#THOSE GOLDEN STREAKS ON HIS CHEEKS??

[chaiichait]

It's canon that Cardan wears EYELINER

[blueywrites]

You know those character 🌽 link lists you see going around sometimes? I clicked on one of those links and then this popped out. 18+, gn!reader, penetration.

Thinking about a long week of road tripping with Eddie. The heat's been baking the asphalt to wiggling waves since before you left the state, and Eddie'd meant to get the van's a/c fixed before you left but didn't, so you've spent most of the way so far with the windows rolled down, letting the wind buffet your sundried face so you can manage to stand it. But just around golden hour on the fourth day, the heat finally breaks, and the temptation to luxuriate in the relief is too great to keep pushing through. Eddie pulls off the road and backs up to the precipice of some nondescript forest, its canopy so dense that it's shadowed like dusk despite the bright streaks falling across the exposed windshield.

You crawl over the center console, falling into the van's cavern just as Eddie throws the back doors open to let a shock of coolness rush in. It washes over you, splashes against the back of the front row seats, catches the nape of your neck like spray off the water. Soaks into your weary, sundazed skin as Eddie flops into the back with you; makes him heave a relieved, rib-cracking sigh and you shiver with pleasure as goosebumps bloom along your exposed flesh, mellowing the thick tack of sweat that's been clinging to you.

It's too delicious a feeling not to shed the rest of your clothes, but monotony and heat exhaustion have worn you to the bone. You lift your noodly arms toward Eddie sat beside you, silently pleading for help. He's got his elbow propped on his knee and he's just breathing, greedily gorging himself on the fresh snap in the air, eyes closed, dark glistening waves slowly curling again as his sweat dries. At your weak whine, he rolls his head on a swivel towards you. When you urge your arms a little higher in pathetic supplication, he unsticks himself from his spot and hauls you up, peeling your shirt up your torso. In fact, he does it with so little complaint that it restores you well enough to pay him the same kindness.

So you help each other undress until you're both naked, balling up your clothes into a blended heap that gets pushed aside by Eddie's bare foot until it wedges into the corner. You both lay side by side, rejuvenating your bodies until your skin plumps up powdery-soft and that thirsty, wrung-out feeling eases into a more peaceful kind of bonelessness.

Soon you find yourself on top of Eddie but still too tired to really ride him properly. So you're just laid out over him like a ragdoll, your legs split limply over his hips, comfortable aside from the hard jut pressed between you along the front of your pubic bone. You make a tiny noise of acknowledgment when his hands splay low on your cheeks, fingertips pressing in to pull them apart and shift you up the length of his body so he can catch at your unstretched rim. There's a deep pinch when gravity urges him in, a pain you don't usually feel since Eddie always makes sure you're prepped, but today you really don't mind it. In fact, you sigh as your hole yields to him, choking the contours of his thick length as it swallows him up in little hitches of movement. With each tiny rock of your hips, you drop and burn, burn and drop until your ass plops gently against his thighs, leaving his dick buried down to the root inside you.

You lay there for a moment, clenching and unclenching sporadically around his length as Eddie draws his hands down your back, up your sides, across the backs of your thighs, pausing briefly to squeeze at your ass before continuing along in his aimless wandering. Velvet skin slides against velvet skin as he caresses you, sweet and lazy, his breath kissing your cheek as he turns his face toward yours when you begin to flex your lower back, easing off and on the last half inch of his cock. Just barely bouncing on him, really, but it's the best you can do in the state you're in. Eddie hums, a warm, raspy sound of satisfaction at your efforts, then bends his knees just enough so he can flex his hips up and meet your little bounces in a quick staccato rhythm.

You fuck with the forest at your feet, breeze licking in against all the parts of you and Eddie that aren't squashed together all warm and snug. He moans quietly in unison with your breathy sounds as he nudges back and forth inside. It's not vigorous, not effortful, your fucking, but it's enough. Tight warm sleeve for him, thick blunt rod for you -- pleasure grows like a pool of liquid warmth where you're connected, constant friction sparking as your sensitive spots kiss over and over, never drawing too far away. You don't have the energy to get desperate once you feel it coming, so it just builds gradually, slow like a storm rolling in overhead as you stick and part, stick and part inside.

And there's something wonderful about it, actually. Something ancient in the steadiness, profound as you surrender to your own undoing and your lover does the same. It means that when he does finally throb inside, that's when the feeling crests, breaking over you in a sweet wash. It starts gentle, and then as it crawls along your bones, it begins to buzz, growing because you're able to keep those little bitty bounces going. And even when you lose yourselves to the rush, your hole keeps milking his cock, coaxing his cum to spill inside you all thick and warm until his balls have wrung themselves empty.

After, neither of you move. Eddie holds you for a long while, his hands resuming that meandering path over your back as you stroke your thumb against the rasp of stubble on his chin, then twine and untwine a curl around your finger. You'll have to get back on the road soon, but not yet. Now is for low murmurs and tiny kisses as the forest shadows grow long and deep, swallowing up the last wisps of orange light, that earlier coolness deepening into a chill.

That's fine, though. Eddie's still holding you, after all. You're still warm.

[chrollogy]

THE ACT OF SPITE

— satan x f! reader MC feat. lucifer

syn: The Avatar of Wrath knows just what would infuriate the prideful demon the most—that is, fucking you against the door to Lucifer’s secret office, all while he’s inside it.

18+ MDNI; nsfw, smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex (inside the HoL library), unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), horny luci, satan being a lil shit to lucifer, pet name (darling), not proofread.

word count: 1.9k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. hello! this is a repost. this fic was previously posted on my old deactivated account so i’m not plagiarising anyone. enjoy :>

this was wrong. sinful. lewd. hell, those words were far beyond what you and satan were doing right this very moment—there weren’t any words to describe how naughty your actions were but with every single thrust of the fourth-born’s hips, those thoughts of hesitancy slowly slipped from your mind. buried with the surge of lust clouding your thoughts as satan’s pace didn’t let up, not even once. his hips pushing into your own with such drive, and desperation that your lower back painfully digs further into the edges of the shelves.

that’s right. you were inside the library, most importantly, your back flush against the door to lucifer’s secret office—satan made sure of it. the worst part wasn’t even having sex in the library, it was the fact that you two were doing it right outside lucifer’s private study while he’s inside. oh, satan has seen the way his eldest brother looks at you with intent. the way lucifer’s scarlet eyes hungrily trace your figure with each opportunity he gets, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s practically eye-fucking you. satan still remembers the swirling storm inside him, the anger that bubbled at the pit of his stomach from the way his older brother eyed you. now, he just can’t help but remind lucifer who you belonged to.

the soft ember glow from the fireplace cast the side of satan’s handsome face, sweat glimmering from the fire, painting the colours of the sunset upon his fair skin—golden hair that stuck to his forehead tinged with streaks of reds and oranges; emerald irises full of lust mixed with a scarlet hue, his features fading into an angry red. wrath. you were sure that’s what he was feeling, he always did. your nails dug into the fabric of his shoulders, legs wrapped around his slender waist tightening with every jolt of your body. “s-satan—ah!” you moaned, heated and desperate just how he liked it. the corner of his mouth tugged upward, satan was sure that your erotic sounds were loud enough to reach the other side of the door. enough to disrupt lucifer from his work.

satan bit his lip from the way you felt around him, your warm walls hugging his cock so tightly, so deliciously that it made his emerald eyes roll to the back of his head. he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with how you squeezed him, and that was fine but he needed to make the most of it—he needed you to be louder. satan’s nails painfully dug into the edge of the bookshelf, heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust of his hips. arousal dripped down to his balls, creating wet noises that filled your ears—a white ring forming at the base of his cock. fuck, it was naughty. the vast library was filled with your’s and satan’s sounds mixed with wet squelches, and the crackling of fire. you didn’t need to worry about being caught by the other brothers; belphegor was up in the attic, fast asleep, and leviathan was having a TSL marathon while the rest of them had gone out, leaving satan and lucifer down here.

thud. thud. thud. the door to lucifer’s secret office cried from satan’s unwavering pace. inside the private study, a blanket of blush covered lucifer’s face, cheeks heating up from the obvious activity happening outside the room. he didn’t know whether to curse his younger brother for vexing him like this, or to feel flustered at the lewd noises coming from your throat—the way you cry out satan’s name every now and then with such desperation, such passion that he almost wished it was his name rolling off your tongue. that he was the one making you feel pleasured. lucifer’s free hand curled into a fist, the papers beneath his palm crinkling at the movement. the tent in his pants grew with every sound you made, erotic images of you clouding his mind; imagining the way your brows furrow in pleasure, lips parted, completely lost in lust.

lucifer’s heart pounded against his chest, the half-done report before him sprawled on his desk, already forgotten. “satan. . what will i do with you. . ?” his voice was quiet but it seethed with fury. he knew his younger brother disliked him but not to the extent of fucking you right outside his private study. lucifer didn’t exactly know what satan gained from . . this but he wasn’t surprised with how territorial his brother was. especially when it came to you. the thuds of the door mixed with your heated moans engulfed lucifer’s ears. he didn’t even notice his eyes were closed—relishing in your sounds—until he snapped them open, startled from the wooden ink pen breaking in half from the tight grip.

dropping the broken pen on the desk, he leaned back into his chair, placing a forearm atop his closed eyes while the other rested on his thigh. it tingled. his palm tingled against his clothed thigh, as if urging him to do something about the growing problem at the apex of his legs—urging him to relieve himself with the help of your sounds. it wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? merely fisting himself at the thought of you wasn’t going to be the most sinful thing he’s done. lucifer had already committed the gravest sin of his life, it led to his downfall. this is nothing.

back in the library, your soft moans didn’t satisfy satan, he needed more from you. removing his hands from the shelf behind you, satan snaked them down to your ass, palms flat against the heated bare skin. a string of loud moans and curses left your parted lips as he bounced you on his cock. “o-oh my—fuck . .! aah! just like that, satan!” “y-yeah? you like that?” satan’s lips ghosted over your own before sealing you into a kiss. the kiss was messy, spit coating the corners of your mouths, teeth clashing—he chased your parted lips with every bounce of your body. satan made sure not to swallow your whimpers down, he needed lucifer to hear how good he was making you feel. he needed lucifer to know that he’s the only one who can make you moan like this.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bottom lip trapped between your teeth from pure bliss. the slight change in angle enabled his cock to reach much deeper into you, allowing you to feel every ridge when you clenched around him. satan’s cock had a slight curve to it, and the way it repeatedly hit your cervix over and over again made it more pleasurable—sending electrifying shocks up your spine. goosebumps formed under the fourth-born’s lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and down the side of your sweaty neck—sucking and biting at the supple skin, leaving a hues of dark red and purple. satan marvelled at the masterpiece peppered on your skin before licking a long, flat stripe up your neck and nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

he didn’t shy away from groaning directly into your ear, harsh pants escaping his parted lips, mixed with broken, endless praises. satan knew the effect his voice had on you, especially when he sung praises to you—he didn’t miss the way you squeezed around him with every praise muttered into your ear. he cursed at the pleasure, a heated gasp and a desperate whisper of your name coming from him. this spurred him on, harshly bouncing you on his cock with all his strength—you swear he’s about to leave handprints on your ass with how hard he’s gripping them.

