#and Hiccup it's too mesmerized with them

[neytui]

How would you feel if you get a compliment for the first time in 300 years

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Part 2 of this~

Content : Rengoku X Fem reader X Uzui. Threesome. Exhibitionism. Oral sex (giving and receiving). Unprotected sex.

Taglist (Let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!): @its-missa

Not one to waste any time, Rengoku's hands slid up your Yukata, ignoring your yelp as he grasped what he was looking for.

"W-W-Wait! Rengoku-sa-aaann!" You squealed as the man grabbed your panties and slid them off of you, discarding them before immediately grabbing the back of your knees and pushing them up, making your body fold slightly. You failed to bite down your yelp as your legs were pushed to your chest, the position humiliating yet so hot- "W-We're outside!" You hissed, face turning even redder at the way the flame pillar was staring at your sex, a look in his eyes like he was mesmerized, the position making your cunt look extra plump and delicious. With the way the bench was situated, if you turned your head to the right, you'd see Uzui next to you and a couple feet behind him was the inn, close enough for people to understand what was happening if they happened to look this direction.

"Relax, cutie~" Uzui said, the arm he had around you running up your waist before he grabbed your left breast, his hand big enough to envelop it pretty well, squeezing it like a toy through the fabric. "We're Hashira afterall," he explained, chuckling as you writhed underneath them, an adorable blush on your cheeks "We can do whatever we like and no one would stop us."

"And I told you I'd prove to you that I'll make an excellent husband," Rengoku said, looking up with you with his bright eyes, filled with desire and lust, "so be a good girl and take it, alright?" "You- you can prove that inside the inn!" you hissed, but your body betrayed how excited you were, your pussy growing wet from the situation, a fact Rengoku immediately noticed. "I'm an impatient man." he said, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and sucking a hickey onto it, making your toes curl, "and it seems my wife to be is quite an impatient woman too."

With that, he placed a sweet kiss to your clit, hands running down to the back of your thighs, his hold on you still tight, keeping your body steady and folded the way he wanted it to be. His tongue flicked out to start twirling your clit around, running in circles over the cute bud before he started flicking it, the point of his tongue assaulting it mercilessly. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your legs already started shaking, Rengoku's hot tongue so sinful. His groans traveled up your spine as he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, making you hiccup at the suction. Giving it a light nibble, he then pulled away to drag his tongue from your hole all the way to your clit over and over again, the man moaning from the taste of your slick. Shaking his head from side to side, his tongue ran all over your pussy, licking up every nook and cranny, eating you out like a man starved.

"You know, despite the fact that I'm jealous he getting to taste you first tonight," Uzui said - practically sitting on his side as he was turned towards you, his big body partially hiding you from any passerby's as his right hand gently slipping into the folds of your Yukata to grasp your left breast, "Getting a close view of your adorably lewd expressions is quite the treat~" You mewled, breathing heavily through your nose as Rengoku stuffed his tongue inside your aching hole just as Uzui started squeezing your bare tit, greedily playing with it before his fingers focused on your nipple, trapping it between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a harsh pinch. Rengoku groaned as he felt your pussy tighten around his tongue, pulling away for a second to say: "Do that again. She likes it."

Uzui's chuckle made your spine shiver, the man kissing your cheek before his hands grabbed the folds of your Yukata by your chest and roughly pulled them apart. You squealed as your bare breasts were exposed to the cold wind, settling down with a bounce, your nipples hardening instantly. "No bra. How naughty~" Uzui teased, eyes glued to your pretty chest. "Th-That's cause- just came out of the bath- ah!" You barely got to finish your sentence before Uzui leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, your other boob being squeezed by his hand.

Pussy gushed around Rengoku's face, the man drinking it like he was dying of thirst as you tried your hardest to not make any sounds. You slapped both hands over your mouth, pressing down tightly and muffling your moans as Uzui's hot tongue danced around your sensitive nipples, teasing it a bit before he sealed his lips around it and sucked so hard it made your toes curl.

Out in public, tits and pussy out in the open, Yukata hanging on for dear life by your waist- you couldn't believe this was happening. "You're a sensitive little thing, aren't you?" Uzui asked with a chuckle as he switched from one nipple to the other, "Even when we took you last time- even the slightest touch got you hot and bothered. It's so fucking cute- mmph~" Latching onto your other nipple, Uzui moaned into your skin at the feeling of your hard, sensitive bud against his tongue. He was getting so addicted to your reactions, he couldn't help but give it a gentle nibble, cock twitching as he heard your muffled yelp.

Rengoku was just as addicted, slurping up your slick as he stuck a finger into your pussy, groaning as your hot, wet walls enveloped it. He couldn't wait to get his cock in you- but only after you came in his mouth. "Hold you leg up." he ordered and you did as you were told, moving a hand away from your mouth to grab onto the back of your left leg, holding it up for Rengoku as he continued to finger you, sliding a second one in and curling it just right.

You were trying your hardest to muffle your moans, tears in your eyes from restraining yourself. You'd often look to the side to see if anyone was watching, and while no one was, you always felt like someone could be and you didn't know if that made the situation hotter.

"G-Gonna c-cum-" you whined, voice breaking from the restraint. Your nipples were sucked and bitten raw, hickies littering your chest as Uzui still continued to shower your breasts with attention. Your juices were dripping down Rengoku's hand, his mouth still unrelenting as he sucked your clit, giving it gentle nipples. "Cum for us, baby." Rengoku groaned into your pussy, "Cum in my mouth- want to taste you~"

You bit your bottom hard enough to almost draw blood, your body shaking as you could feel your orgasm get closer and closer and closer and you knew you wouldn't be able to keep your voice down. You moans were already loud despite your best efforts, unable to smother men with how good the two of them were making you feel. As the knot in your abdomen threatened to break, just a few seconds away from an orgasm, your hand left your mouth as you got Uzui's attention.

"K-Kiss me!" you begged, pulling his Yukata desperately, trying to get him away from your chest to help you out, "Kiss me p-please- mmph!"

Uzui didn't hesitate for even a second as he moved upwards and slotted his lips against your just as you climaxed. One hand on your breast as he squeezed, he expertly shoved his tongue down your throat, swallowing your moans and holding you down as your orgasm made your whole body shake in pleasure. He groaned at the feeling of you squealing into his mouth, making you gag on his tongue, the kiss a filthy mess of spit and teeth and he loved it. Rengoku's moans and groans added to the pleasure, the man's hot tongue relentless as he helped you ride your orgasm. He continued to suck and lick, wondering if he was in heaven as directed your plush thighs to close tightly around his face as he drank down your climax, his face smushed between the soft flesh. Pussy gushing around his face like a faucet, he slotted his mouth against your cunt, sucking, licking and drinking you up until a shaky hand came up to push him away due to the over-stimulation. With a final kiss to your clit, Rengoku pulled away, breathless, face red and lips wet.

Uzui pulled away from the kiss, both of your lips swollen and red, breathing in each others air as you panted heavily from the force of your climax along with Uzui taking your breath away. He pressed his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

"Come here." Rengoku said, pushing himself up to his legs, Uzui moving out of the way before he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, shivering at the sweet way he kissed you, a stark contrast to the filthy kiss you just had with Uzui. You yelped into the kiss as Uzui touched your sensitive pussy, the man cupping it with his palm before gently rubbing it up and down. "Good girl," Uzui said, petting your pussy gently, "He did quite the number on your poor kitty, huh?" "You did such a good job," Rengoku moaned into your lips, "So good for us." he pecked your lips again and again, a sweet gesture among a filthy situation.

"I wanna..." you gulped, mouth dry, feeling shy as Rengoku started peppering your face with kisses, "I wanna make you two...feel good too." your eyes glanced over their bodies, their erections pressing against their Yukata's.

"Let's go inside." Uzui said, taking his hand off of your pussy to start righting your clothes, "you might have been able to keep your voice down when he ate you out- but i'm sure you won't be able to do the same when we get our cocks in you."

-----

Uzui was absolutely right.

"Ah! Fuck- ah-ah-ahh!" You squealed as Uzui pushed inside you, his fat cock splitting you open deliciously. He grunted above you, silver locks falling over his shoulder as he drove his cock deeper and deeper inside you, licking his lips as he got a good view of your expression. Your hands fisted the futon beneath you, head tossed back against the pillow, eyes closed tightly as your body trembled with the feeling of getting speared on Uzui's cock. All three of you were buck naked, a tight fuck pile on your futon as you started what was going to be the first of a few rounds.

"Come here baby." Rengoku said, stroking his cock as he positioned himself beside your head, "give me that pretty mouth." You opened your eyes enough to look over at Rengoku, pussy throbbing as you watched him work his member, obediently opening your mouth for him. He hummed as he moved closer, running a gentle hand through your hair before he pushed himself past your lips, letting out a lovely moan as you sucked him in. Your lips first sealed around his cock head, sucking him like a treat, tongue dancing over him. He made you feel so good- you were excited to return the favor. Your tongue dug into the tip, tasting his precum, smiling as Rengoku's body jumped, groaning at the feeling. Eventually you opened your jaw more, an invitation for Rengoku to push his cock deeper into your mouth.

"oh- fuck yes-" Uzui groaned as he bottomed out, his balls throbbing against your pussy as he gave you a second to adjust to his size. He ran a hand up and down your body, grabbing handfuls of your tummy and chest as your pussy gushed around him, your attention split between the two of them.

"Gonna start moving, okay?" Uzui said, licking his lips as he made you wrap your legs around his waist, towering over you as he placed his hands on the futon, holding himself up, "be a good girl and take it, okay?" Your moaned around Rengoku's cock in confirmation and that was enough for Uzui. Gritting his teeth, he started moving his hips, slowly dragging his thick cock out and in, out and in. He could feel your slick, hot, tight walls press against him deliciously, your heat making his head spin already. Every time he pulled out, it felt like your walls were sucking him back in, begging him to come back inside which he happily did.

"Oh you're such a good girl- my good girl- my perfect wife~" Rengoku moaned, more vocal of the two as he slowly pushed down your throat, loving the way you gagged around him. One hand grabbing a bouncing breast, the other one in your hair, he gently started fucking your mouth, cock going in and out of your throat. Uzui snickered, picking up the pace as your cunt got used to him, "She tightened at that~ you like being called wife, baby?"

You mewled as Rengoku suddenly pushed himself completely into your mouth, eyes watering as his cock was down your throat, gagging several times before you tapped his thigh. He slowly pulled out, letting you breathe and cough, your hand obediently coming up to jerk his slobbered on member as you collected yourself.

"Look at you, such a good wife for us~"

You gasped, back arching as Uzui picked up the pace, balls slapping against you as he drove his member into you. His cock was hitting your g-spot, making your moans jump in time with his thrusting, pleasure coursing through your veins. Uzui's hands grabbed your hips, grip bruising as he chased his pleasure, mouth open and moaning as your pussy milked his cock perfectly.

"Deep throat me again, darling." Rengoku said, tightening his grip on your hair as he moved forward to push his cock into your mouth again. With a deep breath, you opened your mouth and groaned as he pushed in, this time going deeper and deeper until his abdomen was touching your nose, his fat cock lodged down your throat. This time, he started moving his hips, driving his cock up and down your throat, balls slapping against your face as he started fucking your face. His eyes rolled to the back of his head from the pleasure, mouth open in a constant moan at how amazing your mouth felt around him.

Uzui was no better, his hips now practically a blur with how vigorously he was pounding your pussy. Jack-hammering into you, his mouth spilled pure filth as he fucked your brains out, loving that he could see your expression change as you got more and more cock drunk.

"Such a naughty wife! You love this, don't you? Taking two fat cocks at once- such a slutty little girl~"

"Don't be mean, Uzui." Rengoku said, gritting his teeth as pleasure took over him, "she's being such a good wife for us- making us feel so good-"

"Can't wait till we get married~" Uzui said, raising your legs to his shoulders, holding onto them as he pounded you, loving the way Rengoku's cock failed to muffle your moans of pleasure, "you'll look so beautiful- oh fuck- in your wedding dress. I can picture it now~"

"Oh, yes!" Rengoku said, a statement of agreement and a moan of pleasure, "oh darling- you'll be the most perfect- fuck me- the most perfect bride in the whole World. Oh- how did I get so lucky?"

You pulled away from Rengoku's cock, jerking him off as you needed to second to scream- the pleasure and their words making your brain go crazy. "Fuuuuck!" you cried out, tears in your eyes, voice jumping from Uzui's thrusts, your tits bouncing up and down, "S' too m-much- you both- fuck- fuck- make me f-feel so- so good!"

"You can take it baby." Rengoku said, cupping your face lovingly, "don't you want be our good wife and take it?"

you nodded, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Uzui's cock reached even deeper inside you, pounding against your cervix. "Say it." Uzui said, sweat dripping down his face as he felt his orgasm approaching, "Say it for us."

"W-W-Want to b-be a good w-wife for you t-two." you sputtered, mind going dumb. Both the men hissed and groaned, Rengoku putting himself back in your mouth enthusiastically and you felt Uzui somehow grow harder inside you.

"I'm- fuck- fuck- fuck- i'm close!" Uzui said, now pushing your legs up into a mating press, pressing them down against your chest as he used his whole body weight to pound you, balls making a loud and sticky clapping sound against your ass. Rengoku was just as enthusiastic, holding your head still as he thrusted into your mouth with reckless abandon, his balls clenching as he knew he was close to cumming. You lied down and took it, mind and body being driven to the edge as you felt your own orgasm come close, loving the feeling of being used by them in such a dirty yet intimate way.

"I can't fucking wait to wife you up!" Uzui growled, "my naughty little bride- fuck!" he licked two fingers before sliding it between you two, rubbing your clit. You squealed around Rengoku's cock and that seemed enough to drive the man to the edge.

"fuck- fuck- fuck! I'm gonna cum-" he suddenly pulled out of you, grabbing your hand desperately and placing it on his cock. "Jerk me off baby-" he pleaded, face as red as the tips of his hair, "Want to cum all over my wife's face."

You gasped and heaved as you wrapped your hand wround the flame pillar's cock, his dick slick from your saliva as you moved your hand up and down quickly, jacking him off as you leaned forward to put his cock-head into your mouth, sucking on it.

"fuck- i'm gonna cum too-" Uzui said with a growl, fingers flicking your clit mercilessly, cock continuing to pound your pussy into next week, "Fuuuck- let's all cum together!"

"P-Please-" you begged, eyebrows furrowed and tears streaming down your cheeks, "together- want to- please-"

"I'm so close- fuck- come on- come on- come on!" Rengoku moaned, eyes closed tightly as you jerked him off. Uzui mirrored the same sentiment, chasing his orgasm and yours as he fucked and fucked and fucked. You don't know what took over you but your mouth worked faster than your brain as you knew exactly what to say to drive them over the edge:

"W-Want my husbands to cum for me~"

With a shout, both men climaxed simultaneously, gasping loudly from your words and the force of their orgasm. Balls clenching and eyes rolling to the back of their heads, the room was filled with shouts and cries, the force of their orgasms making their bodies shake. the feeling of Uzui filling your womb up with his hot, hot cum and of Rengoku splashing your face with ropes and ropes of his thick semen made you climax, pussy squirting jets of liquid as you wet the futon underneath you, your squeals and cries echoing through the room. You didn't know how thick the walls were but consider the noise all three of you were making- you had to assume it wasn't thick enough but you didn't care. All three of you trembled and moaned lewdly, grasping onto each other tightly as the force of the orgasms almost made everyone pass out. Almost.

"You...naughty fucking minx!" Uzui barked out with a laugh, catching his breath as he milked his balls for every drop, rolling his hips to make sure he filled you up to the brim, "Saying something like that- oh fuck- so hot."

"You have no idea what you do to us." Rengoku said, coming back down to Earth as he looked down at the mess he created, chest swelling with pride as he saw your pretty face stained with his cum, "My naughty wife. I hope you're not tired already. Your husband want's a chance fucking your pretty pussy."

"And this husband wants to see you gag on his cock~" Uzui said, slowly pulling out, hissing at the sight of your gaping pussy leak out his cum.

You gulped as you caught your breathe, body tensing as you strapped in for a long night. Oh boy, you sure did open something in them by calling them husbands and now, it was time to pay the price.

[rene-darling]

Hi hi 👋🏻! After I read your sneaky link fic I got an idea! Can I request those same characters having a realization that they like you more than just a sneaky link and then maybe confessing?

OMG ANON YOUR BRAIN>>>

Gn reader

WHEN- your sneaky links realize they like you more than just friends!

...Cyno...tighnari...xiao...kazuha...

Cyno

You and cyno have been fucking around for a little while but only recently has he started seeing you more often you've been catching some criminals for some quick cash or just for fun to hone your skills!

It's during these times when he meets you while at work that he truly treasures, he sees sides of you that he usually doesn't get to see while fucking. your personality, your interests and a bunch of other things

It's during this time where when you guys do fuck it starts to get more...intimate almost like something lovers would do..

Ever since he started to get to know you better it's like like the fucking has improved too! The kisses you share seem more passionate, especially from his side! They feel more personal and from the heart

one day it wasn't hard fuvking it was soft and gentle with more praise and talking in between it was after you were finished tucked in and asleep did it finally click in his head...was it just him or were you always so- so gorgeous it was like the moon was hitting you just right

You were spooning him when he turned around to face you and sank deep into your hand while he hugged you closer than humanly possible "I- I love you"

It was barely a whisper and he assumed you didn't hear it which is why he was surprised when you pulled him closer by the waist just to whisper "mhm..me to, love you cyno" he felt his heart skip a beat

Tighnari

At first, you would watch him groom his tail and ears or maybe you would go make some food or sometimes even order

But nowadays you insist on helping him groom himself, taking his fluffy tail into your hands as you softly brush it

He's mesmerized by you, staring into your soul by the mirror watching you softly brush his tail cuz you know he's sensitive you follow all the complicated steps of his grooming routine without complaint even going as far as to brush his hair and massage his ears!

It's during one of these times when he's sitting naked in front of you while you carefully brush him, making small talk here and there where he can't hold it in anymore "y/n" "ya-"

"I think I'm in love with you" is all he whispered while pulling you in, his arms wrapped around your neck as you passionately kiss him back

"tighnari" "hm"

"I think I love you too"

Xiao

Oh, xiao sweet and lovely xiao! It takes him forever to even comprehend his feelings let alone accept them!

Even after he realizes he refuses to accept them, he doesn't deem himself worthy of someone as amazing as you

It's the small things you do that make him feel on top of the world! When each morning without fail you make him food! When sometimes instead of having sex you gently comfort him all night your lovely voice putting him to rest when the bad memories plague his mind

After one of your rather rough sessions, his karmic dept starts acting up and he feels overwhelmed and especially tired, its during this when you come and gently pull him into a hug slowly messaging his back while reassuring him and muttering praise into his ear until he can't handle it anymore you're too nice to him no ones ever been this caring towards him before!

He can't help the tears he really can't! He feels soft and mushy he doesn't know if he even likes it or not! "xiao? Are you alright "

Through hiccups and stutters, he can only bring himself to say one line "I- love you, I really l-like you-" which is just followed up by more sobs as he hides his face from you, embarrassed

He gasps as you pull his face from his hiding spot and place a gentle kiss on the purple diamond on top of his head "me too xiao, me too."

