#probably just wants to bask in the sun on a warm day

[johnsbleu]

golden retriever boyfriend this doberman boyfriend that. john wick is a pit bull boyfriend and in this essay i—

[misswynters]

Holiday in Spain modern au

Cregan Stark x afab!reader x Jace Velaryon

[WARNING: mature/explicit (minors dni) 18+, kissing, touching, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving)

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The sun was beginning to set as the plane touched down in Málaga, casting a warm, golden hue over the Spanish coastline. You, Cregan, and Jace had been planning this holiday for months, eager to escape the daily grind and bask in the beauty of the Costa del Sol.

As the three of you stepped out of the airport, the balmy evening air greeted you, a pleasant change from the dreary weather back home. Cregan, ever the planner, had arranged for a rental car, and soon you were driving along the scenic coastal roads toward the villa you had rented.

“Look at that view,” you marveled, gazing out at the shimmering Mediterranean Sea. ���It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“Just wait until we get to the villa,” Jace said from the backseat, his excitement palpable. “The photos online looked incredible.”

When you arrived at the villa, it was everything you had hoped for and more. Nestled on a hillside, it offered stunning views of the ocean, with a spacious terrace, a private pool, and elegant, modern interiors. The three of you quickly settled in, eager to start your vacation.

That evening, after a delicious dinner of local tapas and a few glasses of wine, you retired to the terrace to watch the sunset. The sky was ablaze with colors, a breathtaking end to a perfect day.

Cregan leaned on the railing next to you, his eyes on the horizon. “This place is amazing,” he said softly. “I’m so glad we decided to come here.”

“Me too,” you agreed, turning to look at him. The setting sun cast a warm glow on his features, highlighting the lines of his strong jaw and the intensity of his eyes. You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jace joined you on the other side, his presence adding to the comforting warmth. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice soft. “Couldn’t have asked for better company either.”

As the last light faded, the atmosphere between the three of you shifted. The air grew thicker, charged with an unspoken tension. Cregan moved closer, his arm brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Jace’s hand gently touched your back, his fingers tracing small circles that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Cregan murmured, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “Do what?”

He turned to face you fully, his gaze locking onto yours. “This,” he said, leaning in slowly.

Your breath hitched as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the three of you in the quiet night. You could feel the heat radiating from both of their bodies, the promise of something more lingering in the air.

Cregan's lips hovered just a whisper away from yours, his breath mingling with your own. Jace's hand slid from your back to your waist, pulling you closer to both of them. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation.

Just as Cregan's lips were about to meet yours, Jace's voice broke the silence, his tone deep and filled with longing. “We’ve waited long enough,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

The sudden sound of a door creaking open inside the villa shattered the moment. You all jumped back, the tension hanging in the air as the spell was broken. Cregan's eyes, still dark with desire, met yours, and then flicked to Jace's.

"We should probably check that out," Cregan said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. "Yeah, we should."

The three of you headed inside, the charged atmosphere lingered, the promise of what could have been hanging in the air.

As you three looked for the source of the noise throughout the house, there was a small noise coming from the kitchen. Meow.

It was a cat, that was the source what scared the living crap out of you. You pointed with your finger at the small creature, looking over at cregan and jace.

“It was a cat” you said with a slight distaste. It had ruined the whole moment. And you didn’t know when it could come again. Stupid cat.

⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫   ˑ

It was a beautiful summer day in at the beach, the sun shining brightly over the golden sands of the beach. You, Cregan, and Jace had decided to enjoy the warm weather and the serene beauty of the Mediterranean coast. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, mingling with the laughter of children and the distant hum of conversations. Though surprisingly there was no one around.

You had chosen a particularly revealing swimsuit for the occasion, a sleek, form-fitting piece that left little to the imagination. As you emerged from your beach hut, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over your curves, you could feel the eyes of your companions on you. Jace's gaze lingered over your body, and you noticed the way he subtly adjusted himself, trying to hide the growing bulge in his swim trunks. Cregan, standing beside him, chuckled softly at his friend's reaction, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Enjoying the view, Jace?" Cregan teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Jace blushed but didn't look away. "Can you blame me?" he muttered, his voice thick with admiration.

You walked over to them, a playful smile on your lips. "Are you two ready to hit the water?" you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Jace cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. "Absolutely."

The three of you made your way down to the water's edge, the hot sand shifting beneath your feet. The cool, refreshing waves lapped at your ankles as you stepped into the sea, the water a welcome relief from the heat of the sun.

You waded in deeper, the water rising to your waist, then your chest, until you were fully submerged, only your head and shoulders visible above the surface.

Cregan and Jace joined you, splashing and laughing as they played in the water. The sun glinted off their wet skin, highlighting the strong, lean muscles of their bodies. You couldn't help but admire them, the way they moved with such confidence and ease. As you swam and played, you could feel their eyes on you, a constant, heated presence that sent shivers down your spine despite the warmth of the water.

After a while, you all made your way back to the beach, lying down on the soft towels you had spread out on the sand. The sun beat down on you, warming your skin as you relaxed, feeling the tension melt away from your muscles. Cregan lay beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, while Jace stretched out on your other side, his arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

"How about some dessert?" Cregan suggested after a while, propping himself up on one elbow. "There's an ice cream stand just up the beach."

You nodded eagerly. "That sounds perfect."

The three of you made your way to the ice cream stand, the tantalizing smell of sweet, creamy treats filling the air. You browsed the selection, your eyes lighting up when you spotted your favorite flavor. You ordered a cone, the rich, velvety ice cream swirled high and topped with a cherry.

As you walked back to your spot on the beach, you couldn't help but notice the way Cregan and Jace watched you, their eyes dark with desire. You took a slow, deliberate lick of your ice cream, savoring the taste. The action was innocent enough, but the way you did it, the way your tongue flicked over the creamy surface, made it seem almost provocative.

Cregan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you, a predatory gleam in his gaze. You glanced over at Jace, who was staring at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building between the three of you, a palpable heat that had nothing to do with the sun.

Jace was the first to act, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck. His lips were warm and gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. You tilted your head to give him better access, your breath hitching as his kisses grew more passionate. His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin with a reverence that made you ache for more.

Cregan moved closer, his eyes locked on yours as he knelt in front of you. He began to kiss your thighs, his lips trailing a path of fire over your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hand tangling in his hair as he lifted one of your legs to his shoulder, his mouth working its way higher and higher until he reached the edge of your

The sensation was driving you insane, a delicious blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you trembling.

Cregan's grip tightened on your thigh as he began to lap at your core through the thin fabric, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot with expert precision. He hummed in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Meanwhile, Jace continued his assault on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he left love bites in his wake. His hands slid under your swimsuit, teasing and stroking your breasts until you were writhing between the two of them, lost in a sea of sensation.

Cregan's tongue worked its magic, his movements growing more urgent as he felt you getting closer to the edge. He sucked and licked with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on.

The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to sweep you away completely.

Jace's kisses became more frantic, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. He nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "Let go, love. We've got you."

And with that, you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body arching off the sand as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Cregan's tongue never stopped, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy until you were left trembling and spent.

As you came down from your high, Cregan and Jace held you close, their hands soothing and comforting as you caught your breath. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach.

The three of you lay there, tangled together in a blissful heap, the sound of the waves lulling you into a state of contentment.

Eventually, you sat up, feeling a bit dazed but incredibly happy. Cregan and Jace helped you to your feet, their hands gentle and protective. You glanced at them, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Best holiday ever," you said, your voice filled with genuine joy.

Cregan chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'd have to agree."

Jace grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Let's make sure we do this again."

And as the three of you walked back to your beach house, the sun dipping below the horizon, you were anticipating more.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @thornsandtulips @travelingmypassion @shoxji

banner: @cafekitsune

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

[literaila]

cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

*

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air. 

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long. 

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely. 

it's nice. easy. 

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow. 

and you feel that way now when the kids show up. 

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment). 

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them. 

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment. 

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency. 

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something. 

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face. 

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”  

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.” 

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst. 

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.” 

“he’s not sleeping.” 

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.” 

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?” 

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure. 

(you're sure. it's your fault.) 

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?” 

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.” 

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.” 

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.” 

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail. 

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.” 

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad." 

"sad?" 

"i think he's crying." 

megumi snorts. 

you blink at her. "are you serious?" 

she nods, sullenly. 

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler. 

there's really no winning here. 

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him." 

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while. 

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way). 

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care. 

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around. 

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it. 

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him. 

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response. 

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead. 

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair. 

(it's irritatingly soft). 

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying." 

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying." 

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today." 

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different. 

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again. 

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids." 

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks." 

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing. 

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed." 

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says. 

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?" 

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath." 

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty." 

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning." 

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast." 

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me." 

"well, i want to eat. get up." 

"go cook." 

"get up." 

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?" 

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them." 

"i was wrong." 

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile. 

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him. 

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty. 

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together. 

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him. 

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed). 

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?" 

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work." 

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap." 

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth." 

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact." 

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space." 

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back. 

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?" 

"yes." 

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember." 

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers. 

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning. 

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time. 

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick." 

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs." 

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck. 

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you. 

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes. 

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't." 

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies. 

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.  

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby." 

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working." 

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you." 

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there. 

"how are you feeling now, baby?" 

"smushed." 

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard. 

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru. 

"yes," he huffs, again. 

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow. 

work will have to wait. this is much more important. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[4pfsukuna]

Bed Peace

Debrief: Touch deprived and exhausted Terry always finds solace in your bed. Fluff

‘Curled up with my head on your chest is the best remedy for the pain and the stress’

The first thing you notice when your eyes open is that you aren't home alone. You don't move though, instead just listening to the sounds fluttering through your apartment before noticing it's the early hours of the morning right before the sun rises and the sky is that wicked purple color.

The morning breeze flutters through the room making the curtains rustle,  goosebumps raise slightly on your skin, the brown silk sheets not helping to keep you warm. You settle for closing your eyes letting your head sink further into the plush pillows, scarf somewhere on the floor.

It's when the bed dips slightly and you feel a pressure on your lower abdomen that you finally relax. Being on edge for weeks not knowing if he was okay or where he even was. It's when your hands come down to the nape of his neck playing with the hair there that he sighs heavily, finally wrapping his arms around your waist, fingers curling into you as if you're going to float away if he doesn't.

As if this is just a dream that he's going to wake up from and be back in training.

As if this a dream and he’ll go back to the nightmare his reality turned into.

“I'm here” you promised, squeezing his arm watching the large man visibly sigh, one arm falling to hang off the bed as he begins to doze off the fatigue of the past few days finally catching up to him. Fatigue from constantly running, moving, planning, executing… PACING.

Running your fingers down his spine, the nape of his neck, ears, sideburns and even his hair for what feels like minutes but is actually hours and in your own way this was your version of how he curled his fingers around you to really make sure he's there. Not that he minds between falling asleep and basking in your soft touch does he notice how touch starved he actually is. 

The next time he wakes up is only 2 hours later the sunlight dancing through the spaces in your blackout curtains flashing through his eyelids. The heat of the morning sun warming up the parts of his skin you weren't still rubbing, caressing and it eases him again though he hates he can't stay asleep past the sunrise.

“Sorry i forgot to close the curtains” you whisper, reaching for it not expecting his hand to grab yours placing it back on his neck his own way of saying he didn't mind… as long as you kept touching him.

And when he doesnt feel your hands moving on him he lifts his head green eyes looking unreal in the morning sun, fucking perfect. Flawless skin, pretty and thick lips… who was talking about who?

“Just say you wanted to see my eyes in the sun” he teases watching as you smile a small giggle erupting past your lips before he pulls the curtain closed this time laying on your chest. He's quick, wrapping and arm around you, his hand sliding up your shirt fully locking you in place and you aren't even sure who's holding who any more as you tangle your legs in his and that's when he really sighs.

It's like you were holding him down, keeping him grounded.

“Missed you” he murmurs into your neck inhaling your scent of strawberry vanilla unfamiliar since he was so used to your coconut scent. He keeps inhaling, holding you tight each time he does.

“Stop it” you giggle pushing him not that it does anything from how tight he's wrapped himself around you.

“You smell good” his morning voice rasp and it takes everything in you not to shudder. It's probably for the better if you couldn't see his eyes right now. And it's silent for a while. you almost think he dozed back off until—

“Really missed you” 

“You're safe with me, it's just us. You and me” you promise and it's your turn to squeeze him tight. 

“You can stay right here. Just lay right here. Everything is okay right here” you soothe running your hands down his cheeks over his broad shoulder feeling the gauze pad and then his spine— another gauze pad.

The sadness fills your heart for him and the way that THIS is the only thing he wants. The only thing he needs.

“You can stay right here” you squeeze tighter, pulling a soft groan from him as he nuzzles further into your chest.

“Just lay right here” your hand runs over his head caressing and stroking with your thumb his eyes closing and just focusing on your words and the feeling of your body against his.

“Everything is okay right here” you promise, leaving a kiss on his forehead running your hands over his hot skin once more before the two of you slowly doze off locked in another unable to move.

[iovebarca]

hello hello:) i love your fics! how about a fic where gavi and the reader go on vacation together (like the maledives) and just spend sunny days by the beach, relaxing in each others arms after a stressful season? maybe they go to a fancy dinner in the evenings or something like that, just fluff of a cute romantic couple on holiday:) thank youuu🫶🏼

Sun-Kissed Serenity - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: only 2 exams left! and i listened to the song SAND by SABA while writing this, such an underrated eurovision song!

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me

WC: 800 ish

Summary: In the serene paradise of the Maldives, Pablo and the reader find solace from the stresses of his football season with Barcelona.

send me requests! or just anything if you want to talk:))

The gentle lull of the turquoise waves washes over you as you recline on the pristine white sands of the Maldives, the sun painting golden hues across the horizon. Beside you, Pablo's presence is a comforting anchor, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders as you both bask in the warmth of each other's company.

It's been a long-awaited vacation—a much-needed respite from the whirlwind of stress and pressure that Pablo endured during the football season with Barcelona, compounded by the setback of his recent injury. But here, in this idyllic paradise, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to leave your worries behind and simply embrace the serenity of the moment.

"You know," Pablo murmurs, his voice soft with contentment, "I don't think I've ever felt more at peace than I do right now."

You turn to him with a gentle smile, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. "I'm glad we could escape here together," you say, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. "You deserve this, Pablo. You've worked so hard."

Pablo's expression softens at your words, gratitude shining in his eyes. "And having you here with me makes it all the more special," he replies, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

As the days unfold, you and Pablo spend your time lazily exploring the island, indulging in leisurely walks along the shoreline and exhilarating snorkeling adventures in the crystal-clear waters. Each evening, you dress up in your finest attire and venture out to enjoy romantic dinners under the stars, savoring the exquisite flavors of the Maldivian cuisine and the intimate moments shared between just the two of you.

But it's the quiet moments spent in each other's arms that you treasure the most—the whispered conversations beneath the canopy of palm trees, the stolen kisses as the sun dips below the horizon, the simple joy of being together in a world all your own.

Pablo had spent the afternoon building sandcastles on the beach. With childlike enthusiasm, Pablo had dug trenches and piled sand, his laughter echoing across the shoreline as he sculpted his masterpiece. He had created quite the castle, if you say so yourself.

"You're still a kid at heart, aren't you?" you teased, a fond smile playing on your lips as you watched him adding the finishing touches to his artwork.

Pablo looked up from his sandy creation, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, shut up," he retorted, a playful grin spreading across his face. "You know you love me."

And indeed, you did love him—with all your heart and soul. It was moments like these—simple, carefree, and filled with laughter—that made you fall deeper in love with him each and every day.

As the night falls over the Maldives, painting the sky in a canvas of deep blues and purples, Pablo suggests a spontaneous late-night swim beneath the shimmering moonlight. Eager for the adventure, you both slip into your swimsuits and make your way to the deserted stretch of beach.