it was getting too much, you could feel the coil deep in your stomach beginning to unravel. your body grew limp from pleasure, simply leaning onto satan’s front and letting him have his way with you. all you could really do was cry out his name and run your nails down his clothed back. satan groaned, relishing at the way your moans travelled straight to his ear—specs of white slowly clouded his vision, and his fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass. he was close. “s-satan—ngh! fuck fuck fuck! ‘m cumming!” broken shallow pants left your lips. holding his emerald gaze, lids heavy with lust, “that’s it—haah! let go for me, my darling.” satan breathed out, knees buckling from pleasure. he was close too.

leaning against the other side of the door was lucifer, pants unbuttoned, and pulled down just enough to take his cock out. his wrist between was between his teeth to muffle moans as he fisted his cock to your sounds. it was heavenly, even the angels up at the celestial realm couldn’t compare to the way your voice sounded. he let out harsh breaths, each one shaky from how his fingers curled around his hard cock. lucifer teased the sensitive slit with his thumb, knees almost giving in from the immense pleasure. with his back against the door, he could hear things much better—the skin slapping, the wet noises, the heated gasps, all of it. how lewd but lucifer didn’t care, he had one thing in mind: cumming. he sped up the pace, synching it with your shallow pants and hoping to reach his orgasm the same time as you.

both of you sung in unison, cries of pleasure filling the entire library as you reached your orgasm. your legs tightened around satan’s waist, every muscle in your body turning taut as shocks of hot, white pleasure ran throughout your body, making your toes curl. satan let out one last cry of your name before sheathing his cock deep inside you and letting go—thick ribbons of white shamelessly painting your insides as he came. he rode out both your orgasms by giving you shallow thrusts, fucking his cum deeper, and earning a small whimper from you.

lucifer couldn’t believe himself—he came to the sound of you desperately moaning his younger brother’s name. white, hot liquid dripped coated his digits and down to his wrist; chest heaving up and down, attempting to catch his breath. lucifer stayed that way for a while, leaning against the door to try and compose himself as his head spun with pleasure. his lust-clouded mind soon cleared, pleasure that coursed through his body faded into fury. he was seething with rage—enough for satan to smell the scent of wrath. his brother dared to disrespect his private space, not only that but also by performing such a brazen act.

he knew. lucifer knew this was just to spite him, that was part of satan’s personality—to defy, and vex him. it was fine, he handled everything satan threw his way but using you? oh, that’s a whole different story. lucifer felt like satan has got him wrapped around his finger with how he practically jumped at the opportunity to fist himself to your sounds. it mocked him—putting him in his place, and letting him know that he was never going to experience the pleasure of being inside you because you were satan’s.

satan smirked into the kiss as he caught a whiff of the familiar smell that emanated from the other side of the door—the smell of wrath. the essence that he was more than familiar with; the essence that embodied his very own existence. pulling away from the kiss, his emerald eyes traced your features, giving your sweaty forehead a chaste kiss, “you did so well.” satan breathed, eyes glimmering with adoration. you didn’t miss the hint of mischief behind it, though.

but before you could reply, satan parted his lips to speak once again, a smug look on his handsome face,

“isn’t that right, lucifer?”

[nanamis-baker]

Pizza date with Satoru

Summary: After a cancelled date, you and Satoru bake pizza together ♡ Content: Fluff, kinda suggestive. Tried making it wholesome too! 🫶 Word Count: 3.7k a/n: Hello you guys! I really wanted to write some Gojo fluff after whoring him out so here we are! I hope you like this! Also, big big BIG thank you to Nici @lostfracturess for helping me make this fic 10x better. She is the best!🌷 Oh, and you might find this similar to Bake Date, if you have read it, because both the fics have similar actions in them. But nonetheless, I really hope you enjoy reading this!

Satoru held you close as he fumbled with the keys, the click-clack of metal drowned out by the relentless drumming of rain on the roof. You shivered, the dampness seeping into your bones despite Satoru's warmth. His jacket, while a comforting shield, did little to keep away the cold. Droplets of water dripped down from your hair and clothes, leaving dark patches on the carpet below your feet.

As always, Satoru was pristine, his sorcerer uniform spotless amidst the chaos of the storm raging outside. "Stupid infinity," you muttered as a playful exasperation colouring your voice. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he finally unlocked the door, the scent of home and Satoru's familiar cologne washing over you.

He gently removed his jacket from your shoulders as you glanced outside the kitchen window. The world outside was a blur of grey, the once vibrant Tokyo skyline muted by the downpour. Disappointment gnawed at you. Date nights were invaluable treasures for the two of you, carved out of busy schedules filled with sorcerer duties and teaching the students. Tonight was supposed to be one such night, and the two of you were supposed to go to this charming Italian place, but the rain had other plans.

"Looks like our plans are foiled," you sighed, the craving for sourdough pizza suddenly overwhelming. “I was really craving their pizza.”

Satoru hummed softly, his hands cupping your damp cheeks. His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a wave of warmth through you. With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His eyes, a striking blue that mirrored the sky on a clear day, stood in stark contrast to the stormy chaos outside. A sense of calm emanated from him. "Don't worry, love," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "We'll figure something out." The way he sounded, you could tell he was already planning something.

A playful glint sparked in his eyes as he added, "But first, you need to warm up. Wouldn't you want to catch a cold, now would we?" he said teasingly.

A playful scowl crossed your face. "You're lucky I love you," you retorted, though the chill had already begun to seep into your bones. A hot shower sounded increasingly appealing. "One of these days, I will figure out a way to get you drenched in the rain too," you vowed, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I look forward to it," he teased. "But for now, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Before you could say anything else, another shiver ran down your spine. Yes, a warm shower sounded heavenly.

The shower washed away the chill from your bones, leaving you feeling refreshed and enveloped in the cosy warmth of Satoru's sweatshirt. You padded out of the bathroom, eager to be in his presence. Usually, Satoru waits for you in the bedroom, but right now, the bedroom was empty. With your curiosity piqued, you ventured into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath caught in your throat. The once ordinary space had been transformed into a cosy, warm space. The rain-streaked windows cast dancing shadows on the walls, while the soft, golden glow of kitchen lights and the warm scent of apple cinnamon from the candles filled the air. Soft notes of classical music reached your ears, their gentle melody soothing your soul. 

Satoru was hovering over the counter, his back turned towards you as he placed some mixing bowls on the platform. When he heard you walk in, he turned to face you, a smile instantly lighting up his face. He was clad in a navy turtleneck, his hair sticking out from places, yet somehow gracefully framing his face. But what stood out the most was an unexpected apron with small floral prints and olive green border that adorned his lean, muscular frame.

"You were craving sourdough pizza, right?" he asked, his voice soft as he gestured towards the counter. The counter was organised perfectly, with every ingredient laid out meticulously. Flour, tomatoes and a vibrant array of herbs awaited, as if ready to serve their purpose. And there, amidst all these ingredients, sat a small, unlabeled jar.

Intrigued, you reached for it, your fingers brushing against the cool glass as you removed the lid to see its gooey, bubbly contents. A sourdough starter! Your eyes widened in surprise. "Where did you get this?" you asked, disbelief colouring your voice. You and Satoru rarely cooked; a sourdough starter wasn’t something one would find lying around in your kitchen.

Satoru chuckled, amused at your astonishment. "Let's just say I owe Nanami a big favour," he confessed, his eyes sparkling under the golden lights that filled your kitchen.

Nanami! Of course, Nanami was the man who would have such things just lying around in his house. The realisation hit you like a wave of warmth. "You asked Nanami!" you exclaimed, still in disbelief.

Satoru nodded, a proud grin spreading across his face. "He was happy to help when I told him it was for you. Good thing you two are such great friends."

A soft smile tugged at your lips. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for both Satoru and Nanami.

Satoru grabbed your apron and moved behind you, helping you put it on and tying the apron strings together, his hands lingering on your waist. He pressed his lips right on the spot behind your ear before pulling you into his gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you. 

"Ready to get your hands dirty, hm?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. A surge of excitement pulsed through you as you nodded eagerly. "That's my girl," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before squeezing your waist gently.

He reached for the recipe, his tall frame hovering over you. You skimmed through the instructions, a sense of anticipation growing. "This doesn't look too complicated," you commented, glancing up at him. The soft glow of the kitchen highlighted his striking features, making him look almost ethereal. He nodded, his eyes scanning the page. "Yeah, seems pretty straightforward," he agreed.

With that, Satoru began washing and preparing the vegetables - something he couldn’t do earlier, while you began measuring the dry ingredients for the dough. It was a simple task – flour and salt – but you approached it with precision, making sure it was the exact amount as mentioned in the recipe. As you measured, a splashing sound erupted from the sink.

Startled, you turned to see Satoru standing there, droplets of water clinging to him. He'd accidentally cranked the tap to full blast as he held the tomatoes under the tap, and since his infinity normally didn’t activate around you, the splashes had reached him.

Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair, and droplets raced down his face, some disappearing into the collar of his sweater. You couldn't help the laughter that escaped your lips and Satoru shot you a look of amused surprise.

Reaching for a stack of paper towels, you gently dabbed at his face, your fingers brushing against his damp skin. "I told you I'd find a way to get you wet," you teased, your voice light and playful.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He brushed away the remaining water droplets, his gaze lingering on your hand as he tilted his head. With a tender smile, he placed a soft kiss on the inside of your palm. "Well, good thing I don't need to find ways to get you wet," he retorted, his voice low and teasing. His arms found your waist once again, drawing you closer to his heated body.

Another chuckle escaped your lips as you playfully swatted his shoulder. "You know what? You're demoted from this position. Go and prepare the dough."

Satoru's smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. “Whatever you say, my love,” He said softly before placing a kiss on your cheeks, taking the spot you once occupied and started preparing the dough.

You started working on the vegetables, arranging the tomatoes on the baking tray before filling the empty space with garlic and onion. ignoring the recipe's modest suggestion, you generously filled the gaps, trusting your instincts. Who uses only three cloves of garlic anyways? When you were done, you drizzled a generous amount of olive oil over the prepared vegetables, before putting it in the heated oven to roast.

With that done, you turned your attention to Satoru, who seemed to be engrossed in the sourdough starter. He reached for the jar, unscrewing the lid as a peculiar scent filled the kitchen, a mix of tangy and earthy notes that was both intriguing and off-putting. Satoru peered into the jar, his nose scrunching up in slight disgust. It was a comical sight - Satoru had exorcised countless curses, yet sourdough starter was disgusting to him. "This seems to be… alive," he muttered, lilting the jar towards you so you can have a look too.

You leaned in, peering into the jar. Indeed, it was a strange sight. The starter was a bubbling, gooey mass. It was fascinating, but slightly repulsive too. "It's like something from a science fiction movie," you commented, a hint of amusement in your voice. “Something you don’t want to fall into.”

Satoru nodded, eying the mixture with scepticism. “If this wasn’t from Nanami, I would have thrown it away by now.” 