Kazuha

It was usually just him making food for the both of you after a session after that he would go and take a bath but.. Nowadays you like to help him

When his legs hurt too much to reach up and grab something you would pick him up so easily si he could

When he starts making a specific dish and there aren't enough ingredients so you run to the store to quickly grab whatever he needs! You don't want to waste something he put so much effort in!!

And especially when you help him take a bath by rubbing soap up and down his supple thighs washing his hair so so gently even going as far as to help him dry it! You don't even question his desire to wear your clothes anymore! You pick out the cutest outfits for him!

It makes him realize how much he treasures you and these moments which lead him to confess "y/n" "yes kazuha"

"Whenever I see you my stomach starts fluttering and whenever I wake up to the sight of you next to me, sleeping calmly, it lights a warmth in me I can't describe, it makes me realize how valuable time is and I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, I love you, y/n" "..I'm not sure I can say such lovely words like yours to describe my love for you, but me too, I love you kazuha"

[circlebuttons]

Buzz cut Season

Pairing: Rafe cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: Mature Content Minors DNI, Somnophilia, Smut

Word Count: 1,433

It's late saturday mornings and you were still sleeping, your classes had been brutal all week and today was your first day to just lay in bed. You feel the bed dip behind you and your blanket lift, so you simultaneously turn, knowing your boyfriend has made it back to bed. It wasn't unusual for Rafe to get in bed at strange times or disappear and suddenly reappear, so eventually it just became second nature to accept him in your bed whenever. He wrapped his arms around you like he would every morning without fail, the pull of his arms helps bring you somewhat towards consciousness although your eyes stay closed, prompting you to tiredly mumble, "Good morning baby" as you turn your face into his chest.

"Morning beautiful", he whispers down to you and after some time of holding each other you can feel his hands slowly travel down to massage your hips and ass, telling you that he was in the mood bright and early without even needing to look at him. You put a hand to his chest and half consciously turn back over, not in the mood to entertain Rafe's high sex drive. "Baby" he whines pleadingly in your ear pulling you from falling back into a deep sleep again and if you didn't know better you'd think that the kook king whining and begging in your ear was a dream.

"'m tired" you mumble at him with a frown forming on your sleeping face. Although your boyfriends makes incessant reminders that you could quit everything and be taken care of, you still go to school full time. You cater to your majors demanding hours and Rafe struggles to grasp the concept of the working man's fatigue, causing little hiccups here and there in y'all's relationship.

He mutters against the shell of your ear, "Just let me eat it? Huh, pretty girl?" A small smirk grows on your lips as you gently nod. You had called Rafe an eater to his face once and he completely denied it like you don't know him better than he knows himself, but it's not like you're complaining.

"Not too much though" you softly mumble out, creating an understanding that there is no such thing as four rounds and overstimulation at the ass crack of dawn. Rafe hums out a half assed understanding as he trails light kisses down your neck and eventually to your hips, until you fall back asleep.

He moves smoothly under your blanket, it's lightweight and allows him to comfortably place his hands firmly on each side, so that you're laying on your back allowing your head to settle back into the pillows.

his hands work to softly and slowly part your legs lifting one leg up so that he can trail kisses on the backside and inner skin of your thigh and letting the other one rest out flat.

he leaves kisses in his path placing a final one on your pubic bone right where the white manufactured bow on your underwear sits. he mouths at your stil covered pussy making your body begin to stir. "rafe" you huffed out annoyed that he'd think it was a good idea to tease you mid sleep. "I hear you" he mumbled, before he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and gently slid them off, returning to you and this time splitting your legs open on each side in a funky frog position instead of letting your legs rest on his shoulders like he normally would.

you whine at the stretch, annoyed that he's being extra, but content enough to lull back asleep. rafe loved the positions you guys could try due to your flexibility, matter of fact it was the only thing that kept him as your acrobatics partner on the mornings before he played golf.

He readjusts his hands to slowly spread you apart, mesmerized by the glisten of how wet you had gotten in such little time. He places his tongue flat against entrance and drags it all the way up, stopping to suck on your clit. He repeats his motions, trying his best to keep a slow and calm pace despite the quiet whimpers that begin to slip past your lips. He drags his tongue through your pussy one last time before sucking your clit into his mouth, not as gently as the first time. His tongue moves across your nerve, creating suction as if he's trying to drink you from the source and he doesn't release your bud until you arch your back and loudly whine out his name, your hand briefly reaching down to push away his head, regardless of the barrier created by your sheets.

Rafe becomes aware of your newfound consciousness and uses that as his advantage to make you cum quicker. He laps up whatever wetness had begin to run across your pussy and makes it a point to push his tongue deep into you. He nods his head side to side, burying his tongue further, and humming vibrations through your core. "Shit! R-rafe!" the stimulation makes you cry out and your thighs jolt closed, but hes quick to keep your legs spread, locking his arms on top of them and holding your waist so you'd be held firmly in position.

You struggle against his arms and he pulls his tongue out of you with a slurp, and just as quickly he begins to sloppily eat you out. Even though you've made no progress you can't help but to thrash against his restraint, crying out high pitched and whiny moans, which only encourage him to moan against your clit with what seems like a nonstop humming.

You could feel yourself reaching your high. Your hands shot down, quickly moving under the sheets, reaching down to grab his hair and pull his head away, but the feel of his rough buzzed head instead shocks you fully awake. "what the fuck?" you continue to grab at nothing until the realization sets in. he was gone this morning getting more than just a trim. you feel him smirk into your skin as you try to push his head back fighting overstimulation. He loved the way you'd grab him like you're torn between pulling him away from and pulling him closer to your pussy, like you can't decide if the pleasure is too much or if you want to cum. But he always ended up making the decision for you as his hands harshly holds down your hips, making you crumble over the edge, stuttering as you fall from your high.

Your orgasm is drastically different from the few moments prior when you were sleeping, it's hot and intense, shaking your body, making you cry out, "Fuck, Rafe!" You shove the covers off of you two and he looks up at you with his blue eyes one tint away from being black. You let your head fall back and thighs close tight around his head. It made sense now why he wouldn't let your legs touch his head and why the soft texture of his straight hair was no longer tickling your skin

He follows your comedown, cleaning you with his tongue,while you take a moment to catch your breath, both of you sitting in silence as he places soft kisses back up your body until he's hovering over you.

"I know you're tired but you did so good" He's speaking softly to you but the only thing in your head is that you can't believe that he actually buzzed all of his hair off. You sit up to get a better look. "Holy shit you did it" you gasp out as he leans down to kiss you, he had mentioned wanting to cut his hair once or twice before but never had. you look up at him in awe, hands caressing his head and face.

"Do you like it? Or i mean think it looks good? He quietly asks you as his eyes shy away from yours and you can detect his need for your validation.

"I love it! I think you look great baby" You tell him with a big smile, his eyes quickly lock in on yours as he mirrors your smile. As much as Rafe loved to come off as confident and stone cold you knew it was important to give him just as much reassurance and as many affirmations that he gives you, but what you didn't know was that every time he flashed that boyish smile at you, you were healing his soul piece by piece.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (12)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Smut including blood drinking, and some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: This Ready Flesh

His vision was blurry, tunneling in and out as he struggled to focus on the pavement in front of him. The street lights flickered, his retina capturing them in a mesmerizing delay, creating luminous streaks and trails across the sky. It had been ages since Leon had gotten into such a state where he couldn’t walk straight anymore, shambling in a zigzag pattern towards his destination. At least he still knew where he wanted to go — to you. It was all he could think about as he staggered into Café Noir, calling out your name while the other patrons delivered wary side glances.

In his inebriated haze, he stumbled through the crowd until he came across a figure he vaguely recognized. Grabbing the person by the collar, he sputtered, “Patrick, right?”

The young man nodded timidly, trying to back away, though Leon clung onto him firmly. “Where is she?”

He could even smell the strong stench of alcohol on his own breath as he spoke. The vessels he had drunken from earlier must have been completely wasted. He should know, since they had already passed out when he got to them. It was probably pure vodka running through their veins at this rate.

“Sh-she already left an hour ago,” Patrick stammered, cowering slightly in fear.

Jesus Christ, what did this boy ever do to you? Leon sighed. He was scaring people unintentionally, looking all crazed with his bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He didn’t even need a mirror to confirm that. What a fucking mess.

Right on cue, he saw the ponytailed redhead come into view, and she looked pissed. Great job, Leon, he berated himself. Now he was gonna get his ass kicked. But he deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I’ll handle it from here,” she told Patrick calmly, before turning back to Leon with a deadly glare. 

Dragging him by the arm over to a free table in one of the more private corners of the room, she shoved him onto a chair and ordered, “Stop terrorizing the locals.”

“Hi to you too, Redfield,” he mumbled despondently, slumping over with a hiccup before catching himself with his supporting arm.

Claire stabilized him, shaking her head disapprovingly as she sat in the opposite chair. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

When he didn’t answer, she scolded, “Not a good look, Kennedy.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you, Claire?” he challenged, though his slurring made the words sound all jumbled together.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she cursed, tapping the side of his cheek rapidly, in a blind effort to get him to come to his senses. Finally, she came to a decision. “Okay, here's the deal. We’ll sit here until you sober up, and then, we’re gonna talk.”

Regardless, that didn’t prevent him from retorting, “Yes ma—”

“Shut it, Leon.”

It was an agonizing wait for the effects of the alcohol to dissipate, and it didn’t help that Claire kept throwing him dirty looks, warning him against trying anything funny. When he could finally string a proper sentence together without making a fool of himself, she spoke up, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and it’s your private business, but something tells me I need to step in before this blows up in everyone’s faces.”

“What do you mean?” He caught the underlying warning in her words and sensed there was more than what she was letting on.

Sighing, she knocked back a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Let’s… save that for later,” she negotiated. “What’s gotten into you? Hell, I’ve never seen you like this, ever.”

He pinched his lips together, reluctant to come clean with his emotions. But he knew he had no one else he could talk to like this. It was one thing he appreciated about Claire, even though her backhanded comments often grated on his nerves, she would always be straight with him. She just pretended to be begrudging about it.

“She’s gonna leave me,” he muttered. 

Claire raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “So… this is how Leon Scott Kennedy, the great knight in shining armor, wins back his ‘one true love’, huh?” She mimicked quotation marks with her fingers in the air, adding salt to the wound. “By getting trashed and moping around?”

In any other circumstance, he would’ve fought back in an instant, exchanging cutting remarks laced with hidden barbed wire. Now, however, he remained passive and compliant, like a doll. “I did something unforgivable,” he finally admitted.

She snorted, propping her legs up on the table. “Yeah, you’ve done a lot of unforgivable things. We all have,” she emphasized. 

Leaning forward, she prodded his chest with her finger accusingly. “You left us without a reason, no goodbye, nothing, and yet, Chris and I are still here, aren’t we?” She paused, taking a moment to recollect herself, and rolled her eyes. “God, that was soppy. Just, er, fuck— rewind and erase that shit, will ya?”

Leon bit his lip, suppressing a laugh. “Sure, whatever you say, Claire.”

“Anyway, your fledgling is beginning to realize and understand that there’s no perfect little world for Kindred like us,” she began.

“Of course, she would run off to you Anarchs of all people,” Leon huffed, clicking his tongue in disdain. “She’s been collecting all sorts of injuries from the gym.”

She sat up straight, folding her arms across her chest in pride. “Thanks to Chris’ training.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hand.

“You have it bad for her—”

“I don’t—” he protested, though she interrupted him in return.

“She talks about you, you know?” At this, he fell silent and she added, “Not in a bad way.”

“What does she say?” he blurted out almost too quickly.

“You’ll have to ask her that yourself,” she replied coyly. “But I don’t think she’s over you yet.”

His heart swelled, though he tried to rein it in to prevent false hope from building up. After all, false hope was worse than having nothing to hope for.

“Just do me a favor, will ya?” she requested. “Don’t try to control her; it never works. Trust me, I know my kind when I see one.”

It was Leon’s turn to scoff, “You wish.” He knew you well. No matter how much of a rebel you were, you were a Toreador through and through.

“Now that I got your attention, we should move on to the serious topic I guess.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “There’s two things, which do you wanna hear first? The bad news or the bad news?”

“Claire…” he warned, his patience growing thin.

She placed her feet back down on the ground, unzipping her jacket to pull out a bunch of photographs from its inner pocket. Handing it over to him, she said, “I hate it whenever you’re right.”

“Get used to it,” he quipped back, shuffling through the pictures he assumed she had acquired from a bunch of surveillance cameras in the area. Then, he came across one that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Lucas. He was talking with someone, a tall figure with their back to the camera, obscured by a long cloak.

“A Sabbat member,” she clarified, pointing at Lucas’ image. “Turns out the suitor has been meeting with him regularly.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “You know this is a literal death sentence for the entire Anarch sect in Raccoon City, right? If Wesker finds out…” his voice trailed off as he witnessed Claire’s eyes watering up and her hands trembling. She knew the implications and she was scared.

“There’s something else though,” she stated, pushing forward despite her uneasiness. 

Fishing out a separate photo from the stack, she held it before Leon. It was a zoomed-in version of the previous photograph. Tracing the outline of another shadowy figure in the background, she mentioned, “You see this here? There’s a third party involved, but we couldn’t make out who they were.”

Tightening his jaw, he promised, “I’ll keep this under wraps for now, but we need a plan, and we need it fast.” And then, he suddenly remembered. “What’s the other bad news?”

This seemed to make her even more unnerved, but she steadied herself and said, “The suitor has started taking an interest in your childe.”

His eyes gleamed lethally, already imagining the multitude of ways he would slice the guy into ribbons. “Who is this suitor?” he seethed, saliva foaming at his fanged teeth as his voice quivered in blistering rage.

She was mute, her eyes darted away from his, and her whole body was shaking. Something was very wrong.

“Claire!” He grasped her hands, both pleading and demanding, “I need to know!”

“The Baron,” she whispered, barely audible above the constant drone of background chatter.

His eyes widened. Like the Camarilla had their Prince, the Anarchs had their Baron. He’d just never expected such a big player to be involved. But then again, why wouldn’t he? Who would be as foolish and powerful enough to risk it all?

“Heisenberg.” The name flew out of his mouth like an omen.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, you know the drill,” Chris instructed, clapping his hands together to get you to move. “Four sets of jump rope, three minutes each, and for your one-minute breaks in between, push-ups.”

“And don’t forget to use your vitae!” he yelled over once more.

That was just the warm-up. You groaned, stretching out your limbs as you pushed yourself up from the floor to grab the skipping rope disgruntledly.

“Hey, winners never quit and quitters never win,” he advised before setting the timed alarms on his watch.

It took every ounce of effort not to roll your eyes at his clichéd motivational quote. At least you could see the progress you were making relatively quickly. Your feet went through the motions, your muscle memory intact as you began with a basic bounce, working your way into side straddles, hip twists and then alternating single leg jumps. You were light and nimble in your steps, just like you had to be when you got into your fight stance. It was like Mr. Miyagi’s teaching technique with “wax on, wax off.”

A beep sounded. You tossed the rope to the side and dropped into a plank position, channeling your energy through your flattened palms as you performed controlled, repetitive push-ups. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, dampening the dusty ground. Your hands and fingernails were caked with dirt.

Another beep, and you sprung up, huffing as you took the rope and continued with high knee jumps. Your heart was pounding against its cage, and you felt like you wanted to die from exhaustion, but you pushed on. At some point, you broke through an invisible wall, and your body accepted the strain, no longer fighting against it. It was then where you had the headspace to think.

The past days you had free were spent mostly with the Anarchs, so much so that you felt more aligned with them than the Camarilla. You wondered if they secretly knew and were spying on you all this while, ready to dole out your punishment when it was time to face the consequences. For some odd reason, you had a hunch that someone had been watching you recently, but every time you tried to suss out the culprit, they had vanished from sight.

Despite favoring Anarch company, the insight you’d gained into their practices made you realize that they still had the same bullshit hierarchies and politics like the Camarilla, just a little flatter and more equal on the surface. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed like the lesser of two evils to you.

Beep. Guess it was back to push-ups. Your sweat had begun to form a puddle beneath you and it stung your eyes. Halfway there, you told yourself. Not much longer to go. You’d talked to Chris and Claire about Leon, asking them how he was like when he still hung out with them, during the time he was somewhat a part of the sect. They’d told you many stories of his bravery and courage, putting others first before himself, but also how entangled he was in the mysterious deals he had with Ada and the rest of the Camarilla. It seemed as if he had no way out of them. 

“Why?” you’d asked.

“If this is the world he’s been exposed to, how would he know any different until someone or something challenges it?” Claire had proposed.

“His sire, Ada, is a…” Chris paused to consider his words before settling on “transactional woman.” He shrugged. “She probably taught him deals like that are inevitable.”

The same advice as she had tried to impart to you. If someone who was deemed as your superior repeated these teachings again and again, at some point, they could become the truth.

“We’re not excusing Leon for what he’s done,” Claire was quick to correct him. “Just trying to explain it in context.”

Beep. “Speed up!” Chris shouted, and you knew that he wanted you to train your Celerity. Faster than a blink, you took up the rope and completed the routine as swift as lightning. The rest of the sets went by in a blur as you thought about one person only — Leon.

The blue of his eyes, the color of the sea, changing into gold. It reminded you of the Mediterranean, back during one of your travels. The light of the sun glittering on the water’s surface, shifting into the sand dunes of the desert. You felt his presence then; faint, sorrowful and alone, just as he felt yours. A ghostly hand reached out, and you lost your balance, tripping on the rope and landing flat on your face.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Chris grunted, helping you up by your arm, as you wiped away the blood from the graze on your knee.

Leon. You had a sudden urge to speak with him after behaving like strangers since your falling out. As much as you told yourself it was to reconcile and meet Rebecca as a united front, you’d be lying if you insisted there wasn’t something more. Want and longing, like an empty glass discarded in the sink. You’ll talk with him tonight, you determined. However, fate had other plans for you first.

You were shadowboxing in the gym’s ring while Chris barked out directions from the sidelines. At some point, you noticed the expression on his face darken and his body stiffen. He started making his way over to you with an instinctive sense of protectiveness.

An imposing silhouette loomed over you and you stopped abruptly, spinning around to face a tall, robust man with long, unkempt graying hair. He wore a wide-brimmed fedora hat and a beige trench coat over his attire. Round wire-framed glasses covered his eyes but did nothing to hide the bold smile across his face. He scratched at his rugged beard before taking a long drag from his fat cigar.

“Well, well, sugar. How nice of you to visit,” he remarked, puffing out a waft of smoke as he released the cigar from his mouth, planting it between his thumb and index finger.

“Baron,” Chris greeted. He was standing beside you now, tersely grasping your shoulder, suggesting caution.

In his other hand, the man held a metallic cane, rigid and bladed at the sides, its handle adorned with a carved horse figure. The cane clinked every time it touched the ground as he walked towards you, seemingly heavier than it looked. He didn’t lean or rely on it like he had an injury, merely tapping it lightly with each step forward. When you focused closer on the mechanical contraptions, you could tell that it concealed a secondary weapon of sorts.

“Oh, no need for formalities.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all comrades here.”

With a courteous bow, he tipped his hat at you, acknowledging your presence. “Heisenberg,” he proffered, stubbing out the cigar with his boot as he extended his gloved hand to you.