The warm embrace of the ocean welcomes you as you wade into the gentle waves, the water cool and refreshing against your skin. Pablo's laughter rings out in the night air as he splashes you playfully, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Come on, mi amor," he urges, his smile infectious. "Race you to the buoy!"

With a playful grin, you accept the challenge, kicking off from the shore and propelling yourself through the water with all your might. Pablo's laughter fills your ears as he swims beside you, the thrill of competition mingling with the exhilarating rush of freedom.

But as you reach the buoy, the mood shifts, and the playful banter gives way to something deeper—a quiet intimacy that binds you together in the stillness of the night. You tread water side by side, the only sound the gentle rhythm of your breathing and the soft lapping of the waves against the shore.

In the moonlight, Pablo's features are illuminated with a soft glow, his eyes reflecting the depths of his love for you. Without a word, he reaches out, drawing you into his arms with a tenderness that steals your breath away.

And there, beneath the canopy of stars, you share a moment of pure magic—a moment that transcends time and space, a moment that speaks volumes without the need for words.

As you found yourselves immersed in the tranquil waters of the ocean, you couldn't help but reflect on the playful antics of earlier in the day. With Pablo by your side, every moment was an adventure, every memory a treasure to hold close to your heart.

[procyonloser]

The road was empty and dark, apart from the occasional lizard or snake out basking on the edges of the asphalt, warming up after a day of the sun beating it to shit. Adam only ever drove at night, if he could help it, because the summer weather had his ass sweatier than someone on the rag in shark infested waters. There stopped being street lights after awhile, in the middle of the open range, no point to it, not enough people, so Adam drove with his high beams bright enough they'd probably blind a small child.

Adam knew he was starting to get a bit tired, but what he wasn't expecting, was to see a figure illuminated in his lights, off to the left of the road. They looked small and pale, and Adam had heard tales of sex workers getting dumped out in the middle of the desert and left to die. He screeched his car to a halt, just past the person, and rolled down his window. He was a bit surprised to see it was a man, but he was still thin, short, and didn't look real capable. And, more startling, he had splatters of blood on his shirt.

"Fuck man, you good?" Adam asked, brows knit together. The figure walked up closer to the window, and blinked at him owlishly for a second.

"I'm fine, but my car broke down." He said, his voice a deeper tone than Adam expected to hear come out of his body. "I...hit a deer."

That explained the blood then, Adam thought to himself. Fuckin' mule deer were all over Arizona. "I'm headed up north, did you want a ride? Could drop you at the nearest mechanic, but it'll probably be a few hours."

He stared at Adam blankly for a second, before a sharp grin started to spread across his face, pulling too wide at the corners, and his canines seemed weirdly long. "I would appreciate it...?"

"Adam, my name is Adam." He answered, and unlocked the door so he could walk around and get in the passenger seat. The man sat down, and Adam could smell the metallic scent of blood all over him. "You like music? I blast it while I'm driving."

"I love music," the stranger answered, staring unwaveringly at Adam, to the point he was starting to wonder if he'd hit his head in the car accident. "Will you sing for me?"

Adam paused, revving the engine of his old truck. "...Sure? Where's your car, by the way, I can get the coordinates."

"Oh, it's fine. It wasn't mine anyway." He said with a light laugh, but it put Adam on edge.

"... You said you hit a deer, right?" Adam asked, fingers tightening a bit on the wheel. Something about the guy was starting to freak him out, even if he was likely a fourth of what Adam weighed, and about a foot shorter.

"Sure," he responded, still smiling. "A deer. Yes."

"O...kay... You're not hurt, right? That's a good amount of blood on you." Adam asked, slowly starting to roll back down the road.

"I'm fine," he responded instantly. "Can you take me wherever you're going instead?"

Adam hesitated. He didn't want to say no, the guy was starting to give him serial killer vibes, even if Adam couldn't see any weapons on him. "Yeah, sure. What's your name?"

"Lucifer." Oh, great, he was a serial killer and insane.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Not sure, feels like hundreds of years. It's good to finally be free."

[aynavaano]

Sunsets on Pabu

Old Hunter x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3k

Summary:

You spend a wonderful day at the beach with Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair. In the evening the two of them decide to join the rest of your family at Sheps for dinner while you and Hunter stay at the beach to watch the sunset together but Hunter decides to turn his attention to you instead.

Notes:

Tadaaa! It’s finally here. I let you vote between a soft and a rough version and the majority voted for soft and loving. So this is what you get first. Reader is married to Hunter, you live on Pabu together and he absolutely worships you, we have oral (f receiving) and unprotected sex. Kind of public sex but not really. It’s porn with very little plot, just a little fluff. Also Tech lives, because I will die on that hill. And don’t worry all Hunter girlies that like it rougher, you will get your fic next week. (Spoiler alert: Hunter bends you over the dining table)

As the day winds down and the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the beach, you find yourself grateful for the simple pleasures the island has to offer. You're dressed in your new cute bikini, that you let Hunter pick, feeling the warm sand between your toes as you stroll along the shore with him, Wrecker, and Crosshair. You spent the whole day at the beach together, swimming, basking in the sun and eating more Meiloorons than you probably should. The sound of the waves crashing against the beach is soothing, and you can't help but smile as you soak in the beauty of the moment. Unfortunately Tech can’t be bothered most of the time and only joins you for beach days when Omega pushes all his buttons and pulls the sweetest face on him, but you got used to it and instead often spend the evenings together at his and Phees place.

You hear Batcher barking in the distance before you even see Omega and Lyana approaching, making their way down from the town to let you know Shep invited everyone for dinner on his terrace. But despite the tempting invitation, you decline, having already decided you want to watch the sunset with Hunter. Wrecker and Crosshair however head off with the girls to enjoy Shep's famous cooking, leaving the two of you alone on the beach.

You watch them walking up the steep alley, Batcher happily running ahead and barking, while gathering your things and making your way further down the beach, seeking out a secluded spot, away from the houses, where you can enjoy the sunset in peace. The sand is still warm beneath your feet as you walk along the shore, hand in hand with your husband.

Finally, you find a spot that feels just right, a cove with a small patch of sand nestled between a few bigger rocks. You spread out your blanket and settle down beside each other.

Nestled in Hunter's arms, you watch as the sun paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink, orange and gold. It's a familiar sight on Pabu, one you've witnessed countless times before, but it never fails to take your breath away and with Hunter by your side, it always feels even more special.

"You sure you didn't want to go to Sheps for dinner?" you ask, snuggling closer to him.

"More than sure," he replies, his voice soft and warm against your ear. "It's not often that we get an evening just for us."

You smile up at him giving him a sweet kiss, his arms tightening around you protectively.

"They'll be fine," he reassures you. "Wrecker's probably already stuffed to the brim, like always, and complaining that he can’t fit more, and Omega's teaching Lyana new gambling tricks. And I'm sure Phee's doing her best to get Crosshair to open up, most likely with the help of her secret stash of Alderaan wine, while Tech is trying to argue that thats not the solution."

You smile at the thought of your friends enjoying themselves. Evenings on Sheps terrace are always a lot of fun, everyone’s together with good food and good talks but in this moment, all you care about is the feeling of Hunter's arms around you and the beauty of the sunset before you, as you lean in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, grateful for the love and warmth he brings into your life.

He pulls you closer to his chest, planting soft kisses on your lips, one of his hands tracing the curves of your body, gently caressing every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps wherever he touches you. You playfully shift around until you're straddling him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand moves to his cheek and you let your thumb brush lovingly against his greying beard.

"You're going to miss the sunset if you keep looking at me love," you murmur softly, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Well, then I guess it's good that the one thing I like looking at even more than sunsets is you," he replies with a smile, his eyes filled with adoration.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you lean in closer. "In that case …you know… I can make that view even better," you tease, your fingers tugging at the strings of your bikini top and with a swift motion, you unravel the top, casting it aside to expose your bare breasts.

He instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, burying his face between your soft breasts with a contented sigh. His beard tickles slightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

He carefully begins to lick and gently nibble on your hardening nipples, getting a few soft moans from you in response. His hands roam over your breasts, cupping them with just the right amount of pressure as he looks up at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Sometimes I still wonder how I got so lucky to have you," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.

You chuckle softly and reach behind him, pulling on the back of his bandana to release his hair, which cascades over his shoulders in soft waves. You marvel at how long it has grown since you first started dating, admiring the subtle streaks of grey that have begun to appear over time.

With a gentle push, he guides you to lay on your back, positioning himself over you.

"If we're going to miss the sunset, we might as well make it worth it," he grins, his lips trailing kisses all over your body leaving a line of fire in their wake.

He takes his time, savoring every inch as he carefully removes your swim bottoms. Each touch is deliberate and full of love, each caress sending shivers of anticipation through your body, heat already pooling between your legs.

"Let me make take care of you my love," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, turning his attention to your core, already yearning for his touch

He kisses along your inner thighs, his breath warm against your skin as he moves closer to your center. When his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, a low moan escapes your lips and you arch into his touch. He quickly wraps his arms around your tights to keep you from moving and to hold you flush against his face.

"Oh, Hunter," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to tease and lick. His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of heat radiating through you.

"You feel so good cyare," he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "I could do this all night."

He slowly increases the intensity of his licks and kisses and when he starts sucking your clit you are already a whimpering mess in his arms.

“You want my fingers?” he asks looking up at you.

Your only response is a desperate moan, the words lost in a haze of pleasure as he pushes you ever closer to the edge with his tongue but he doesn’t need to hear you, after all these years he knows exactly what you like.

He slowly slides first one then a second finger into you without any resistance, your pussy practically dripping for him and when he begins to thrust into you slowly you can feel the tension building in your core, the familiar coil of desire tightening with each stroke of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

“Oh fuck…Hunter…feels…so good” you moan,

“Mmmhm…don’t hold back love” he groans before he descends down on your clit, mercilessly sucking it into his mouth until your body begins to writhe under his touch.

“M…m close” is all you can get out between your whimpers and mewls, his fingers pushing into you with an intensity that leaves you unable to have any coherent thoughts.

"Come for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your core as he curls his fingers up to find that extra sweet spot, the one that makes you see stars, driving you higher and higher until you're teetering on the brink.

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter beneath him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you ride out the storm of your release on his fingers, you pussy clenching hard around him. You’re a whining and panting mess, it’s crazy what he can do to you only with his mouth and his fingers.

When you slowly come down from your high he carefully slides out of you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace and your body starts relaxing against him. Hunter's lips find yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to cup your face as he gazes at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. His eyes are filled with love and tenderness, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"You're so beautiful when you come on my fingers," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he gazes at you with adoration, peppering your face with soft kisses. “I’ll never get tired watching you like that, it’s divine.”

You smile up at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude pulling him close, cherishing the moment and the man who means everything to you.

You wrap your legs around him, feeling his hardened length pressing against your thigh, your hunger for him in not yet sated and you eagerly wiggle around reaching down to free his cock.

“Can’t get enough, hm?” he chuckles.

"Mhm, help me take these off," you whisper, tucking at the hem of his swim shorts.

He quickly cast his shorts aside and crawls back over you, leaning in to kiss you, propped up on his elbows. You love how his body changed over the years, it got slightly softer as he let go of the hardships and battles, but lost not a single bit of his strength.

“I want to feel you inside me” you whisper desire lacing your words when his beautiful rock hard cock is finally freed from its confinement.

You reach down to stroke him, his lips grazing your neck, whispering sweet words of adoration and when you feel the precum already leaking from his tip you shiver with delight.

"Would you ride me a bit?" he asks softly, his voice a tender whisper against your skin.

"Who am I to deny you that wish?" you respond with a loving glint in your eye.

He rolls onto his back, effortlessly pulling you on top of him, his hands holding onto your hips, helping you to straddle him.

"Come here," he whispers, his eyes ablaze with desire, pupils blown wide, as you position yourself, sliding up and down his length, spreading your wetness all over him, before lining him up at your entrance.

With the last rays of the setting sun casting a reddish pink glow on your skin, you slowly sink down on his cock, until he bottoms out, relishing the sensation of being filled by him once more.

You both moan, taking a moment to fully enjoy it. You’ve been together for years but the sensation of taking him in completely, feeling yourself stretch around him, is still as good as it was the first time.

"Oh Hunter, you feel so good," you moan, steadying yourself against his chest.

You slowly begin moving up and down his length, relishing the sensation of being so full, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a desire within you that only he can still.

As you bounce up and down on his cock, your hair cascades in loose waves around your shoulders, still slightly damp from your last swim and your beautiful breasts bounce with every movement, drawing his gaze like a moth to a flame.

"I love you so much" he whispers, his voice filled with devotion, reveling in the sight of you on top of him, his eyes tracing every curve of your body illuminated by the dying sun. In this moment, he feels like the luckiest man in the galaxy, blessed to have you in his arms. Unable to resist, his hands come up to cup your breasts, his thumbs trailing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

"I'll take it from here," he whispers huskily, his voice heavy with desire as he gently but hungrily pushes you onto your back, with ease, positioning himself between your legs and slowly starts thrusting into you. Taking your legs up over his shoulders, he picks up the pace, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As he plunges into you with increasing fervor, you become a moaning, whining mess beneath him, lost in the throes of passion. Fortunately, the waves crashing on the nearby rocks dim everything around, preventing your lewd sounds and the squelching of your soaking wet pussy from traveling too far up to the village.

"Hunter, I'm close," you gasp, your voice trembling with need. "Come with me?" You ask him, your eyes locking with his as you plead for release.

He lets go of your legs and comes down over you, propped up on his elbows, his hair cascading around your faces like a veil. With a deep, passionate kiss, he whispers against your lips,

"Cum for me, let me feel that beautiful pussy clenching around my cock" his words send shivers down your spine and when he thrusts deeper, his tip pushing against your cervix, just the way he knows you like it, you feel your body responding eagerly to him.

“Oh…fuck..Hunter”

It takes only a few more of these deep, powerful thrusts until you feel your pussy clenching down on him, the tension in your core reaching its breaking point. With a lewd moan, the delicious heat begins pulsing through your entire body and you're consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He follows you almost immediately. Before the first wave of ecstasy fully washes over you, you feel him harden even more, his rhythm becoming sloppy and his arousal driving him to the brink.

With one final, deep thrust, he releases himself inside you, filling you up with his hot seed. You feel a surge of warmth as he gasps, his body crashing down against yours, his lips seeking yours in a deep, soulful kiss. In that moment, the world fades away, your mind goes completely blank, all sounds dim around you, leaving only the sensation of your orgasm pulsing through your body and the feeling of his hot skin against yours.

You bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasm, his forehead resting against yours, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. Your bodies are sweaty and you’re panting when you slowly come back to yourselves, the sounds and view of the surroundings returning to your senses.

He leans in to kiss you, his lips conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. With a soft whisper, he murmurs sweet, loving words that warm your heart and soul.

You revel in the feeling of you bodies pressed together and when his softening cock slowly slides out of you, you feel his cum oozing from your core dripping down into the sand.

“I know you like walking around with my cum leaking out of you, but we should get you cleaned up love”

“Mhm…can’t think…n…can’t walk…Cross took…took all our towels back home” you mumble, completely blissed out and cock dumb.

“Let me take care of you riduur, like I always do” he whispers, looking down at your flushed face and your silly smile with pure love and adoration before he scoops you up into his arms.

You know what he’s about to do. He always carries you into the ocean whenever you have sex on the beach and you love it almost as much as being fucked into oblivion by him.

The water on Pabu is always warm, enveloping you in its soothing embrace as he wades into its depths and you cling to him, your legs wrapped around his waist, exchanging tender kisses as the gentle waves rock you back and forth.

As you float together, you trace the lines of his tattoo on his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his beard before trailing down his chest. You let your hands rest there, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you nestle your head in the crook of his neck, his long locks tickling your face in the gentle breeze. In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of the ocean and the tenderness of his embrace, you feel truly at peace.