You hummed in agreement, leaning in closer to get a better look. Your hand rested on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against his hair. "Are you sure Nanami isn't trying to poison your ass?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "Imagine the strongest sorcerer being taken out by food poisoning."

Satoru laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "As real as that sounds, you know his wife wouldn't let him. She loves you too much for that." It was true; you were incredibly close to Nanami and his wife. Trusting their judgement, you and Satoru decided to incorporate the starter into the dough. With a splash of water, Satoru began to knead the mixture, his long fingers effortlessly combining the ingredients into an elastic mass.

You leaned against the counter, pulling yourself up into a comfortable sitting position as Satoru worked his magic on the dough. Watching him was oddly mesmerising. The way his strong fingers kneaded the dough, the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders, the subtle flex of his arm muscles as he stretched and pressed the dough together - it was a captivating sight.

Your gaze moved to his face, drawn in by the way the soft kitchen light danced across his features. His silvery hair seemed to shimmer with a golden hue, framing his face with a halo-like effect, making him look angelic. His eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his high cheekbones as he focused on the dough, his eyebrows knitting together slightly in concentration.

Out of all the different versions of Satoru you had seen all over the years, this Satoru was your favourite. The carefree Satoru, who didn't seem to be burdened by the responsibility of being the strongest. Not the six-eye user, but simply your Satoru, grounded in the mundane, yet radiating an undeniable charm.

Satoru’s hands abruptly stopped as he felt your gaze heating his skin. His eyes found yours, something dark swimming in them. “Keep looking at me like that love, and pizza would be the last thing we'll be making,” he said, his voice low. Satoru’s fingers retracted from the dough as he moved to settle between your knees, leaving the dough unattended on the counter.

Maintaining eye contact, his large hand grabbed your sides, pulling you closer till you were on the edge of the counter, the space between your bodies disappearing. You wrapped your hands around his neck, fingers combing through his hair - his undercut - oh how much you loved his undercut. His scent, so uniquely Satoru, filled your senses as he leaned in, his breath warm against the already heated skin of your cheeks.

"What will we be doing, then?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you searched his face. Satoru just smiled, his eyes twinkling. Before you could process his intent, his lips found yours, capturing your attention completely. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepened the kiss. A low moan escaped your lips, a sound that seemed to encourage him further. The kitchen, the rain, the music - everything faded away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his touch and the warmth of his lips.

You knew what he was doing - this was just an aperçu, a tantalising tease, a glimpse of what may come. But you devoured it nonetheless, leaning into his touch, savouring every stolen moment.

But of course, stolen moments don't last forever. The sharp ding of the oven timer startled you both, bringing you back to the present. Reluctantly, Satoru broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close to his body. A soft, frustrated groan escaped his throat, causing you to chuckle softly. Your arm moved to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the rough texture of his stubble. His warmth seeped into you, a comforting contrast to the cool stone of the counter.

The oven dinged once again, reminding the two of you of the task in hand. Satoru wordlessly pulled back, his hands lingering on your waist before helping you down from the counter. He grabbed the oven mitts, sliding on the thick fabric even though he didn’t really need it. With a careful grip, he slid the tray out of the oven, the rich aroma of roasted vegetables filling the air as he set the tray down on the counter.

Your attention shifted to the recipe, looking for the next step.You were supposed to blend the vegetables with herbs and spices to create a smooth sauce for the pizza. Allowing the vegetables to cool slightly, you turned your attention to Satoru, as he placed the dough in a bowl, covered with a cloth, and set it near the warm oven to rise.

The two of you worked side by side, the gentle notes of the music creating a soothing ambiance. You began the process of blending the roasted vegetables, adding a pinch of salt and a mix of oregano, rosemary, and basil. The whirring of the blender filled the kitchen as the ingredients transformed into a smooth, fragrant sauce. You could feel Satoru's gaze on you as you worked, his silent observation making your cheeks warm.

Taking a spoonful of the sauce, you tasted the mixture, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. You turned to Satoru, holding out the spoon, inviting him to taste the sauce. His warm hand enveloped yours as he guided the spoon to his lips. He tasted the sauce, his eyes closing briefly as he savoured the flavour. "Oh, this is really good," he said, licking his lips to capture the lingering taste. The smile on your lips turned even bigger. "Really? It's not too spicy for you?" you asked, remembering he wasn’t a big fan of spicy food. He shook his head, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "No, it's perfect love," he replied.

Now that everything was ready, it was time to assemble the pizza. The dough had risen beautifully, doubling in size. A proud smile spread across Satoru’s face as he dusted the counter with flour, then gently extracted the dough from the bowl. He divided the dough into two equal portions, each one soft and pliable.

You grabbed the rolling pin and handed it to Satoru and he began to roll out the first base. The dough was surprisingly elastic, shrinking back at every attempt. Laughter bubbled up as you watched him struggle with the dough. You decided to take over, using your fingers to gently coax the dough into shape, making the edges slightly thicker than the rest of the base. To Satoru's amusement, you managed to create a perfect circle and a whimsical heart shaped base.

Satoru spread a generous layer of the prepared sauce over the bases, creating a vibrant canvas for the toppings and cheese to go on.

While he focused on the sauce, you gathered your favourite toppings, arranging them on the pizza. With a sprinkle of oregano and a handful of grated mozzarella, you transformed the plain dough into a mouth-watering masterpiece. Finally, you transferred the two pizzas onto the baking tray, the anticipation building with each passing second.

With a satisfied nod, Satoru slid the trays into the pre-heated oven, the comforting hiss of heat filling the room. Turning to you, he said, "Now we wait." Nodding your head, you echoed his words, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes were glued to the oven, a wave of gratitude crashing over you.

You turned to Satoru, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently. "Thank you so much for arranging all of this, Satoru. It was so much more fun than just going to a cafe," you confessed, your voice filled with warmth.

Satoru squeezed your hand back, a smile gracing his lips. "Hey, no need to thank me, you deserve this," he replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

As the two of you waited for the pizza to bake, the music playing in the background took a familiar turn. Your favourite melody filled the room, its soft notes creating a warm ambiance. Satoru turned to you, a knowing look on his face as his eyes met yours. His arms found your waist, pulling you close. "Come here," he murmured, his voice low and inviting. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his muscular frame as he guided you to the centre of the kitchen.

It was still raining outside, and the sky had turned pitch dark. Somehow, it felt as if nothing existed beyond this kitchen. The kitchen felt like your world - a world you shared with Satoru, lit up by the warm glow of the oven and the soft lights.

Satoru's body pressed against yours as he pulled you closer, a comforting warmth radiating from him. You closed your eyes, letting the music wash over you as you leaned completely into him, your bodies forming a seamless unit. The two of you gently swayed to the music, creating a harmonious dance in the heart of your kitchen.

Satoru buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You felt a shiver of contentment as he left a soft kiss there, a tender mark of affection. You ensconced your head on his shoulder, your cheek nuzzling into the warmth of his neck. The world seemed to fade away as you held him close, finding solace in the simple act of being together.

The two of you remained wrapped in each other's embrace until the insistent beep of the oven timer broke the spell. Satoru sighed, a note of reluctance in the sound as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. You unwillingly pulled away, already missing the warmth of his body against yours, but the promise of pizza was tempting.

The intoxicating aroma of melted cheese and roasted vegetables filled the kitchen as you approached the oven. Peeking inside, your heart skipped a beat. The pizza looked absolutely perfect - the toppings were caramelised to golden perfection, the cheese was bubbling with an irresistible allure, and the crust promised a satisfying crunch.

Satoru effortlessly slid the tray out of the oven, his bare hands unaffected by the heat thanks to his infinity, before placing it on the counter. Satoru grabbed the pizza cutter and began dividing the pie into slices. The circular pizza was simple enough, but the heart-shaped one proved to be a bit of a challenge. But it was Satoru holding the blade - he managed to do it perfectly, of course, while maintaining the pizza’s charming shape.

You grabbed your and Satoru's favourite drinks, pouring them into two glasses before you rearranged the candles and flowers, creating a cosy little dining nook. Satoru placed a steaming slice of pizza on your plate, claiming one for himself as well.

The two of you settled into chairs, the anticipation thick in the air. "You look nervous, love," Satoru commented, his eyes shining with amusement. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation bubbling within you. “I am sure it will be amazing - it already looks so good,” Satoru said, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently. His words were comforting, and he was right too - it was just pizza, why were you feeling so nervous about it?

With a deep breath, you reached for your slice, the warmth of the crust radiating through the plate. As you took a bite, your eyes widened in surprise. The flavours exploded in your mouth, a perfect balance of tangy tomato sauce, the toppings, melted cheese, and the slightly chewy crust.

A small sound escaped your lips, a mixture of delight and satisfaction. Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I take it, it’s really good?" he asked, picking up his own slice. He took a bite, his expression shifting from anticipation to pure enjoyment. For a second, Satoru looked surprised, "Okay, I knew it would be good but I didn't expect it to be this good."

You laughed, taking another bite. "We are never going to a pizza place now, are we?" The crust was perfectly crisp, the sauce tangy yet sweet, and the cheese melted to gooey perfection. It was everything you had hoped for and more.

The two of you savoured every bite, the silence broken only by the occasional hum of satisfaction. When the last piece was gone, you leaned back in your chair, a contented sigh escaping your lips. Satoru mirrored your actions, a satisfied smile on his face. "Best pizza I've ever had," he declared, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

You returned his smile, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. Together, you cleaned up the kitchen, the lingering aroma of pizza filling the space. As you glanced out the window, you noticed the rain had dwindled to a gentle drizzle.

A soft smile graced your lips as you felt Satoru's arms wrap around you from behind as he left a kiss on your shoulder blade. He turned your body so you were facing him, his body creating a comforting barrier between you and the world. With ease, he lifted you onto the counter, his hands finding a secure hold on your thighs. As he settled between your legs, darkened eyes met yours. "Now, we have to take care of some interrupted business from earlier," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. Your smile turned even bigger as his lips captured yours in a tender kiss.

a/n: I think one of these days I am gonna lose my mind because my fics don't show up in the tags ughhh. But that aside, I hope you enjoyed reading this and it bought you some comfort! 🫶🫶 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[dorcas4meadowes]

thinking abt daughter of aphrodite reader decorating lukes face w/ kisses in different shades of lipstick🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lipstick Smudges - Luke Castellan

Pairing - Luke Castell x Aphrodite!reader

Warnings: kisses

W/c - 1k

Masterlist (this was such a cute request <3)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The Aphrodite sanctuary were the epitome of beauty, but it would be nothing if not for its inhabitants. Its delicate walls were adorned with oil paintings and a collection of mirrors, reflecting the children who called it home. A majority of the interior were carved marble with streaks of grey and gold, including the pillars that held up the roof that were enhanced with flourishing blossoms. The flooring harmonised with the column structures and quite adamantly noted the arrival of heels against its solid surface.

Mary Janes were the only sound that were produced when you entered your dainty cabin, your skirt lifted over your thighs with each step and your heels ceased to be heard when you drifted against the comfort of your seat. You veered towards your vanity and skimmed your fingers against the veneer, admiring the new possessions you had acquired since you last return to your cabin.