Despite the unsettling atmosphere, you took his hand and shook it firmly like you always do. Might as well fake it until you make it. He raised his eyebrows, grinning at you like a maniac, nodding in appreciation at your dauntlessness.

“So, sugar, how do you like what you see so far?” He raised his hands, rotating in a slow, deliberate circle, as he gestured to the surroundings and the Kindred who’d quietened down since his arrival.

“It’s nice,” you answered flatly, keeping your responses vague and to a minimum until you could better ascertain what he wanted from you.

“I always knew you’d belong to us.” Though with the way he said ‘us’, it sounded more like ‘me’. You caught a glimpse of recognition in Chris’ eye and your suspicions about the man in front of you were confirmed with his next sentence.

“Too bad that Toreador dickhead had to ruin my plans,” he sneered. Clamping his hand on your shoulder dramatically, he continued, “This has been a real party and all, but why don’t you come back to our base? Make yourself at home?”

Heisenberg was the suitor. The one who wanted to use you for his own gain and power. He made your skin crawl.

“Baron—” you saw Chris attempt to plead your case only to be cut off by him.

“Dammit, Chris, I swear to god!” he bellowed, slamming his cane so violently on the ground that you were afraid it would break. Then, in a complete switch, he became almost dainty, whispering with a light flourish, “For the last time… it’s Heisenberg.”

The man was unhinged. You didn’t know who was worse: Wesker or Heisenberg. But you needed to get the fuck out of there.

“Maybe another time,” you proposed, backing away, though that only caused his grip on you to tighten. “I really should get going.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?” he questioned in an odd sing-song before mockingly commenting, “Will your sire be worried?”

“Heisenberg.” The unmistakable voice of the man in question resonated throughout the room, penetrating the dense silence. You heaved a sigh of relief, never having been happier to hear it.

The Baron finally released you, but not without mumbling in your ear, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, Leon!” he greeted in a sickeningly sweet tone. “We were just talking about you! Always the thorn in my side, huh?” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else joined in.

It didn't take long for Leon to catch up to where you were standing, positioning himself between you and Heisenberg. His steely countenance peered down at you briefly before he looked back at the Baron. From behind, you saw Claire slowly walking over to join her brother.

“You heard the lady,” Leon stated. “She wishes to leave.”

At this, there was a fleeting tick in Heisenberg’s cheek, his smile faltering as his lips twitched ever so slightly, betraying his obvious irritation at Leon’s words. Suddenly, there was a loud swish and an electric crack in the air, as the cane he was carrying turned into a whip, which he lashed across the ground. It landed mere centimeters away from Leon’s face, but he didn’t even flinch, staring Heisenberg down with a cold glare.

“Think you’re real tough, don’t you, boy?” Heisenberg spat.

However, Leon remained as calm and elegant as ever. You wondered how many times he’d practiced for this very moment. Motioning to you, he mentioned, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Heisenberg, but my childe here still remains part of the Camarilla.” Turning back to face the Baron, he delivered his final line like an arrow hitting its mark, “And if it comes to it, we will protect our own.”

For a split second, Heisenberg was stumped, but masked it with a ridiculing chuckle. “Is that a threat?” Without waiting for Leon to answer, he offered his hand to you. “Last chance, sugar.”

You ignored it, making your decision to take Leon’s instead, interlacing your fingers with his as you squeezed his palm. He squeezed back and smiled weakly.

“Your funeral,” Heisenberg huffed, disappointment and wounded pride clearly marking his face.

Together, you exited the gym hand-in-hand, narrowly escaping Heisenberg’s wrath unscathed, while numerous pairs of eyes watched you from the sides.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After the chivalrous display Leon had put on in your previous encounter with the Baron, you didn’t expect such a severe scolding from him the minute you stepped into his apartment.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?” he berated. “You’re being too reckless hanging out so openly with the Anarchs!”

A mixture of hurt and confusion flashed across your face as you shot back, “Yeah? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Leon, considering that you used to be one of them!”

“Who told you that?” he snapped, backing you into a corner of the room. “Was it Chris—? No, Claire?”

You shoved him off roughly, shouting, “You have no right to judge! What have you been doing this whole time, huh? Fuck all!”

He looked away from you in embarrassment before turning back with a blazing fire in his eyes, his mouth writhing with manic fury. “I’ve been watching you, making sure you were safe, and you think I’ve done nothing?!”

You let out a harsh, hollow laugh in his face. “So, it was you? Stalking me like a fucking creep!”

He ground his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that you could see his muscles straining under the effort. “I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“What did you say?!” you blurted out in bewilderment, grabbing his collar and slamming him into a nearby wall. Visible cracks emerged behind him along the plaster, spreading like spiderwebs. He whimpered in pain, but you continued pressing him in. “Are you threatening me?” you asked, your voice laced with grief and betrayal.

“No, never— I would never do that to you.” It came out like a cracked whisper. “If you step out of line, he will ask me to. But I would much rather be destroyed in your place,” he admitted.

So, was that why he kept trying to ‘control’ you? You were overcome with a sudden onslaught of emotions, and you didn’t know what to trust anymore. 

“Liar!” you screamed, an insurmountable rage surging through your blood as you hurled him against a glass coffee table. It smashed into smithereens, and he struggled to get up as the shards nicked his hands and body. Blood spilled onto the floor like a murder scene.

You bolted over, still overcome with frenzied anger, as you pinned him to the ground, pummeling his face while yelling, “I hate you! I fucking hate your guts! What you did to me, what you did to Sherry! You fucking monster! I wish you were d—”

You paused, realizing what you were about to utter and knowing that deep down that you didn’t mean anything you had just said. But the damage was already done. A pang of guilt seeped into your chest and it convulsed as you choked out uneven sobs. Your hands were trembling and covered in scarlet red, and your breath hitched as you peered at Leon’s bloodied and bruised face. He’d been cut up real bad, his nose was broken and his cheeks were puffed up like a balloon. However, he didn’t fight back, accepting every punch and insult you threw at him, like he deserved it.

“Do it,” he croaked, blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth. It almost seemed as if he wanted you to put him out of his misery.

“No, no, no, I—” You shook your head furiously, staring at your reddened palms and started crying. 

Your head fell forwards onto his chest, weeping into his stark white shirt, now ruined with blood and tears. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing it reassuringly in circles, while the other carded through your hair. Even though he was the one suffering, he still took upon himself to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” you repeated like a prayer, but he hushed you gently.

It was then that you gave in. You’d seen who he was laid bare entirely before you. A monster with his skeletons exposed, and yet, you loved him. You loved him so much your heart would burst.

Holding him close, you moved him away from the broken glass and onto the rug — a new replacement for the one you had bled out on. You touched his face delicately with your fingertips; it was wet and sticky. Why wasn’t he mending himself? You wanted to kiss away his wounds and the pain. He stayed still, eyeing you curiously, waiting to see what you would do. A small gasp fell from his lips as you took your fingers into your mouth, tasting him whole. It was divine, just as you remembered, like figs and honey, and you had the insatiable desire for more.

“I want you, Leon,” you breathed. “Every part of you.”

At this, he drew in, taking your lips with his own urgently. You kissed back, matching it with a similar level of desperation, like both of you were famished. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip in to caress yours, swirling against it tantalizingly, as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. You lapped it up ardently, as though you didn’t want to waste a single drop. 

The nuances of his taste became clearer. A hint of leather, oak and spice, and at times, subtle notes of vanilla and whiskey, making you feel as if you were a sommelier. Perhaps these were the flavors he had enjoyed when living. Fire coursed through your veins as you straddled him, pressing your scorching body against his. He groaned at the contact, bucking his hips into yours feverishly.

Both of you continued in the same rhythm, moaning each time his erection rubbed against your pelvis. Giddy and heady from the high, you clawed at his shirt, clumsily tearing through the fabric and sending its buttons flying across the room. He responded in kind, ripping open the clothes you’d been wearing, unable to wait any longer.

His heated gaze dragged along your naked body, admiring it in reverence, as if you were a goddess that he worshiped the very ground you stood on. Planting wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your breast, he murmured, “I need you, angel.” His hot breath fanning against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. “Please, let me taste you.”

“Anything you want,” you rasped, tangling your hands in his hair. “I’m all yours.”

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, so unlike him that you wondered if you had awakened the sleeping Beast with your words. He took his time, cupping your breasts in his hands as his tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other. Latching onto it with his mouth, he suckled it, increasing the pressure as you twitched in response. You surrendered yourself entirely to him, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body.

He held your gaze as you watched his teeth sink in, puncturing the soft flesh of your breast. The sharp, prickly sting turned into that euphoric thrill you’d subconsciously craved for ever since the first time he’d tasted you. He drank from you a little before leaving the site, grazing your skin with his searing lips they traveled downwards. The first mark was left open and bleeding, just like the rest of the marks he would make. It was his way of showing the world that he had claimed you. You would let him devour you if you could.

His mouth paused at the side of your ribs and he made his second mark, the sensitivity of the spot causing your body to jerk suddenly, but he grasped the fat of your hips, holding you down as you whined. Blood flowed from the wound as if you’d been pierced in the side by a lance, and yet you begged, “More, please, more…”

The final mark he made on you in this round came when he reached your pussy, aching and sore for his touch. He licked your clit eagerly, sealing his lips around it as his fingers brushed against your folds, teasing the entrance before slipping in easily. Moans spewed out from your mouth as he continued sucking hard on your clit and curling his fingers against your spongy walls. At some point, he replaced them with his tongue, dipping and thrusting hungrily into your slit. His fingers glistened with your arousal all the way up to his knuckles, and you brought them into your mouth, soaking in the intoxicating aroma of sweat, lust and love. He hummed, taking the opportunity to bite into your mound, filling himself up with more of your essence as you threw your head back and gasped his name.

Coming up for breath, he peered at you beneath him. The carmine traces coating his lips like red-stained roses, and the scent and taste of your blood lingered in his very soul. He’d seen three separate memories of you with every mark, each more personal than the last, but no less beautiful. You looked truly holy like this, with your blissed out face and blown out eyes, your lips flushed and swollen. A moist sheen covered your body and your breasts quivered from your ragged breathing. He loved how he could do this to you. If he could, he would crown you as his sweet Mary, Isis, Ishtar, or any other form the saint and deity came in, bathing you in swathes of Marian blue and gold, and laying jewels at your feet. As the sanguine fluid trickled down your cunt like a virgin’s first time, he realized that for once, you were his, and solely his.

His wounds healed up in the process, good as new again, but you reached out, teary-eyed, cradling his face in your hands as you pressed your foreheads together. You never wanted to hurt him, and he never wanted to hurt you either. However, the pain still remained, like heavy stones crushing against your chest. He had already forgiven you, kissing you tenderly and stroking your cheek until you pulled away abruptly.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, like a thin wisp of smoke drifting into his waiting mouth. “Fuck me right here on the floor.”

The same floor where your life had drained away into the ether, the same floor where he had made that fateful decision to Embrace you, and the same floor where both of you had envisioned this very moment before it even happened. You needed him to fuck you rough and fast, just so you could forget and engrave this memory in your heart simultaneously. 

He heard it in your voice and understood, obliging as he peeled off the rest of his clothes, pushing you forward onto the ground, so that your front lay flat against its laminated surface. You felt him guide the tip of his cock against your pussy, smearing precum along your folds before burying himself to the hilt. He didn’t hesitate or hold back, pounding into you vigorously from behind without giving you the chance to adjust to his size. You mewled in agonizing pleasure as he grasped your ass, spreading it apart so he could penetrate deeper. Your skin rubbed raw against the hard floor, bones bruising against wood as you scratched scars into its layers.

With every sharp thrust your body jolted forwards, his balls slapping against your skin as he gritted out, “Fuck, angel, you just take it so well.”

“How much have you wanted me like this?” you asked impulsively, your voice strained as you rutted back into him in sync with his unrelenting pace, feeling the head of his cock hitting your cervix.

His dick throbbed at your question. A hand came up and pushed your head down, squishing your face into the floor. “God, I— think about bending you over and making you scream—” he panted. His tone turned feral and inhuman like you’d never heard before as he slammed his hips against your ass to punctuate each word, “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Screams tore from your throat until your voice became hoarse, and scalding tears gathered at your waterline before splashing onto the ground. Yet, something savage and animalistic, akin to what he had shown earlier, emerged from the depths of your chest. “Leon, please,” you keened. “Fuck me harder.”

Wrapping his arm around your neck, he leaned forward, placing his full body on top of you so that his chest was pressed flush against your back. Rocking his hips into yours, he fucked you so deep that you felt him in your ribcage. Instinctively, you plunged your fangs into his arm, breaking skin, as he hissed a string of curses before doing the same, clamping down on your neck. You drank from each other, consuming and mixing vitae as he continued pistoning into your cunt. Veins protruded from your neck and your eyes turned bloodshot, rolling back into your head. The excruciating euphoria you’d experienced from your Embrace returned, flooding your senses, and the visions began.

You saw the human life he’d led: a first and last date at the drive-in cinema where he’d fumbled with a cute girl, the all-nighters he’d pulled cramming for exams, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he nodded off to sleep. Then came glimpses of his life and unlife with Ada: how they’d fallen in and out of love, the way he’d been brought to his highest highs and reduced to his lowest lows. You felt for him in those moments, wanting nothing more than for his happiness to shine through, even at the expense of your own. 

The images blended together like a watercolor painting, and you smelled the sand and sea. Two figures skinny-dipping, copulating by the waters, and again in the middle of a sandstorm. Your bodies melded into one and you were drawn back into your sweet release, both of you crying each other’s name on your lips. His hips stuttered, stuffing spurts of his cum into your cunt, the excess leaking between your thighs.

You stayed like this for an eternity before he pulled out, turning you around to face him as you lay side by side. He nuzzled your neck, kissing you affectionately. Blood caked your faces and streamed down your bodies.

“Messy drinker,” he chided softly, though his eyes were loving and warm. He licked all around your mouth, cleaning up the vermilion stains.

“I learned from the best,” you retorted, smirking as you caressed his jawline.

He scoffed, kissing your temple as he nestled you into his arms — a perfect fit. “You know I’m never letting you go after this?”

“Didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you murmured into his chest, feeling his smile widen against your cheek.

I love you. He didn’t need to hear your confession to know that you meant every single word.

[nanqmies]

Priest!Baizhu | Drabble+ Hc

cw: lowkey manipulative baizhu?? creampie, masturbation, semi-public sex, very religious themes, m!reader, dubcon?? idk, if i forgot anythin please inform me!!

wc: 0.7k

a/n: i do apologize for not postin that much!! i have a lot going on 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 , writers block is kickin my ass.. i do have fics in the works!! m tryna to make everything more pleasin to the eye, i will try to make a masterlist soon ^^ please enjoy my work.♡

nsfw under the cut~

Priest!Baizhu; who kindly welcomed you to the church with open arms, always inviting you to his sermons to listen to him preach the words of archon. Seeming so kind, a humble smile always on his face while preaching at the stand, welcoming others into the church. Soft voice filling the room as he spoke, sending heat down to the deepest parts of you.. Utterly mesmerizing, the way his soft eyes scanned over the room, pushing up his glasses when the slide down the slope of his nose. His eyes ended up being on you at the end of the day.

Priest!Baizhu; who listens to every single time you avow your deep urges, whispering in shame of the sinful thoughts that constantly flooded your mind when you thought of him. How shameful you are, giving into the hands of sin,, you never notice how his eyes darken as he listens, Priest baizhu is a mysterious man they say..

Priest!Baizhu; who can’t help but laugh at how cute you are, trusting him with all the little things you’ve told him behind the confessional walls. How much you yearned for a certain mans touch against your untouched skin, to ruin the only true form of purity you had.

Priest!Baizhu; who pops a boner whenever you sob and beg archons to forgive you and your misbehaviors. Maybe he should feel bad,, clearly your faith was a big part of living, but god the tears flowing down the apples of your cheeks make him want to ruin you. Wiping your tears with his thumbs, whispering prayers whilst rubbing your back softly,, telling you everything will be okay when he’s there. That he’ll gracefully listen to any of the problems you may have,, hushing your hiccuping sobs. he hopes you don’t notice the tent in his pants

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up touching himself after speaking to you, lightly rubbing his glands with his fingertips, smearing thick beads of pre over his length. Baizhu obviously knows how perverted he is, thinking of ruining you, rutting his hips against his clasped palm. Sticky white covering his thin fingers, he sighs and takes off his glasses. A light layer of sweat over his forehead, you’ve clouded his mind for weeks.

Priest!Baizhu; who (sometimes) when he’s feeling risky will tread his hands down his pants while listening to your voice in the confessional, shallowly stroking his shaft trying to keep in his breathy groans. Nearly coming in his pants when your voice is laced with shame. A small part of him wishes you’d hear him, hear him pleasing himself at the sound of your soft voice.

Priest!Baizhu; who always tells you that ‘Theres nothing wrong with such urges ’ whispering in your ears, his hands brushing against your thighs gently pushing them apart.. just enough for your eyes to meet his, a smile painted against his pretty pink lips

was his smile always this unsettling?

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up fucking you in the the confessional booth, ripping off your modest attire, defiling you in public, shushing you when you get too loud reciting the words from the holy book in his hand. Ripping away the only form of purity you had, taking your virginity as retribution for your sins. Baizhu’s thumbs pressed harder into your hips, he can barely keep in the groans that bless his lips. Committing such sacrilege in the house of the lord above, turned him on in such a way.

‘It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven’

Priest!Baizhu; who comforts you when his cocks aggressively enter and leave your sex, shushing your tears and promising that you’ll be reborn pure after he blows his load into you. His words singing false promises into your ears, its oddly comforting.. the feeling of being so full in his warm embrace,,

Priest!Baizhu; who thinks about making you worship him instead, shouldn’t you be begging him to save you? Maybe he hasn’t fucked the greedful lust out of your system yet.. Every session ends up with you bent over while Baizhu has his way with you, pleading of archon to pardon your transgressions of their word.

‘Oh my love.. you’ll earn your forgiveness soon my dear..’ he kisses the corner of your lips gently.

‘Just keep being a good boy for me..’

Priest!Baizhu; who fills you full with his seed, telling you that the ones above forgive you for your sins,, petting your hair and pressing you against his chest.

Priest!baizhu; who can’t wait for next Sunday to come to redo it all again..

@nanqmies © 2023

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[sebstanaddict]

Sebastian Takes IKEA

Sebastian Stan x Reader (Unhinged One Shot)

Summary : What happens when Sebastian visits IKEA with reader? Get ready for some unhinged, chaotic adventure with Sebastian who is an adorkable, chaotic, mess of a boyfriend but who is still cute of course ;)

Warning : None, this is just a hilarious, unhinged story born out of my stressed out mind XD

Word count : 7.9k

Read more Sebastian Stan one shot here

Important: This story is not sponsored nor affiliated with IKEA at all. The IKEA brand belongs to IKEA. No copyright infringement intended.

---

It was supposed to be a simple Sunday outing—nothing too wild, just a quick trip to IKEA to grab a new bookshelf, maybe grab some plants Y/n would inevitably forget to water, and head home. But Y/n should have known better than to think anything with Sebastian Stan could ever be simple. The man had the energy of a Labrador retriever that had just discovered tennis balls, and IKEA, with its endless possibilities, was his new playground.