The sun has set completely when you reluctantly emerge from the water and the cool evening breeze sends shivers down your spine. You quickly make your way to your beach blanket and lie down, the chill of the night air causing your teeth to chatter. Hunter pulls you close, wrapping you tightly in his embrace. With gentle hands, he drapes his soft knit cardigan around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth until the trembling subsides.

Nestled against his chest, you watch in awe as more and more stars begin to appear in the night sky, their twinkling lights casting a soft glow over the beach. With each passing moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you alone in the embrace of the night. In this tranquil moment, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by the beauty of the starlit sky, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over you that he is able to live this soft and gentle live here on Pabu and that he chose you to be part of it.

“Let’s go home” he whispers “before you start freezing again. And I’m sure Omega got us some leftovers from Shep”

You chuckle.

“Then we better get home before Wrecker finds them”

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

comforting him

(cw: age gap 25/41; nightterrors, scars from injury, könig is having a shitty day, smoking, a bit of angst maybe, smut nsfw, mdni 18+)

the part before: going for a walk

It isn’t always fun and games, like the first time König had nightterrors while I was sleeping next to him.

The scream that woke me up. My disorientation until I knew what’s going on. His big body shaking next to mine. His arms trying to hold onto something. That something being me. And I talked to him, trying to get him grounded in reality again. Soft words, whatever came to mind.

After a while he calmed down, but he didn’t want to talk about it, which is… understandable.

And it happened again today, his pained shouts pulling me from my sleep. My smaller body hanging onto his bigger, trembling one, almost shoving me off me him when he snaps out of it.

I have to tell him at least five times that I’m okay, that he didn’t hurt me at all, that nothing happened to me. And even then, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

We both don’t sleep the rest of the night. Just sitting in the living room, listening to music. I get up every time to change the vinyl or flip it to the B-side, then snuggling back into his lap.

He looks exhausted and I just want to take his discomfort away, but I don’t know how. So I just resort to softly stroking over his shoulders and back, calming him like that.

I try not to see the scars that adorn his body, cutting through the tattoos here and there. Sometimes destroying the motive that already was there. Sometimes seeming like they were worked into the design because they already were there before. My hands caress over his warm skin, trying not to linger too long in one spot. To not think about all the injuries, or about him going on another mission. Probably sooner than later.

He always holds me close to him when I sit on his lap. Just tonight it feels a little bit more like he’s holding onto me not the other way around. Not to slip away.

In the morning, I go to work, König slipping back under the covers while I get dressed.

"Get some more rest, hm?", I tell him, caressing over his cheek before giving it a little kiss. "If you can." I don't know what else to say.

He just looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes. For once looking his age – or even older.

He grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles, grunting softly instead of an answer. I press his fingers before slipping out of his hold and leaving the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

I drive myself to work, yawning a little more than usually while answering emails, getting myself an extra coffee. My mind coming back to him every so often, sighing. Remembering the panic on his face, the empty look in his eyes afterwards. Cut off, inwardly suffering, silent.

When I return home, looking to hug the big guy and give him a big kiss, ask him how he is doing, he is nowhere to be found.

"König?" I call out.

Where is he? I check all the rooms, kitchen and living room at first. There isn't a trace of him, no food cooking on the stove, his glasses set aside next to the book he's currently reading.

Mimi is sleeping on the couch, the little kitty basking in the sun that is falling in through the window.

I think for a moment, almost running upstairs, but no. He wouldn't be up there, he doesn't use the office and I can't hear the shower. So I head downstairs, to the home gym. Usually, he works out while I'm at work, already showered and fresh when I return. But I don't know where else he would be. He surely would have texted me if he had gone out.

I crack the door open a little, peaking my head in. And there he is, wrecking the punching bag that's hanging from the ceiling.

Thud thud thud.

Thwack.

His fists hitting the leather repeatedly, before smacking the palm into it.

The headset is sitting fast on his head, his hair loosely tied together. His shorts tight around his thighs, his muscle shirt sweaty like the rest of him. And I try to ignore how good he looks like that.

His movements come to a halt, seeing me in the corners of his eyes, only doing a half-turn in my direction.

"Hey, how are yo-", I start, but he interrupts me, pushing one of the headphones back.

"What?", he says, louder than necessary and the impatience in his voice startles me.

"I was just-", I repeat, but the look on his face shuts me up as he finally meets my gaze. I feel like I'm intruding, disturbing him when I shouldn't be, and for a moment I don't even know what to say. Startled.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

My mouth drops open, hoping the right words come out, but they don't. The way he looks at me... I can't deal with. The simmering anger, the arrogance the way his chin tilts up, the brows more furrowed than I've ever seen them before.

I shake my head, breaking the eye contact for a moment, just to get away from his stare. "Uh, just- I'm sorry for disturbing you.", I finally press out, slipping back, heading out the room again.

Before I turn around, I see the anger on his face dissipate into frustration and something else I can't put my finger on it.

I rush out the door and up to living room, pacing around until Mimi comes up to me, and I pick the kitty up. Snuggling the little furball. Contemplating if it might be better to pack up my stuff. Give him his space.

I shake my head. No, that would be shitty too. Running away because he has a shitty day.

I sigh. I feared that something like that might happen when I was hesitant to go stay with him. And it's not like he shouldn't be allowed to have shitty days. I just don't really know what to do about them. Yet.

I hear steps, heavy thuds on the stairs, coming to a halt, and I turn to look.

He just stands there, on the top stair, almost hitting his head on the staircase above. The headphones around his neck, his hair falling down into his face. Just looking at me, his arms hanging to his sides, his shoulders slumped down. The distance between us too great, but he doesn't dare come closer.

"I'm sorry, Liebes.", he says, his voice hoarse, the words quieter than I would have thought. Defeat and apology in his expression.

I just stand there, looking at him. I mean, I knew he had troubles. The self-imposed lonesomeness. And I'm not talking about staying home a lot, preferring to be by himself. The stuff about his work that he doesn't want to talk about. The nightterrors, just like today. I don't fully believe him when he says, he doesn't have them often.

The scowl on his face when he thinks I'm not looking. The simmering anger that's seemingly always there. Directed at himself rather than the people around him. Well, most of the time at least.

"It's okay.", I finally say.

He shakes his head, making a step forward, just a small one. "It's not." He sighs. "I'm usually better at hiding... it." Another step. "I'm not angry with you, I swear."

I sigh too. I knew that but apparently, I still needed to hear him say it. A soft sad smile stalks onto my face as I come closer until I'm standing before him.

"You shouldn't need to hide it.", I say, snuggling into his chest, pressing myself against him, still holding Mimi.

He closes his arms around me, embracing us both. He's sweaty, but I don't care right now. I need this closeness.

"You're here because I broke your bed, not to babysit a manchild.", he says flatly, but the edge in his words jabbing at himself is still obvious. And I don't want to point out the flaws in them. I’m not here because he broke my bed. This isn't at all what this is about, but he still seems to be in whatever spiral he was just moments ago.

"I'm not.", I answer. "Something is troubling you, that doesn't make you a child nor does me asking you about it make me a babysitter." He doesn't say anything, his arms only hugging me a little tighter. "So... You wanna talk about it?", I ask.

I can feel him hesitate and then shake his head. "No, I'm..." He breaks off. "I just have to deal with it, okay?" He softly strokes over my hair. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I still do.", I say, softly, finally looking back up at him. I can't stand the defeated look on his face. He averts his eyes, hugging me closer.

And we just stand here in the living room. The three of us in a hug, only our soft breaths cutting through the silence.

Before he breaks it. "I actually got the information on the next mission.", he says, his voice steadier now.

I perk up. "And?"

"I'm leaving next week.", he answers.

I swallow, hard. "Which day?", I want to know, so I can count the days.

"Wednesday." So six days, including today. Shit.

"Okay." I press myself into him, Mimi still in between, and she meows. Tearing me from my dwindling thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby.", I coo, pressing a kiss to her head, and she meows again, freeing herself from my hold, jumping down to the floor.

He takes the chance to pull me flush against him. "Me too.", he mumbles into my hair.

My arms wrap around his waist, my hands stroking down his back. Hugging him back, thinking about what to do.

If he doesn't wanna talk about it, then maybe a distraction will help ease his mind. Or at least take his mind off things. And mine too, now that I know he’ll be leaving.

"Some, uh, friends of mine asked if I wanna go out for some drinks.", I start. "We could join them if you want to." The tips of my fingers brushing over his lower back. "We can also stay home, of course, you know – whatever you prefer. But they actually wanted to go to the pub where we met." I smile up at him, remembering that moment when he got my attention with a simple compliment of my bandshirt.

"That..." He hesitates, but returns the smile then, although meekly. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

I get onto my tiptoes to finally get the kiss I came looking for earlier. He meets me halfway, kissing me, and the way his lips feel against mine sets me a little more at ease.

"Shower first?", he says then, his eyes intently on mine.

"Yes, stinky.", I quip which makes him laugh a little before I pull him with me up the stairs.

I hear him sigh behind me, a deep defeated tone, and I stop in my tracks again, but he just lifts me and carries me to the bathroom.

After the shower he looks refreshed, in a fresh band shirt and his favorite pair of cargo pants. Smelling like his usual shampoo, and he even put on a little bit of aftershave.

He's looking a bit more like himself. Especially when he puts on his leatherjacket, flicking his hair back with a trained move of his arm, so it isn't stuck in the collar, but falls down his shoulders.

The frown on his face is still a little more etched in than usually. It lightens up a bit when we sing along to Slipknot's "Before I forget" on the drive to the pub, and even more so when we join my friends there.

After the general introductions we get some drinks and settle down at the table. My hand in his, underneath the tabletop.

"Can I try? Just a sip." He points at my drink, an orangy-red liquid, more sweet than sour.

I pull one eyebrow up. "Sure, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

But he already took my glass and gulps half of it down.

My jaw drops. "You said just a sip!", I complain, loudly.

He smiles at me, a lop-sided apology, the smile that never lets me be mad at him, before his face contorts into a grimace. "You were right, I don't like it.", he comments.

The nerve. He sees my exasperated expression and laughs. His big hand grabs the back of my head and he pulls me in to press a big kiss to my cheek, and the public display of affection makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my exaggerated exasperation disappear.

"I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he says, pulling away, getting up and heading to the bar.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. Looking after him, my eyes are panning from his broad shoulders down his back until they land on his tight ass as his hips sway. Blatantly ogling him, but I can't help it.

Robin’s hand on my forearms pulls my attention to them, and they start to tell me about their newest obsession: little, tiny octopuses. They’re showing me pictures and videos of the cute and small creatures when König gets back. He sets the new drink onto the table in front of me, I glance at him, mouthing 'thank you'. And he just winks.

It doesn't take long until he joins the conversation with the younger guys at the table which quickly turns into a trip to the billiard table. And my friends come in all shapes and sizes, still König towers over all of them. His tall stature bending down over the side of the table to line up the ball, sinking it in the right hole with precision. He is an insertion specialist after all.

Robin and I are laughing and giggling, making the stupid jokes we always do, and I’ve almost forgotten about the troubles today, getting myself another drink.

I look over to the guys again and König’s talking to Dan. Bits and pieces I pick up are telling me that they're talking about some soccer teams and matches. I grin to myself because I know how glad Dan must be that he finally got someone around who's interested in that, because none of us are.

He catches me staring at him, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. I blow him a little kiss before I take my jacket and head out the front door for a smoke.

Moments later, the door behind me croaks and I turn around. The big guy is standing in the entryway, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“You smoke?” His deep voice fills the silence of the breezy night.

I sigh, juggling the bag of tobacco, rolling papers and filters in my hands. “Used to, but sometimes when I’m out with friends… or stressed… I still go for a smoke.”, I answer, a wry apologetic smile stalking onto my face.

He nods like he understands, putting his hand in his pocket, leaning beside me on the wall. A simple gesture, but when it comes to him, I find even the most minute of movements hot.

“Me too, especially when I’m at work… or having one of those days. Like today.”, he says, the smile turning lop-sided, and after a pause adds: “So… Can I have one as well?”

I chuckle, hiding my slight surprise. “Sure. Should I or do you know how to roll one?”, I ask in return.

His extended hand, the palm turned up, and a little tilt of his head are his only answer. I hand him a filter and a rolling paper with some tobacco, getting myself the same items before I put the tobacco baggie back into my purse.

When I turn to him again, my attention gets pulled in by his hands that softly take the little paper, putting the filter on the right side, pushing some of the tobacco in. Taking it between his middlefingers and thumbs, rolling it up in a swift trained motion. The ease with which he does it is impressive, even more so considering how tiny the cigarette is compared to his hands.

Then he lifts it to his mouth, his tongue darting out, licking over the paper in one swift go, to make it stick.

My eyes go wide, my breath halts in my throat, and I have to remember myself that I need to breathe.

He sees my expression which pulls a laugh from him. “Never thought you’d be jealous of a cigarette, hm?”

That pulls me from my trance, I laugh and playfully smack his arm. “Oh, stop it.” I shoot him a look, my eyes sparkling at him while I tease: “I know, I’ll be getting that as soon as we come home.”

He lights his cigarette with the zippo he always carries in the right outer pocket of his cargo pants, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into the air. “Don’t you know it.”, he says, the devilish smirk coming out. His hand drops down, pinching my butt playfully, and I yelp a little bit, almost dropping my unrolled cigarette.

“König!” But he just grins down at me.

Then I finally manage to roll it, stick the filter end between my lips and search for my lighter.

“Here, let me.”, he says, holding out the zippo in front of my face, the clank of metal and then the familiar snap, before a little flame burns at the top.

I shoot him a thankful look and lean forward until the flame catches on and the cigarette burns. I take the first drag, inhaling it deeply.

He puts the lighter away again, and I fall against him, resting my head against his chest while his arm drops around me, pulling me into him. Sharing this moment together while we smoke our cigarettes.

“To think that this all started because I complimented you on your shirt…”, he says, seeming a little bit caught up.

I laugh, the light sound getting carried away into the quiet night sky. “Is a little crazy, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

We fall silent, puffs of smoke inhaled and exhaled. Soft noises from inside the bar making it less quiet. The air around us is thick with things we don’t say.

I think, I like you more than I ever thought I would.

I might even be falling in love with you.

And that scares me.

We excuse ourselves a little early because honestly, I'm tired from not having slept all that much tonight, and the few drinks I had made me a little tipsy. And he kind of promised to eat me out when we get home.

We get to the car and – as so often – he opens the door for me. I smile at him and climb into the seat, but he steals another kiss. One that has me panting a little harder. He pulls away and rounds the car to get into the driver side.

I sit back, turning on the music as he starts driving.

Looking at him. The streetlamps light up his face every so often, casting the one side in shadows.

Wondering what might be going on in his head, the stoic expression not giving anything away.

Whatever went on in his mind today seems forgotten about, he seems like his usual self again. But maybe he’s just hiding it? Or it helped going outside for once, and I ask myself if maybe the time we first met, he also went out to distract himself.

And I don’t even know why, but my heart starts hurting a bit.

How is it like when he is alone at home? Does he talk to nobody?

“What is it?”, he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

I look away and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know that it’s never nothing.”, he says with a little sigh, an understanding smile on his face.

“Just thinking.”, I say plainly.

The smile gets a little wider. “Hmm, thinking, that’s a dangerous thing.”, he says, sounding earnest and joking at the same time.

The corners of my mouth tilt up, of their own volition. “It is.”

His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, and the little gesture soothes me. Pushing the thoughts away as I relax into the leather seat.

His thumb grazes over the sensitive inside of my thigh, and I shoot him a look. The small grin is the only hint that he’s doing it on purpose, only getting wider as he brushes further up until his hand is between my thighs. My fingers clasp over his, but I don’t pull them away. Shamelessly grinding against the palm, relishing the delicious friction and paying him back for his cheeky move. Now it's his turn to shoot me a look.

The sleepiness is almost forgotten about, and the slight tipsiness does nothing but make me even hotter and hornier.