The surface was embellished with blooming tulips from you Demeter admirers, dark chocolate from your siblings - who had a fondness for the treat - and seashells from Percy who noticed you love for the sea's gift.

Grateful for your offerings, you reached for you signature perfume and allowed the subtle hints of cherries and wild flowers to enchant your clothes and those who ventured too close.

You broke of a piece of the chocolate and let you esteemed appearance to muse your glowing features, matching your movements through the mirror. 

You readjusted the ribbons that were weaved through your hair, reaching into your draws to touch up your exterior. You dusted a deep blush along your cheeks and leant for a gloss which had seemed to have additional companions. You were confused at the increase of lipsticks, but that didn't pose you from setting them on your desk.

You received plenty of tokens from unknown campers, but this gift seemed too particular to be from a stranger. You slipped the lid off of one of the cases and took no time to apply the creamy formula against your lips, astonished at the specific shade which complimented you greatly.

"Thought you might like them". 

You peeled your eyes away from your vanity and found your boyfriend leaning against the door frame, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I do, very much, thank you" you chimed, placing your feet on the marble to float into his arms. His hands rested against the small of your back as you planted a kiss on his cheek, the mark reflecting the crease of your lips.

You never questioned where he got your gifts from, you preferred to linger in the feeling of being doted on and he took the pleasure in spoiling you. He sought out pearls and dewy lotions, sun kissed flowers and dresses which reached just above your thighs, he made you feel adored.

You were an angel, a breath of fresh air and he never once let you feel anything other than purely cherished. You were an embrace from the Elysium, the triple repeated numbers on your thighs only reinforcing the notion of your soft voice and gentle hands. He often toyed with the pleasuring thought that only his eyes would see your tattoo, that only his fingers would graze against the skin of your thighs and that the numbers were your shared secret.

"Wanna come in?" you asked to which he nodded, he would rather throw himself into Tartarus that reject an invitation to your cabin. You linked your hands together and tugged him into the room and closed the door. You pulled him towards your desk and sat him amongst the golden swirls and satin ribbons.

His hands took not time and settled around your waist, toying with the hem of your skirt while his arms swayed with your movements. He admired your busy eyes flutter around your space delicately as your reached for a lipstick behind him and applied a generous layer to your lips blending a lighter shade into the deeper tone. He was unaware of your next move, but he knew he would do anything if you asked with your lips.

Everything slowed when you draped your arms around his neck and brushed a kiss just above the previous stain, coming to a stand between his stretched legs. He felt you smile against his jaw as trailed deliberate kisses down his neck, leaving small bites along his skin.

"Can you pass me the darker one?" you questioned, your breath against him.

 He wordlessly agreed and let a hand fall from your side and retrieved you case, slipping it through your fingers. You set a warm kiss on his other cheek, and grew to cover the thin scar on his skin, a small laugh leaving your lips as you decorated your boyfriend in your kisses.

Luke relished in the feeling before it stopped. "Do you need something my love?"

You nodded mindlessly and took his prying hands off of your waist, "My shoes are digging into my heels" you replied.

You know you didn't have to say much to have Luke leant to your ankles to unstrap the attachments while your fingers found his curls, playing with a few coils as he individually lifted each heel from your feet to place them beside your desk. His head slowly rose.

"Better?"

You smiled in response and peppered a few more kisses against his dizzy face noting how his skin had been tinted by pinks and reds.

"My pretty boy" you gleamed, pulling away, his thumb wiping smudged colour off from under your lip. "Wait one moment".

"What?"

Within a few moments you had evaporated from his arms and were reaching into one of you sisters draws, you rummaged until you found an old camera and brought back to your desk and to your boyfriend. "Smile" you mused. Your fingers eagerly gripping onto the polaroid as it came from the camera, you shook it lightly and handed it to Luke.

"I hope this comes off" were his only response as he took you back in his arms and held you close.

You were an angel with a sweet smile and he were a boy with soft curls and a mind full of thoughts. You were the perfect couple, the perfect combination of wits and ambition, but nothing could truly ever be as fragile as love. It was a drug which made your world rose and trusting, but the repercussions of this action are not for you to worry about, at least not at this moment of time.

What could possibly happen? Nothing with your boyfriend at least, he wouldn’t’ even hurt a fly let alone a scorpion.

The sweet memory of your day was encapsulated in the picture which was later weaved between the space in your mirror and it's frame, highlighting your affection for the boy and subsequently and your biggest anguish.

_________

Taglist:

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @y0urm0m12 @ashr0

[vlrspace]

there was never a time where the atmosphere was this thick with tension, gojo thinks, never with you at least.

his slender fingers dug tightly into the leather covered wheel, white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead as his cerulean eyes focus on the road ahead. how comical, of course it’s raining outside, accompanied with purple and white strikes appearing across the sky.

gojo gazes at you from the corner of his eyes, he’s desperately trying to ignore the churn of his heart at the sight of you. soft arms wrapped around your frame, fully embracing yourself and seeking comfort in a pair of arms that aren’t his. streaks of maskara coating the red apples of your cheeks, as you lean your head against the window.

he can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that you haven’t even spoke, let alone look at him ever since you two left or that he can’t find anyone else to blame, but himself.

truly, he hadn’t known about the invitation of his ex girlfriend by his parents. a vicious move on their end, just to taunt you with the thought that gojo could always do better than you.

his ex, who is a true golden girl, the definition of a perfect woman every parent desire their children to be with. however, she was far from the ideal partner, with her cunning and self absorbed nature. sure, she’s beautiful and comes from a wealthy family, like gojo, but she only ever cared about putting up a good show for the world. everything with her were non existent, unlike with you.

gojo is aware of how, unfortunately, his parents aren’t particularly fond of you and frankly, he doesn’t care.

the familiar silhouette of your home is visible in the distance and the white haired male tries to calm down his thoughts, to centralise them about making you stay with him. gojo thinks that it’s ridiculous how tied to you he really feels, how dependent he is on you and in such short time as well. six months were enough to make him obsessed with you, it’s utterly pathetic.

the buzzing of the engine comes to a stop and you get yourself ready to exit the car, but gojo locks the car before you even could reach the handle. the action makes you turn towards him, confused and nervous as you wait for him to talk.

“i’m so sorry” his sentence comes out shaky and breathless, his body wholly facing you, blue gaze never wavering away from yours. “i’m so fucking sorry” his shoulders are shaking, pools of tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

with quiet sobs, he reaches for you, his hands carefully placing themselves on your waist, softly cradling you closer to him. the action makes your eyes widen, you’ve never seen gojo so vulnerable before. he threw his tie on the backseat the second you two entered the vehicle, along with his suit and his button up is halfway undone.

“you deserve so much better” his words are barely audible between the hiccups, his forehead gently pressing against yours as a hand comes up to wipe your tears away. “so much better than me”

gojo blames himself for the way his parents treated you at the dinner party, you realise, belittling you and throwing snarky remarks in front of everyone when his ex arrived. even though gojo stood up for you and got into an argument with his family, those words still hurt you.

“but i don’t ever want to let you go, you’re my everything. i didn’t know what home felt like till i met you, what love really was. i don’t have to pretend to be someone else when i’m with you and you make me feel whole” the desperation of his voice makes your heart break, you can feel his hold on you a little unsteady. “it’s you that i want, you make feel a better man and i love you so much it makes my heart hurt” he stutters out, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, before pulling away from you.

“i don’t care what they think, i belong with you” your breath hitches in your throat as his words hit you with full force. not only that, but there is no hesitation in his voice and his face is full of seriousness.

“satoru..” you whisper out finally and reach for your seatbelt. swiftly unlocking it, you throw yourself at him, lips pressing against each other feverishly.

your hands curl around his neck, fingers disappearing in his white hair and you feel him wrap around your waist and move you into his lap. gojo’s tongue pushes into your mouth, salvaging every inch he touches. one of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently stroking your soft skin and you feel his other hand slowly moving you against him.

you’re the first one to pull away, just barely a few inches between you, gojo’s hips thrusting upwards to meet yours in the middle. both of your breaths are heavy and the atmosphere is now filled with a different type of tension. the sound of rain sounds distant, you can’t seem to care about the on going storm outside anymore. all you care about is gojo, the love of your life.

“i love you so much” your words are whispered against his lips as he leans up to capture yours in a kiss again.

if gojo wasn’t so occupied with you right now, he would laugh at his parents’ poor attempt to break you two apart. he knows his parent finally realised, how much you mean to him and the growing fear within them taken over.

satoru would do anything for you, even if it meant abandoning the great gojo empire just to be with you.

@/vrlspace, 2024

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

A New Beginning - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

Summary: The birth of your daughter with Lucifer brings some of his fears to the surface as he meets her for the first time, but you're there to help him.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff

The moment she came into the world you knew you'd always love her. Your sweet baby girl looked a lot like her father, and while she had gotten your eyes, everything else seemed to have come from Lucifer. She had the most stunning golden hair you had ever seen, and the lighter streaks of blonde running through it only added to her beauty. Her chubby little cheeks were the most adorable shade of a bright, rosy red, and when she smiled you felt a happiness stronger than you had ever experienced before.

She was perfect.

"God, she looks so much like Charlie when she was born." Gently leaning over, Lucifer held out a finger, and your daughter grabbed onto it, curious eyes looking up at him. "Hi, my baby," he cooed, gently taking her from you, and holding her in his arms. "You're so precious."

You melted at the sight, a warmth filling you as you watched the scene in front of you. He was being careful with her, almost as if he was afraid she'd break at any moment, and the soft way he spoke to her made you fall in love with him all over again. You had always thought you made the right choice all those months ago when you asked him to have a baby with you, and your belief only grew as you looked at them.

"Darling?" Lucifer asked you. "Are you crying?"

You sniffled, nodding in response. It was beautiful. The two loves of your life in front of you had brought you to tears of joy. You loved them so, so much. "I'm just so happy, Lucifer. You're such a great dad."

Your husband looked away, avoiding your gaze, smiling sadly. "I'm not—I could've–" He sighed, unable to find the words. He handed her back to you, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion as he took a few steps back and began to nervously fidget with his cane.

"I could've done better with Charlie." He looked at your baby, the same sad, pained smile on his face. "I'm probably going to fuck up with this one, too." He let out a small, humorless, bitter laugh. You frowned.

"Lucifer, honey." You motioned for him to come closer, and he did, letting you hold his face in one of your hands. "Not all of it's your fault, okay?" You reassured him. He had told you about Lilith, and how she would distance him from Charlie, and how that ultimately helped lead up to his current, rocky father-daughter relationship with her.

He fought back tears. "I–I know you're not Lilith, but–fuck—I'm scared that the same thing's gonna happen, or that I'll screw up some other way. I want to be a good father. I need to be a good father. For her."

"And you will be." You promised. "I can already tell how much you love her, and I know you'll do an amazing job. Think of this as a new beginning for you. A chance to do even better."

He frowned, still filled with self-doubt, but nodded in agreement. This would be a new start for him, and he wouldn't waste his chance. His frown turned into a grin as your daughter reached out her tiny hands towards him, wanting to be held by her father again, and he gladly took her from you.