"Princess," he whispered dramatically, his eyes wide and sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. "Do you smell that?"

Y/n, already regretting her life choices, sniffed half-heartedly. "Cheap particleboard and desperation?"

"No," he gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his family honor. "Swedish meatballs. We're going to the restaurant first."

"Seb, we're here for a bookshelf."

"We're here for an experience," he corrected, already dragging her toward the heavenly smell of gravy and carbs.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Sebastian had gone full kid-in-a-candy-store mode. He grabbed a tray, then another tray, and slapped them both onto the rail with the precision of someone auditioning for The Great British Bake Off.

"What are you doing?" Y/n asked, watching in disbelief as he started piling food onto the trays like he was feeding a family of twelve.

"Fuel, Princess," he said gravely, his hands steady as he loaded not one, but two family-sized plates of meatballs onto the tray. "We have a long journey ahead."

"I can't eat that many!" Y/n protested.

"Don't worry," he said, throwing in a side of mashed potatoes and some suspicious-looking lingonberry jam. "I'll eat yours if you can't finish. It's called being a gentleman."

"That's not what being a gentleman means—"

"Do you want dessert?" He grabbed two slices of Daim cake without waiting for her answer.

"Sebastian—"

"And cinnamon rolls! Oh my God, they have cinnamon rolls." He nearly dove over the counter.

By the time they sat down, their table looked like a Scandinavian buffet gone rogue. Y/n stared at the food in horror. "There are people in line behind us, you know."

"Relax, I left them some," Sebastian said, cracking his knuckles. He picked up his fork like he was entering a championship. "Now, Princess, let's talk strategy."

"Strategy?"

"Meatball-eating contest. Loser buys the first thing we see in the maze. Ready? Go!"

Y/n barely had time to blink before Sebastian started shoveling meatballs into his mouth like his life depended on it. It was both horrifying and mesmerizing, like watching a nature documentary about a bear gorging on salmon.

"Oh my God, chew!" Y/n yelled, fork halfway to her mouth.

Sebastian, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, held up one finger in defiance as he tried to speak. It sounded like, "Mmffh mmfhfh mmf," which Y/n assumed translated to, "I'm winning."

Then it happened.

The choke.

Sebastian froze mid-shovel, his eyes wide as he clutched his throat. For a horrifying second, Y/n thought he might actually be dying. She shot up, knocking her chair over.

"Seb, are you choking?!" she yelled, panic and exasperation flooding her voice in equal measure.

He waved her off dramatically, his face turning beet red. "I'm fine!" he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. "Just a—hiccup!"

"Hiccup?! You sound like a dying walrus!" She slapped his back hard enough to dislodge what she assumed was the offending meatball.

Sebastian erupted into a series of coughs so loud the entire restaurant turned to stare. An elderly woman at the next table gasped, clutching her pearls. A kid nearby whispered, "Is that Bucky Barnes?" to his dad, who shushed him while pulling out his phone to record.

"I'm—fine—cough—don't call 911!" Sebastian croaked between gasps, grinning like an idiot as he pounded his chest. "I just got overexcited."

"Overexcited?!" Y/n hissed, smacking him again for good measure. "You nearly died over a meatball."

"Not just any meatball," he corrected, his voice hoarse but triumphant. "A Swedish meatball."

"I'm leaving you here," she declared, grabbing her purse.

"You won't leave me," he said confidently, picking up his fork again as though nothing had happened. "You love me too much."

"Yeah, well, love has limits."

He grinned at her, his mouth full of meatball, and she groaned. "Princess," he said, still chewing, "if I go down, tell the world I died like a true Viking."

"You'll die a moron."

"And you'll miss me."

Y/n shoved one of her remaining meatballs into her mouth and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Does this mean I win?"

"You literally almost died. No, you don't win."

"Fine," he said dramatically, leaning back like he'd just fought in battle. "I'll let you have this one. But only because I'm feeling generous."

Y/n laughed despite herself. She knew this was just the warm-up. The real chaos was yet to come.

—

Once they survived the Great Meatball Incident of 2024, Y/n reluctantly allowed Sebastian to take the lead into IKEA's infamous maze. He strutted in like he was a Viking warrior entering Valhalla, with Y/n trailing behind, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The maze stretched before them like an endless labyrinth of furniture possibilities. To Y/n, it was a practical place to pick up a bookshelf. To Sebastian, it was the ultimate playground.

"Princess," he whispered reverently, grabbing a store map like it was a treasure map. "This place... it's beautiful."

"It's just furniture, Seb."

He turned to her, scandalized. "Just furniture? This isn't just furniture, Y/n. It's a temple of design. A cathedral of self-assembly. A—oh my God, look at that couch!"

Before she could stop him, he sprinted toward a bright yellow sectional like a Labrador chasing a tennis ball.

"Sebastian, stop! You're going to get us kicked out!"

But it was too late. He flopped onto the couch dramatically, throwing his arms out wide. "It's perfect," he declared, tilting his head back like he was filming a commercial. "Imagine this in our living room. You, me, movie night. I'll make the popcorn."

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. "It's five thousand dollars, and it's bright yellow. It looks like Big Bird got flattened."

Sebastian gasped like she'd insulted his ancestors. "How dare you. Big Bird wishes he could be this chic."

"Get up," she hissed, yanking him off the couch before an employee could notice.

But that was only the beginning.

—

An hour later, Y/n was sure they were lost. IKEA's maze was designed to confuse and trap, and Sebastian had taken every wrong turn possible while enthusiastically testing everything.

"Seb, I swear, if you sit in one more chair—"

"Princess, come here!" he shouted from across the showroom, cutting her off. He was perched on an egg-shaped hanging chair, swinging wildly. "This is it. This is the chair I want to die in."

"You're going to die in IKEA if you don't behave."

"Do you think they sell this in blue? It would match my eyes."

"Sebastian, it's eight hundred dollars, and we came here for a bookshelf!"

"Fine, fine." He sighed dramatically, hopping out of the chair. But not before it swung back and smacked into a display table, sending a stack of carefully placed catalogs crashing to the ground.

"SEBASTIAN!" Y/n whisper-yelled, frantically picking up the mess.

He grabbed a random catalog and held it up like evidence. "It's fine. I'll pay for it. It's not my fault they don't childproof their displays."

"You're the child!"

"I know." He grinned, unrepentant. "Let's find the bookshelf."

They eventually found their way to the storage section, where Y/n carefully measured and compared options. Meanwhile, Sebastian discovered the tiny model rooms and immediately began role-playing like a lunatic.

"Princess," he called from the corner, standing in a fake kitchen. He had a spatula in one hand and a fake orange in the other. "Welcome to Chef Sebastian's Bistro. Can I interest you in our specialty? Swedish meatballs."

Y/n didn't even look up. "You're not funny."

"Yes, I am." He grabbed a pretend pot and mimed stirring it. "I'll have dinner ready by eight. Don't forget to pick up our hypothetical kids from soccer practice."

"Seb, I'm serious, help me pick a bookshelf!"

"I AM helping," he said, plopping onto a nearby beanbag. "Emotional support is still support."

She shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut through plywood. Begrudgingly, he got up and began half-heartedly reading the product tags. "Ooh, this one's called Billy. Do we want a bookshelf with a name? Seems sketchy."

"I'm going to leave you here."

"You wouldn't dare."

She whipped around, pointing at him. "Try me."

Sebastian immediately straightened up and grabbed the first box he saw. "This one looks great! Let's get it."

"That's a TV stand."

"It holds things. Same difference."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

After a while Y/n found a sleek, modern shelf she liked. Sebastian, however, was drawn to a massive, overly ornate piece that looked like it belonged in a vampire castle.

"This one has character," he said, running his hand dramatically over the dark wood.

"This one has fifty shades of overkill," Y/n shot back.

"But imagine me standing in front of it, brooding like Dracula." He struck a ridiculous pose, complete with a mock cape flourish.

"Seb, we don't need Dracula energy in the apartment. We need something that won't fall apart when I stack three Harry Potters on it."

Reluctantly, he agreed to her choice, but not without pretending to sob dramatically into the yellow bag. Y/n ignored him and immediately made her way to the warehouse to pick up the flat-pack boxes with Sebastian following her reluctantly. But he soon forgot about the Dracula bookshelf as they entered the kids' section.

—-

The kids' section of IKEA was a chaotic symphony of bright colors, tiny furniture, and the occasional squeal of joy from little ones running wild. For most adults, it was a pit stop. For Sebastian Stan, it was the main event.

"Oh my God, Y/n, look at this!" Sebastian exclaimed, holding up a child-sized chair shaped like a ladybug. He plopped himself down on it, his long legs sticking out awkwardly as he wiggled back and forth. "It's so cozy! Imagine me working from home in this."

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms as she watched him. "Seb, that chair is for toddlers."

"Okay, but what if it's also for emotionally stunted adults?" he countered, giving her a cheeky grin.

"Then it's perfect for you," she quipped, walking over to a display of miniature wooden kitchens.

Sebastian was already on the move, spotting a stuffed shark that was practically as big as a small child. He grabbed it and held it up like a prized catch. "Princess, look! It's Bruce from "Finding Nemo"! We're adopting him."

"That's not Bruce," Y/n corrected with a laugh. "And we don't need another giant plushie. You already have a giant teddy bear back home."

"Bruce and Clark can bond," he said, referring to Clark, the giant teddy bear he got when they visited Harrods in London last year, clutching the shark protectively. "They'll be besties."

Y/n rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She'd learned long ago that Sebastian had a soft spot for anything ridiculous—and honestly, it was one of the things she loved about him.

"Y/n!" Sebastian exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a child-sized wooden train set on a low display table. "Look at this craftsmanship! This is... this is art!"

Before she could respond, he crouched down next to the table and grabbed the tiny train. With the fervor of a child on Christmas morning, he began pushing it around the track. "Choo-choo! Next stop: Tiny Town!"

Y/n stood over him with her arms crossed, already exhausted. "Seb, it's for kids."

"And I am thriving," he replied without missing a beat. He adjusted the tracks to send the train through a miniature tunnel. "This is an engineering marvel. Do you see this? I could do this all day."

"You can't do this all day," Y/n said, sighing. "We're supposed to be buying furniture."

"I'm multitasking!" He glanced up at her with a grin. "Look, this is a creative break. Helps the brain. You should try it."

Before she could retort, a little boy wandered over, clutching a stuffed giraffe under one arm. His eyes widened as he stared at Sebastian. "Can I play?" the boy asked softly.

Sebastian's face lit up like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. "Absolutely!" he said, handing the train over like he was bestowing an ancient treasure. "You're the new conductor. Take good care of Tiny Town."

The boy beamed, immediately engrossed in the tracks, while Sebastian crouched beside him, giving pointers. "Okay, careful on that turn—oh! Nice save. You've got skills, kid."

Y/n leaned against a nearby display, watching them. Her annoyance softened as she saw the boy giggle, his mom smiling warmly from a distance. Sebastian had this way of making everyone around him feel special, even total strangers.

When the boy's mom came to collect him, she gave Sebastian a grateful nod. "You're really good with kids."

Sebastian straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Thank you. I've been training my whole life for this."

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Come on, Mr. Conductor. Let's—"

"WAIT," Sebastian shouted, already sprinting toward a pirate ship-themed bunk bed. "LOOK AT THIS."

Y/n groaned. "Oh no."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed a foam sword from the display and jumped onto the upper bunk. "Ahoy, mateys! Captain Sebastian of the IKEA Seas has arrived!" He waved the sword dramatically. "Who dares challenge me for my treasure?"

Two kids, no older than seven, squealed with glee and immediately ran to grab the other foam swords. Within seconds, Sebastian was locked in an epic sword fight, ducking under the bunk bed and shouting pirate jargon like, "Ye'll never take me gold!" and "To the plank with ye, scallywags!"

More kids joined in, grabbing toy swords and pretending to attack Captain Sebastian. He played along, expertly pretending to lose balance and stumble. "Oh no! You're too strong!" he shouted as a particularly determined five-year-old jabbed him in the leg.

The scene spiraled into chaos, with at least six kids laughing and chasing him around the bunk bed while their parents stood nearby, watching with amused smiles. Y/n tried to act annoyed, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Sebastian was laughing, fully immersed, his hair sticking out in all directions from being ambushed. The kids adored him, clinging to his arms, giggling uncontrollably as he let them "capture" him.

Her heart softened, warmth blooming in her chest. Despite his ridiculousness—or maybe because of it—Sebastian had this infectious joy about him. Watching him like this, surrounded by laughter and little faces full of glee, she couldn't help but imagine him one day playing with their own kids. The thought made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and beautiful.

Eventually, Sebastian surrendered, dropping to the floor dramatically as the kids cheered. "You win, pirates! The treasure is yours!" He shot Y/n a cheeky grin as he lay there, surrounded by tiny conquerors. "You see this? I just made their day."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly fun," he corrected, standing up and brushing himself off. As the kids dispersed, he grabbed her hand, still grinning. "Alright, Princess, where to next?"

But Y/n didn't answer, her gaze fixed on a quiet corner of the section where a small crib was on display. It was simple, painted white, with soft blankets folded neatly inside. A tiny stuffed bear sat in one corner, its button eyes staring up at her.

Sebastian followed her gaze, his playful demeanor softening. "Hey," he said gently, stepping closer. "You okay?"

She turned to him, biting her lip. "Do you ever think about it? About... having kids someday?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but only for a moment. Then, a slow, warm smile spread across his face. "All the time," he admitted.

Her breath hitched. "You do?"

"Of course." He moved closer, resting a hand on her waist. "I mean, look at me. I've been practicing for years. Foam swords, train sets, pirate invasions—I'm ready."

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes dropping to the crib. "What if... What if it's not that simple? What if it's hard, or we're not good at it?"

"Then we figure it out," he said, his voice steady. He cupped her face, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "Y/n, we'll be chaotic, and messy, and maybe a little clueless sometimes. But I know we'll be great. Because we'll do it together."

Her eyes watered, but she smiled. "You're really serious about this."

"About you? Always," he said. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, "Besides, I'd be an amazing dad. Imagine the bedtime stories I'd come up with. They'd be epic."

She laughed, leaning into him. "Okay, fine. You win. You'll be a great dad someday."

"And you'll be the best mom," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in their little bubble, the world of IKEA fading away.

Then Sebastian broke the moment by whispering, "So... can we get the crib? You know, for 'future planning.'"

"Sebastian!"

"Okay, okay! No crib. But I'm keeping Bruce."

"Fine. Now let's go. We need to get to the warehouse." Y/n said, sighing as she dragged him with her but she couldn't help a smile from escaping her lips.

—

On their way to the warehouse they had to pass the marketplace section, and that was where Y/n's patience went to die. After surviving the maze of showrooms and kids' section, she'd naively thought the hardest part was over. She was wrong. Very wrong.

It started innocently enough. She was examining a set of glass jars when she turned around and froze.

"Sebastian, what the hell is that?"

Sebastian was standing proudly next to their cart, now loaded with an alarming array of items that had nothing to do with their original mission. Among the chaos was a giant fake plant, a rainbow-colored dish drying rack, a cheese grater shaped like a hedgehog, a set of tiny spoons and a plush banana that looked vaguely horrified.

"Princess, this is all essential," he said, as if that explained anything.

"A banana plushie is essential?"

"Yes." He held it up and shook it for emphasis. "He's my emotional support banana. Look at him. His name is Kevin."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. "Seb, we don't need Kevin."

"I need Kevin," he argued, dropping the banana into the cart anyway. "Bruce and Clark also need another friend in case they get into a fight with each other. And the hedgehog grater? Genius. Two of my favorite things in one."

"You don't even grate cheese."

"Because I've never had a hedgehog-shaped grater before! Do you see how this could change my life?"

Y/n stared at him, trying to figure out how this man could be so simultaneously adorable and infuriating. "What about the plant? We don't need another plant."

Sebastian gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Princess, how dare you? Her name is Fernanda, and she brings joy. Also, she's fake, so you can't kill her like the others."

"I didn't kill them," Y/n protested, crossing her arms. "They died from natural causes."

"Uh-huh." He patted Fernanda protectively, like she might be listening.

"And the dish rack?" she asked, pointing at the rainbow monstrosity. "We already have one."

"But this one's colorful! It's like a pride flag for our dishes. Imagine how happy they'll be."

"Our dishes?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "They've been through a lot."

Y/n sighed deeply. She was losing this battle fast. "Okay, what about the set of tiny spoons?"

Sebastian grinned and held up the box. "For tiny desserts. Duh."

"We don't even eat tiny desserts."

"Not yet. But we could." His eyes sparkled with unrestrained excitement. "Princess, picture it: late at night, me, you, Kevin the banana, sharing a tiny dessert with our tiny spoons. It's the dream."

"I think I'm getting a migraine."

Sebastian leaned in, planting a kiss on her forehead. "That's just love overwhelming you."

"No, that's you giving me an aneurysm."

"Same thing." He plucked a package of tealight candles off a nearby shelf and tossed them into the cart. "These are essential too."

Y/n pointed accusingly. "Don't you dare start with the candles."

"I'm not starting! I'm building ambiance." He added another package. "And now we have twice the ambiance."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the side of the cart as if grounding herself might prevent her from losing her mind. "Seb, our cart is full, and we still have to get the bookshelf. Please stop grabbing things."

"I promise I'm done," he said solemnly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Swear on Kevin."

Sebastian hesitated. "...I swear on half of Kevin."

"Sebastian!"

"I'm kidding! Swear on full Kevin," he said quickly, clutching the banana to his chest like a baby. "Let's get the bookshelf."

As they walked toward the next section, Sebastian paused, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a display of colorful mixing bowls. He reached for one.

"Seb, no."

"But—"

"No."

He sighed dramatically, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Fine. But if I starve because I don't have a hedgehog grater and a mixing bowl, that's on you, Princess."

"You're not starving."

"I could be."

"Sebastian, we came for a bookshelf, and now our cart looks like a unicorn threw up in it."

"Yeah," he said proudly. "Isn't it beautiful?"

She stared at him, trying to stay mad, but his goofy grin and unrelenting enthusiasm made it impossible. "You're impossible."

"And yet," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "you love me."

Y/n sighed, laughing despite herself. "Unfortunately for me, I do."

Sebastian grinned, holding Kevin the banana up between them. "See, Kevin knew we'd all come around eventually."

Y/n shook her head, wondering how she'd ended up here. But as frustrating as Sebastian was, she couldn't imagine IKEA—or life—without him. Even if it did mean sharing her apartment with a plush banana, a plush shark and a fake plant named Fernanda.

—

After managing to get to the end of the marketplace section without Sebastian grabbing anything else, they finally arrived at the warehouse section. The warehouse section of IKEA was supposed to be straightforward. You find the aisle, grab your flat-pack box, and move on with your life. But Y/n should've known better. With Sebastian, nothing was ever straightforward.

They arrived at Aisle 32, Bay 4, where the shelf Y/n picked—a plain white, functional bookshelf she'd selected after enduring his dramatic antics in the marketplace—was waiting.

Except it wasn't waiting at ground level.

"Oh, great," Y/n muttered, looking up at the towering rack. The box was perched on the topmost shelf, taunting her like a smug, flat-packed cloud. "Of course it's up there."