Parking the Mercedes at his usual spot in the garage, he cuts off the engine and I jump out the car before he can even get out and open the door for me.

I take a few steps back, biting my lip, trying to hide the grin that stalks onto my face as he makes his way around the car. His gaze is on me, looking at me from under his brows, unbridled desire in his eyes.

His broad shoulders seem even wider with his signature leatherjacket, his hair moves, the long strands falling down his shoulders, while he comes closer with long strides until his boots bump into my converse and his arms close around me. He almost towers over me, leaning me back in his embrace. His lips crash into mine while my hands grab him, trying to get even closer to him.

We don't say anything, but I can feel the simmering intensity as he deepens the kiss and picks me up, making the last few steps into the house. My legs close around his waist when he pushes through the door, and we're both not breaking the kiss, desperate for more.

I think back to the first time we hooked up, how he carried me upstairs to my flat. How the anticipation and excitement simmered in my veins back then, and his touches still consume me and make me wanna devour him, but it has become so familiar at the same time. How his fingers press into my thighs, grabbing the soft pillows. How his nose nudges against mine when we kiss. How he swallows up the soft noises I make, tasting every single one of them. His chest against mine, the plane of muscles warm and pillowy.

His scent, his taste. How the long strands of his hair feel as I run my fingers through them.

He sets me down on the dresser in the hallway, pulling my shoes off, kicking his boots away and getting rid of the leatherjacket. He doesn't have to say it, I know what he wants, and pop the button on my pants, lower the zipper. His hands grab the waistband, helping me get it off. My pants and panties fall to the floor before he drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on my pussy as he spreads my legs and places them over his broad shoulders.

He pushes his hair out of his face and dives in, his mouth pressing against my lips, and I moan as his tongue darts out and licks me for the first time.

My hands hold onto the surface beneath me, my body slumping back into the wall, the sensation of the cold brick against my shoulders,while he starts to eat me out. Soft groans and mewls drop from his lips, getting lost in the slick and warmth. His lids are closed, his lashes adorning his cheeks, seeming almost solemn. The stern expression he usually wears on his face nowhere to be found, the frustration that was plaguing him today slowly dissipated throughout the evening and I can't find any of it left in his eyes when he looks up at me. Finding mine, holding the gaze.

His nose is buried in the soft curls as his mouth closes around my clit, sucking, licking over it with his flat tongue, coaxing moan after moan from me.

My hands dart out, the one grabbing his fingers that press into my thigh, the other caressing down the side of his face.

"Fuck, can't get enough of you.", he breathes, licking me again. Lapping up the wetness, desperately tasting me.

My eyes turn up, breaking the eye contact, my thighs are starting to shake and I come on his tongue. His hands are steadying me, so I don't fall off the dresser, my body writhing, my head pressing against the hard wall behind me. My moans resound in the small space around us, the stimulation making me lose my mind.

He doesn't stop until I grab his hair, pulling him up to me. He grunts, reluctantly breaking away from my pussy, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss that I answer with the same frenzy. Tasting myself on his lips.

He hastily unbuckles his belt, freeing his erection that has been straining against the zipper, hard, the tip smeared with pre-cum. Breaking the kiss to look down between our bodies. He grabs himself by the base, slowly dragging it over my pussy. Finding the entrance and dipping into the wetness.

His eyes are intently on mine, my mouth falling open as he stretches me, my eyebrows turning up. His jaw drops, his expression mirroring mine.

He's so close, our panting breaths intermingling. A choked moan rising up my throat when he fills me, the tip pressing up against my cervix.

My legs close around his waist, pulling him closer. He lifts me off the dresser, but we don't get far as he presses me up against the wall, steadying me with his arms. Fucking into me, his hips pushing forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", he curses, the desperation in his voice sending a pang of need between my thighs.

I hold onto his shoulders, my back pressed against the wall behind me, meeting his movements.

"So tight, Liebes.", he grunts. "Driving me crazy."

A little laugh shakes me before him bottoming me out makes me moan again. "What should I say, huh?", I shoot back, teasing him.

He halts and captures my face between his thumb and pointer. "Oh, but you always take me so well.", he tells me, knowing what those words do to me. And they don’t miss their impact.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingle running down my spine. “Fitting together like two puzzle pieces.”, I joke, which pulls a deep hearty laugh from his throat.

“Well put.”, he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hoists me up again, making our way to the bedroom. His dick moving inside me with every single one of his steps, and I sigh as I snuggle into the crook of his neck.

He slips out of me and almost throws me down into the mattress, quickly getting off his clothes, and I pull my shirt above my head, fully naked now. I lie down, my belly against the sheets.

The mattress dips down as he drapes his body over me, his warm skin against mine. I look back at him, propping myself up on my forearms. Inviting him in, and the hurry drops away again.

He brushes my hair out the way, looking into my eyes, as his dick slides between my thighs. My mouth falls open, little panting breaths dropping from my lips, when he drags him himself back and forth, his length pressing against my slick pussy.

He slips into me, filling me up again, and I relish the feeling, familiar but still intense every time. He pulls me up, his hand grabbing the back of my head, kissing me. His lips softly against mine as he backs off and presses into me again. Slowly, savouring how I take every inch, until he's fully seated inside me. Rolling his hips, almost lazily.

Soft, so soft.

“Feels so good.”, I mumble into the kiss, thrusting my ass back, meeting his languid strokes.

Losing myself in the hazy pleasure, the slow and sweet fuck. Moving in unison until his hips are rutting forward, stuttering, as he loses the rhythm. Still kissing me while he comes inside me.

"Ngh, Liebes...", he grunts against my lips, pushing in one last time, slumping down on me, and I feel his weight on me for a moment.

I cradle his face, my thumb coasting over his jaw, wiping away a drop of sweat. His panting breaths fill the room, and I can't help but smile. Pressing another kiss to his lips, a small sweet one.

It seems to stir him awake and he doesn't stay slumped over me, propping himself up on his hands again, smirking down at me.

He pushes into me again, my mouth shaping into an O, my eyebrows turning up, and I can feel the wetness seep out of me as his dick fills me up again.

The question on my face must be clear when I crane my neck to look up at him.

"Didn't think it was over, did you?", he drawls, starting to fuck me harder. "You can give me one more, Hexe."

"Oh fuck.", I mumble as his hips snap forward, colliding with my ass. I hold onto his arm, steadying myself, my nails burying into his muscly forearms.

I remember how he was careful with me at first, afraid to break me. How he doesn't have such reservations anymore. Thrusting into me at an almost punishing pace. Trusting that I would use my safeword if it in fact was too much.

And I remember how I imagined how fucking him must be before we did it for the first time, and how it compares to reality.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy.

Grabbing my hips, positioning me to fuck me even deeper. Sliding in and out of me, bottoming me out which pulls whimpers from me every time. Making me lose my mind quickly.

His hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly.

“Good girl, oh fuck.”, he praises me. “Taking me so well…” He lets go of me, his hand coming down on my butt, and I cry out at the sting.

Alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

My hands are fisting the sheets beneath me, and my eyes are rolling back, lewd sounds getting pulled from my throat, as he plunges his dick into me again and again.

"Fuck, König...", I sigh, his name getting swallowed up when my face gets pushed into the sheets again.

"Say it again.", he grunts, but the hard thrusts of his hips unintentionally shut me up as he leans forward again, pressing me into the mattress. "Need to hear you say it, Liebes."

And I do say his name as I come once again, the sounds turning into uncontrollable moans, and he is not stopping until I'm a writhing shivering mess beneath him and he is pressing sweet kisses to my face again.

He pulls me with him as he rolls off me, bringing my body close to his until I'm draped over him. Basking in the afterglow, pressing myself up against his warm chest, our heavy breaths intermingling.

I remember how we joked about him keeping up, him making a comment about how I should be concerned to keep up with him, and most of the time he's right, but seeing him a little out of breath after we just had sex. Just like right now. It makes me feel all kinds of things. Deliciously dirty and heartwarmingly fluffy ones.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm feeling so sleepy.", I mumble into a yawn. The sleepiness caught up and is taking over me now.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arms engulfing me. "That's okay, Liebes, just sleep.", he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to his pillowy chest.

"G'night..."

"Gute Nacht."

~ more in the Masterlist ~

[sarahscribbles]

What if you did a summer fic where it started out really fluffy where Loki and reader go to the pool or lake, but then the reader pushes Loki in and it’s just like playful fight and then they have pool or lake sex 💀

I meant this to be super smutty but these fools had their own idea and it's smuffy instead! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This probably has the most anti-climatic ending every and I'm sorry! 😅

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟓𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There are many things you dislike about Tony Stark. 

You dislike his arrogance that’s barely mellowed a fraction with age. You dislike how he refuses to back down in an argument, even when it’s painfully clear to everyone else that he’s wrong. You dislike the way he makes his hot chocolate with water and has the nerve to call it “the real thing.”

But one thing you adore about him is his generosity. 

It’s because of Tony that you can feel a warm afternoon breeze gently caressing your bare skin. It’s, thankfully, not unbearably hot. Instead, it provides just the perfect amount of relief against the mid morning sun that’s making the Pacific Ocean glitter invitingly before you. The breeze brings with it the fragrant scent of the manicured garden just down below, and you can’t help but close your eyes to breathe it in. There are traces of orange and vanilla perfuming the air, along with something spicy that you’ve failed to discern after two days. 

It’s a strange combination of scents, yet somehow it works. It reminds you that you’re a million miles away from New York and everything that comes with it. 

You aren’t going to be called to any ridiculously early training sessions with Rogers, or asked to help break up whatever pissing contest Thor and Tony have going on. For two weeks - two glorious weeks - you’re just a normal person celebrating her anniversary with the love of her life. 

Only you’re doing so on a private island in Mexico that you flew to on Tony Stark’s private jet. 

This was his gift to you and Loki - two uninterrupted weeks together to just be a normal couple. You’re still not sure how you can ever thank him, not that he’ll expect you to. 

It’s one of the best things about him, though you’ll never say it to his face. His ego, after all, is big enough. 

“This place suits you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.” Your lover’s voice, sweet as honey, drifts across the room. Even after three years together, it still makes tiny butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You turn to see Loki strolling easily through the wide open space of Tony’s beach house. He looks as regal and elegant as ever, even wearing a slouchy pair of grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips. You appreciate that he’s forgone a shirt, choosing instead to flaunt his chiseled chest and the faint red scratch marks still adorning it.

The patchwork of lovebites on his neck, though, isn’t so subtle. Not that you mind - you want everyone and their mother to know that this man is yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed,” you reply, basking in the feel of his strong arms looping around your waist. You breathe in the scent of him, letting it wrap itself around you like a safety blanket. 

It’s Loki. It’s home.

He pulls you back tighter against his bare chest, continuing to loop his arms around you in such a way that you know nothing in the world could ever hurt you, and you soon feel the gentle press of his lips in your hair. It’s these small moments - like being wrapped in his arms while the ocean twinkles happily before you - that you wish you could live in. He’s the love of your life, your best friend, and no amount of time spent with him is ever enough. 

“Mmm, if your snoring is anything to go by, then I believe you,” he teases with a playful nip to the tip of your ear. “For a moment I feared my brother had followed us here.” 

You grin and bump your hips back against his. “Are you trying to get pushed in the pool? Because it sounds like you’re trying to get pushed in the pool.”

His quick laughter rolls over you, rich and deep as velvet, and the sound of it still makes something warm and golden blossom in your stomach. “Your threats are truly adorable, darling,” he replies, resting his chin atop your head. 

It’s only for a second because you’re quickly wrigging in his arms until you’re both face to face. Only now, you get to admire up close the love bites you covered him in the night before, and how his pale skin makes them deliciously prominent. He looks so beautiful, so damned sinful, that you’re filled with a new determination that he’ll be wearing your marks for the entire two weeks. 

“What? You don’t think I could push you in that pool?” You feign offense, but the twinkle of mischief in his eyes tells you he knows you’re only starting the age old game between you both.

“Darling, do tell me,” he begins smoothly, bending easily to lock his hands behind your knees and toss you over his shoulder like you weigh less than air. “How exactly do you plan on accomplishing that from here?” He gives your ass a light slap as if to emphasise his point.

He lets his hand rest there as he carries you through the house, all the while your half hearted cries of protest melt quickly to bubbles of laughter. “You never play fair! Asshole!” you pretend to huff as he effortlessly sends the bamboo doors swinging open without so much as a touch.

It’s hotter than you anticipated outside - much hotter - and you’re quickly grateful for the coolness of Loki’s skin seeping through the thin material of your robe like a soothing balm. It’s a gratefulness that doesn’t last long - little more than a space of a heartbeat - when Loki decides to roughly pinch your ass, hard enough that your cunt clenches and you know that a bruise will be blooming beautifully there come tomorrow.

“Oh, darling, has it really taken you all this time to notice?” he teases, turning down the shaded path that winds lazily down to the pool. 

Unseen by him, you roll your eyes. 

With each step Loki takes, the air grows thicker with the sweet scent of vanilla and the heavy scent of the Mexican heat. The trees towering above are alive with the cheerful melodies of a choir of songbirds and, in the distance, you can hear the rush of water from the impressive waterfall that spills neverendingly into the pool. It’s so blissfully peaceful that you could easily fall asleep on Loki’s shoulder, but as the crashing of the waterfall grows closer and you realise he’s heading towards the pool, you quickly stop chattering and stiffen on his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him slowly, trying your best to prop yourself up on his strong back. His skin is so wonderfully cool against yours, though, that you can’t stop the quiet moan of contentment. 

A large hand runs along the back of your thigh, sending a trail of goosebumps erupting along your body as how deceptively harmless it feels. “Hmm? Whatever do you mean, darling?” he replies innocently. “I only thought we could admire Stark’s pool together.”

That damn pool. 

You try vainly to twist in his grip, to try and calculate just how many seconds you have before he’s tossing you into the water, but, no matter how you turn, all you can see is the sandstone tiles of the floor. 

“We’ve admired this pool every night since we got here! It’s probably more familiar with your ass than I am!” you shoot back, just as Loki comes to a stop right by the edge of the pool. 

He doesn’t reply, but makes a show of turning left and right, as though he’s deliberating where best to throw you in to keep himself safe from your inevitable retaliation when you resurface. You feel him adjust his arms around you, letting one snake across your bare legs as though he’s preparing to toss you in, and fresh protests spill easily from your lips in a last desperate plea.

“Loki! I mean it! Don’t you dare….!” Your voice has risen several octaves and you’re wriggling in his grip, something you know is completely pointless. If Loki wants to throw you in the pool, then you’re going to be thrown in the pool. 

You feel yourself moving through the air and your arms are already flailing, bracing for contact with the clearer than crystal water. You’re even sucking in a breath and closing your eyes in preparation…

But your feet come into quick contact with the solid ground beneath you. 

When your eyes snap open, Loki is grinning wickedly at you and those pretty green eyes are dancing with mischief. You swear you fall in love with him a little bit more. 

“Did you really think I’d do that to you, darling?” he purrs smoothly, looping strong arms back around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. 

Thankful as you are for the soothing coolness seeping off him, you answer with a soft thwack that you know barely tickles him. “Yes! Throwing someone in a pool - throwing me in a pool - is your equivalent of setting a child loose in a bouncy castle!” You try to sound stern, but he can no doubt see the grin that’s threatening to break across your face. 

He’s a mischievous scamp, he’s what your grandmother would fondly call a rascal, but he can make you smile as easily as breathing. It’s one of the many, many reasons why you love him with every last fibre of your being, with your entire soul. He’s your God of Mischief and you wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Loki lets his face fall, but love still shines in his eyes like a new star in the night sky. “I am wounded, darling, that you think so little of me. Perhaps I wasn’t generous enough last night?” He slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, and a new look settles across his handsome face. 

Lust. 