"Oh!" He said suddenly, letting out a small laugh as he realized something. "We never gave her a name!" He was right. Amid all the emotions, both good and bad, you had both managed to forget about her name.

"What should we—"

"Stella." You decided, cutting him off. She was your little star, your bright light in the darkness, and the cosmic-themed name fit her excellently. A wonderful name for the wonderful little girl you had brought into the world.

"Stella." He said, testing the name out. "I like it." He smiled down at her. "I'll be the best dad you could ever ask for, Stella. I promise."

You knew he wouldn't let her down. She was his new beginning, and he'd stay true to his word.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Legionary

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Marcus returns to his hometown while traveling with his young soldier who's eager to learn from him. Good thing he knows your domus is always open to him. Warnings: SMUT, bad Roman definitions, MMF, softdom!Marcus Acacius, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, lots of praise kink, m!masturbation, wine. Words: 3,400

Masterlist

A/N: Oh hi! This is my first fic in almost two months, it's been a whirlwind of a time in my personal life, but that Gladiator trailer lit SOMETHING FILTHY in me. I know VERY LITTLE about roman times, other than the stuff I learned years and years ago in history and bits Assassins Creed games. I know angel wasn’t really a “thing” back then but I’m using it. This hasn't been beta read and this is my first dive into MMF. A big shout out to @pascalispretty for some language help and of course @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. A few definitions are below to note before reading.

municipium: town | domus: home | hospitium: hotel | subligaculum: underwear 

The gate creaks as it swings open, interrupting your respite.

“Angel” the man’s familiar deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, his dark brown eyes focus on your wide eyes. 

“M-Marcus,” your voice shakes when you rise and bow to him. Ten years since you’ve seen him, Marcus Acacius, your municipium’s pride and joy, now a powerful general, commanding armies across the battlefield. Now he stands in front of you just as handsome as he was all those years ago… the hold on your heart returns. 

You’re a rarity in your municipium, running a small hospitium out of your domus hosting weary travelers and soldiers perfectly capable of doing everything on your own, yet the sight of Acacius sends you right back to the last time you saw him… your teenage crush disappearing beyond the horizon as he heads for war. 

Gray hairs streak his lush, curly hair, he’s just as beautiful as he was all those years ago. 

“No need to do that angel,” grabbing your hand he brings it to his mouth, you sink at the touch of his lips on your hand. “It’s been so long.”

“Yes, quite long,” your voice squeaks out.

“Lucius and I need a room,” Marcus nods towards the handsome blue eyed man behind him. The vision of them sends a spark to your core, corded muscles, golden skin, strength exuding out of both of them, they’re a dream. “We’re here for the night.”

___

The wine flows, Marcus is just as warm and comforting as you remember. The attraction between you crackles and sparks like the fire burning in the corner of the room. 

A slight touch against your back turns into a hand laid across your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Lucius watches all of it from across the room, his blue eyes glowing in the aureate light of the flames.

You invite all of the attention put forth by the two men, the sweet wine loosens the three of your inhibitions, laughter growing louder, stories and confessions turning more risque, Marcus’ touch searing hotter against your skin. 

“So, angel, it looks like you still haven’t found anyone good enough to have your heart?” His tone is teasing, his smile infectious.

“Not yet, still haven’t found someone as handsome or as good as you, you know all of my choices around here are nothing compared to you,” you giggle. 

His eyes darken at your words, a light joke turns serious at your confession.

Turning to him, the whole room, including his blue eyed companion, disappears. Your breath hitches at the look he gives you. Deep, dark, brooding, his pouty lips cocked up in a smirk. The look invites you to confess further. 

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left all those years ago. You pulled me apart and then left me alone to try to find someone else. You know nobody could have ever compared to you… to my first.”

His hand finds your cheek, you lean into the rough texture of his digits, eyes welling with all of the tears you refused to shed through the years. 

“Don’t speak like that angel, I’m here now. I’m here tonight. I’m here for you.” Your eyes follow Acacius’ as he looks over at Lucius, your sorrow replaced by wanton lust when you hear his voice drop deeper, “We’re both here for you tonight.” 

A gasp leaves your lips at the suggestion, your eyes still trained on Lucius. 

“Is that what you want? Both of us tonight angel? Let me prove to you how much I’ve thought of you. How I’ve destroyed every being that stood between you and I. How my heart leapt out of my chest at the sight of you. Let me show my soldier what it means to pleasure a woman. Is that what you want?” A chaste kiss is left against your exposed shoulder. His words swirl through your head, sending a rush of slick between your legs.

“Yes Marcus,” you answer.  

“Good. Do you hear that soldier? Watch as her body reacts to me.” He grabs your chin, angling it up for his plush lips to surround yours, a sigh rolls through your body. You turn to putty in his hands, malleable and ready to form yourself into any shape he wishes. He turns towards his companion, your lips chasing his, the kiss wasn’t enough. “Now go ahead, ask her what she wants, soldier, listen to her.”

Lucius sits up straighter, his shoulders rise. He is a soldier, eager to listen to his commander. “What do you want?” His words melt through you, strong and powerful, just like Marcus.

You take what you want, they’re only here for one night. “I want you both to touch me.”

The chuckle Marcus lets out vibrates against your ear before he stands and helps you up.

“You hear that?” 

Lucius nods. 

“Then come closer Lucius, she wants us both.”

Marcus’ hand runs up your spine to the knot that keeps your body sheathed in your dress, one quick pull and the fabric pools on the floor. 

A river of blue roams your body as Lucius takes in your bare form. 

Marcus stands behind you pulling you against him, the metal on his uniform presses against your skin, you wish the appliques would sear against your skin as a reminder of this night forever.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Marcus’ deep timbre sends a wave of pleasure through your body. Goosebumps cover your skin. 

“Quite,” Lucius whispers.

“Speak up soldier, a woman like this deserves to hear your praise.”

“Quite,” he stands straighter. “She’s very beautiful.”

“You see Lucius, a woman needs to be touched gently and cared for.” His calloused hand slides across the soft skin between your breasts. “Too many men take what they want and ravage, without any concern for the pleasure of their partner.”

Lucius’ eyes roam your body, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips. You wonder if they taste sweet like Marcus’ lips… like wine and honey.

Your breasts are cradled between Marcus’ hands. “Do you like this angel?” A low approving groan escapes your mouth. “Touch her soldier.”

Another set of hands joins the exploration of your skin. Marcus leads a trail down your stomach and hips, less rough and smaller hands replace his, cupping your breasts, your nipples pebbling as he twists and pulls them. 

“You never want to start too soon, you want to work a woman up, get her nice and warmed up, make her wet between the legs. You're a big man Lucius, you want her to be soft and welcoming for you.” His hands move to your core, parting your folds, running a finger through your wetness. “That takes work,” whispers across your neck before his tongue licks a line across it.  

The last time he touched you like this he swore his love and devotion to you, repeated how he’ll miss you more than the Gods could comprehend come morning. He told you he’d come back for you, though you both knew it was a lie, as long as he kept touching you, you didn’t care what untruths left his mouth.

Now, years later, he’s back for the night, his finger teasing your clit and his mouth against your skin. 

“Touch Lucius, go on, I know he wants it, but he’s being a good man and not taking what isn’t his. Let him know you want him angel.”

You’re eager to listen, to please Marcus, just like you’re under his command too. Your hands reach out to feel the young soldier’s arms, Lucius’ biceps are firm, bright blue eyes dart up to yours at the first touch, his eyes shine like the sunniest summer sky, another gush of wetness pools against Marcus’ hand. His young squire reminds you of him years ago, youthful and bright eyed, muscular and soft skinned. His brawn would seem so much more intimidating if it wasn’t for his burly leader standing behind you with his hand between your legs. 

Lucius hisses when your hands run up his chest to wrap around his neck pulling him closer, his breath puffing against your face as your tongue darts out to lick his lips. His nose crashes against yours when you kiss him, his lips aren't as plush as Marcus’ but you were right, they too taste sweet. His tongue joins yours, your kisses turning messier while Marcus worships you, sticking two of his thick fingers inside you. 

You’re thankful for Marcus’ broad body against your back and Lucius’ hands against your chest, both of them propping you up while your legs grow shakier from the pleasure.

“Feel how she’s trembling against you soldier? You like how she’s sucking at your lips while I make her cum all over my fingers?” Lucius groans against your lips at Marcus’ words. Four hands work your body to a quick orgasm, your naked body rocking between the two military men, your pussy clenching Marcus’ fingers as a rush of warmth rolls across your limbs. Overwhelmed by their touch, you’ve never felt more powerful and powerless. 

“That’s a good angel,” Marcus whispers into your ear. His fingers pull out, a whimper flits out of your lips at the loss of fullness.

“Do you want to taste her soldier?” 

“Yes master.” 

Marcus wipes his fingers across your lips, Lucius grabs your chin before licking a line across your lips now glistening with your arousal, swirling his tongue around your mouth cleaning the tangy sweetness from your skin. 

“She tastes good, doesn’t she soldier?”

“Yes master.”

“Now,” Marcus easily lifts you into his arms, his hands resting against your bottom, splaying your legs open, your arms instinctively reaching back to wrap around his neck. “Really taste her, lick her clean, shove your tongue into her cunt. Go on.”

Lucius kneels in front of you, your body lies like a ragdoll pliant and hung across Marcus’ body ready for the young soldier’s taking. His nose bumps against your clit as he penetrates you with his tongue, spiraling it around your hole. His blue eyes burn a hole into your soul, your body relaxes further into Marcus’ hold as he devours your pussy. The general’s deep voice coaches him, ordering him to suck your clit, pump his tongue in you harder, savor the taste of you soaking his mouth. Your whine echoes across the concrete walls of your domus, hands clutching Marcus’ soft curls as Lucius grinds his tongue against your clit pulling another orgasm up, your body convulsing in the general’s arms, his hard chestplate bruising your back as your pussy floods Lucius’ mouth. 

Marcus kisses your hair, gently laying you down against the soft linen of your rug. 

Two Roman soldiers stand in front of you, your body splayed and disheveled by your two orgasms and the promise of more to come.

“You’ve done well son,” Marcus pats Lucius on the back. “Look how her pussy is sparkling in this light, isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Now, let us undress for her. She deserves it.”

You muster the strength to prop yourself up watching the two men unbuckle their armor, exposing golden chests, Marcus’ peppered with more scars, a burlier canvas that has seen more battles. Lucius’ body is more delicate, tight skin wrapped around bulging muscles. The general and the soldier, both now removing their skirts and unwrapping their subligaculum. Sun warmed and tanned skin, miles of tense muscles built up by war, battle, and training. Their half hard cocks lay heavy between thick thighs, your mouth waters at the thought of both of them filling your mouth and cunt. 

Marcus slides a chair into the middle of the floor. “Take a seat, soldier.” Lucius nods and settles on the wood. “You’re going to watch her take what she wants from me.” 

Marcus sits on the floor, settling his back against the wall. 

“Come here angel.” 

Crawling towards him on shaky legs, you’ve dreamt of this vision, his legs spread wide, cock standing tall, hard, and leaking… waiting for you. The crease in his brow deepens, his focus beckoning you forward, now close enough to watch the flames of the fire flicker in the reflection of his dark brown eyes. He easily lifts you again, turning you to face Lucius, leaning your body against his before rubbing his cock along your sensitive cunt. 