Sebastian tilted his head, studying the rack like it was Mount Everest. "That's not a problem. I've got this."

"No, Seb. No you don't."

"Princess, relax," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I've scaled rock walls. This is nothing."

"This isn't a rock wall! It's a storage rack full of furniture boxes! Just ask an employee for help."

Sebastian scoffed, looking personally offended. "Ask for help? Y/n, I am the help."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed the edge of the rack and started climbing.

"Sebastian Stan, get down right now!" she hissed, her voice a mix of panic and exasperation.

"I'm fine!" he called, already halfway up. "I've done my own stunts! This is child's play."

"This is how you die in IKEA!"

Ignoring her protests, Sebastian continued his ascent, grabbing onto a lower rack, then hoisting himself up to the next. His face was set in determination, like he was reenacting a scene from an action movie. Unfortunately, the rack didn't share his enthusiasm and creaked ominously under his weight.

"Seb, I swear, if you break your neck—"

"Relax, Princess. It's stable!" he said confidently, just as the shelf he was holding onto wobbled slightly.

Y/n slapped a hand to her forehead. "This is going to be my 911 call. 'Yes, officer, my boyfriend climbed an IKEA shelf and is now trapped under three boxes of particleboard furniture.'"

"Stop worrying!" he said, reaching the top. "I see it! I've got it!"

He grabbed the flat-pack box, struggling to slide it off the shelf. The problem was, the box was heavier than he expected, and Sebastian, in his infinite wisdom, hadn't thought this through. As he yanked at the box, it tipped precariously, throwing him off balance.

"Uh, Princess?" he called, a distinct edge of panic in his voice. "It's fine, but, uh—can you spot me?"

"Spot you?! You're fifteen feet in the air!" Y/n yelled, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. "I told you to wait for help!"

Sebastian tried to maneuver the box, but his grip slipped, and the entire rack swayed.

"Sebastian!" Y/n screamed as he teetered dramatically, clinging to the shelf like a scared cat. "Hold on!"

"I'm fine! I'm—whoa!" He lost his footing, and for a moment, she thought he was going to fall. By some miracle, he managed to grab the edge of the rack with one hand, dangling like a very poorly coordinated action hero.

"Get down!" Y/n shouted, torn between fury and terror. "I swear to God, Sebastian, if you die before you assemble this stupid bookshelf—"

"Never fear!" he interrupted, trying to sound calm despite the fact that his legs were flailing wildly. "I've got this under control."

"You are literally dangling, Seb!"

With one final burst of effort, he swung himself back onto the rack, grabbing the flat-pack box and awkwardly lowering it to a slightly safer position. Then, slowly and ungracefully, he climbed back down, landing on the floor with an exaggerated flourish.

He grinned, holding up the box triumphantly. "Ta-da!"

Y/n stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and rage. "You absolute idiot."

"But look, Princess!" He gestured at the box like it was a trophy. "Mission accomplished."

"Mission almost ended with me calling an ambulance!" She marched up to him, poking him hard in the chest. "Why couldn't you just ask for help? Why do you have to make everything a stunt?"

Sebastian pouted, clearly unrepentant. "I wanted to impress you."

"Impress me? Seb, I'm impressed when you remember to put the toilet seat down. You don't have to risk your life for a bookshelf!"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, still grinning like he hadn't just given her a heart attack. "Admit it, though. You were impressed by my skills."

"I'm about to be impressed by how fast you can carry this box to the cart," she snapped, pointing to the flat-pack. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute, hoisting the box and striding toward the cart. He turned back, winking at her. "But admit it. You love me for my adventurous spirit."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing. "I love you despite your adventurous spirit, you lunatic."

Sebastian grinned, blowing her a kiss. "Same thing, Princess."

As he loaded the box onto the cart, Y/n silently vowed to never, ever bring him to IKEA again. At least not without signing him up for a babysitter first.

—

The checkout line was supposed to be the final hurdle—the finish line where Y/n could finally regain control of their chaotic shopping spree. The cart was already overflowing with unnecessary treasures, and she'd made Sebastian swear, on Kevin the emotional support banana, not to grab anything else.

But this was Sebastian Stan, and promises were apparently more like suggestions.

"Princess, stay with the cart," he said suddenly, a suspicious glint in his eye.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Uh... I just realized we don't have... batteries." He didn't even wait for her response before darting toward a nearby shelf stacked with random last-minute impulse buys.

"Sebastian, no! We don't need batteries!" she called after him, but he was already out of earshot, disappearing into the chaos of the IKEA checkout area like a rogue spy on a mission.

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the cashier's pitying stare as she pushed the overstuffed cart forward. Fernanda the fake plant was half-falling out, Kevin's plush banana face looked permanently distressed as it faced Bruce the shark and the rainbow dish rack was perched precariously on top like a crown.

The cashier scanned the first item—a set of tealight candles. "Having a good day?"

Y/n forced a tight smile. "Define 'good.'"

Before the cashier could respond, Sebastian reappeared, and Y/n's stomach dropped. His arms were full—full—of completely random items. A three-pack of giant chocolate bars. A fuzzy gray throw pillow shaped like a cloud. A box of LED fairy lights. And, inexplicably, a pack of child-sized aprons.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Y/n hissed, mortified as he dumped the pile onto the conveyor belt.

"Saving our future!" he declared dramatically, gesturing to the items as if they were a presentation board. "Look, the chocolate is essential for emergencies—what if we get snowed in? The fairy lights will add mood lighting to Fernanda's corner. And the aprons? Cooking together is romantic, Princess. Tiny aprons are adorable."

"We don't have kids!" she whisper-yelled, shoving the aprons to the side.

"Not yet," he said with a wink. "But we might want aprons someday."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the throw pillow. "And this? What's this supposed to be for?"

Sebastian gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his entire family. "Princess, this is Cloudy. He's Kevin's best friend."

"I'm not adopting another object, Sebastian!"

"You can't separate them," he said gravely, his voice full of mock heartbreak. "Look at Kevin. He's begging you."

Y/n glanced at Kevin the banana, whose stitched-on face did indeed look distressed, and let out a deep, soul-cleansing sigh. "Fine. But nothing else, do you hear me?"

Sebastian nodded, holding up three fingers like a Boy Scout. "Scout's honor."

The cashier, trying and failing to suppress laughter, scanned the new additions. "You two are quite the team."

"Oh, we're a team, all right," Y/n muttered, watching as Sebastian's eyes drifted toward a nearby bin of assorted impulse buys.

"No," she said firmly, catching him before he could move.

"But—"

"No. Don't even think about it."

"I was just—"

"Sebastian, I will leave you here. Alone. With no Kevin."

That seemed to work. Sebastian stayed put, though he did pout dramatically as the cashier finished scanning the last item. When the total came up on the screen, Y/n felt her jaw drop.

"Seb, this is twice what we budgeted!" she hissed.

"Twice the budget, twice the fun," he replied, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card like a man who had absolutely no regrets.

As they loaded up the cart, Y/n leaned over, glaring at him. "When we get home, you are putting all this together. Every single piece."

Sebastian grinned, tossing Kevin into the cart like a basketball. "Oh, Princess. You know I thrive under pressure."

Y/n didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or strangle him, so she settled for grabbing the receipt and muttering under her breath, "This isn't over."

With the receipt finally in hand, Y/n thought the nightmare was over. The cart was loaded with a precarious mountain of flat-pack furniture, random unnecessary knick-knacks, and, of course, Kevin the emotional support banana and Bruce the shark perched like kings on top. The exit was just within reach.

That's when Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks.

"Princess," he whispered, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He pointed dramatically to the ice cream cone machine by the snack counter. "Look. Soft serve. We need it."

Y/n sighed, already regretting the day she agreed to this IKEA trip. "Seb, we don't need soft serve. We need to get this stuff into the car and go home."

"But it's only a dollar!" he protested, clutching her arm as if she might physically drag him away. "One single, beautiful, glorious dollar for a cone of happiness."

"You just ate 37 meatballs," she reminded him flatly.

"Princess, those were in a different category. This is dessert. It's like the epilogue of the meal. You can't skip the epilogue!"

Before she could respond, he was already steering their cart toward the snack counter like a man on a mission. Y/n trailed behind, muttering under her breath about impulsive boyfriends and their never-ending appetite.

Sebastian reached the counter, all wide-eyed excitement. "One ice cream cone, please," he announced to the cashier, then turned to Y/n with a satisfied grin. "See? Simple. Just one."

She crossed her arms. "You say that now, but—"

"Wait," he interrupted, spotting the shelf next to the register. His eyes zeroed in on a display of cinnamon buns, chocolate bars, and IKEA-branded cookies. "Whoa. What's that?"

"Sebastian, don't."

"I mean, we just have to get these cinnamon buns to bring home," he said, grabbing a six-pack and plopping it on the counter. "For breakfast tomorrow. And these chocolate bars? These are emergency rations."

"Emergency rations for what?" Y/n asked, exasperated.

"You never know, Princess. What if the apocalypse happens tonight, and we're sitting on our new bookshelf, wishing we had chocolate?"

"Apocalypse or not, you're going to eat all of it in the car."

"That's slanderous," he said, feigning offense. Then he added two packs of cookies to the growing pile. "Also, these are for Kevin, Bruce and Clark."

"They are plushies! They don't eat!"

"Not with that attitude," he muttered, handing his credit card to the cashier before Y/n could argue further.

The cashier, barely holding back laughter, processed the order and handed him the coin for the ice cream machine. "Just insert this into the machine, and it'll dispense the ice cream."

Sebastian held the coin up like it was the One Ring. "Wait a second. I get to activate the ice cream machine?"

The cashier blinked, unsure if he was joking. "Uh... yes?"

Sebastian turned to Y/n, his eyes wide. "Do you understand the power I hold right now?"

"It's literally a coin for a soft-serve machine, Seb," Y/n deadpanned.

"Not just a coin, Princess. This is the key to happiness," he said dramatically. Then, clutching it like it was precious cargo, he marched toward the machine. "Step back, everyone! Ice cream is about to happen."

Y/n sighed. "Seb, please just get the ice cream before someone calls security."

"I shall not rush the ritual!" he declared, raising the coin like it was Simba being presented to the Pride Lands.

He strode to the machine with the swagger of a man on a mission, clearing his throat dramatically. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he announced to no one in particular, "a masterpiece in dairy engineering shall come to life before your very eyes!"

"Sebastian..." Y/n warned, already cringing as a family with two toddlers gave him side-eye.

"Hush, Princess," he said, waving her off as if he were royalty. "I must focus."

He inserted the token with theatrical precision, pausing for effect before stepping back as the machine whirred to life. The sound was nothing special, but Sebastian's face lit up like he was hearing a choir of angels.

"It's happening!" he cried, grabbing the cone and carefully placing it under the nozzle. "The soft-serve gods have blessed me!"

The ice cream began to swirl, and Sebastian guided it with the concentration of a neurosurgeon. "Look at that texture. That symmetry. It's... it's beautiful."

The swirl grew taller, and he crouched slightly, angling his head for a better look. "Should I stop it here? No, no. Go big or go home."

By the time the cone was fully loaded—teetering dangerously under the weight of his ambition—he stepped back, holding it high. "Behold! The perfect cone! A triumph of man and machine!"

Y/n crossed her arms, staring at him. "It's just ice cream, Seb."

"It's not just ice cream," he said, taking a triumphant lick. "It's a symbol of achievement. It's art. It's—"

Before he could finish, the precarious swirl tilted forward, wobbling. His eyes widened in panic. "Oh no—structural failure!"

Y/n stifled a laugh as he scrambled to right the cone, awkwardly licking the sides to prevent catastrophe.

"Crisis averted!" he announced proudly, his face now smudged with vanilla. "I saved it. I am a hero."

"You're a mess," Y/n said, shaking her head, but she couldn't hide her smile as she handed him a napkin.

"And yet," he said, grinning as he took another massive lick, "I've never been happier."

"This was supposed to be a quick stop," she said as they finally walked toward the exit.

"Quick stops don't bring joy," he replied, licking his ice cream. "This? This is pure joy."

"It's pure chaos," she muttered, shoving the cart forward. "I don't know why I let you out in public."

"You love it," he said around a mouthful of ice cream. Then he held up the cinnamon buns. "And tomorrow, when you wake up to warm, gooey breakfast happiness, you'll thank me."

"Warm? You don't even know where the microwave is half the time."

"I'll figure it out," he said confidently, taking another lick of ice cream. "I'm a man of many talents."

Y/n shot him a look but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips. As much as he drove her crazy, she knew Sebastian's chaotic charm was part of the package.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "But you are carrying all the snacks to the car."

Sebastian grinned. "Deal. Now, let's get home before the apocalypse starts. I have chocolate to protect."

—

By the time they got home, Y/n was already exhausted, and the real work hadn't even begun. She stood in their living room, glaring at the flat-pack box of the bookshelf she'd chosen—a plain, functional piece that had seemed like a good idea in the showroom. Now, it just felt like a cruel prank.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was full of energy, fueled by ice cream, the thrill of the snacks he'd stuffed into their kitchen, and the sheer confidence of a man who had no idea what he was doing.

"Okay, Princess," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's build this baby."

"Seb, maybe we should just wait until tomorrow," Y/n said, eyeing the box warily. "We've been through enough today."

"What? No way!" he replied, already ripping into the cardboard like a bear raiding a picnic. "This is the grand finale! The cherry on top! The...uh..." He frowned, pulling out a piece of wood and squinting at it. "What part is this?"

"That's a shelf," Y/n said flatly.

"Right. Of course. I knew that."

Y/n sighed and grabbed the instruction manual. She flipped it open, only to find a series of cryptic diagrams that looked more like hieroglyphics than instructions. "Oh, great. No words, just pictures."

"Pictures are better!" Sebastian said, already digging through the screws and bolts. "I'm a visual learner."

"You're a chaos learner," Y/n muttered, sitting on the floor next to him. "Okay, step one: separate all the pieces and make sure we have everything."

Sebastian immediately ignored her and started stacking wooden panels into a precarious tower. "Check it out! It's like Jenga, but Swedish."

"Sebastian, stop—"

The tower toppled over with a loud crash, scattering panels everywhere.

"Oops," he said, giving her an innocent grin. "No biggie. Let's keep going!"

Y/n groaned and picked up the instruction manual again. "Fine. Step two: attach the side panels to the base."

"Got it!" Sebastian said enthusiastically, grabbing the nearest panel and slapping it onto the base. He fumbled with a handful of screws, then grabbed the Allen wrench. "This thing is so tiny. It's like IKEA doesn't trust us with real tools."

"They shouldn't," Y/n muttered, watching as he jammed the wrench into a screw and started turning it the wrong way. "Seb, you're stripping the screw."

"No, I'm not! It's just...stubborn."

"Give me that," she said, taking the wrench from him. "You're going to ruin it before we even get started."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms like a pouting child. "You do the boring stuff, and I'll do the creative parts."

"There are no creative parts! It's a bookshelf, not a craft project."

Sebastian ignored her and picked up two random wooden dowels. "Look! Drumsticks!" He started drumming on the panels, humming the intro to We Will Rock You.

"Sebastian!" Y/n snapped, snatching the dowels out of his hands. "Focus!"

"Okay, okay," he said, grabbing the manual. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. "Wait. Where's this little blob guy? He's pointing at something."

"That's not a blob guy; that's a hand," Y/n said, exasperated. "And it's showing you where to put the screw."

"Right. Got it. Blob-hand wants a screw here," he said, completely misinterpreting the diagram and attaching a panel backward.

"Sebastian!" Y/n shouted, waving her arms. "That's upside down!"

"No, it's modern. Like an abstract art bookshelf."

"It's wrong!"

"Or maybe it's right in a way no one else has ever thought of," he countered, winking at her.

Y/n grabbed the panel and yanked it off. "I swear, if you don't start taking this seriously—"

"Relax, Princess. This is fun!" he said, picking up a small bag of screws. He paused, looking concerned. "Wait...what are these tiny ones for? Did we get extra screws? Are these bonus screws? Is IKEA giving us a scavenger hunt?"

"They're not bonus screws!" Y/n shouted. "They're essential. And stop opening random bags!"

But it was too late. Sebastian had already torn into another bag, spilling washers and dowels across the floor. One dowel rolled under the couch, and Sebastian dropped to his stomach, crawling after it.

"Got it!" he announced triumphantly, holding up the dowel like a trophy.

"You're impossible," Y/n muttered, shaking her head.

"Impossible, or unstoppable?" he asked, grinning as he plopped back down beside her.

"Both."

After what felt like hours, the bookshelf finally started to resemble something functional. Y/n was sweaty, frustrated, and convinced she'd aged five years. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked as proud as if he'd built the Eiffel Tower from scratch.

"Ta-da!" he said, stepping back and admiring their work. "Look at that. We crushed it."

Y/n squinted at the bookshelf. It was leaning slightly to the left, and one shelf was installed upside down, but she was too tired to care. "It's...fine."

"Fine?" Sebastian gasped, offended. "It's a masterpiece."

"It's crooked."

"It has character."

Y/n gave him a tired smile, too exhausted to argue. "Okay, fine. It has character."

Sebastian grinned and wrapped an arm around her. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work."

"Teamwork nearly made me murder you."

"Tomato, tomahto," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Admit it, Princess. You couldn't do this without me."

Y/n looked at the leaning bookshelf, the mess of screws on the floor, Kevin the banana and Bruce the shark perched on a random shelf. She sighed. "You're right. No one else could've made this much of a disaster."

Sebastian laughed, pulling her closer. "And that's why you love me."

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him anyway. "Unfortunately for me, yeah. I do."

As they stood in the middle of the chaotic mess—Y/n rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. The leaning bookshelf stared back at her like it was mocking her existence.

Sebastian watched her, his grin fading into something softer. He knew he'd been a tornado of chaos today, and she'd been the one who kept them grounded, even if she had threatened to murder him a few times. She deserved something better than this disaster of a day.

"Alright, Princess," he said suddenly. "You've officially done your time in IKEA hell. Sit down."

"What? Seb, there's still a mess—"

"Sit down." His tone was uncharacteristically firm, though his eyes twinkled with something mischievous. He gently guided her to the couch and plopped her down. "Now, stay."

She raised an eyebrow at him but was too tired to argue. "What are you up to?"

"You'll see." He winked and bounded into the kitchen, rummaging around loudly.

Y/n leaned back, watching him from the couch. A small part of her was bracing for another ridiculous stunt, but then she smelled something warm and sweet. Her stomach rumbled as Sebastian emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray. On it were two plates of slightly warmed IKEA cinnamon buns, a bar of IKEA milk chocolate broken into chunks, and two IKEA-branded sparkling waters.

He set the tray down on the coffee table like he was presenting a feast fit for royalty. "Your Highness," he said dramatically, bowing low. "Dinner is served."

She blinked, staring at the tray, then back at him. "This...is dinner?"

"Only the finest," he said, sitting beside her and grabbing a cinnamon bun. "After all, we're sophisticated people who dine exclusively on imported Swedish delicacies."

She couldn't help it—a laugh bubbled up, light and unexpected. She tried to suppress it, but then he gave her that goofy grin, and the absurdity of the entire day hit her all at once. Before she knew it, she was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Sebastian!" she gasped between giggles. "This is not how normal people recover from a stressful day."