Something hot and molten lurches to life in your stomach and your core burns almost instantly at the memory of him between your thighs. His warm tongue licking and lapping for hours until you felt all but boneless against the mattress and his quiet moans as though bringing you to climax was the sole source of his pleasure. 

You breathe in deeply and your fingers curl into the bare skin of Loki’s shoulder. It’s something he doesn’t miss - of course he doesn’t miss - and he squeezes your ass again, this time notably rougher. 

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” he purrs, so low and deep that you can feel it rumbling through his chest. “If those glorious little noises you made all night were an indication, you did seem quite fond of my mouth, darling.”

That sinfully talented mouth of his. Not only could it weave words so sweet that your heart filled with warmth, but it could make you see entire galaxies explode behind your eyes.

One cool hand rises to cup your cheek and you lean easily into it. Loki’s eyes are sparkling in front of you, and you know you’re looking at a man so hopelessly in love that he would burn the world to cinders if you asked. He looks so soft, so happy, and it’s only you that will ever see him this way. 

It’s intoxicating.

His eyes flick to your lips and you part them almost on instinct. His hand at your waist pulls you tighter against him until you can feel his racing heartbeat thumping against yours. You wait until his lips are barely a milimetre from yours, until you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks. 

You wait until he leasts expect it to shove him with all your strength into the pool.

It’s the unexpectedness that makes it a success, and he falls into the water all flailing limbs and colourful curses. It’s the most undignified you’ve ever seen him and a shout of laughter rises out of you like a butterfly on the wind, even though you’ve likely signed your own death warrant. 

Your heart is racing in your chest when he surfaces and you see the dangerous glint now glittering in his eyes, the one that tells you he’ll show no mercy once he gets his hands on you. Still, you can’t wipe the prideful smile from your face - it’s been months since you’ve managed to trick him.

He glides effortlessly - elegantly, even - through the water, even with the weight of his soaking sweatpants. “That was a very foolish thing to do, dove,” he warns, the deep, playful timbre of his voice making your cunt clench in anticipation of what he’s planning. 

You expect him to climb out of the pool and throw you back over his shoulder. Maybe he’ll take you straight to the cabana and lay you across his knee. Or, maybe he’ll edge you senseless for a few hours before making you cum again and again and again, until you’re barely able to string two words together…

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Loki to reach and grab you easily around the knees until you’re folded over his shoulder. 

“No, Loki, don’t -!” You manage to screech out between rolls of laughter before he drops you in the water without ceremony. 

It washes over you, cool and refreshing against the Mexican heat, and you find you almost want to stay submerged between the twinkling surface. When you do resurface, your robe is sticking tight to your body and Loki is wearing a grin so boyish and infectious that you can’t help but return it. 

You launch yourself at him across the water, aiming to knock him backwards as further retaliation, but he barely stumbles and catches you easily in his arms. 

“Truly an admirable attempt, but you’ll have to try much harder than that,” he teases smoothly. 

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he only twists his arms tighter around your waist to press you firmly against his chest. “Let me go and I will,” you reply, still trying in vain to wrench yourself free. 

Loki’s answering laughter is light and makes your heart skip a beat. “Darling, I have no intention of letting you go. Not when you still owe me a kiss.”

Playfully, you turn your head to the side in a refusal to meet his request. “Nope. I don’t want to kiss you,” you pretend to huff, but barely a second later a strong hand presses against your cheek to make you face him.

And then his lips are crashing against yours. 

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat because as long you live you’ll never grow tired of how it feels to kiss him. His lips are soft as fresh snow, and they’re moving so slowly and lazily against your own that your first instinct is to try and pull him even closer, even though you’re skin on skin.

You would melt into this man if you could.

His hands wander easily to your chest to begin pushing the sopping wet material of your robe off your shoulders, and it’s impossible not to moan into his mouth when his fingers dance over your bare skin in a hungry search for more. Yours follow beneath the water, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants only to be met with the firm muscles of his lower stomach.

You grin into the kiss. “Presumptuous,” you tease against his lips, letting your fingers trace idly along the hardened length of him beneath the water.

“Would you have turned me down, dove?” he replies, nipping gently at your lower lip while he rolls his hips into your hand. 

“No,” you breathe out, twisting yourself back around him. 

It’s just you and Loki - naked, and making out in Tony Stark’s swimming pool like a pair of lust fueled teenagers. It’s invigorating, it’s addictive. Nothing on earth could make you give this man up. 

The easy, languid silence of your kiss is only broken by the melody of birdsong from above and the crash of the waterfall behind you. You’re so focused on Loki - how his hands feel as they explore your body like you’re a work of art and how his hair feels tangled around your fingers - that you barely notice he’s walking you both backward in the pool until you’re hit with the full force of the waterfall from above. 

It only lasts for a second, but you still pull back from Loki with a screech of shock and a look of amused exasperation. “Was that…was that really -,” you begin, only to be cut off by his mouth finding yours again. 

It’s only then that you realise he’s pushed you into the little alcove hidden behind the waterfall. The Mexican sun is no longer burning down on you and instead, it’s blissfully cool. It’s comfortable.

God, how you love him.

Loki’s hands are still grasping you like he fears you’ll slip away and his lips are worshipping every part of you that he can reach. He’s everywhere all at once, almost as though you’re going to be snatched from him before he has the chance to love you. 

“Beautiful thing. Enchanting creature,” he murmurs, kissing his way down your neck and setting your blood on fire. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you manage to force the words out while his teeth nip at your skin. 

You feel the wet heat of his tongue soothing the marks he’s just made, and if it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you swear you would crumble to the floor of the pool. 

“Oh, darling, I’d like to see you try,” he replies, just as your back hits the smooth wall of the alcove. 

You let him press you against it until you aren’t sure where he ends and you begin. His mouth is hot and heavy and demanding against yours, and already he’s wrapped a hand around your knee to coax your leg around his waist. It’s a request you grant him easily, quickly wrapping both around him to pull him tight against you and letting your heels squeeze against the flesh of his ass. 

That perfect, godly ass.

Loki moans shamelessly into your mouth as your grip makes his cock brush teasingly against you. It’s one sound that you’ll never tire of hearing - the sound of your lovers pleasure - and it sends molten heat flowing through your blood. 

It’s an automatic reaction to then twist your fingers tighter in his soaking curls, anything to pull that divine sound from him once again. “God, you’re sexy when you moan.” It’s a mindless comment, but it slips from your lips before you can stop it. 

Because, well, he is.

You feel Loki pull back and when you peer at him through half lidded eyes, his lips are curled in that devilishly handsome smirk that sends your heart skipping in your chest. “And what of the rest of the time? Must you keep wounding me, my darling?” he teases, all while dragging his cock torturously through your cunt.

A moan flutters from you as eager fingers grasp his broad shoulders. Wantonly, you try to spread your legs further, try to invite him in, but it’s impossible when he’s already got you spread like a sin for him. 

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” you breathe out, head hitting the stone behind you as the tip of his cock brushes wondrously over your clit. 

His every touch feels electric and you know he’s ruined you for anyone else. Not that there’ll ever be anyone else, of course; Loki is your missing puzzle piece and your entire heart. He’s yours for keeps. 

“Oh?” he answers and latches on to the sensitive skin of your neck once more, but still not easing into you the way you’re desperate for him to. “And what else, hmm?”

You laugh softly in his ear and you swear you feel him smile against your neck. You’ll play along. If he wants praise then you’ll give it to him until your lungs give out. “You’re brave. So brave. My beautiful, brave boy,” you murmur while he continues to nip along your throat. 

He pauses to press a gentle, lingering kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, only to resume his path of lovebites across your collarbone. 

“You’re funny. God, you’re funny, most times without even trying.” You keep going, hearing him hum in approval against your skin. 

He’s been mostly silent, but you can feel how much he loves you in every press of his lips and nip of his teeth. It’s enough to have tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

“You make me feel like I’m enough every single day,” you say in little more than a whisper. You feel his lips go still against your collarbone, and then he’s pulling back to look at you with those glittering green eyes. “You’re a good person, Loki, and you’re my best friend.”

His eyes soften at the same time the water around you ripples. He clasps your face in both hands to place a blistering kiss to your waiting lips. It’s hot and heavy and passionate, and you feel it all the way down to your toes. You’re clasping his shoulders like he’s your life raft and drinking him in like oxygen. 

He’s Loki. He’s all you’ll ever need. 

Slowly, he pulls back from your lips to let his nose bump against yours and you feel him roll his hips, pressing the entire hardened length of his cock against your aching cunt. “Say my name,” he says huskily. It’s both an order and a plea. 

“Loki…ugh!” you groan shamelessly when the tip of his cock brushes tormentingly over your clit. Your nails are digging so hard into his shoulders that you can clearly see the tiny half moons marking his skin, but he still doesn’t give you what you crave. 

“Again,” he demands, unquestionable lust now dripping from his voice. 

“Loki…fuck…please!” You arch your back against the cool stone as he presses against your entrance

“Again.” 

“Loki!” The third cry of his name melts to a whine when he slides himself inside you in one smooth thrust, until you’re filled to the brim with your god. 

Eager muscles clench desperately around him because you’re close to drunk on the solid feel of him between your legs and impatient for the first glorious thrust of his hips. It doesn’t come, though, and instead, he rests his forehead against yours while he’s buried inside you. You can feel the impatient twitch of his cock, but still, he doesn’t move.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says softly, voicing the same thought you’ve had about him time and time again. “My beautiful little mortal. How lucky am I to call you mine.” 

His voice is sweeter than honey and sends warmth flooding through your veins, filling every inch of you with so much love for him that you fear it will spill from your pores. This beautiful, perfect man - who never stops doubting how worthy he is of your love - is everything you ever dreamed of and more. 

You want to tell him, to tell him that he’s the reason you breathe and the reason your world spins, but it’s impossible to convey the depth of your feelings. “I love you.” You settle on saying. It’s soft and quiet and you know he knows, but his eyes light up each and every time you tell him, and right now they’re glittering like new stars.

Will you ever tire of how devastatingly beautiful he is?

There’s another quiet ripple of calm, turquoise water as he leans in to kiss you again, and this time it’s wondrously slow and deep. It feels like magic, like he’s pouring his entire soul into this one kiss. You loop your arms tighter around his shoulders and his hips finally begin to roll against yours as equally slow and deep as his kiss. 

That’s when you realise. He isn’t going to fuck you beneath this waterfall - he’s going to make love to you. 

His lips are locked with yours while he moves, each slow, deliberate thrust of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you perfectly. Your quiet whimper mixes with his deep moan, and you press the heels of your feet against his ass again, pushing him deeper still with each thrust because you can never get him close enough. 

“You’re…you’re amazing, Loki,” you say stupidly when you break for air. “Completely amaz…ugh!”

Your praise melts to another moan when he buries his face in your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses along your flushed skin at the same you feel his hand groping around beside you.

“Take my hand,” he breathes out roughly. It’s such an innocent request that makes your heart feel like it will burst. 

What did you do so right to deserve this man? 

Wordlessly, you intertwine your fingers with his, feeling him squeeze your hand as he begins to build you toward the edge. He knows your body so intimately that it doesn’t take long for the first heady ripples of pleasure to flicker in your core. 

Loki rests his forehead against your temple, grunting and whimpering so beautifully in your ear that it sends an inferno burning between your thighs. Each thrust of his cock has you keening and babbling out pleas for more - and more he’s only too happy to give you. 

He’s filling you so beautifully and making you dance right on the edge of pleasure that you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll last without toppling over. 

Loki, though, silences your worries barely a moment later with a pornographic grunt. “I’m close…darling…’m so close,” he pleads shakily as you cradle his head against you. 

“Loki…I’m - “

“Cum for me,” Loki interrupts huskily with another squeeze of your hand. “Please, darling.” 

Barely a second later, your climax rips through every inch of you and Loki’s name is falling from your lips like a prayer. He freefalls at the exact moment you do, pressing you firmly against the stone while he chases every last drop of his pleasure. It’s dizzying, almost, to hear his curses, his moans, his cries of your name as his orgasm shatters him. 

Even more dizzying are the sounds of his deep, heavy pants in your ear as he comes down from his high, and his chest heaves against yours while you both catch your breath. You, an insignificant little mortal, have made this god unravel like string. It makes pride bloom through you and clutch him that little bit tighter to your chest. 

“I love you,” Loki murmurs quietly, his lips ghosting across your cheek in the softest of kisses. “But, darling, I simply must have you again,” he teases and easily tosses you back over his shoulder.

You can’t help but laugh as he wades through the water, not even close to tired. “Maybe in a bed this time? I think that would be nice.” 

His shoulder shakes beneath you. “There are 32 rooms in Stark’s humble home. I don’t plan on leaving this island until I’ve had you in each and every one of them.”

[hotpinkstars]

okay.. shh.. you didn't see me here but what if like.. picnic in a flower field with boothill (pre-cyborg likely) IDK.. i think it'd be so cute if you wanna write about it... he's always got me giggling just a little bit too much

PICNIC - boothill x reader

- a nice, warm picnic under the sun with boothill.

- I LOVE THIS JUST LIKE I LOVE BOOTHILL!!! he'd be so. so hubby material before he turned into a cyborg gn. anyways lemme cook yall i've got sm fics coming out over the span of the next couple days so keep sending in these reqs to keep me busy!!

- warnings none! wc 611

It was a late morning for the both of you, cuddled into your husbands strong arms, before you got the idea to have a nice picnic for brunch under the sun in a nice flower field that’s pretty nearby. 

“Psst, Boothill,” you poked at his chest, trying to wake him up. He groaned, rolling over, making the mistake of facing the open window, where the sun was stringing into the room. He squints his eyes and groans again, turning back around and opening his eyes.

“What time ‘s it?” He mumbles, reaching over to grab your phone off of your bedside table. The sun was too bright to grab his own, considering he’d have to face that torturous direction. It was 11:00 in the morning, and he rubbed his eyes before kissing you on the forehead. 

“Come on, and get dressed. I wanna go somewhere with you,” you hit his chest before sitting up and going into the closet to find an outfit for the day. He took the time to get used to the light, stretching before taking his turn in the closet while you packed a basket. 

“What’s all this?” He questions, pointing to the basket. 

“It’s a nice day out, so I figured we’d have a picnic. Why not?” 

He shrugs, a smirk evident on his face as he sifts through it to see what you’ve packed. 

“Is this place walkin’ distance?” He questioned, and you nodded, looking back to smile at him. 

“It’s only a ten minute walk. I can carry the basket if you want,” You started, picking up the basket and the blanket before having it snatched off your arm and taken into his. You thanked him with a kiss before setting off to your destination.

You both had a nice chat on your way there, and after trudging up a hill, you took the blanket from him and laid it down. You motioned for him to sit down before sitting down yourself and starting to unpack the basket to lay out the food. 

“Here’s for you…” you handed him a sandwich wrapped in napkins and some foil before taking out one of your own and resting your head on his shoulder, taking bites out of your food. “How does it taste?”

He took his first bite before nodding. “Good, as always. Yer’ cookin’ never fails.” 

To that you smiled and giggled a little bit before taking another bite and swigging it down with a can of sparkling water. “What's your schedule today?” 

He simply shrugs before speaking. “I dunno. Probably tendin’ to the animals n’ chillin’ inside. How about ya?”

You also shrugged. “Probably just running a couple errands today while you’re outside. Nothing super fancy.”

You both continued to talk about random things while you finished up eating. Either gossiping about your friends and what's new with them, telling him about some random encounters at the markets, and just talking about stuff you saw online. You spoke about the future, and, most importantly, basked in each other's presence. 

You both didn’t hurry to leave once you finished eating. You sat together, basking in the mid-spring sun, cuddling, and enjoying the other's warmth. 

“I feel so, so lucky to have ya’, babe,” he blurts out randomly, catching you slightly off-guard. You regained your composure before smiling.

“I feel the same. I love you so, so much, Boothill,” you wrapped your arms around his strong bicep, leaning into his side. 

“I love you too,” he rested his head on top of yours.

