everything, his fingers curling beneath her jaw as he lifted her gaze to meet his. There was a terrible pride in his smirk, as if he had just carved his mark into her soul, claiming not only her body but her will.

"Good girl," he said, low and rough. The words weren’t gentle, they were a verdict, a possession, and a taunt all at once.

She hated how her skin burned under his praise. She hated that it stirred something inside her. Her stomach turned. Guilt laced with arousal, disgust twisted with longing. She wanted to scream. She wanted to slap him, run from him... but gods, she wanted him too. And that frightened her more than anything.

“You'll never lie to me again, Maeliora,” he said, voice calmer now, but no less terrifying. “And you will give me another child.”

Then, as quickly as the storm had come, he turned and walked away, leaving her on her knees, trembling, shivering from more than the cold. Maeliora stayed there a moment longer, eyes brimming with tears, trying to gather herself, trying to decide if what she felt was humiliation… or power in surrender.

♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦♡❥♥️♥️❥♡❦♥️❦

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen, @claud012, @aleemendoza2425-blog