"Normal is boring," he said, smiling softly at her. "And I kind of love that I made you laugh after everything I put you through. You deserve it."

Her laughter softened into a warm smile. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Ridiculous but charming," he said, nudging her shoulder. "And you love me for it."

"I do," she admitted, picking up a cinnamon bun. "Even though you nearly killed yourself twice, choking on meatballs and climbing an IKEA shelf as well as turned our living room into a disaster zone."

"That's just me keeping things interesting, Princess," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "But I promise I'll clean up the mess tomorrow. Tonight is about you."

Y/n looked at him, her heart softening. He might've been an absolute whirlwind, but he always had a way of making her feel like the center of his universe, even in their most chaotic moments.

"Okay," she said, taking a bite of the cinnamon bun. "I'll accept this dinner of 'imported delicacies.' But only if you promise to never climb anything in IKEA again."

He raised his hand solemnly. "Scout's honor."

They sat there, munching on cinnamon buns and chocolate, laughing about the events of the day. The leaning bookshelf stood in the corner, still a testament to their mismatched teamwork, but Y/n didn't care anymore.

It wasn't perfect, but neither were they—and that was okay. Because at the end of the day, Sebastian always found a way to make her laugh. And that was enough.

[karlachismylife]

If it's the ask I think it is about him whimpering when he finishes you can totally do topping him from the bottom I won't mind either way (I'm the one who sent that and I would love bottom Soap too)

Hehehe yeah, it was. Topping from the bottom... bottomming from the top... siding from diagonal... yeah well I think this is not "topping from the bottom" (cuz that's like. cowgirl and such, right? you're being penetrated but you have control. i think. i don't know...) But it is bottom Soap because I let my intrusive thoughts win, and all as a result of me skimming through your request too fast, lmao.

CW: short smut, gn!top!reader, unprotected sex and breeding, mild dom/sub dynamic (subby Soap). A hint of sweat kink? NSFW, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you. This can be read as amab!reader or reader using one of those squirting straps, cuz breeding Soap should be a given right no matter what you're packing. Still referred as "cock" and "cum", though.

You feel like a cosmonaut looking at another planet's surface, unfamiliar, captivating beauty of smooth planes, raised crests and hills, naturally soft dips and trenches, and even traces of sharp impact smoothed out by years of tectonic movements and erosion. There's a particular flavour of ecstasy, threading through your body like spreading mycelium, little fibers burrowing into the depth of your tissues and internal organs, just from watching this terra incognita breathe and move underneath you. It's alive, it's reacting to you, yielding under your touch - seemingly unmoving mass shuddering and shifting as you put your palm on it and press down.

Soap arches his back, giving in, and gasps at the feeling of your cock pressing against his fluttering walls. He's full of you, stretched rim glistening with lube and pointlessly fluttering around the shaft - doesn't matter whether his body is trying to push you out or suck you in, you're moving in rhythmic, calculated thrusts, hips slapping against his ass and sending satisfying ripples through the soft flesh just as you please.

"Feels good, Johnny?" You chuckle, hearing his low groan - the only response he can offer, squeezing already nasty pillow in his arms and jerking his hips up to meet you half way. "Yeah, feels good for me too. So fucking good, baby. F-fuck, you're a mess, hah."

You're mesmerized by the way his shoulder blades move, rising under his thick, sweaty skin in an attempt to connect, and then part again, letting his muscles swallow them into the living mass of his form as he squirms and rocks back and forth, impaling himself on your cock with obcene wet sounds. There's a sticky, slimy mess soaking the sheets under his drooling cock, grinding against the fabric to add to the sweet torture.

"Wanna know how good? Yeah? Want me to cum inside? Gonna fill you up, sunshine, s-so good, oof..." There's sweat seeping into your eyes - fucking into a huge soldier boy isn't a breezy walk, you have to put a lot of effort into slamming into his offered ass again and again. It's worth it, though, heat radiating off Johnny's body and clinging to you as you find your footing, gripping onto his hip and pushing him face down by his nape with another hand. It takes a little longer, a little quicker pace and a lot more whimpering and panting moaning from Johnny, before you finally erupt deep inside him, making a point of sliding in to the limit and staying there as you rapidly fill him with your cum.

Soap's muscles all tense up as he grips onto the sheets and spills right after you, sensitive cockhead catching onto the crampled mess and twitching as his sperm adds to the thick wetness smeared on your bed. You're a little light-headed, chest heaving as you come to a stop in your thrusts, so you need a moment before you can register there are words in Johnny's fucked-out blabbering and whimpering.

"Shite, ah, thank ye, mh, thank ye, thankyethankyeth... bonnie... please, dinnae pull oot yet, please-" He almost hiccups when you pull yourself together and nudge your cock a little further into the wet, sticky hole before it slips out. With a chuckle, you collapse on top of Johnny's exhusted form, nuzzling between his shoulder blades and licking up salty droplets pooling up in the soft dip between. Dragging your tongue up, you bury your nose into the prickly buzzed hair at the base of Johnny's skull and bite him affectionately, ruffling his drenched mohawk before you hug him around his shoulders.

"So grateful for my cum in your ass, eh? Good boy. I love you." There's a loud, blissfull exhale on his part - you feel his body relax under your weight.

"Ah love ye too, bonnie. So much."

[robthegoodfellow]

3DPC4EVA

@harringrovezine submission! Billy and Steve take a backseat while their cars get busy. Crack taken seriously. Brace for puns.

Summary: When the Camaro rumbles into the Hawkins High parking lot, she catches the attention of a certain luxury vehicle.

Harringrove, Camaro/Beamer (or Bimmer/Beemer whatever you prefer)

Rated G | ~2.2k (slightly expanded version) | Alternating Car POV

thank you @adelacreations and the rest of the zine team for all your hard work!

~🛞~

A car never forgot the moment it came to—became aware. For PC, it was rounding a bend of the Pacific Coast Highway, to the left a sprawling sea, baked cliffs sloping opposite. And inside… was a boy, death-grip on the wheel relaxing, his stiff back gone slack on a long exhale.

He was gazing at the water, mesmerized. Revved the engine, a vicarious roar—but not of rage.

Exultation.

They meandered north for miles, blue horizon painted pink and red, glittering in the sinking sun. Veering onto a rocky shoulder, he hopped on the hood. Reclined, sighing smoke, until the sky had bruised purple. 

The boy’s mind wandered on the drive back, and PC got a sense of him then—name, where he lived. Enough to nudge reminders before he missed a turn. 

PC learned its own names, too—knew the boy thought of it as a she. Called her Baby. Or sometimes he’d smush the first part of her plate together, PCE, and think peace.

~🛞~

3D didn’t belong here, wasting away parked outside a school. A BMW E23 7-Series? Far more befitting the head of the Harrington family, not his spoiled Lothario of a son.

But no—downgraded months after purchase when the wife gifted her darling husband a Rolls-Royce.

Who could compete? So here it was, surrounded by malformed AMC experiments, rusted-out Oldsmobile barges, decrepit Pintos liable to explode if you looked at them wrong. Oh, and tractors—let’s not forget the occasional farming equipment caked in mud and manure ridden to school for a laugh. 

3D could have borne the shocks without blowing a gasket—it was a high-performance vehicle—but then… then the boy made it his mission to bed every girl in town. And 3D had spacious seats. Spacious and luxurious: black leather, gleaming wood trim—not that the paramours would notice, too busy humping while 3D stared out its headlamps at the lake or the trees or wherever it could fix its attention that wasn’t the pair of humans copulating all over its pristine interior.

Finally, the boy hitched himself to a girl with standards, one who preferred privacy. Granted, that relationship coincided with some rather strange occurrences—early on, the boy sped off to a remote property with faulty wiring, lights berserk, and ran inside to much screaming and cacophonous violence. 3D was certain that menace would emerge grievously wounded if he emerged at all, and do you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of leather?

Well, 3D didn’t, either, but it was bound to be impossible.

Anyway—despite that bizarre hiccup, the boy seemed happy, and so too was 3D.

Happy its rear bench was a Motel 6 no longer.

~🛞~

The blistering hurt he'd stoked from San Diego to Indiana—this despairing, gnashing fury—had simmered to a low-grade pang when PC rumbled into the Hawkins High parking lot, blazing past milling students.

Billy slammed the door—pat the handle, apologetic, before striding off. Max wheeled away on her skateboard.

Though PC was facing the school, she wasn’t limited to staring dully at the brick. Sky through her windshield, a side-view out her windows, the lot behind via the tail lights. In no time, she’d taken stock: not too different from back home. Less pervasive rust from salty air, fewer finishes sun-bleached pale pastel… and the crusty tractor was new… but a parking lot was a parking lot.

That’s what she repeated, again jerking her focus from a gleam in the next row. A BMW—PC had a weakness for German makes. Her first crush was a cute Volkswagen bug that belonged to one of Billy's surfer buddies, but the Beetle couldn’t hold a candle to this burgundy beauty—shining in the sun, the lines of its hood so proud, so pert and compact compared to PC. The appealing rounds of its double headlamps, spider eyes on either side of those distinctive kidney grilles. Like bared teeth.

The plate read 3Ds46T2.

Its wipers twitched, annoyance loud and clear. What?

PC barely reined in the startled beep, hot underhood. But then—well… what else to do when caught so blatantly staring?

She flashed a taillight, a quick, cheeky wink, and the headlamps across the way flared—a bright flush, though brief, firmly repressed.

Didn’t want to push it—the blush perhaps more embarrassment than pleasure—but when she risked a glance, 3D was looking back, intrigued. 

At final bell, PC blared both taillights, a last gambit—and her fan belt fluttered when 3D’s wipers swept a wide arc. A farewell.

Half-expected to overheat on the way back to the new house. Like all the coolant in the world couldn’t help her.

~🛞~

A showy, brutish Camaro Z/28 wouldn’t typically warrant more than an irritated huff of exhaust, but a car like that had never been bold enough to… flirt? Just brazenly wink for the whole lot to see, gazing like you were the most riveting object in existence.

It was… well, flattering, obviously—a Camaro was a handsome make, whatever its faults—but more than that, it had thrilled in a way 3D couldn’t shake. So next time the boy pulled into the lot, it gently nudged the wheel, willing them to the front where PCE 235 was sitting pretty.

Maneuvering to park next to the muscle-bound stunner took more of a push—enough to trigger a frown—but the boy rarely fired on all cylinders. He shrugged it off.

3D never dreamed it could be so forward, but the Camaro didn’t mind. Quite the contrary: as the school doors closed on the last straggler, 3D spied its neighbor’s window cracking open. A loaded quiet—then the soft static of the radio searching for a station. Odd squeals, a cut-off twang, belt, chorus, then—

—too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. Pardon the way that I stare—there's nothing else to compare.

An earnest crooning Oldie, and—it was like its undercarriage had bottomed out on nothing. 3D flushed hot as a busted radiator. 

If you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.

Seeming to sense its struggle for composure, the volume lowered until the song clicked off. The window rolled up, parted lips closing, and the wheel spun, nervous. Crunch of gravel as the front tires turned its way: Your move.

3D choked, butterfly valve sealing shut. The boy’s tastes weren’t exactly varied. Hardly strayed from the local channels piping nonstop Hot 100. But the silence would soon ring of rejection, so it powered the radio, scrambling, poised to blindly crank the dial and hope for the best—

Miracle of miracles. Rushing to open a window, it lowered all four, silently thanking Hump Day Hits of the 60s.

—thought love was only true in fairytales—meant for someone else but not for me. Love was out to get me—that's the way it seemed. 

Spontaneity sparking, it left the windows down. Let the whole lot hear! What did it care what they thought?

Then I saw her face! Now I'm a believer. Not a trace of doubt in my mind…

Last bell, after hours of trading silly ditties, their batteries were dead, and 3D was in love—felt drunk on diesel, sappy sentiment gumming up its engine.

PC. How wonderful, those two letters. And a she. Fascinating.

Their drivers were baffled at both needing a jump—a much remarked upon coincidence. Waiting for their cars to revive, the boy made awkward small talk with PC’s human—a blond ruffian who smoked like a chimney.

The boy asked the ruffian—Billy—if he was going to the Halloween party later.

Billy was.

“See ya there, man,” he said, tapping 3D’s roof. It would have cringed at the fingerprints left behind, if not for a more pressing thought.

It would see PC that night.

Perhaps all night.

~🛞~

Billy was nervous—PC could tell by his fidgeting grip, Metallica blasting. Odd outfit, too: leather jacket, shirtless, with fingerless gloves.

He parked behind 3D, no encouragement necessary. Before he’d even disappeared inside the pulsing house, PC waved her wiper, overeager but suddenly—shy.

They seemed to mutually agree not to drain their batteries again. Instead, at the risk of coming on too strong, PC reached out with the nebulous consciousness linking her to her body, linking her to Billy… until she felt a psychic bump. Not enough to dent. Just… alert.

She’d never done this—gone beyond basic flirtation—but something about 3D made her bold… and maybe Billy’s loneliness, the aimless despair bubbling under his skin since the move… maybe that had bled over more than she’d realized.

A bump, and she almost ignited her own engine, so intense was the bolt of excitement. 3D was reaching back, willing to open to her—

She had no idea how much time had passed, so submerged in their mingled selves, when Billy stumbled against her with a grunt, a slurred curse. The icy jolt must have transferred before she cut off to focus on the problem sagging at her door—a problem she knew too well.

Billy unlocked her after a couple tries, more falling than sitting in the driver’s seat. Shoved the key in the ignition—groaned when the engine wouldn’t start.

“Not tonight, baby—I’m fucking fine.”

She remained unmoved, even as he slumped, forehead knocking on the wheel.

“Just start! We’re three streets away, for fuck’s sake.”

An insistent bump—so unrelenting that she reconnected, conveyed through images, flashes of memory, that this was just something they did: Billy would drink too much, and she wouldn’t start until he was sober. But that only triggered a renewed wave of concern, a series of impressions in return: pulling over to assist a family broken down, the kids shivering in the chill evening air of autumn; 3D’s human, breath misting, joking with a pretty brunette about drinking until they were warm, the girl informing him that booze made you more vulnerable to frostbite.

But… it wasn’t nearly cold enough for that, right? Although what did she know? It had taken ages to warm up this morning. How cold was too cold?

Maybe Billy would just… go back inside the house. Or she could—start the engine but jam the accelerator? Or—

Billy jumped when 3D’s horn blared, obnoxious in the still night, its headlights flashing with each trumpeting blast. 

Not a minute later, PC understood in a burst of gratitude: 3D’s human trotted from the house. He would help. Flinging open the door, she spun her wheel, sharp.

A grunt, and Billy spilled onto the pavement. “Bitch.”

The alarm died with a chirp. “Hargrove?” 

Billy sighed, flopping backward. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Harrington did not—kept coming until he towered, hands on hips. Prodded Billy with a curious foot.

“You wanna be roadkill, or what?”

Bratty snort. “Or what.”

“Well, in the interest of not scraping you up tomorrow, how about I drive you home?”

Billy propped himself on elbows. A hum, considering. “Pass.”

PC resisted whacking him with the door. From his expression, Harrington felt much the same.

“Take you to mine, then.” Stooping, he stuck his hand out, waiting while Billy curled his lip, rolled his eyes—finally took the hand.

3D’s lights beamed worry as Harrington started the engine, Billy safe in passenger. PC twitched a wiper—shoo—and settled in by the curb. Small price for peace of mind.

~🛞~

At some point between disappearing into the Harrington house and emerging in the early dawn, something had happened—3D couldn’t begin to guess. The surly quiet of last night now buzzed like coins in a cupholder. Glances darted, never meeting.

3D resisted cranking the radio to drown out the awkward. Or redirecting the beads of condensation cutting through the misted windows so their dewy paths spelled HELP.

It rumbled with relief to see PC, glistening in the gloom, right where they’d left her.

“Last night,” Billy said, as they rolled to a stop. “We—it can’t happen—”

“You scared?” The arched brow was bluster, his frame rigid with nerves.

“You dumb?” Sneered it, scathing.

He was dumb, 3D would vouch for that, but the boy only glared. Billy huffed, paired an eye roll with a shake of his head, reaching for the door. 

A lesser vehicle would’ve missed the other hand pounce across the console, but 3D fogged the windows just in time.

No one saw the driver yanked sideways by the shirt, arrested by snarling lips pressed to his own—or the hands that grappled in reply, cupping cheek and chin, fingers sinking into hair.

No one saw, but PC knew—was practically dancing, wipers waving, front wheels pivoting left and right. And usually 3D would sigh, resign itself to rounds of necking and worse, but it couldn’t muster the fumes.

Because it would put up with anything—happily, no matter the wear and tear—for more time right here, sharing PC’s air. 

Since keeping one meant keeping the other, this would be no fling. Not if 3D could help it. 

What was it humans liked to say? 

My way or the highway.

~🛞~

Read on Ao3

[spacenintendogs]

random httyd headcanons

eret snorts when he laughs really hard

everyone has a crush on him at some point or another & fights for his attention (in their own ways)

eret also has a HUGE soft spot for tidal class dragons. HUGE.

when snotlout is geuninely furious, like, fucking pissed, he's weirdly quiet in a way that makes everyone uncomfortable (& a little scared)

out of the gang, def the best singer (when he actually puts effort into it, but he's usually tipsy or alone for that)

fishlegs will shuffle his deck of dragon cards as a form of stimming/self soothing

excellent at shuffling cards btw. whenever anyone in the gang plays a card game/gambles, they make him shuffle the cards. yes even when he's not involved in the game at all. (it's hot & mesmerizing)

tuffnut has itemized lists in his head of what each of his friends like and dislike & will randomly inflict the information he knows upon them & always takes them by surprise

bc of this he's actually a very good gift giver, ties into ruffnut being an excellent shopper. he figured out what to get, she's able to find it.

ruffnut actually does love shopping whilst being excellent at it & dragging astrid out to do it is smth she also loves

gets astrid into it too, bc ruff actually finds the coolest shit. even has a collection of old, small knives from around the world. she always has an elaborate story abt it (either true or made up by her but no one can truly tell)

astrid has slivers consistently in her hands from the wooden handle of her axe & the amt of times she's had to pull it from tree, targets, etc. she never notices & they don't bother her

one day eret asked her if she knew dragon eggs exploded when they hatched & she thought abt fist fighting odin, thor, & then eret before saying yes through gritted teeth

hiccup can spin his pencils in his hand between his fingers & has accidentally had them launch & hit ppl in the face

toothless thinks it's a game & will shoot the pencil out of the air & destroy it (hiccup has to make a lot of new charcoal pencils)

hiccup taught fishlegs & astrid how to draw

[cantalouupe]

fhfhfghfjs instead of brain there is tummy bulge xiao,,, just fucking him and seeing the bulge of your dick in his stomach <33

this ask . . . whoever you are just know this changed me

nsfw!!! mdni!!! xiao x m!reader

bottom xiao, sub xiao, tummy bulge, size kink, pet names (baby & good boy)

“Are you ready?” You ask Xiao, sprawled out beneath you, as you remove your fingers from inside him. He’s flushed, skin rosy and damp with a sheen of perspiration—his hair is unruly, and strands are sticking to the sweat his forehead. You sweep your other hand across it, moving the hair out of his face to see his expression clearer.  