You both stayed like that for a little while, before walking back to the ranch and going about with your days together.

[jmliebert]

bg3 on a beach (modern headcanons)

some little beach-day headcanons ˙ᵕ˙

𓇼 Astarion 𓇼

the one who brought sunscreen with SPF 50

and basically an entire beach bag of skincare essentials— lip balm, hand cream, hand sanitizer, hair comb (gold-plated), facial mist, perfumes….

….a chic umbrella that screams "I don't do tan lines" (you didn’t know umbrellas might be chic? wel, you’ve obviously never met astarion, you poor soul)

struts around in Dior or Armani swim trunks that probably cost more than everyone else’s entire beach wardrobe (taste, darling)

throws subtle shade at anyone who dares to get sand near his setup

𓇼 Gale 𓇼

sitting next to Astarion under the chick umbrella, reading a brick-tome that looks way too heavy for a beach day

loose, unbuttoned shirt flapping in the breeze, looking like he's ready to casually narrate the next chapter of his life

dips into the water only to cool off, then returns to his book (wears a wide brimmed hat while swimming because sunburns are for novices)

brings some fruits, maybe homemade snacks i(f he’s feeling particulary extra)

puts on sunglasses, claiming it’s for “eye protection,” but really so he can unashamedly observe everyone else (astarion observes everyone at the beach as well, but making no effort to hide it though)

𓇼 Halsin 𓇼

totally would have preferred to go to a nudist beach, but hey, what won’t he do for his party?

sunbathes directly under the scorching rays, basking in nature's warm embrace

gives off major retired surfer vibes—minus the board, plus a lot of wisdom about underwater ecosystems

spends most of the day diving, befriending the fish, and enthusiastically recounting his underwater adventures to Shadowheart

as the sun sets, he meditates, he’s body looking positively glorious as the golden light hits just right

𓇼 Wyll 𓇼

rolls in with a cooler full of chilled beer, instantly becoming everyone’s favorite person

the one who’s super into every beach sport there is

performs cartwheels and somersaults, showing off a little (endd up with a head full of sand)

borrows Halsin’s goggles and disappears for an hour or two, only to resurface with a story about an underwater adventure

comforts a crying child who lost their bucket, instantly becoming a hero of the beach

𓇼 Karlach 𓇼

alexa, play starships by nicki minaj

fearless of the sun—probably doesn’t even know what sunscreen is

the most grateful for Wyll's beer, probably cracking open a can before she even sets up her towel (if it's a bottle, she’ll open it with her teeth)

hypes everyone up for a beach volleyball match, whether they want to play or not

dominates the game with killer serves, yelling “BOOM!” every time she scores

𓇼 Shadowheart 𓇼

aka Wednesday Addams on vacation, complete with a black swimsuit and a hat so big it casts shade on half the beach

floats around on an floatie, giving off strong “don’t bother me” vibes

quietly builds a sandcastle that turns out to be an architectural masterpiece (It’s somehow both gothic and impressive)

doesn’t know how to swim but hasn’t admitted it to anyone. Instead, she’s perfected the art of looking mysterious while staying close to the shore

smiles at dogs playing in the distance

𓇼 Lae’zel 𓇼

laughs in the face of sunburn

side-eyes Astarion and Gale applying sunscreen, muttering something about “weakness” under her breath

joins Shadowheart for a few minutes of sandcastle building, then pretends she wasn’t enjoying it

hyper-competitive during beach volleyball, diving for every ball like it’s a life-or-death situation

inevitably gets sunburned, grudgingly wears Gale’s hat, and glares at anyone who dares to mention it

𓇼 Jaheira 𓇼

doesn't have time for this shit

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

the summer is ending, I feel it in my bones, so I just had to write this one hihi

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HCs: Coming Home To You After the War

A/n: ahhhh my first time writing for a new fandom always makes me nervous. I'm rewatching BoB for probably the 5th or 6th time and just felt compelled to start writing for some of these incredible characters. please note all writings are based solely on the BoB TV characters and not the actual veterans. Let me know if you want any other BoB HC's or oneshots!

*Please refer to each character for warnings*

Dick Winters Warnings: angsty Major Winters, vague references to PTSD/war trauma

Dick is standing outside on the deck of the ship before the sun is up on the day they’re due into port. He can’t stop looking towards the horizon, waiting for the shoreline to swim into view.

He’s melancholy, thoughtful. Reflects on all he’s seen in the war. He feels different than how he was when he left almost 3 years ago. He thinks about all the men he left behind in Normandy, in Foy, in Bastogne, in Holland, in Hagenau, in Germany. And he looks around at the men whose bodies are coming home, but who lost pieces of themselves in foxholes, in the bombed out streets of Europe, on the beaches. 

He also finds himself wondering what it’s been like for you. He hasn’t thought about that much, hasn’t let himself think on it too hard. He feels ashamed that he never asked much in his letters about how you were. He knows it was to protect himself. If he’d asked, and if you’d been honest and told him about the rationing, the fear, how many of your friends were losing their brothers, husbands, and lovers overseas, the suicides of the men who couldn’t go… well, Dick knew he’d have been distracted. And distracted leaders got men killed. So Dick had sealed off his thoughts on that account. He knew it was the right choice. But now, he doubted. 

So as the ship pulls into port, he’s sad in a broken way. Like the war has finally caught up with him. And he’s terrified, suddenly. How is he going to see you like this? What are you going to see in him when you finally do? More importantly, what are you not going to see? 

He lets all of his men debark before him. Partially because that’s what a good officer does, but partially to try and collect himself. 

You know what to expect. You know Dick Winters isn’t going to really stop fighting the war until he sees every last man in Easy Company off that ship and safely home. So you wait. You’ve waited this long, after all. You can wait another thirty minutes.

When you finally see him in the thinning crowd, you call out his name and break into a beaming smile. He’s here, he’s home. He’s safe. 

As soon as he sees you, the ice in his veins thaws. The sun is warm on his skin, he’s surrounded by clean sea air far from the burnt out husk of Europe, and you’re there. You’re smiling at him. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen something so singularly beautiful.

He strives over to you, taking his cap off as he approaches. His stomach is flipping like a schoolboy and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he had an entire firing squad of Krauts in front of him. 

You run the last few dozen paces into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around with a long, languid sigh of contentment. Your laughter is like a peeling bell in his ear. 

Richard, how dare you make me wait? you tease him. 

He can’t find any words except to smile at you, looking into your eyes, memorizing your smile, reacquainting himself with the dusting of freckles across your nose, the scent of your shampoo, basking in the feeling of you in his arms. He smiles, then laughs. Your hands frame his face and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

Dick Winters’ mind goes blissfully blank. The harsh edges of all his worries, his responsibilities, the burden of leading a company of men and ordering some of them to their deaths. It’s all soft now. There’s just you. You and that piece of land he’s been dreaming about.

Lewis Nixon Warnings: alcohol abuse, war-time violence, detailed reference to parental suicide

Lewis Nixon came back from the front with an exorbitant amount of contraband, shadows in the back of his eyes, and a terrible drinking habit. You had no idea what to do with any of it.

Two months after his return and you found yourself staring out across a sea of boxes piled haphazardly in the foyer of the summer home Lew had bought you for your six-month wedding anniversary. Your home had never been more crowded, and yet you’d never felt so lonely. 

You wiped the damp tea towel you’d soaked in the kitchen sink against the back of your neck in a vain attempt to keep the heat at bay. 

Lew! you called up to him, although you knew he wouldn’t answer. A brief glance at the clock - 2:15 pm - told you as much. Since coming back, Lew hadn’t woken up before 3:00 pm and you’d yet to share a goodnight kiss with him because he was liable to stay out until sunrise. Doing what, you’d rather not know. 

With a weighty sigh, you decided you might as well pick a box and get started. Otherwise, this ridiculous maze of illegally shipped stolen goods would just go to rot in your foyer. And with your in-laws due in next month to visit your shell of a husband, you’d better try to clean up the mess. 

You chose the box closest to you. It came up to your waist. As you ripped into it, you realized it was incredibly heavy, and you heard the unmistakable tinkling of glass on glass. You sliced the tape open with the boxcutter, marveling at how sharply the instrument cut into the flesh of the tape and cardboard. One of the first few nights after arriving back home, Lew had managed to stay at home and get drunk rather than do so out on the town. Somewhere between bottle three and four of the Chateau Rhone that you’d served at the reception, Lew had started to talk. Once he’d started, he hadn’t seemed willing to stop, as if he had one chance to pour out all the misery and regret and terror he’d accumulated in Europe. You remembered that at one point - one of his more lucid memories, when the slur in his words was light enough for you to understand him - he’d told you that he had seen a whole platoon of men shredded to ribbons by a Kraut tank. He’d recounted in excruciating detail how one of their fingers had landed on him, the blood and sinew drying on his uniform like an adhesive, and he hadn’t noticed it until the next day. You’d never seen anything quite so distasteful or violent in your life, but you imagined that it might be something like watching someone get sliced apart the way your boxcutter glided through tape.

With a shiver, you sheathed the blade and set the boxcutter aside to rip into the contents of the box. Tipping the heavy box sideways a bit, you spooned out the top layer of packing peanuts to reveal a familiar sight. Four corked bottles of wine sat at the top of the box. You stopped, staring down at the wine in the box in disbelief. This was the precious contraband that Lewis had spent thousands on to smuggle out of Europe? Fucking wine?

Your temper flamed to life with a vengeance. You pushed the heavy box over, letting loose a scream of frustration as you did. One of the bottles shattered as the box tipped over, a puddle of red wine staining the white marble floor. Once again, your mind flashed back to the war. Not to Lew’s memories, but your own. To the black-and-white films you’d seen in the theaters, to the newspaper clippings, to the reports that had come out of Germany about the death camps and the killing fields and the brutality of the war, to the letters your brother had written to you before his death at St. Vith. You thought of all the men you’d known who hadn’t come home - your brother Johnny, your childhood neighbor Tim Viens, your cousins Luis and Giovanni, the florist’s son from your hometown, your girl friend Jill’s fiance… 

Your head was spinning and your blood was boiling as you summited the stairs to the darkened upstairs two at a time. When you flung open the door to Lew’s study where he’d taken to sleeping, you were seeing black at the edges of your vision.

Lewis fucking Nixon, you better wake the fuck up or so help me God I will strangle you in your sleep!

The words flew off your tongue faster than you knew what to do with. You’d never had a foul mouth, and you’d certainly never threatened your husband before. Despite his obvious hangover, he snapped to wakefulness faster than you’d expected him to. He regarded you with a wary, tired expression, and you wondered for a half second if he was going to ask you to make good on your threat. 

Saints above woman, what is it? he demanded, reaching around the graveyard of beer and wine bottles strewn about the floor next to him. You noticed a particularly foul smell in the room at the same time you noticed the stain of vomit caked on one of the pillows he’d propped under his head. 

The sight of your husband fumbling around for another drink at 2:30 in the afternoon with vomit caked on his cheek did something to you. You weren’t sure if the sight broke you or if it snapped you into form. Whatever it did, it took the wind out of the hateful words that had been boiling in your gut. You snapped your mouth shut as you became acutely aware that you had nothing left to say to him. You’d said it all already. You’d cried, threatened, screamed, pleaded, reasoned, demanded, and done just about everything you could think of in your power to bring Lewis Nixon back to something resembling sense. You weren’t without feeling - you knew that he wasn’t the only man who hadn’t fully come back from the front. Memories of your father’s glassy, empty-looking eyes flicked in your mind like a silent movie. Your father never really left the trenches, your mother used to say by way of explanation and apology. Some men just can’t come home after a war like that. 

The last memory you have of your father was the sight of him leaned back in his chair, his head bent away from his neck at an unnatural angle, with a ghoulish bloodstain on his chest from the hole his pistol had left where he’d fired it under his chin and up into his skull. You’d found him like that when you were just six years old. At almost twenty six now, you were resolved never to see someone you love waste away like that again. Yet here you were, watching someone who’d once been your brash, fun-loving, hot-headed husband fade away like a ghost.

As Lew braced for what he felt sure was going to be a proper dressing down, you felt yourself deflate like a punctured balloon. Something final and irrevocable had happened in those few moments since you’d come running up the stairs, and you knew deep in your bones that there was no going back. 

I’m leaving. 

It was all you could say. Lewis looked over at you through slitted eyes, stifling down an acidic belch as he tried to figure out your angle. Usually your arguments started with much more heat than this, but he wasn’t sober enough to hear the goodbye in your tone. 

After a few agonizing moments, he grunted at you by way of dismissal. Get me some Vat 69, while you’re out. Vat 69 was the only thing that Lewis Nixon had asked from you since he’d gotten back to the States. 

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you just turned on your heel, letting the boxcutter that you hadn’t even realized you’d been gripping like a vice slide out of your hand and land with a thump on the carpet. 

You descended the stairs with a strange buzzing in your head. You wondered if you should pack something, although you realized that all you really wanted to was to get as far away from the time bomb that was Lewis Nixon as fast as you possibly could. You called your mother from the kitchen phone. She didn’t need to hear you say the words to know what had happened. Come on home honey,  she said gently. I’ll make your favorite key lime pie. The kind and simple gesture brought tears to your eyes.

After a few minutes to gather the essentials - your wallet, your pearls, your father’s WWI medals - you thought of one more phone call to make. A parting kindness, you thought, as you sifted through the Rolodex you kept next to the phone until you found the card you wanted. 

The phone rang twice before a voice you knew well picked up. 

Hello? Dick, it’s me, it’s y/n Nixon. Listen, you better come get Lew. He’s… he’s not well. And I’m leaving. 

You didn’t wait for a reply before you clicked the receiver. If there was any saving of Lewis Nixon now, it wouldn’t be by you. 

With one final glance at the house and the sad trove of memories it contained, you closed the door on your past and left, hoping that both you and Lew would find some corner of peace to spend the rest of your days. 

Ronald Speirs Warnings: smut, sweet baby boy Speirs

Ron doesn’t even tell you that he’s coming home. You know it’ll be soon, and you’re waiting for a letter. None come. Years of waiting, years of him faithfully writing, years of dreaming and praying for this day. Now? Radio silence. 

So when this man shows up at your door, his duty bag in one hand and his hat in the other, the first thing you can do is scream at him. 

Ronald fucking Speirs! You didn’t fucking write me, I thought you were dead or lost or just done with me! Why didn’t you tell me! You fucking bastard, you utter fucking bastard! 

You’re hitting him and screaming and tears are everywhere. Ron just smiles. You’re precisely how he remembers you. Better even. 

He wraps you up in a hug, so tight that you can’t move. You’re still struggling, wiggling and sobbing into his shirt, trying to beat your fists against him. 

When you feel him kiss the top of your head, it all just melts. Your knees buckle and instead of beating on him you’re clinging to him. Realization hits you in waves. Ron is home. Those are Ron’s arms around you. Ron’s voice murmuring into your ear. Ron’s breath on your forehead. 

When you finally look up to him - eyes bloodshot, nose running, mascara streaking, cheeks tear stained and red - Ron smiles down at you. My beautiful girl, he says softly before catching your lips in a kiss. Everything breaks loose in that kiss. You practically want to crawl into his mouth. It’s all need: lips devouring each other, hands grabbing and nails dragging, tongues invading each other. Ron moans and you’re done, you’re a mess. 

He knows. He pushes you across the doorway, his hat and duty bag long forgotten on the porch, lifts you up and carries you to the nearest couch, undressing on the way. He rips your blouse, knocks over one of your side tables when he kicks off his shoe, and almost drops you to let you rip off his belt. 

Ron’s home to you when he slams inside of you. Your thoughts disintegrate as the two of you collide together, alternating between frenzied ferocious fucking and softer sweeter sensuality as lust, love, longing and whatever lives between those things rips open the walls you’d both built up around your hearts. 