A booming grunt swims through your ears as you slowly sink down on Marcus’ length, your eyes squeeze shut while your body slowly accepts him, you’re surrounded by him, his voice swimming in your ears, his hands gripping your hips, his chest slick with sweat supporting your knackered body, his cock stretching you wide open.

“Oh angel, you feel devine,” he smiles into your neck once you take him all in. “She feels so good soldier, show her how much you like watching her take my cock,” he growls.

“Yes master,” Lucius licks a line up his palm before wrapping his hand around himself, his body relaxing at his own touch. You lean forward, gripping your hands around Marcus’ well-muscled sturdy calves opening yourself up wider to his thrusts. Lucius strokes himself to the same pace of your pussy sliding up and down on his general, your eyes and his blue eyes locked in contact. 

Both men’s attention blooms inside of your chest, your heart quickening as Marcus pounds your pussy. The sound of his rising hips slapping against your ass meld with the noises of Lucius’ strokes flows through your ears like a beautiful song. Your mouth slacks open, garbled noises begin escaping your throat when Marcus circles a thick finger around your clit. Lucius twists at his head, pulling and biting his lip when he sees you come apart on his leader’s cock. Your orgasm decimates you, you feel like a lone enemy soldier, two two men leaving you defenseless and utterly devastated. Strength gives out, your shivering body collapses against Marcus’ legs. Lucius rushes over and gathers you, lifting you off of his leader, his eyes looking down at you concernedly, a weak, blissed out smile pulls at your lips. 

“She’s okay soldier, this is how you know you’re doing a good job. Feel how soft and pliant she is, how she’s molding to your arms?” Marcus rises, his cock still hard and throbbing as he sits on the chair. “Hold her, tell he she’s doing good. Let her rest a bit, there is still much for her… and you, to do tonight.” 

“You’re so good, so beautiful, I know why master calls you angel, you look like one.” 

You fight off the demons of exhaustion, staring up at Lucius’ strong jaw, rising to sit in his lap, his cock pressing against your ass as a reminder that there is still much work for you to do. Marcus’ lips form a smirk, his hands resting against thick thighs, cock still standing at attention. 

“Didn’t take long, did it angel?” Marcus leans forward slowly rising and sauntering over. He cradles his dick in his hands, tempting you while he squeezes along his shaft. “Hold her hair, soldier.”

Lucius gathers your hair in his hands, his movements are so delicate compared to Marcus’ brute force. They’re the perfect amalgamation of hard and soft. 

Marcus brings his cock to your lips, precum leaks from his tip on to your puckered lips, you welcome him into your mouth, opening wide for him to slide his shaft against your tongue. He tastes divine, salty and intoxicating. Your cheeks strain, mouth agape stuffing his fat cock in your mouth. The general only conquers what he knows he can take, and he knows he can take you for everything you have. He thrusts all of his power into you hitting the back of your mouth, leaving you gagging and streaming spit down your chin. Lucius gathers your hair in his fist, pulling against your scalp, you admire his bravery to also take what he wants, making it hurt a little for you. You want these men to use you, to deplete you, to fill you with their cum, you’ll wear it as a badge of honor, much like they do on their armor.

Marcus looks down at you, eyes filled with adoration, his cock fucking your mouth, spit still drooling out of the sides of your mouth, tears welling in your eyes. You feel like a mess but the way he smiles at you blooms something bright inside of you, your cheeks hollow around his girth, sucking him harder, hands planting against his ass pulling him even deeper inside the cavern of your mouth.

Marcus yanks himself out of your mouth, leaving you gasping and mourning the feeling of his cock. “If you continue, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweet girl, and I’m not ready yet.” He plops back down on the chair, throwing the back of his wrist against his forehead wiping the sweat off his brow, you want to taste his skin. 

Lucius lets go of your hair, his hands wrapping around your torso, pushing you back to rest against him, a sigh of contentment leaves your mouth. 

“Touch her soldier, tell me if she’s still wet and waiting.” 

Lucius trails his hand down to between your legs, swiping against your sensitive flesh, you moan at the contact. 

“So wet,” he whispers incredulously, “I think she’s ready, master.” 

“Good. Can you get on all fours, angel?”

You nod, leaning forward, your quick repose giving you the strength to support yourself. 

“Take her soldier, go ahead. Conquer her. Keep your eyes on me angel.” 

You grin wide towards Marcus as Lucius slides himself in you. He’s nothing like his general, whose large cock left you wide open for his subordinate. Lucius’ exhales cools the overheated skin on the back of your neck as he folds himself over you. 

His movements are slower, more reserved, he’s holding back. 

“Fuck me soldier,” you order, legs widening, hips bucking back towards him. 

“Good!” Marcus barks and claps his hands. “You heard her, take her, she wants all of you, take her soldier,” Marcus snarls. 

“Yes master,” Lucius croaks before spearing you with his cock, giving you the lucious friction you’ve been craving from him. 

Marcus kneels down, propping your head up in his hands. Your hands grip the edge of the rug, grounding yourself in the moment of bliss. Lucius’ taut thighs knock against yours with each thrust. Your whimpers are swallowed by Marcus, his lips pepper your face with kisses in between words of praise for taking his soldier so well. Your knees burn as Lucius grinds his hips against you, pulling himself fully out before sinking himself all the way in. Marcus gives you one last chaste kiss before replacing his lips against yours with his cock. Your moans vibrate against the soft skin of him, tasting what’s left of yourself and his precum. You’re so incredibly close, shattered by the two men’s cocks taking your mouth and your pussy for everything you have, gushing from both holes to satisfy the brave soldiers. Your eyes see stars as they roll back into your head, Marcus grips your hair as he fucks your face, your nose hitting the nest of curls as he slaps the back of your throat with his cock. ‘Use me, use me, use me,’ are the only words that rattle around your brain. Shockwaves soar through your body, your pussy clenches around Lucius’ cock milking him as he cums inside your pussy, his voice chanting your name against your skin. 

Marcus lets out a guttural growl pulling his cock from your mouth. 

“Sit down and hold her against your lap soldier,” Marcus snaps. 

Lucius perches himself on the floor, placing you on his lap, the both of you still coming down from your shared climax. 

Marcus rushes over, pumping himself to his peak, his eyes squinting, upper lip snarling as he shoots thick white ropes of cum across your face and tits. The three of you collectively pant for air, a shared overwhelming feeling of euphoria plants inside of your hearts. 

“Now, clean her up soldier,” Marcus commands, taking a seat on the chair and folding his arms across his chest. 

[captain-hawks]

Hoshina and the color green!

soshiro hoshina x reader

c: fluff, established relationship, suggestive

Soshiro knows he should be paying attention.

“And then after you stir in the baking soda, you just have to add a bit of lime…”

The sleek surface of the knife clasped in your hand glints in the golden afternoon light pouring in through the kitchen window as you place the citrus fruit on the cutting board.

He’s completely forgotten the last three steps already.

The tough, green skin gives easily under the pressure of the blade, the lime shuddering momentarily before it stills atop the wooden surface, now split in two. 

“I know it’s easier to just use one of those little containers of juice, but it tastes so much better like this.”

You hold up one half with two fingers, wiggling it slightly with a smile on your face as you show him the lighter green shade of its soft, fleshy interior. 

He can hardly even remember what the name of this recipe is right now.

Face pinched in concentration, you squeeze the lime into a small container before pouring the liquid into the mixing bowl.

He knows you’re going to teasingly quiz him on this later, but as he watches you bring your sticky, wet fingers to your lips, tongue darting out to lick off the remaining juice—

With blades in his hands and an enemy on his heels, the Vice-Captain of the Third Division is a strong man. 

“It’s so sour,” you laugh, eyes scrunched close as you bite your tongue. 

But for you—standing barefoot in the kitchen of your tiny apartment wearing one of his old t-shirts with a smudge of flour streaked across your cheek and eyes sparkling with mischief—for you, Soshiro Hoshina is weak. 

“Is it?” he asks

“You haven’t been paying attention at all, have you?” you ask, shaking your head with a grin as he backs you up into the edge of the countertop.

“Bit hard to focus,” he shrugs, reaching behind you to lift the porcelain lid off of the sugar bowl, swiping a finger through its granulated contents.

“The recipe didn’t call for sugar,” you tell him with a raised brow. 

He brings his finger to your mouth, slowly swiping it along your bottom lip. “Sugar balances out the acidity, right?”

The hitch in your breath is audible as the crystals cling to the tacky layer of lime juice still coating your lips, and you close them around his finger, taking the digit into your mouth.

Soshiro is a weak, weak man.

“Did it work?” he asks.

You nod.

He picks up the remnants of the squeezed half and places them to his lips, letting the bitter taste coat his tongue.

“Show me,” he rasps, sliding his finger out of your mouth as he cups the side of your jaw and brings his lips to yours.

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 7

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: I apologize in advance lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 6 here

Your feet buried in the sand, just inches from the gentle waves crashing to shore. You could smell the salt in the air, feel it on your skin as the wind carried droplets of water until it reached you. The sun kissed the horizon of the ocean beside you, painting the waves in streaks golden.

This was possibly your favorite thing about New Asgard, the ocean.

Or, second favorite, you thought, as you squeezed the hand holding your own.

"And Thor wouldn't listen to me, of course," Loki continued the story, his feet burying in the sand just as yours did. One of his hands interlocked with yours, the other holding his shoes. "Not until the whole tent came crashing down on him."

You giggled, the soft wind carried your laughter and messed up your hair, "Thor never was the brightest at learning our 'contraptions', as he would call them."

"No, I guess not," Loki mused, a smile of his own lingering on his lips.

You looked up at him then, watching as the fading sunlight reflected against his bright eyes and shaped the curves of his smile. You'd never tire of the sight, of him by your side.

"You should come with us next time," Loki suggested, apparently just as lost in you as you were in him.

"Camping?" You raised a brow.

Loki nodded, stopping in his tracks. He dropped his shoes to the sand without a second thought, so he could take hold of both your hands. "You'd make it better."

His voice, however, began to sound far away. You frowned, looking around as the golden sunlight seeped away, making room for a grey and stormy sky. The wind picked up speed, cutting into your skin like needles. The sea, once calm and serene, now raged and thundered against the shoreline.

"You always do." Suddenly, Loki's voice was nothing but an echo.

You didn't have time to hold him tighter before his hands were snatched away from yours.

Stumbling forward, you tried running after him, but the sand began to swallow your feet. Panic settled into your chest and got your heart racing.

You looked up, but you shouldn't have.

His eyes were bloodshot, his feet held off the ground as he struggled against the bruising grip on his neck. When Loki looked into your eyes, tears were running down both your cheeks. Blood trailed down his mouth as he choked for a breath. "Run," it was a plea, so quiet and weak past his lips.

The last thing you heard was a sickening crack.

You woke up with a scream lingering on your lips, sitting up on your bed and already clawing at your chest for the air that you desperately needed yet couldn't get a hold of. You didn't know if you were sobbing or coughing, perhaps a bit of both.