Once already you’d brought him close the edge, but selfishly stopped before he could go over. He often gets tired after just one orgasm, falling asleep before you even get a chance to properly clean him up, but you crave him so vehemently, so desperately that you keep him from coming until you’ve had your fill. He never seems to mind it, though, staying pliant and moaning hushed and sweet while you play with him. 

It’s a bit of a struggle to get inside him, initially. The heavy amount of prep helps you, but his small frame has a hard time welcoming your cock, always squeezing so tight it borders on painful. You guide yourself to him, his body growing tight as soon as he feels your cock bump against his ass, an unconscious action that you diffuse through gentle touches and words.  

“Just relax, baby.” You see his lips part, as though attempting to shoot back a small “I’m trying” but you find yourself leaning into him before he has the chance, sealing your mouth over his. He reciprocates as easily as ever, kissing you back like he’d been waiting for it and there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.  

There’s nothing that relaxes him quite like the pressure of your lips against his, and you find that he starts to open up beautifully after getting the chance to kiss you. It’s still suffocating inside, but it’s perfect, and you groan at every inch you’re able to get inside him.  

“That’s it,” you praise, “that’s a good boy.”  

He inhales, a wet, pathetic little breath, hands clutching onto your arms for dear life while you presume your task, pushing yourself deeper, deeper until you can see the little bulge in his stomach from your cock.  

You rub your hand over the bump—always a little mesmerized by how visible it is, how small he is for it to show through—and press down on it the way you know he likes. His body jerks and he makes a noise akin to a sob. It’s the type of noise he’d be embarrassed to hear himself make, one that he would normally try to cover or stifle. Luckily for you, he is at the stage where his awareness is dulled, too drunk on you to notice any sound you pull from him.  

Even better is when you start moving, beginning that intoxicating pull and push that makes Xiao tremble. You hold his waist to prevent him from shifting too much, and fuck him a little harder, a little faster, setting a rhythm that sets him off. He’s never truly loud, always quiet in his whimpers and cries, but he never stays quiet. Being as close as possible offers the best access to these soft noises of pleasure, so you always try to keep your face near his to hear them.  

Each time you thrust in and your cock bulges through his stomach, he makes a hiccupped moan. He can’t look at it, eyes screwed shut while you hammer in and out of him; he can’t look, but you do, feeling a little possessive over him and how pretty he looks, how nicely he takes your cock, how big you are compared to him. You press down over the spot on his stomach again, keeping it there and feeling your cock against your hand while you fill him.

[fresh-new-yoik-watah]

so, I think The Hidden World gets a lot of unnecessary hate. I definitely don’t think it’s better than the first two, but it has its own very distinct feel that separates it from the others too, and it’s very raw, and actually very real, and I think that’s why I disliked it so much when I first saw it, but i’m older now, and there’s beauty in how real it is. And there’s no reality besides an inevitable separation of Toothless and Hiccup, besides of course, a for eternity tv show just about their adventures forever and ever and ever. But, the one guarantee all of us have in life, everything ends.

First of all, that opening shot of Berk is beautiful, because as Hiccup narrates, you see the reality of living on a small island with an overflow of dragons: overcrowding and chaos. Like honest to god the first maybe like 20 minutes of this film is so perfect. Also, Hiccup interacts with other characters a lot more, a lot more chatting, and I actually felt like I was watching a fifteen year old Hiccup in an older body, like they really wrote him perfectly aged up. I didn’t even realize how little we got to really see his personality in the second film in comparison to the first and third one. I felt the movie was kinda shot a little like a tv show, in terms of camera work, it felt very off putting. it also felt off putting to have a HTTYD movie and have Hiccup mainly on the ground for most of it, but I understand why. But god is it animated beautifully, like sooooooo beautifully. 

I think the existence of the Hidden World as like a concept is dumb, and if I read that in a book I’d be like ugh no that’s so lame for story, so they’re lucky that waterfall shot is just insanely crazy gorgeous. I saw it in theaters, and that shot was mesmerizing, of them on Stormfly flying over the ocean and rocks and waterfall, like where they’re sooooo small and you really feel size, it’s so beautiful. I hate Grimmel, I hate him, he’s so stupid. I know you need a villain bla bla bla, but honestly, if it was the same movie without him and they still eventually left to the hidden world, it still would’ve worked and been a way better movie. I really wish they had written the film without an outer conflict/villain besides just like dragon raids. Really focus on Hiccup’s feelings as he navigates the new world of being chief around him, like there’s a reason he was not up in the sky for a lot of this movie, I think it would’ve been really strong to focus on how he has to come to terms that he has to let Toothless go. I hate the light fury design, I don’t hate the existence of her, and I would’ve loved tk see Hiccup get to know her and like how much he would adore her because he literally spent the last 6 years searching the world for another night fury. No problem with that. Hate that damn glitter white sparkle. I hate that she’s a my little pony doll. Why does she have to be so ROUNd????? Couldn’t have just made like a smaller version of Toothless, maybe nose is smaller and eyes are thinner, ears aren’t as long, but different eye color and keep her black like Toothless. She’s got nubs bro. Damn beluga. The end scene of this movie is like, top best clips in cinema alone. It’s perfect. So perfect. When Hiccup takes a deep breath once he’s up in the air, GOD it’s so perfect. It makes everything that isn’t great about this movie and just makes it all so worth it. Also the whimsy feel of this movie, it’s so fun. The soundtrack really brings ouch such a whimsy feeling. I also don’t like how everyone was all lowkey bullying Hiccup, but like, especially the whole, them being shocked Hiccup is surprised Toothless wouldn’t come back. Like wdym, be so for real. Of course Hiccup didn’t expect Toothless to stay away. “You have him his freedom” my ass. Also, what’s up with Valka, they yassified her. Why does she move like that. Were they trying to be, this is where Hiccup gets his gesturing from??? It just didn’t work for her, especially since she did NOT act like that in the second film. That was so strange. Also they did something to Toothless. Like they made him act like a dog, he seemed so strange. And why was he grey?????? And such a wide neck. Idk he was funky, I have no idea but it was weird. Lowkey, I loved the Hiccup and Tuffnut scenes because they’re so true to character, but yall just wanna be haters. That’s all my thoughts for now. Hiccup is yummy in this movie😮‍💨

[iamthecomet]

you're so pretty when you're coming for me with the chaos twins, perhaps??

oh, you know how weak I am for them. 1. "You're so pretty when you're coming for me." "Sun--shine--" Dew slurs, stumbles over the syllables in her name. His head drops forward, chin to his chest. He clenches one fist on his thigh, the other is locked tight to the back of her neck, holding her close, even as he babbles at her to--"Wait--give me a second--oh fuck."

Dew's already hard in her palm again. Sticky with cum and pre and spit. The head past red--bordering on an angry shade of violet that Sunshine has never seen on Dew before. It's mesmerizing. The way he still spurts pre even after so many orgasms. How he still hardens up in her hands even when he insists he can't.

She could play with him forever. Would, if he'd let her. But she can tell he's flagging. The haze in his eyes taking over. The sounds he makes are hurt now, broken little sobs as she polishes the head or drags her thumb over the barbell under it. He watches the way she touches him, narrow chest heaving. Lips slick with drool he doesn't have any control of anymore. "One more," she says. She isn't sure if that's actually true. It could be two more, or three. But she'll start small. Give him something he can manage. It'll always be one more. Dew makes a sad little noise but he nods. Already so hard in her hand, pulsing, jumping as she squeezes the base or drags her fingers through the copious amounts of pre. "Still so wet," she whispers and he groans. When he finally looks back up at her his eyes are wet too. Looking like liquid copper. He opens his mouth like he wants to explain it. It's a habit. Dew's taught her a lot about being topside, about their vessels, their magic. But she already knows what he's trying to tell her. Something about how he used to be a water ghoul. How there are some things he just can't shake. Like, this, dripping like a faucet even though he's already cum four times. Or his slick that's no doubt pooling on her bedsheets. She bends to kiss him to swallow the words. To focus him back on the moment. On the way her hand feels. Maybe, when she's done making him cum himself dry, she'll fuck him. Or if she can get him hard again she'll let him fuck her. A treat for being so good. She isn't sure, won't know until the moment comes. She slides her tongue against his, swallows the pathetic little noises he makes as he tries to pull her closer like he wants to slide into her skin with her. He pulls away far too soon. Mouth open, gasping, body tensing. "Oh fuck. Oh no. You're gonna make me--Sunny--please." The sound he makes when he cums makes Sunny throb. Gut punched and wrecked. He sobs through it, hiccuping as he dribbles all over her Sunny's hand. There's far less than last time, and when it's over Dew sags, his head hitting her shoulder with a solid thump. He's panting, clinging to her even as she keeps stroking him, fresh cum making the slide even easier. "Wait--fuck--Sunny. You gotta--I can't." "One more, Dewy" she says again, whispered into his ear, tongue flicking out over the shell of it. "You're so pretty when you're cumming for me. Let me see it again, just one more. For me, please?" Dew's breath hitches. Sunshine feels the wet heat of his tears on her shoulder, and for half a second she thinks he might call it. But then he nods, slow and syrupy against her shoulder, but a nod nonetheless. "One more," he agrees. "Just one more. For you."

[captain-mj]

Can we get some more mage Soap and his lust demons Ghost and Roach? 😌

I think soap got two little tattoos to remind him of his two demons and they get absolutely feral over it.