But Ron isn’t home until after, long after, hours even. The house is trashed, clothes and pillows and furniture disheveled and everywhere. You’re both in bed, exhausted from countless rounds of tangling, with dawn threatening. You’re asleep, and Ron’s watching you dream. There’s a small crease between your eyebrows, and you’re muttering. You look troubled; and he wonders if he should wake you. He can’t stand the sight of you in anything resembling pain. But then, suddenly, you roll towards him, your head settling on his chest and one of your legs slung over his. 

Your face relaxes. You nuzzle into him. You sigh, a gentle smile on your lips. The crease is gone, your face smooth and peaceful. 

He marvels. His head tips back against the headboard, looking down at you in awe as a distinct wave of content washes over and through him.

Ronald Speirs is finally home.

Carwood Lipton Warnings: just Lip and his perpetual angel-status <3

Lip is standing with the throng of men on the deck, watching as they pull into port. The crowd below is cheering and waving American flags, popping off champagne, and the women are waving handkerchiefs. There’s a band somewhere playing patriotic songs and jaunty marches. Home has never looked so good.

‘Ey, Lip, I think I see your girl

It’s Malarkey who spies her - why and how he picked her out so easily, Lip didn't rightfully know nor want to know. But Malarkey was right, there she was.

White ribbons in her hair, white dress on, white handkerchief waving. She’s craning over the other sweethearts and mothers and fathers, eyes combing the deck of the ship. Her expression - impatient longing - snaps Lip in two. How the hell did he ever leave that girl halfway across the world?

Carwood?! Carwood Lipton?! 

He can’t hear her, but he sees her lips moving and he knows that she’s calling out his name. He doubts that any of the deck goers are having luck finding their men that way. The ship is alive with soldiers and airmen buzzing with excitement, calling out to the shore and cheering. The dock is no less vibrant, so the entire place is drowning in the sounds of joy.

Lip stares at her, unwilling to lose sight of her ever again. He vaguely registers the ship jolting to a halt at its berth, the enormous horn announcing the official arrival and, for all the men on board, the uproarious end to the war from Hell. Lip exchanges hugs, slaps on the back, firm handshakes with the men of Easy. It’s strange to have so many painful goodbyes at the same time as a long-awaited hello, but Lip knows he’ll see these men again. He can’t imagine life without them, just like he can’t imagine living without her.

The crowd of soldiers and airmen begins to move, a mass of jumbled emotions with a healthy sprinkling of joy. He watches as the first few men off the ship are swept up into the awaiting crowd as they step off the planks. He can still see her, a beacon of white. An angel, he realizes. 

He shuffles forward with the rest of the disembarking ranks. The process is painfully slow, and he’s not close enough to call out to her yet. He tries to catch her eye with a few waves, but he can only imagine how many waving hands and beaming faces she can see at once. She’s almost passed him on the dock, and Lip feels himself losing patience with the slowness of the men around him. He contemplates yelling at the men to keep it moving or don’t stand at the end of the ramp, but he doesn’t. He can’t bear to ruin a moment of this, for anyone. 

Suddenly, she sees him. Her hands fly to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. That handkerchief blots at her face. She’s gone quiet; just staring at him, waiting. He waves at her, swallowing down the tears threatening in his eyes. She waves back, unsure whether to laugh or cry, so she ends up doing both. Once again, Lip wonders how he’d ever left her. He realizes he’ll never be able to again. He’s stuck to her like glue now, it can’t be helped. And he’s got his eye on a ring. He’ll buy it tomorrow, he decides. Maybe even today, if he can find a jeweler. No more wasted time.  

The wait is agonizing. Every few minutes, she waves at him again, as if afraid that he’ll disappear like a ghost. He can’t stop smiling at her. He doesn’t notice, but the Easy men all softly agree that they’ve never seen this Lip before. A smile reserved all for her.

He steps off the ramp and she’s there, pushed through the crowd. He envelopes her in his arms as she peppers his face and neck with kisses. Soggy ones, from the tears. His or hers, anybody’s guess. She keeps repeating his name like a prayer and a plea. He holds her as she comes undone in his arms, body-wracking sobs and her head buried in his neck. He tells her it’s alright, I’m home and it makes her squeal with delight. Then they’re both laughing. He carries her a bit, not trusting her legs quite yet, and honestly unsure if he trusts himself to walk without her weight in his arms holding him to Earth. She babbles, he listens, she asks something, he talks. It’s easy - so easy - and Carwood Lipton feels himself stepping back into himself after so many years of being Lip and First Sergeant. 

Her hand in his, they walk the streets of this strange town that neither of them are from, but yet somehow always find themselves feeling right at home. He has to squeeze her hand every once in a while to remind himself that she’s real, and he’s really here, and the war is behind him. All day and late into the evening, Lipton and his girl stroll together, two friends, two lovers, one very happy ending. 

Buck Compton Warnings: cursing, references to alcohol abuse

No one’s there at the train depot when Buck gets home. His mother is tied up taking care of his baby sister and her new baby, sick with colic, and his dad is too frail to make the forty-minute trip by car to the station. And you’re done with him, as of Christmas time. 

Some homecoming.

He wanders through the town’s sleepy Main Street, killing time before his brother-in-law’s shift ends at the munitions factory and he can pick Buck up. It’s a hot day, sweat runs down his back. It reminds him of Toccoa. He chuckles darkly, grateful that he’s not running up Currahee with Sobel’s sour puss hot on his heels. He’s grateful for a moment, but then he wonders if maybe those were the best days of his life, and he just didn’t know it. So far, the end of the war hasn’t brought much happiness his way. Maybe the best is behind him already. 

He stops for a root beer float at the local soda counter. He brought you here for the first date. He still remembered that your lips tasted like strawberry milkshake later when he’d parked his truck in front of an empty cornfield and kissed you until he was dizzy. He knows he’ll never be able to order a strawberry milkshake again.  

A couple of the old men sitting in the window side booths nod at him, one even pays for his tab. Buck thanks them but makes no move to engage in conversation. He’s not gloomy, exactly. Just lonely. He thinks about Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere, about the marrow-deep cold of Bastogne, and about just how far away he feels from the taste of strawberry on your tongue. Despite the scorching summer heat, he suppresses a shiver. 

Buck’s sitting on a bench in front of the depot when his brother-in-law pulls up. 

Hey Buck! Welcome home, buddy.

Thanks, Dickie.

His sister’s husband has a noticeable limp, one of his legs visibly wasted and bent at an unnatural angle from the knee down. Bike accident when he was six, kept him out of the war. From his sisters letters, Buck knows that Dickie’s been hitting the bottle hard after he got 4F’ed and told under no uncertain terms that he won’t fight for Uncle Sam. Buck can see the strain in Dickie’s smile, the dark bags under his eyes and the faint stain of gray at his temples. Buck feels about three decades older than when he left home, but Dickie looks it. 

The ride home is quiet. Buck asks after his sister, Dickie asks after the war. Neither of them really listen to the answers. 

When Dickie cuts the engine off in front of Buck’s parents’ place, the porch light is on and there’s a lamp in the front room window, shining merrily. Buck sighs deeply. He’d expected to come home to you, a little apartment somewhere. He’d planned on picking up his life from there, but instead he’s here, looking at a place he calls home without feeling at home. He thinks he might prefer a cot in Toccoa, or a hot cot on a transport ship, or maybe even a foxhole. 

Aight Buck, you take it easy. I’ll see you ���round. Make sure you stop in and see Kitty soon, she’s dying to see ya.

Sure, Dickie. Thanks for the lift. 

The sun is setting fast behind the mountains. Cicadas are beginning to strum and the fireflies dance in the fields gone farrow behind the house. Buck climbs up the front steps, his duty bag slung over one shoulder. 

Buck?

He freezes where he is, hand outstretched towards the doorknob. It can’t be… can it?

He hears the creak of the swing from the darkened corner of the porch as you stand up. 

Welcome home, Buck.

It is you. Buck is still frozen, his upper lip beginning to tremble. He wished it were darker, wished the damn light was off so you wouldn’t have to see him like this. He feels the boards vibrate as you step towards him, hesitating at his side.

I’m sorry, Buck. I… I made a mistake…

A tear slips out. He swipes at it angrily. What the hell is he crying for? he wonders. 

It’s just that Louise told me she read in a magazine that it’s harder for the men sometimes if they’re worried about someone back home and in your letters you were just always asking about me and how I was and what I was doing and I just knew that you were going through it, Buck, you know, I read the news and I knew you were right on the front lines and I started thinking about you being out there and distracted and what would happen if you lost your focus at the wrong time and you got shot or you got hit by a grenade or a sniper and I thought about losing you, Buck, and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t lose you, and I started to think maybe I needed to make it easier on you and I wrote you that awful letter and it was terrible Buck it was so bad and I hated writing it and I hated sending it but I convinced myself I had to and-

Buck silenced you by pressing his lips to yours mid-sentence. Whatever other explanations and apologies you had died in your mouth with a soft whimper, and suddenly your hands were traveling up his arms and tickling the base of his neck and you were sighing like you hadn’t really exhaled in months. Buck swallowed it up, kissing you deeply and gently. He didn’t know how to say that he didn’t care about all that, that all he wanted was you with him. The rest would work itself out. Buck knew from the war that if you surrounded yourself with good people, then you could get through anything. 

He laughed when he tasted the strawberry milkshake on your lips. Smiling against your mouth, he broke the kiss and held you in his arms, his hands at the small of your back. 

Why are you laughing you ask incredulously. Did you hear what I said? aren’t you mad? You hadn’t expected this reaction. In fact, you’d prepared yourself for Buck to be so furious that he wouldn’t even speak with you. It was less than half of what you felt you deserved. 

Buck just shook his head, smiling to himself at a private joke. You wondered if he was laughing at how easily you fell for that kiss before he told you to take a hike and disappeared from your life forever. 

Mad? He sounds incredulous, like that’s the most ridiculous question anyone’s ever asked him. 

Yeah, Buck. I mean… I know I broke your heart.

He doesn’t deny it, just nods simply and looks deep into your eyes.

Don’t leave me again, darlin’, and I’ll consider it even.

You can’t reply because his lips are on yours again. All you can do is smile as you kiss your apology into Buck’s mouth until the sunset has faded and his dad calls out to the two of you to come inside already!

Bull Randleman Warnings: angst (you have been warned!!)

Something strange happened to Bull in the convent at Foy. He hadn’t expected it. But suddenly, there you were. Sitting in the back of his mind like an itch he just couldn’t scratch. His third grade crush from Ms. Wheeler’s class. And his eighth grade crush. And his prom date. 

Bull grew up in a small town, and it had only gotten smaller to him since he’d left. Sometimes in quieter moments he’d wondered if he’d ever be able to go back home. He’d seen a lot of the world - granted, most of it with the threat of German artillery at his back - but still. His hometown felt so far away and so small that he couldn’t imagine fitting the size of his memories back there. 

And yet, sitting there in the dim candlelight of that convent, listening to those angelic voices, that tiny podunk town was all he could think of. Why couldn’t he remember the name of that street, the one with the post office on it? And what was the name of those neighbors with the herd of basset hounds? He couldn’t recall what kind of flowers his Ma planted in front of the house, facing due east. Bull realized that he was forgetting home, and it opened a gaping wound in his heart.

One thing he did remember clearly was you. He hadn’t seen you in a long time, maybe not for months before he’d signed up for the 101st. You’d been working at the florist right off 1st Street the last he’d heard. Why he hadn’t looked in on you after high school, he couldn’t say. He’d been sweet on you back then, puppy love head-over-heels type stuff. You were his first kiss, his first date, his first of just about everything. Including his first love.

Somewhere along the way, Bull had gotten the hare-brained idea that he’d outgrown you. He’d stopped calling, stopped asking you out to the movies or to the diner. He remembered how he’d seen you out one night, his arm slung over some other girl that his buddy had set him up with. He remembered the way you’d stared with your lip shaking, your eyes welling with tears, before you’d practically run off into the Sears department store. Bull knew damn well you couldn’t afford anything in Sears; all of the money you’d ever made working as an English tutor and a nanny went to taking care of your eleven foster siblings. He knew you ran in there just to get away from him. At the time, he’d laughed about it. He’d told himself you’d be fine, you’d grow up eventually and get over it. He told himself that’s exactly what he’d done - grown up - but now he realized quite the opposite. He’d been intimidated by how much he’d liked you, how much he’d thought about you and worried after you and how scared he’d been when he’d realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed you anymore. You with your hand-me-down dresses and your sweet, shy smile and your head always in the clouds of a romance novel. His buddies had commented on it, and suddenly Bull had felt jealous, insecure even. He’d hated it, and he’d run from it. 

But that night in Foy, you were the only place his mind could land. You were all he thought of. And he’d promised himself that if he somehow managed to walk out of hell at the end of the war, that he’d ask you out again. Who knew what you were up to now. He thought he remembered his Ma make an off-hand comment that you’d started working at the hospital in the next town over, but he couldn’t be sure. But Bull knew you’d be back in that small town, probably just as sweet as ever. And if you gave him another chance, he’d never let you go again.

Three days after stepping foot back in the States, and Bill was standing outside your house in his Army dress uniform, a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands. He wondered if you’d remember that he’d gotten you those same flowers for your prom corsage. They’d stood out against the baby pink of your dress that you’d borrowed from your cousin. Every time Bull saw a sunset or a flower bed, he thought of you. In fact, there wasn’t much that Bull saw these days that didn’t make him think of you.

He knocked three times sharply on the door. Your house looked just the same as ever: the front porch sagged in the middle, the curtains drawn and stained, the paint peeling. There was a ruckus inside, and what sounded to be about a dozen kids all screamed out “DOOR!” 

A severe woman with dark gray hair slicked back into a tight bun answered. Her mouth was a thin, straight gash and her eyes narrowed in something between distaste and disbelief. She glanced down at the flowers in Bull’s hands and at the sharp, crisply ironed lines of his uniform.

Mother Beatrice, Bull said with a slight bow. Not sure if you remember me, ma’am, but I-

I remember you. Randelman, right? You here for the girl? 

Your foster mother looked older but her manner was as cold and loveless as ever. She never used names for the children she took in - just called them by various impersonal monikers. For some reason, yours had always been “the girl”. Bull wasn’t the only one who’d overlooked you.  

He nodded, thinking that if Easy had Mother Beatrice in their ranks then Germany might have fallen about a year earlier. He’d have to be sure to tell you that. He was certain you would laugh.

I wondered if anyone would come Mother Beatrice commented as she shut the door behind her, muffling the sounds of screeching children. She walked down the front porch steps and turned towards the back of the old farmhouse without a backwards glance. Bull followed, his brow furrowing slightly at her cryptic comment. He figured you might have had a few pen pals on the front, some girls would do that sort of thing, write to strangers to try and keep their spirits up. He’d heard that some of the men had made a point to look in on their pen pals when they’d gotten back home. Maybe that’s what she meant.

She’s back here? Bull asked, taking in the sight of the rundown farmhouse-turned-orphanage and its weedy lawn. As long as he’d known you, he’d never known you to linger here. Too loud, no privacy you’d always told him. Bull usually found you in the library or a park bench. Somewhere quiet. 

Mother Beatrice nodded, shooting him a strangely exasperated look. Course she is, where else would she go? The girl doesn’t have any other home.

Bull chewed his lip thoughtfully. He supposed that was true. Maybe things had changed. 

Mother Beatrice led him around the backside of the dingy farmhouse, past a rundown chicken coop with a few mangy looking birds pecking at the dirt. There was a dilapidated stable off in the distance with one bony mare grazing on the tall grass and an overgrown vegetable garden. The tree line off in the distance looked ominously dark, like a line of guards sent to make sure the misery of this place didn’t spread.

Mother Beatrice stopped short, and Bull almost walked into her. There she is.

Bull looked around but didn’t see you. In addition to the forlorn horse, the garden and the coop, he noted a greenhouse missing more windows than it had and a towering oak tree reaching up for the sky as if running away from the unfortunate place it’d been planted. But no sign of you anywhere

Mother Beatrice looked at him intently for a moment, making Bull squirm in his boots, before sharply turning on her heel to leave. She called back to him at the base of the tree and vanished around the side of the house. 