The tears were non-stop, dripping down your chin and dampening the collar of your pajama shirt. You threw the covers away from your body, feeling trapped on your skin. Burying your head on your trembling hands, you did your best to try and catch your breath.

It had been a while since you've had a nightmare this haunting.

─── ·❆· ───

You felt numb. The day began and you couldn't feel anything besides the emptiness in your chest. Foolishly, you had thought you'd finally outgrew the bad memories, the grief. You wondered if you ever would.

As you walked through the hallways of the TVA, you thought back to yesterday; to the rain, the northern lights, and him. He who had those same dark curls, those same bright eyes, and alabaster skin that you saw in your dreams and nightmares. Each day it became harder and harder to believe the lie you insisted on telling yourself.

As if on cue, you heard the stomping of someone running to catch up with you.

"Good morning," Loki greeted, just a tad out of breath as he fell into step beside you.

You closed your eyes for a moment after hearing his voice. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you nodded without looking at him. "Morning."

Loki noticed, he felt the shift in the mood, heard it in your tone. You know he did, because he hesitated. "Um-" He tried to start; you could perfectly picture his eyes being unable to find a place to focus even if you weren't looking.

"I've been thinking," he tried again, and you could hear the tentative smile on his words, "For the next time you manage to borrow Mobius' tempad, I- I have a place I would like to show you, if you'd like."

There were tears brimming in your eyes. You weren't sure why. Maybe because this was such a Loki way for him to try and ask you out. Maybe because you could feel your heart melting for him as it found its home again after being in the cold for so long, and that terrified you.

"Yeah…" You cursed under your breath when your voice came out broken and strained. You cleared your throat. "I don't know when he'll let me borrow it again, so," you shrugged, quickening your steps, "I guess we'll see."

Loki fell behind just for the time it took for him to mull over your words. It didn't take much effort for him to match your pace again. "Yes, of course."

The sadness dripping from his voice made your heart clench. You didn't want to hurt him. But you didn't want to hurt yourself either.

Finally reaching your desk in your secluded nook of the library, you immediately busied yourself with threading over the fresh stack of documents resting on top of it. Pointedly avoiding Loki's concerned look.

"I can help you with those," Loki suggested, already reaching for a spare chair.

"You really don't have to," You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, turning on your table lamp.

"I want to," he told you with that softness reserved for you only. "We can finish it twice as fast and maybe stop for tea-"

"Loki, stop!" You suddenly snapped, finally turning to look at him. "Can you just leave me alone for one goddamn second?" You hadn't meant for your voice to come out as harsh as it did.

Loki lowered his head so you weren't able to see the pang of hurt in his eyes. His hand went limp as he slowly let go of the chair. Still, he took a step closer to you and asked; "Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Of course he would be able to tell. Of course he'd put your pain above his own.

You surrendered the facade with a sigh, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. "I keep seeing…" It was difficult to think of it, let alone say it. You closed your eyes. "The day I lost him, I- I keep seeing it over and over. Even after all this time."

You had gotten better, for a while, keeping busy in the TVA had somewhat helped. But you knew you only buried the feeling, never dealt with it. And then Loki—this Loki, the one who would be yours—found his way to you, and everything crumbled again. Those bright eyes of his were still the same you've always known, after all; and between the memories you had together that only you had lived, and the way his soul tangled with yours as if they never parted, you didn't know what to feel.

Your chin wobbled and a sob fell past your lips. "And I just want it to stop hurting… I just him back."

Seeing you like this, it hurt. Loki took half a step closer to you, his glassy eyes gauging every twitch of your muscles. If you told him to leave, he would, even if it's the last thing he wanted. Your pain pierced his soul like an arrow, tearing and making it bleed. More than anything, he found himself only wanting you to be okay.

No names were needed. Loki knew, just from the way you were adamantly refusing to look at him; he knew you were talking about… him.

Carefully, testing tentative waters, Loki reached for one of your hands. He held his breath when you tensed as his skin touched yours. His fingers closed gingerly around your wrist and he pulled your hand up with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of.

You let him. You weren't sure why, but you did.

Loki brought your hand to rest above his chest, flat against his beating heart, and held it there, with his own hand still grasping yours tightly. He hesitated. He was afraid, he realized. Afraid of losing you.

Only when Loki opened his lips to speak, did he taste his own tears that had fallen. "I'm here." It was nothing but a breath. "I promise. I'm here." He tried, it was all he could give you; himself.

You clutched the fabric of his shirt, fingers shaking. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder as another sob escaped you. As the waves pulled you under.

In a place out of time, time stood still. For a precious second, only you and him existed.

You looked up after what felt like an eternity, your lips hovering as you struggled to hold his gaze. "But you're not him." The half smile that stretched the tear tracks on your cheeks held nothing but sorrow.

As if ripping apart a piece of his soul, Loki reluctantly let go of your hand. "What is it you have against me?" He whispered, pleaded.

You'd never seen him this vulnerable. His ocean eyes glimmered under the dim artificial lights of the library, eyebrows pulled softly together in what looked more like loss than confusion.

"And what is it you have with me?" You found yourself whispering back, just as desperate. "For you, we never met." Your voice broke and then dripped with frustration, "You have nothing to lose. So what is it that you want from me?"

It was selfish to put the blame on him, just because he brought back the same warmth you've been missing for so long. But you were hurting, and broken things tend to have sharp edges.

Loki's lips hovered open and he shifted his gaze down, almost as if ashamed. He held the silence for a beat longer. "I guess I just…" He stopped, and forced himself to look into your eyes. "I saw how much you loved your Loki… I think I was jealous, and I was selfish, for wanting the same thing he was lucky enough to have." His smile was that of someone who knew when he'd lost. "You."

All emotion drained from your face. It felt like a bucket of icy water being dropped on top of you.

Had Loki actually fallen in love with you?

For a moment you wondered if, in every reality and every lifetime, you were destined to fall for each other. As the universe's own twisted version of soulmates.

You would've laughed at such a sweet thought, if it hadn't just made your heartbeat skyrocket. Because deep down, you knew you'd fallen for him as well. Again. As you always knew you would.

In every lifetime. As you promised you would.

And it terrified you, because what if you were destined to fall, yet also destined to lose?

"I'm sorry," you breathed, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips. You took staggered steps away from Loki. "I'm sorry, I- I can't."

I'm sorry, I don't know if I can pick myself back up if I ever lose you again. So I'd rather not have you at all.

"Please, I-" Loki started, yet he didn't know what he was pleading for.

But you shook your head vehemently. "I need," your voice stumbled, "I'm sorry- I just need a moment alone."

You turned around then, walking away and taking Loki's heart with you. His eyes refused to watch you leave again, luckily he had tears to blur the memory.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 8 here

I no longer make taglists. You can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[2-dsimp]

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Yandere Spinoffs

The hero

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Guilty as charged 👀 that is just one of his little fantasies he has of his precious heroling. But he’s rather disobedient so he’d just nut without any care in the world once he’s gotten his fix.

Cw: 🔞MDNI🔞 m! masterbation, slight degradation, Adonis being a cheeky bastard yet again, humiliation, masochistic behavior, footjob m! receiving, dry humping, very suggestive

A/n: final pt3 of Adonis post dump

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As you know the Hero is an absolute fiend for any type of scornful reaction you give him. Which is why he enjoys pressing every little button to push you into taking out all your frustrations on him. You’d think he’d be doing you a service for volunteering to be your stress punching bag. But in all honesty his masochistic side is preening underneath all the negative attention he’s garnered so effortlessly from his darling heroling.

His rough hands furiously pumped his veiny shaft with frightening tenacity. While his tongue was lolled out, his golden lashes fluttered shut. At the idea of you treating him like a disobedient hound. Adonis could visualize it so clearly, being tied up and restrained like a patient in a psycho ward. With you towering above him, your expression twisted into a mixture of revolting disgust and frustration. Which made him hitch a breath and his cock twitch at how stimulating your harsh gaze was upon him.

The sunset knight dared to imagine you using your feet to grind down on his prominent bulge. Almost as if you’re trying to snuff out the sight of his offending cock bobbing its fat tip at you. But that feel short since he was reveling in pathetically humping his hips upwards underneath your heeled boot. A saccharine unapologetic grin was spread across his thin lips, Golden eyes glazed over with unhinged lust and unhealthy obsession.

As he dared to look upon you revering your antagonistic glare with faith akin to that of a nun while he rutted his precum stained crotch against your shiny boot getting it messy on purpose just for you to continue hurling demeaning insults for his degenerate behavior.

Adonis was nothing more then a starved beggar Hanging off every word that should’ve pierced icy daggers into his heart. But instead made his balls ache with how he was barely holding back in nutting within his straight jacket attire. He was panting breathlessly while he hunched his front against your legs, his cheek smushed against your thigh. His mouth hung open like a mindless zombie as he was teetering off the edge. He was waiting for it, that one last push, those sweet words that’ll set him free… You’ve got him begging for it.

“I hate you Adonis”

Snapping back to reality the perverted hero heaved out a choked gasp as his body racked with tremors. His cock spurting out pearly streaks of cum painting his chest and some managing to splat on his chin from the frightening velocity of his pulsating dick.

If he couldn’t be what you loved, then he’ll gladly be the one you’d hate with all of your heart. After all hate and love are two sides of the same coin.

[ryukumi]

"(Name), do you understand what I'm saying?"

Sitting beside you on the floor of your living room was your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei.

Karasuno High's middle blocker of their infamous boys volleyball team that miraculously made it to the nationals after years of devastating losing streaks.

Scattered paper was seen all over the coffee table infront of the both of you. He was tutoring you on your recent maths lesson you struggled on for the past few days before.

You both went straight to your house after class. Thankfully, they had no practice for the day as they were given a few days off to study. You took this to your advantage and asked (begged) him to help you in your math lessons. You found it particularly hard this semester, and definitely not taking it as a chance to spend time with him with the excuse of a study session.

"Mhm."

You hum in agreement without hesitation, your eyes trailing on every detail of his face. From his blonde locks to his golden-brown irises, down to his pink lips moving with every word he says. A tongue occasionally gliding between his lips after every few words, as well as his middle finger adjusting his glasses. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find that the hottest thing the man infront of you could do.

You weren't listening despite your hum to his question. You never were, in fact, ever since he step foot into your house and placed his books on the medium-sized rectangle coffee table infront of you two. You were far too focused on his face, on his voice despite not hooking on to his words.

Tsukishima has been talking for a few minutes now, a pen in his hand, often switching from scribbling down numbers to resting in between his middle and ring finger. He tried to ignore the gaze you gave him. The look on your eyes as they trail slowly on each part of his face, especially focused on his lips. He licks his lips intentionally to try and get a rise out of you, such a meanie.

"(Name), if you wanna kiss me that bad, just say it instead of staring at me like a creep."

He teases with a light giggle. There was only so much he could handle if you kept staring at him like that, especially with those loose pyjamas you wore that slipped off of your shoulder, showing a teasing peak of your collarbone.

You finally comprehended his words after that 15 minutes of Tsukishima wasting his breath over something you asked him to tutor you about, yet that attention of yours was focused on something far from the topic.