Part 1 right here!

~~~~

Ghost had returned the human to his room after he recovered, telling him to not summon anyone else.

Soap had been a bit surprised that Ghost and Roach let him go back home. It was a common occurrence now for him to just be relaxing and them to appear to drag him away. Time didn't really pass when they had him so Ghost hoped it wasn't too bad. 

Soap never complained at least. 

Ghost held him in his lap, currently working him open. It had been a while and Soap was getting impatient. They both ignored him, continuing to sit calmly and Ghost continued to fit more and more of his tentacles into him. His hands were keeping his legs spread open so Roach could see everything he was doing. 

Soap whimpered. “One of you, please...” He was trying to rock back, but the tentacles avoided his prostate, working deeper and stretching him even further. He sobbed and continued to just take the onslaught, not really having much of a choice. Occasionally, his legs would twitch to close or his hips would try to move and Ghost would stop completely, forcing him to go still again. 

Roach made a motion and Ghost pulled everything out of him, hearing Soap cry out. He watched as Roach forced his cock deep into Soap and the little human moaned, looking excited to finally get some relief. Soap started to bounce excitedly. 

Roach pulled his arms behind his back and settled him further in his lap, panting softly. Roach's cock made Soap's tummy dent slightly, truly a gorgeous fucking sight. Soap desperately started to rock on him and Roach quickly forced him to be still, enjoying the hot pressure Soap gave. He didn’t seem any more eager to give Soap relief than Ghost did, planning on keeping him there a while. His hands stroked up and down his sides as Soap sobbed. 

“Please, I need more. Please.” He tried to move again, but Roach stopped him, squeezing his hips. 

Ghost was staring, admiring both of them. He traced Soap's figure with his eyes before stopping when he noticed something on his ribs.

Roach's hand obscured it, but there was clearly something new there. He stared at it, trying to make it out before something warm rushed through him.  

Ghost stalked over, moving Roach’s hand and... there was a tattoo. A small one of a bug with Cicada like wings, just like Roach’s.

Soap flushed and moved to show that on his other side was a skull in the same design as Ghost’s. 

“I... Well.. You know... I’m close with you guys....” Soap was worried he had upset them somehow before he was being crushed between them. Roach’s hips picked up immediately, finally thrusting in and give him what he wanted, and Ghost wrapped his arms around him to keep him steady. 

Ghost’s fingers traced over the skull tattoo, mesmerized. A permanent mark. Something Soap wouldn’t be rid of until he died, which would be far, far away. 

Soap moaned and wrapped his arms tight around Ghost, kissing at his neck. He had gotten rather used to Ghost’s more fickle form, the one that was made of shadows and writhing things in the dark. Ghost had a feeling he liked it. 

“Fuck, Roach slow down a little.” Soap whined, pressing tighter against Ghost. Roach sank his teeth into his shoulder but he did slow down, instead focusing on fucking him harder. Soap whimpered and sobbed, shaking from pleasure. Ghost grabbed his chin and made him look up at him.

“After all that begging, you can’t take it now?” 

Soap hiccupped a little, starting to sob again. His legs twitched and he was writhing, both pressing against Ghost to get away and also shoving himself back to take more. He sobbed pathetically, shaking from the force. He came all over himself but they weren’t going to stop now. 

“I fucking love them. You should get more.” Ghost growled and kissed him, tongue pushing into his mouth until he almost pushed down his throat. He trailed his claws down his side, careful to not cut the tattoos. He wanted to make sure he could see them. 

Soap moaned loudly and his nails dug into him before Roach came inside him. 

“Too much. Oh, fuck its too much.” He knew it wasn’t going to stop right now though. 

Ghost pulled back from him and picked him up. Tentacles wrapped their way around his wrists, half suspending him. He adjusted Soap, admiring once again how small his human looked in his hands. 

His fingers could almost touch when he wrapped them around him and he held him tight. Roach started to bite along his ribs, marking him more. Ghost pulled him closer, holding him steady.

Soap whimpered and looked at him pleadingly.

“Yes?” Ghost hissed out.

“Bite me too? Thinking of getting your teeth marks tattooed.” 

Ghost shoved into him hard and he was all over him. He kept kissing him before yanking away to bite any skin that hadn’t already been marked to hell. Soap kept screaming, body arching so far it looked like it hurt. His hands quickly supported his hips, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. 

Ghost faintly realized there were too many hands and he wondered which were his and which were Roach’s, dragging their nails over his body. Roach started to lick at the wounds, stopping them from bleeding. 

Ghost forced Soap’s head back and placed a harsh bite right on his throat, growling against him. Soap whimpered, trembling with effort. 

Soap tightened around him, a fucking vice. He started to whimper more, trembling before he came. 

“Fuck, you...” He whined as Ghost didn’t slow down, searching for his own release. Soap sobbed from the overstimulation, trying to pull away from what Ghost was doing to him. Ghost pulled him back, determined to come in him. Once again, Soap’s stomach dented, his cock clearly breaking him open. Splitting him in half. Ghost felt dizzy. 

He came in him, mixing with Roach. He kept Soap suspended for a moment longer, listening to his harsh breathing and his little heart pitter-pattering.

“Jesus christ.” Soap managed to puff out. “You guys really like the tattoos I see.”

Roach licked up the side of his neck, moaning. He nodded excitedly. 

Soap smiled, looking tired. “I... I think I need to lay down.” 

Oh fuck. Human limits. 

Ghost and Roach quickly laid him down, tangling around him. Soap looked closed to passing out, melting.

“Too much?”

“Nah. Just need to get used it.”

[kookaburra-laugh]

I read that in 2022 - GO Edition

hi friends, i come with a list of fic recommendations on this first day of 2023! for me, 2022 brought new friends and new fandom and im eager to share what i’ve read and loved with you all

not all of these were written in 2022, but that’s when i read them

Accept a Little Spin by nieded @nieded ​

rated E | 100k+ words (ongoing)

It's the 2023 season, and sophomore driver, Ezira Phale, is out to prove he's worthy of his seat at McLaren F1 as the world tests the boundaries of his confidence and his relationship with IndyCar driver, AJ Crowley.

Part 2 of Rainbow Road 🏁🌈

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth @themoonmothwrites

rate E | 88k words

After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

close quarters pining, slow and hot and full of feelings

stalwart sun, wily moon by dustnhalos @dustandhalos ​

rated M | 370k words

Anthony J. Crowley is a world-class art thief with a complicated past who, until now, had been pretty content with going through life as part of a prolific black market art trafficking ring.

That is, until a simple logistical hiccup leads him straight into the path of one Aziraphale Fell, former Head Conservator of the British Museum turned antique repair shop owner.

Little do they both know, the strands of friendship, morality, and deception in their shared circles of the London art world are interwoven in even more complex ways than either of them could have expected...

such rebel blood by curtaincall @fremulon​

rated T | 60k words

Anthony Crowley needs a break. Six months after being tried for murder, he’s struggling to find a new publisher for his mystery novels—and to conquer his (apparently unrequited) feelings for Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, the man who saved his life.

Spending a few weeks out in the country working on a murder-mystery game for a rich young American’s twenty-first birthday party seems like an easy choice. But when the simulated death becomes all too real, Crowley finds himself caught up in the investigation—and crossing paths once more with someone he feared he’d never see again...

 Part 2 of A Love Story with Detective Interruptions        

No Room at the Inn by summerofspock @summerofspock

rated T | 735 words

A tipsy makeout scene for the prompt Bed Sharing.

tender and mild on main

Anatomy 101 by Fyre @amuseoffyre

rated E | 102k words

Two humans are enjoying some alone time. A demon has questions. An angel has answers.

an owners manual of sorts that developed feelings along the way

 Mark of the Serpent  by NaroMoreau, summerofspock @naromoreau ​ @summerofspock ​

rated E | 150k words

Prince Aziraphale is about to be crowned King of Angelhaven when he's taken captive by pirates. When he's sold as a pleasure slave to King Crowley, ruler of the nation readying for war with his, he is forced to keep his identity a secret as he tries to find a way home and keep peace. But not everything at King Crowley's court is as it seems and Aziraphale will have to face machinations of a Royal Court that are far more complex than he had thought.

A Captive Prince AU with an omegaverse twist.

Unusual Occurrences at A.Z. Fell and Co.'s  by WritesEveryBlueMoon @gwenstacyismyicon

rated T | 1500 words

When the bizzare and amusing habits of Mr A.Z. Fell, bookseller, begin to trend on the internet, those who dwell on various social media sites share their frustrations, confusion, and extraordinarily unusual stories.

An Oddly Mesmerizing Display by ZehWulf @zehwulf

rated E | 29k words

Crowley's a sex-indifferent/favorable asexual omega fresh off suppressants and in the market for someone to help him through what promises to be a trial of a heat. His friend gets him tickets to the Spring Fling Heat Date Auction, where he can win a date with an eligible alpha (or omega). Naturally, a certain alpha with a regrettably memorable stage magic show and intriguing scent catches his eye...

On The Habits Of Vampires And Retired Goths by munchmulch @munchmulch

rated T | 21k words

The thing is about Crowley's new neighbor, the thing is that Crowley is very, very gay.

the best kind of miscommunication. crowley has vampire traits and aziraphale makes some connections. aziraphale has wolfish traits but crowley is blinded by love and willfully ignores them

 A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by asideofourown @asideofourown

rated T | 8k words

[Crowley accidentally gets a bit famous, and the internet figures out he may be a bit immortal]

 All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist @impishtubist

rated T | 6.5k words

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

crowley cant remember falliing in love, no matter how many times he does it

do you know what eternity is? by gazing @choreomanic

rated T | 16k words

I'll pretend to propose, Crowley said.

It'll be fine, Crowley said.

It was, Aziraphale decided, not fine.

tender and mild on main. incredibly soft and silly and cute. so many proposals 

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry @geometricfractal

rated G | 2.5k words

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

exactly as it says on the tin. hits all the best feels

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by hope_in_the_dark @hope-inthedark

rated T | 5.5k words

When Crowley drops a bomb on a church, Aziraphale falls in love with him. This should be a secret, but unfortunately, Aziraphale's never been much good at keeping them.

a heartwrencher to be sure, but so sweet and gentle at the same time

Hanging By a Moment by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 5.5k words

Sometimes the best thing is to leave. Fresh slate and all that. For Crowley, it seems like the only option, having fallen hopelessly in love with his best friend.

crowley convinces himself that this moment with aziraphale that he's always wanted doesnt mean the same thing to both of them. but he's leaving next week so he's going to make sure this experience will be one to remember

Echo by snae_b

rated E | 52k words

This isn’t your average coffee shop AU.

kinda sorta amnesia/time loop but so much deeper! bamf protective devoted crowley

Amazing by nightbloomingcereus @moondawntreader

rated E | 9k words

Aziraphale thinks he's been hired to perform his magic act at a party. It turns out that there's been a slight misunderstanding and everyone thinks he's there for an entirely different sort of show. Good thing the caterer is there to save the day.

Green Groves by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 16.5k words

Aziraphale Fell isn't entirely happy living in his father's house. But when a new friend enters into his life, his whole world will change in an unexpected way.

Paper Thin Walls by angelsnuffbox @angelsnuffbox

rated E | 16.5k

Sure being in love with your best friend when he also happens to live in the flat next door, where you can hear every single one of his conquests through that shared wall, sounds challenging. But being in love with your best friend when he lives next door and you two used to shag? Might just be a tad more difficult, but Aziraphale muddles through somehow.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless

rated T | 9.5k words

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

bookverse - crowley is injured by a blessed bullet in a warzone and aziraphale uses his full will (and rules lawyering) to keep him safe.

Any Way You Want It by Justkeeptrekkin @justkeeptrekkin

Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.

a scotland vacation, some realizations, and confessions to match. tender and mild on main.

Small Cock Appreciation Society by cheerios_and_wine @cheeriosandwine

rated E | 6.5k words

Crowley is the founding member. Aziraphale's is the member.

incredibly sweet and hot. crowley and aziraphale fit so well together

Lift Me Up, O Lord by CopperBeech @copperplatebeech ​

rated E | 37k words

Aziraphale Fell’s maintained a string of weightlifting victories, a strained relationship with his family, and his grandfather’s waistcoat right into his fifties.

Distance runner Anthony Crowley’s spent the last decade watching his racing career recede in the rearview, but it doesn’t stop him running, literally, away from his feelings.

lifter aziraphale, runner crowley, and a bicycle race

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b

rated E | 20k words

It’s fucking on camera. It’s not that complicated.

sex with feelings between porn stars who really hit it off

Pop the Question by tweedfeather @tweedfeather ​

rated T

Crowley plans to pop the question to Aziraphale at their favourite restaurant. Things don't go as planned.

A short, sweet, and silly fan-comic.

Where We Will Love by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr​

rated E | 17.5k words

Crowley busks in Piccadilly Circus.

Just down the road in Haymarket, Azra Eastgate performs at Her Majesty’s Theatre.

One duet is going to change both their lives.

Trust Me, I'm A Professional by Lurlur @lurlur ​

rated E | 12k words

After a mishap with a client, Crowley finds himself booking in at his local emergency department. His bitchy angel of a nurse takes good care of him, making Crowley regret that he can't really just leave his number.

Perhaps the universe has other plans for his love life?

Many Ways To Say It by Fledglinger @fledglingdoodles ​

rated G

"Listen well, dear ones, for there are many ways to tell him 'I Love You'..."

an incredibly sweet comic

Steamed by summerofspock @summerofspock ​

When Aziraphale's favorite porn star walks into the coffee shop where he works, it completely derails Aziraphale's day.

What happens when the sexy guy you're used to watching fuck people on your computer screen is actually the most awkward man you've ever met?

Heavenly Hands by ZehWulf @zehwulf ​

rated E | 7.5k words

Even girlbosses need a bit of stress relief between gaslighting and gatekeeping, and Crowley is no exception. Good thing she has a standing appointment with an angel from Higher Calling Relaxation. (A porn trope parody fic.)

A Sharper Sweet  by musegnome @musegnome ​

rated E | 5k words

Nothing smells quite the same any more. He bends over the plates anyway, and breathes in deep. Cinnamon and chocolate, fruit and sugar and butter. The scents would have set his mouth watering, before. He reaches out to touch the raspberry sauce drizzled over the cake, and stares at the drop of deep pink puree mounded on his fingertip.

crowley enjoys some sweets for his vampire partner and they both have a rather enjoyable time. a little angst at the start

Pavlov's Backroom by justheidi @scienceismygirlfriend

rated M | 444 words

"A word with you, angel. In private."

A conversation in the backroom of the bookshop.

Trying it On by snae_b

rated E | 6k words

Anthony Crowley. Stylist to an elite tier of the UK’s hottest stars. And now, apparently, to one dowdy, soft around the middle, recently divorced publishing heir.

Intermezzo by FeralTuxedo @feraltuxedo​

rated E | 47k words

Music critic Aziraphale Fell is trying to break into the world of television, when he is signed to make a documentary about former-rockstar-turned-composer Anthony Crowley. It’s been eleven years since Aziraphale’s disastrous review of Crowley’s debut opera nipped his classical music career in the bud. He can only hope that Crowley will get over his admittedly justified grudge to make the TV show a success.

  A classical music sex comedy. Yes, really.

Coq au Vin by Ginger_Cat @gingiekittycat​

rated E | 13k words

Tonight’s the night. He can feel it in his bones, in his wings, in his demonic soul. It’s going to happen—months of showering the angel with flowers and chocolates and perfect picnic lunches and walks thorough the farmers’ market, romantic row-boat rides on the lake and concerts in the park and dinner at the Ritz and everything in-bloody-between, are all culminating in this one night.

Because Crowley is making Aziraphale dinner, and Crowley is going to kiss him.

When the Sun Goes Down by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr

rated E | 16k words

Mr Anthony J. Crawleigh, disgraced heir to the Helton Abbey Estate, has been summoned home to attend his sister's engagement party.

It's only four days of shooting, dancing and making nice with nobs. He's survived much, much worse.

If only Mama hadn't arranged for such a handsome young man to undress him every night. Practically asking for trouble, that is.

Everything I've Had by AppleSeeds

rated M | 13k words

After developing a chronic illness that leaves him unable to live alone, Crowley moves back home to London where he reunites with his childhood best friend Aziraphale. Aziraphale helps to take care of Crowley and keeps him company while he's in bed, bringing them closer together and reigniting old feelings.

for the first time by summerofspock @summerofspock​

rated E | 3k words

It’s been six months since they’ve seen each other any way besides over FaceTime and Aziraphale is desperate for the sound of Crowley’s voice without the filter of the tinny speakers of his iPhone, for the smell of the crook of his neck, for the way his body fills the space beside him. He knows Crowley will be here soon and yet his heart hardly believes it is real.

Rivers Of Gold by entanglednow @entanglednow​

rated E | 7k words

Crowley is commissioned to sculpt an angel for a family chapel, but the more he uncovers from the marble the less willing he is to give it up.

amaretto by goosewriting @goosetooths​

rated E | 69k words

Aziraphale, a human, has grown used to being alone.

Everything changes for him when a unique occult relic falls into his hands and loops him into a contract with a mild-mannered (if a bit snarky) demon named Crowley.

[yuulina-vre]

Fear - Chapter one

Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: none, maybe some sexy time :)

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

The night is clear, no fog is hanging on the ground, and no clouds can be seen in the starry night sky. The headlights illuminate the trees and the street, creating shadows and figures that would scare you if you could look at them for a longer period. The window is rolled down slightly, letting the cool air whizz past and into the cabin of the car. It’s pleasantly cooling down the interior. The heat of the day slowly vanishes from the inside, the thickness of hot air slowly thinning with the fresh smell of dew. Though the fresh air tries to lighten up the inside, it still feels like there has never been any breathable air inside. Breathing feels still difficult as if trying to inhale while wearing a mask or being all snotty from a cold. The air smells like a strange mix of fresh dew in the forest around and dust from the dryness of the passing day. The sun had been its hottest in days, drying out fields and forests, increasing the unfortunate chance of fires. Rain hasn’t been around for a week now.

The still-warm temperature in the car is perfect to make someone a little tired and drowsy, the steady rumbling of the engine and soothing vibrations of the car rolling down the asphalted street just adding to it. The wind tousles my hair, ruining what’s left of my ponytail, but the suffocating feeling doesn’t vanish, nor does the tiredness that’s starting to get more and more pronounced. My eyes feel heavy, and even blinking doesn’t do any good anymore. Sighing deeply, my eyes catch the fuel gauge. Still half-filled, so a stop anytime soon isn’t necessary; never mind that the next gas station doesn’t come for miles anyway. But it would have given me the perfect opportunity to rest for a little while, maybe stretch my limbs and go for a short walk around the parking lot. If there even is one.

My eyes switch back to the dark road. Somewhere far in front of me, I can see two deer crossing the street, though they’re long gone when I pass the spot. Other than the two animals, there’s nothing to be seen except the stars. I have to admit that I have never been able to see them as clearly as here, somewhere in nowhere and far away from the light of the cities. They are the prettiest sight in a while. My fingers and toes itch to pull the car aside to a stop and just stare up at them for a while. Instantly my mind comes up with a picture of a smiling Bucky.No doubt he would point out any constellation he knew, telling me their stories and tales, so mesmerized by the stars that he wouldn’t notice me staring at him instead. He would have this glint in his eyes, this excitement that makes it difficult to look away. And even though I only understand half of what he talks about, I would be glued to his lips as they form the words, intrigued by him and his knowledge. I don’t know how it happened, but Bucky always manages to draw me in and make his interests interesting for me, too.

A yawn slips past my smiling lips, and I quickly cover it with a hand, making sure to rub the tears that formed from my eyes too. “I have to take a break before I crash.”

Quickly assessing the empty road, I pull away and to the side, stopping on the dirt next to the road. For a second, I close my eyes, engine still running, hands still on the steering wheel as if I was driving. I take a deep breath, feel the air fill my lungs, and leave it while exhaling. After opening my eyes again, I cast a quick look into the review mirror to throw a glance at the backseat. Billy is still asleep, and a glance to my right confirms that Tommy is asleep, too. Typical for them.

A smile slowly forms on my lips again. They had fallen asleep before we hardly even left the hotel parking lot.

A frown slips back on my face as I study Tommy’s sleeping face. They’re just here because I invited them because a certain someone couldn’t join. Or wouldn’t.

I asked them if they wanted to accompany me. Originally, I had to travel because of a client, so it was more of a work trip for me, but I wanted to hang a few days of vacation to it. Also, the hotel room was a four-person room. Somehow, my secretary had made a mistake in the booking.My guess is she either didn’t really look into it or took the first room that was offered on whatever website she booked my trip. Texting her boyfriend was probably more important around that time.

Well, the twins were hyped anyway, immediately all in, as the hotel was located by a nearby beach. It helped that the two had just graduated and wanted to take a trip to celebrate anyway. So, the trip was more like a present to them now, since they didn’t have to pay for anything. Also, someone had an eye on them and make sure they don’t get in trouble. It probably was the only reason why my best friend even allowed it in the first place.

Sadly, the days had gone by way too fast, and all fun had to end. Between my appointments and exhaustion, the boys managed to get me out of my room to actually have some sort of sightseeing and vacation. If not for them, I probably wouldn’t have seen anything despite the hotel room and my patient’s hospital room. So, maybe it wasn’t only me that had an eye on them.

With another tired sigh, I cut the engine, and I take my seat belt off to get out of the car. I wince as the light flickers on the moment I open the door. The damn beeping indicates that it’s open, so as fast as I can, I get out and close the door, still careful to be as silent as possible.God knows the boys need their sleep. With another glance at the two, I sigh, relieved to find them still fast asleep. Leaning against the driver’s side, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the stiffness of my limbs after sitting in one position for far too long.

The air really feels incredibly good outside of the car. The coolness hits my warm skin, making me shiver slightly. Another deep breath fills my nostrils with the fresh smell of dew in the morning, after a brief spring rain.

For a moment, I stay as I am, take deep breaths, and stare at the stars above. I recognize one or two constellations Bucky taught me about before, though their tales won’t come to my mind. The longer I stare into the abyss of darkness and the universe, I feel my body slowly sagging, my eyes growing heavy with tiredness that settles somewhere deep in my bones and mind.

How long have I been on my feet? Thirteen, maybe fourteen hours?

Briefly rubbing my left eye with my hand, I cast a look down at my watch. Half past twelve. It’s exactly fifteen hours. “Huh.” A small breathless laugh leaves my lips. Of course, I had just driven for 9 hours straight. Bucky would scold me if he knew. Safety was always important to him, mine even more so than his.

I sigh loudly, looking back up at the stars as my thoughts wander. Senses as sharp as ever. There’s the sound of a soft breeze rustling bushes a few feet away, some birds still chirp in the distance, and crickets perform their nightly songs to lure each other in. The smell intensifies. Dew and earth fill every pore of my being, giving me the comfort, I didn’t know I needed. A comfort I craved from someone else. Again, my thoughts stop at my fiancé. How nice it will be to finally see him again. I didn't know a week could be so beautiful, yet make you miss someone so badly. Even with the boys around, I felt a strange sense of loneliness.

Bucky was supposed to come with me. We had a long discussion before I asked the boys. At first, he agreed and was really looking forward to it. A week away from home, work, and responsibilities, but then... Then his stupid work got in the way. Again. An occurrence that happens more and more often now. But this time, I had enough.

"Doll, I'm sorry. I really wish I could go with you, but this is important. I have to do this! Can you understand that?" He looks at me, apologizing. His blue eyes swim with guilt and regret, pleading for me to understand and forgive. But I’m just stunned.

“So, your fucking job is more important to you? You were supposed to be on vacation, James. A vacation, you postpone three fucking times already! Thank you very much. I didn't know that I was just a millstone around your neck," I seethe at him, giving him a furious look. The best I could give him. In reality, I’m not even that angry. I’m disappointed, which feels way worse. Bucky flinches slightly. He’s not used to me shouting. Usually, I’m a calm presence in every fight, barely raising my voice, but today is different. Weeks of frustration break out of me, and I’m not really feeling up to holding back now. Not today. He raises his hands in surrender as I throw another article of clothing into my suitcase, not bothering to fold it nicely. "Y/N, I didn't-"

“What?” I turn around, head hot with anger and hurt. “You didn’t say that?! Yeah, well, congratulations, because you don’t have to say anything! You show it in plenty of other ways. Do you even know how many times this has happened now? And I don’t only mean postponing vacations but doing stuff together in general?” I stare at him as he furrows his brows, no doubt raking his brain for possible dates. “It sucks! I was really looking forward to it this time. I really believed you. Again! But you seem just not to care!"

"Sweetheart, I-" I don’t let him finish again. Angry, frustrated, and disappointed, I waved my hands back and forth.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me! Don't even try to talk yourself out of it with one of your stupid excuses. If you don’t care, you could have at least tried to say no. But did you?"

Bucky sighs. "No, I didn't." He dropped his shoulders in defeat. Somehow, it hurts even more. I feel a pain in my chest that feels like someone’s stabbing me. Tears start to blur my sight, and I quickly blink them away. "Then that's settled." Annoyed, I close my suitcase and drag it out of our bedroom to the stairs and down to the living room. I leave it standing by the door and turn around again, heading back upstairs. Bucky’s still standing in our bedroom, brows furrowed with a sad look in his eyes. I’m almost tempted to comfort him, but this time, I won’t.

Instead, I walk back to our walk-in closet and pull out two outfits that I will need for my appointments, and put them in bags. Then I throw my jacket on and walk back down. I hear him follow me, and by the time I grab the handle of my suitcase, he’s standing behind me. I’ll turn around to say goodbye, but instead, I find myself startled. I don't recognize him at all. His hair is disheveled, probably from running his hand a thousand times through it, his eyes seem dull, and his complexion is haunted by something I can’t name. Instead of showing my surprise, I swallow past the lump in my throat and reach for my house and car keys. "Y/N, please, let's just...” I stop for a second, a great wave of sadness overwhelming me, so the next words that slip past my lips are silent. “You know, maybe getting married and all is a mistake.” I don’t look back at him. Instead, I open the front door and step out of the house and letting the door slam behind me. The second I sit in my car, pulling out of our driveway, I grab my phone and dial my best friend's number, Not even looking into the mirror to see if Bucky followed me as tears blur my vision.

I didn't give him a chance to explain, apologize or do anything else. I can remember the look on his face when I left the house without really looking at him. The pain was written in it, the fear. I hurt him very badly, and I feel guilty that I didn’t care at that moment. He’s the man I love, the one I want to marry. I should have cared, should have tried harder to understand him. I know his job is everything to him, though not more important to him than I am. Never. Even accusing him of that feels like betrayal now. “I should have said that. I wonder if he's pissed off,” I mutter silently into the night sky. My body feels tired with yet another sort of sadness. “Y/N? Are you alright?" A small, high-pitched scream leaves my lips, my hand shooting up to cover my beating heart. Unbeknownst to me, Tommy got out of the car and now looks at me. I haven't noticed the interior light of the car flickering on, nor the door open. How far away have I been?

“Yes, everything is fine. I just needed some fresh air," I say, wiping a few hairs from my face, which the shallow wind pulled there. “But we can continue now." I made efforts to open the driver's side door, trying to convince him with a smile. But Thomas isn’t stupid. Like a bolt of lightning, he flashes around the hood and places his hand on the door handle. Confused, I stare at him. "What are you doing?"

“You are tired… and sad." He adds the last part after a small pause, mustering me intensely. “I am not."

“Yes, you are. You're yawning for the second time. And that just after I got out of the car." And really, I catch myself yawning. Another thing I haven’t noticed. I raise my hand to cover my mouth as best as I can. Suddenly I feel something cold, and damp sliding down my cheeks. When did I start to cry?

“Will you tell me what’s going on? Why are you crying?" These boys really quickly recognize how you are doing. A trait that they definitely have inherited from both their parents. Though, I’m not going to drop my problems on their shoulders.

“No. I-I don't know why I'm crying. Probably the wind." I manage a small laugh, embarrassment flooding my mind.

“Okay.” He stretches the word, and I know he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully he’s smart enough to drop the topic. “Well... Anyway, please sit in the passenger seat. I'm driving."

"Hell, no! That’s out of the question!" I look at him in horror. “Your Mom is strangling me if she finds out."

“No, she doesn’t. Mom's just too careful. I'm already eighteen, and I've had my license for a year. It's going to be okay. It's only an hour or so left, right?" I had to agree with him. Wanda is a very caring person. She had had her sons at the age of nineteen and was then tragically separated from her boyfriend when the children were born. Accidents happen at all times, but him dying at the same time his children were born was just cruel. Of course, from then on, she was always cautious. Sometimes it feels like I’m a child of hers, too, even though I’m only three years younger than her.

I let out a defeated sigh, my chin sinks to my chest, and my eyes close. “Fine.” I relent, too tired to argue with his logic. I know he’s right, and if I continue driving, I’m probably crashing not even a hundred feet ahead of us. Yawning yet again, I round the hood to the passenger seat, sit down, and buckle up, before silently closing the door. The sound still ricochets through the car, startling me more than I like to admit. Meanwhile, Tommy gets into the driver's seat, starts the car, and pulls over onto the road. It probably doesn't take more than five minutes for me to fall asleep.