Alone at last, Bull looked at the shadowy trunk but didn’t see anything. Must be around the backside, he reasoned. He started walking towards the tree, but a strange quiet settled over him. Suddenly, his collar felt too tight and his chest felt hollow. Something wasn’t right.

As he approached the tree, he began to make out what Mother Beatrice was referring to. He could hardly believe his eyes, and with each step forward he felt his feet grow heavier as if his boots were filled with lead. About ten paces from the trunk, he stopped, unable to go any closer. His shoulders sagged and he felt the bouquet slip out of his hands.

There you were, your name staring back at him from the headstone. 

Y/n Y/l/n October 11, 1924-January 9, 1945 Army Nurse Corps May she rest in the peace of the Lord

Bull wasn’t sure how long he stared at the stone. At your name. At the words Army Nurse Corps. Bull hadn’t known you were a nurse. He hadn’t remembered your birthday. He realized he’d been misspelling your last name this whole time.

Bull stood and stared until the light was almost gone from the sky. The sound of Mother Beatrice ringing a bell and calling out dinner! from the front porch jarred him out of his reverie. He hastily wiped the tears that had long ago dried on his face, feeling out of place and like an unwelcome intruder. 

He left without saying goodbye. He did manage to tilt the bouquet against your headstone, and run his fingers over the cold edges of your name cut into the marble. He didn’t feel entitled to much else. 

It wasn’t until he was home that night, deeper into a bottle of whiskey than a grieving man ought to be, when he realized something.

January 9th, 1945. The day you’d died. It was the same day he’d sat in that convent outside Foy, listening to that angelic choir, reminiscing about you and imagining a future that would never come to be.

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

Still working on... Joseph Liebgott Doc Roe Maybe David Webster too? *let me know if you have any other requests

[annaizscribbling]

one of those Stardew drabbles where the farmer is not quite human but from different villager perspectives. Here's Sebby's

(Pt 1) (pt 2) (pt 3) (pt 4) (pt 5) (pt 6) (pt 7)

Sebastian sipped his piping hot coffee. He took it with a bit of cream these days. He was comfortably settled against his favorite windowsill, watching his wife work in the field. The sun politely warmed his pale skin. He’d gained a little color since moving to the farm, but not enough to really lose his sickly pallor. He made sure of that, wearing plenty of sunscreen.

He’s content. It’s nice to feel that way. Living in a stuffy basement, working and isolating himself felt foggy and miserable. But now, he’s happy. Calmer. He managed to get out of that old environment, and here with his wife, life finally seemed to mean something. He doesn’t long to escape and become something, instead, what he already is has become something worthwhile.

Living on a quiet farm, making breakfast for his wife, picking fruit and feeding chickens. It brings out a softness in him, a side that never fully been realized. Tenderness. Serenity. Peace.

Sebastion watches his wife chew some raw seaweed, pulled directly from her little black backpack. She’s never without that bag, as soon as she gets out of bed, it’s over her shoulder until she sleeps again. His eyes trail her bare arms as she clears some rocks. He’d given up on understanding how and why she consumes some strange foods, as long as he can wrangle her into a few balanced meals with him, he doesn’t care too much.

Her muscles are toned, far more defined than his will probably ever be. She hefts her pickaxe high above her head before brining it down onto the stone, shattering it. She’s quick to scoop up the rocks she wants as she kicks the rest to the side. His wife could do it for hours without pause, hours upon hours. Time always seemed to part for her.

She unknowingly flexes her bicep as she prepares to strike again. So strong, he can’t help but lean a little further into the window to catch a good glimpse. The little black tank top she usually wears leaves her deeply tanned olive skin on display. There’s hardly a sheen of sweat on her, which Sebastion always found strange. He takes one step outside on a summer day and he’s instantly disgusting. Somehow every hair on her face is immaculate and the thick eyeliner she applies every morning is always inexplicitly intact.

Perhaps he once thought of her as a strange woman, but now she’s his strange woman. The love of his life, the sexy farmer who he accidently stumbled into a romance with. The quiet, perhaps at times eerie, foreign city girl who changed the whole town. Who changed him …

He enjoyed watching her. It didn’t really matter what she was doing, her existence just drew him in. Sometimes he felt like a housecat unwilling to leave a sunbeam. Her radiance warmed him, calmed him, it made him feel like he was exactly where fate wanted him to be. She was the sun, or at least she was his. It didn’t matter what he was, so long as he could bask in her presence.

Speak of the devil, Sebastian doesn’t realize she’s come back inside until the front door opens. He discovers that he’s smiling before he’s even realized he’s turned his head to look at her.

Short curls that don’t seem to care for gravity and its rules. Freckled olive skin. Big brown eyes that seem to melt anybody who stares into them long enough. Muscles that he longs to caress and be wrapped up in each morning. Big heavy boots who have seen more monster blood and dirt than most do in their lifetimes. A shy smile.

The Farmer. His wife.

“Hey, Babe,” Sebatian says, “want some coffee? I woke up early from a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She smiles, and it’s so genuine that even now that they’ve been married a year, his heart just swells with that fluttery kinda love. His wife wasn’t a huge talker, it’s not that she didn’t talk at all, but she often spoke with her face. At this moment, her soft eyes are telling him everything he needs to know.

Soon, they’re cuddled together on the big sofa his mother had built. A cup of coffee for each of them rests on the coffee table. She’s resting her head on his lap, looking up at him with a dreaminess he’s sure is present on his own face.

“I have a gift for you,” she whispers, reaching into her bag, which she slipped off her shoulder and onto the rug. “Eyes closed, please.”

Sebastian does as he’s told. He feels her warm hands pry open his cold one, and something chilly is pushed into his palm. One side of his mouth turns up in a knowing smile. He knows what the gift is by the shape, and it charms him just as much as it did the first time she brought him one.

“A frozen tear,” Sebastian says fondly, holding up the glassy, perpetually cold little tear. He loves collecting them, keeping them, studying them. The first one she ever gave him is his favorite. He even had Clint turn it into a necklace. It’s under his hoodie on a chain even now, slightly cold, pressing against his chest, gently reminding him how much somebody loves him.

“It’s perfect,” Sebastian says, rubbing his thumb over the round base of the tear.

She tries to give him another one, but Sebastion laughs and tells her to stop spoiling him. He’ll take it later, when he doesn’t see it coming. One gift a day is already so much, especially combined with getting to hold her every night. A man’s heart can only handle so much.

Sometimes he wonders how she could possibly be of this world. She’s an angel. She’s a celestial being who commands the earth below her feet by purely existing. He’s sure of it some days. The plants grow like they’re reaching for her somehow. The waters always bring a fresh fish for her hook within seconds. The two can go looking for seashells together, but they’ll wash up to shore just for her, surely they must be. She heals weary souls by simply talking to her. Her farm animals love her, managing to produce perfect eggs and milk through their adoration for her.

Sebastion didn’t really know what she was, but he loved her.

[elilelibeli]

slight nsfw: Reg just has some filthy realizations about James

Sirius nagged and nagged “Regulus you have to hang out with my friends” and “Reggie come out with us” and “go with us to the party” and the answer was always an eye roll and a firm no, until Sirius put his foot down (he literally physically thumped his foot like a toddler) and forced Regulus to go with him to the lake.

This is how Regulus found himself on a big rock, under the sun surrounded by trees on a warm Saturday afternoon. It started with fishing, he obviously did not participate (he would rather die than touch those sluggy bait warms thank you very much) but Sirius and his usually very, very loud friends kept quiet to not scare the fish away so at least that was a nice start of the day.

Fishing lasted all morning until it was unbearable to stay under the sun without evaporating, so James declared that section of the day done and quickly jumped into the lake. Soon enough boys all joined James in the water and the quiet portion of the day was unfortunately done. There was lots of splashing, lots of yelling, jumping and water wrestling after that.

Regulus continued to bask under the sun, switching from listening to music, reading or sketching in his notebook. He only went under water when boys went to try jumping from the further away cliff. The nap after cooling down at the lake was one of the more incredible ones Regulus had taken, so he wasn’t too happy with being woken up.

The boys had returned and brought all the buzzing noise with them, laughing while rustling through the picnic baskets and bags.

When Regulus opened his eyes he saw James with a plate full of fruit between his legs. James was laughing at Peter and Sirius trying to find something in the bag, until he grabbed a peach and took a bite.

Now Regulus had seen art, he had visited world’s best museums, he had been to galleries, exhibitions. He had seen ballets, operas, performances. He had seen them all but what he was seeing now was beyond any artistic ability to express.

Biting of a fruit shouldn’t have been as beautiful, it was something so ordinary something everyone did, however the way James’s fingers curved around that peach or how his lips plumped around the fruit was so far from the ordinary it would be a disrespect to hang it even in the Louvre.

Regulus had also seen porn, he had read it too. Obscene descriptions, filthy scenes. He thought he had encountered the most lustfully attractive moments before, but the way the sweet, sticky drop of the perfectly ripe peach rolled down from James’s lips to his jaw was the most profane and knee buckling thing he had ever seen.

His eyes stuck on that drop, transfixed as he watched it slowly, oh so slowly travel down on James’s neck, slide from his collarbone to his nipple. Oh what wouldn’t Regulus give if he could just follow that drop with his tongue. Now, that was the path he would happily follow everyday. The drop was almost mocking him now, touching James everywhere Regulus realized he wanted to touch, his toned, beautifully, beautifully sun kissed stomach. And when the drop neared the line of James’s hips, at that divine curve Regulus’s stares became so intense James’s probably felt them burn holes through him and looked at Regulus.

“Hey Reggie want some?” He asked waving a peach with a big chunk bitten out of it and smiling that big shiny smile of his.

And Regulus did, oh how he wanted not just some but everything. The droplet of peach now forgotten but forever highlighting the desires of poor, breathtaken Regulus.

[storiesoflilies]

school bus love (5)

synopsis: it’s high time to throw caution to the wind, don’t you think?

pairing: teen!toji fushiguro x teen!f!reader

warnings: none.

a/n: i just wanted to say that I absolutely adore all the comments saying this drabble series is making you nostalgic. besides me telling you all a bit about myself, the main goal really was to create a slice of life piece that makes people reminisce their school days xo

part 4

today was momentous.

freedom was teasing her, dangling sweet summer fruits and the smell of sea salt in front of her. she gritted her teeth, her wrist aching as she frantically wrote the final few sentences of her last question. the clock was ticking, and it would all be over soon.

three.

two.

one…

“that’s it, everyone! time’s up!”

she had never packed up her things so fast in her life, practically shoving her way through the throng of students gathering outside the exam hall. all she could think about was feeling the warm sun on her skin and seeing the patches of blue between the jagged white clouds. today marked the final exam she had to sit, and she was now completely free for the summer.

in a exactly a week’s time, she would be sunning herself on the beach, swimming through crystal-clear waters, and snacking on crunchy slices of watermelon in the shade of palm trees with her best friends. in a week’s time, she would be back home for a whole month, a prospect that should make her buzz with excitement, if not for the nagging reminder of just one thing.

she wouldn’t be seeing toji.

they’d had a handful of conversations over the past three weeks, but nothing more had progressed. she still wasn’t sure if he really liked her, and she was starting to become convinced that she had to cut her losses. it was becoming exhausting overanalyzing toji’s every word, trying to decipher any hidden meanings in his messages and figuring out times when he might have been glancing at her too.

the chase was quite boring without much progress to show for it, and it was a hard pill to swallow that toji probably just wasn’t into her the way she wanted him to be.

she put her headphones and tuned out the world – and all thoughts of toji – attempting to bask in the sheer relief of having finished her exams, which had all gone relatively well. later that night, after pampering herself with an extra self-care routine in the shower, she called her friends for a celebratory gaming session. naturally, she aired out her frustrations about her gorgeous boy.

“i’m just worried the conversation is gonna completely fizzle out, ya know?” she ranted, rapidly clicking her mouse buttons. “it’s not like we’ll be on the bus together anymore.”

“oh my god, girl. i literally agree with your mom,” asa suddenly snapped, taking her aback in shock. “why don’t you just ask him on a date right now?”

“r-right now?” she sputtered. “i can’t do that.”

“why not? if he says no, then you’ll know if he doesn’t like you, and you can move on,” morgoth hummed, a rare voice of reason for once.

that was a whole lot easier said than done.

could she even do something so bold? she doubted she was courageous enough for something like that, and she was still clinging to her little girl dream of being asked out by a boy on her first date. her heart started to pound as it battled with her mind, her soul watching the back and forth she was having within herself.

suddenly, a thread snapped, and the raging waves stilled as if nothing had ever happened.

fuck it.

she left the game, earning cries of protest and anger from her friends, and whipped open her notes app on her phone. if she thought too much, she would chicken out and change her mind. after typing a dozen variations of how she was going to phrase the message, she finally settled on one and quickly copied and pasted it into their snapchat conversation.

hey toji, are you free by any chance to hang out tomorrow? x

and hit send.

oh…

she hit send.

she.

hit.

send.

“holy fucking shit,” she whispered incredulously, a sense of dread spreading from her head to her toes.

morgoth grunted, “what happened now?”

“i just asked toji out on a date tomorrow,” she replied, voice cracking with electric nerves.

her friends both sputtered and coughed at the same time. “fuck off, no you didn’t,” asa said, obviously shell-shocked with a hint of excitement. “tomorrow?!”

“what do you mean ‘fuck off’?! you told me to do it,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and rocking back and forth on her bed.

“hah! well, what did you say?”

“i just asked him if he wanted to hang out tomorrow, and i put an ‘x’ at end to kind of… i don’t know, flirt i guess?”

her friends both cackled, and heat rose to her chest and face.

toji fushiguro is typing…

she gasped, more so screamed, “guys, fuck! oh my god, oh my god! he’s typing.”

“that was quick,” commented morgoth under his breath.

toji fushiguro has sent you a chat!

another shrill gasp. “guys, he replied!”

“leave it!” asa giggled, his giddiness infectious and making her laughter bubble out of her chest. “don’t be a desperate bitch.”

“fuck you, he replied quick! I’m not gonna just sit here and wait.”

toji fushiguro: yeah should be free for a bit tomorrow, when were you thinking?

oh my.

oh my…

“what’s he saying, huh?” asa giggled again.

“something good, i guess. her breathing suddenly got quicker,” morgoth chuckled, his laughter reverberating through his microphone.

hmm not sure haha, whenever you’re free i guess, i’m free all day tomorrow

play it cool. play it cool, goddamn it.

toji fushiguro: yeah, what about some time in the afternoon sure?

yeah sweet, does 4 sound okay or is that too late?

toji fushiguro: yeah 4 should be sweet, sounds good

aight, where do you wanna go? i still don’t know the good places to go to lmao

toji fushiguro: tbh i have no idea, sure like let’s just see when we meet up what you’re feeling

“hehe, guys, he says it’s up to what i’m feeling.”

ahaha ok then, where do you wanna meet up then?

toji fushiguro: oh yeah shit, uh you know where like the big wheel kinda is at the seafront? we could meet up there if you want?

the ferris wheel ahaha?

toji fushiguro: yeah the big wheel ahahah, literally the most recognizable place i could think of in town

haha ok no worries, i’ll see you tomorrow then, i’ll text you when i get there :)

toji fushiguro: yeah see you tomorrow x

she wasn’t a physical being limited to the confines of her bedroom anymore. no, she was limitless and infinite, soaring with ravens among the indigo clouds of twilight, her heart leaping with every sudden dip of their wings. life was good, life was meaningful, and holy shit. toji fushiguro had agreed to go on her very first date ever with her.

“guys.”

“what?”

“he sent me an ‘x’, and we’re going on a date tomorrow.”

p.s: fun fact, these are the actual text messages i sent to my boyfriend the day i asked him out :3

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