" 'wanna kiss you so bad.."

You trailed off, not giving much thought to what you said. You decided to play along with his teasing remark. Earning silence in return. You snapped out of that gaze, turning away with a faint blush on your cheek.

"There's snacks in the pantry. You want anythi– Mmph!"

Tsukishima slides his hand to the side of your your face gently. His palm rests right on your jaw and the side of your cheek, your ear right between his index and middle finger. He tilts his head as he encased your lips into a kiss. A light one. He pulls away but keeps his face a few centimeters away from yours, gazing at your wide eyes and extremely flushed cheeks. He giggles.

"Gotta give my pretty girl what she wants, right?"

You leaned in closer for more, but before you could even close the gap between the both of you, your forehead was met with a pointer finger pushing your head away.

"Huh- Hey! What was that for?!"

"I would want to indulge in whatever those braincells of yours are thinking about, but before that, you've got to put this math lesson of yours first."

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

This was based off of a dream I had a few hours agoo, I hope its alright^^

Im not particularly a fan of this TT, especially since it's my first work ever, no experience at alll. For me, it seems a bit too rushed to the plot and just not really written well, huhuuuu. I def need tips on this please. Criticism is HIGHLY appreciated mwamwaa♡♡

Ps. Not proofread

Edit: i finally edited it TYSMM FOR THE CRITICISMMM RAAHH hopefull this is better👾

[ninibeingdelulu]

I would choose you ✧

Plot: An argument that lead to a confession…

A/N: my page is slowly becoming a kaiser fanpage.. anyway this was inspired by a tt I can’t remember which one . And i already wrote something similar but i like this one more >.<

This crazy career ate Michael alive in the best ways possible - pushing every fiber of his being towards perfecting the most elite striking prowess on the planet.

But it also slowly consumed his life in the most detrimental sense, steadily eclipsing every scrap of personal existence beyond the pitch.

Sure, he still adored you with every stuttering thrum of his barbaric heart - it was just...harder showing that more and more.

With each fresh trophy or medal weighing heavier on his record, Michael's obsessive drive only intensified tenfold.

You always insisted his lifelong quest for soccer immortality didn't bother you. Dismissed his latest nighttime disappearances or missed dinner reservations with soft smiles and reassurances of "I understand, baby...soccer's your whole world. Just don't stay out too late, okay?"

Michael's rare opportunities indulging your minimal demands only stoked deeper cravings for more scraps of his coveted time and devotion.

And as the months whittled on, those golden breadcrumbs grew achingly few and far between.

This morning marked just the latest in an endless spree of abrupt departures and cold, dismissive justifications before the dawn's rosy glow even peeked over the nightscape.

Another endless regiment of grueling practice circuits and tactical review sessions until the darkest hours, rinse, repeat.

Just once, maybe you wished he'd burst through that damn bedroom threshold with feverish grins and wandering caresses only you basked in anymore.

Not merely grunting about today's schedule before collapsing into dead slumber.

So when Michael's phone began buzzing with a reminder for yet another media engagement, the brimming resentment finally bubbled over in a desperate, pleading outburst.

You huddled forward on the mattress' edge, arms folded protectively as he paced about tossing various garments haphazardly over his glorious form.

"Michael?" you managed in a tiny whimper finally piercing his distant demeanor. "Don't you...don't you still love me anymore? At all?"

Those gunmetal depths whipped back in your direction, suddenly searing with stunned incredulity.

Like you'd just slapped the daylights out of him.

"What the fuck, y/n ?" he managed roughly past the tightness throttling his throat. "Where's all this coming from all of a su-"

But trailing off right there as Michael drank in the hurt streaking down your blotchy, flushed cheeks.

The wounded, exhausted droop of your slender shoulders that screamed out 'you did this.'

He'd stripped you raw of every defensive barrier until only bottomless vulnerability remained.

And for what? Some meaningless athletic trifle against his monumental purpose - which somehow, without realizing, had succeeded in reducing the purest light in his life to this?

A shuddering gasp punched through Michael's marbled defenses. And somehow, your normally towering, indominable warrior of a partner immediately crumpled forward - knees splintering against the hardwood at your feet.

"Oh, Schatz..." he rasped in that rich, chocolatey tenor laced thick with reverence.

Face tilting upwards to openly worship you before burying into your lap, that familiar musk and body heat engulfing you in its comforting inferno.

Michael's broad, calloused hands clutched your thighs in an iron vice - anchoring your delicate forms together like you'd float away at any second otherwise.

Only once fully burrowed into your shielding caress did the tumbling regret finally spill out of him, unleashing in a trembling sigh of his native German.

"Und ich würde dich wählen."His slurred murmur sent tingles shivering down your veins.

"in hundert leben..." Smoky azure embers scalded upwards into your watery gaze, lapping your contours in a fresh wave of ardor.

"in hundert welten..." His massive palms slid up and down those supple thighs in tremoring repetitions, reawakening old familiar sensations.

"in jeder Version der Realität..." Michael buried that sharp Germanic jawline into your lower abdomen, nipping with fervent passion melting your flesh like scorching lava.

"ich würde dich finden.” He hoisted your negligible weight up, coiling you closer into a delicious tangle of searing limbs and torrid heat.

By now, you understood each throaty sigh - fluently committing his fevered pledge to memory through the blurring film of fresh, joyful tears.

That declaration of cherishing you beyond mortal constraints of this lifetime, continually seeking each other through every conceivable iteration of this universe...

"Und ich würde dich wählen."

His voice finally cracked through a muffled, wounded whimper in between pressing eternal vows into your exposed flesh until you gasped.

Peering up in total subjugation through smoldering gunmetal orbs leaving your own ablaze.

No longer needing any translation of the vows searing divinely into your soul.

You cupped his cheeks, swooping down to rest your brows together in a consuming clash of molten breath and fevered affirmations.

"Never again, Michael..." you murmured into the smothering exchange of cloying oxygen and tears streaking both your cheeks. "Never shut me out like this ever again...just promise me th-"

But your quavering plea evaporated into his searing mouth before finishing. Michael clutched your yielding form tighter with each ravenous inhale, stealing your breath over and over until you teetered on the precipice of losing control entirely.

Nodding, panting, practically drowning in your divine essence - Michael sealed every facet of his being in your possession anew.

Eternally yours, mind, body, and spirit - until those final tremors consumed you both fully once more.

[abibliophobiaa]

Epilogue: Golden, Like Daylight

summary: everything falls into place (4.2k)

warnings: mention of birth, allusions to sex.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist || previous chapter

——

Elena Munson was born on June twenty-eighth, on what would be one of the warmest days the month had seen so far. Fitting, for a little girl who brought the sun along with her, filling the bustling hospital room with overwhelming love and light as she was lowered against her mother’s chest.

It was a swift labor, but he cheered you on and held your hand throughout the whole thing (only groaning when you nearly broke one finger), and Eddie Munson had decided he’d never seen anything more incredible than watching the woman he loved bring his daughter — his daughter — into the world. Kissed your sweat-slicked forehead as his hand raised to cradle the tiny, wailing body against you, both your tear-streaked faces upturned with the widest of smiles.

Eddie was certain the two of you cried more than your new daughter, his body crowded over yours, the two of you tangled up on that narrow hospital bed, peering down at the face both of you had dreamed of for months. Pouty lips, those perfect little cheeks, a curly head of hair that impressed the doctor, and ten tiny fingers and ten little toes.

Perfect, by every standard. In every single way. Completely and wholly yours, knitted together in love.

And later, after the nurses had cleaned the baby and done their routine checks and you were allotted time to enjoy the joy of being a family, both of you watched Elena take in the world with new eyes. Merely looked on at her in awe, neither of you wanting to let a moment pass by lest you miss anything. Concentrated wholly on her little wrinkly forehead, the furrow of her brow, fingers resting against her father’s clavicle from where she rested in the crook of his elbow.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you asked, marveling at the beautiful human you carried within for nine months.

“Her mother is beautiful, I’m not surprised,” he teased, rocking Elena when she mewled a bit. “Thank you.”

For loving him. For giving him this moment.

“We did it,” you told him. “She’s finally here.”

He leaned down then, kissing her brow, those mystified eyes of her’s closing. “I love you so much,” he told her, the first of the promised many to come. You snuggled in closer, body still sore and tired from exertion, head resting on the other side of his chest. Then he leaned down, lips soft against yours, grinning into your skin, both of you still on cloud nine. Whispered, “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your thumb reached over to brush over the curve of Elena’s cheek, her head stirring, but not waking her from her slumber. “We are the luckiest girls in the world. Aren’t we, Elena?”

——

Welcoming a new baby into the home was an adjustment, to say the least. Your nights had definitely changed, both of you quickly growing accustomed to a lack of sleep with a crying newborn keeping you up all night. But Eddie helped out as much as he possibly could, feeding the baby to allow you extra sleep, changing diapers, and he always was excited to do it.

Seeing him become a father made you love him more, if that were even possible. He doted on his little girl all hours of the day, singing to her, talking to her, simply looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever stumbled upon. And she loved him back, always wide-eyed and cooing at him once she was old enough to do so.

Soon enough, you’d fallen into a routine. He worked during the day while you stayed with the baby, and when he got home you spent time together as a family. Often just laying on your bed like you were right now, staring down at your daughter as she kicked her feet and waved her hands in the air, oblivious to just how loved she was.

“I want another one,” Eddie mused to himself, blowing a raspberry on Elena’s chubby cheek, ringed fingers splayed over her abdomen, giving her a tiny wiggle. At your horrified expression, he added with a laugh, “Not right now. I just…didn’t think I’d love being a dad so much.”

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say when you didn’t have to push her out of your body two months ago. But Eddie, you’re doing a great job. Really.”

Those first days and weeks had been trying. Eddie often felt helpless initially when Elena would wake, screaming bloody murder, unable to do much since she really needed you. And though that was true to an extent because of obvious reasons, he’d gone above and beyond in other ways, if only to make sure your burden was lessened. Cleaning around the house, cooking for the two of you, making sure you could get in a shower and nap when needed.

You knew that insecurity was brought on by years of neglect due to his father, but Eddie would never follow in that man’s footsteps. His heart was too big, his love too deep for his family. Eddie had taken to fatherhood in stride and an eagerness to make sure Elena knew he’d move the mountains for her every single day.

“I’ll think about it,” you mused, leaning down to give Elena another kiss. “I think I wanna steal your last name first, though.”

It was a newer development. Talks about marriage. He’d brought it up a few days after Elena had been born, wanting to ease you into the idea of forever, to see if it would be on the table. And you’d surprised yourself with an immediate ‘yes,’ fully believing that all that you’d gone through was meant to bring you to where you were now, with this man.

He proved to you every day that your initial fears were for naught, trust for the love he bore you running deep, his soul a security you’d never known before.

Eddie rolled onto his side, head propped up against his palm, elbow rumpling the comforter near Elena’s hip. “Yeah?”

You nodded, rolling onto your side, nose pressing into Elena’s cheek, grinning as her gummy mouth turned to seek you out. “I am the only non-Munson in this bedroom.”

“You’re a Munson. You know that,” he said, leaning over to kiss your furrowed brow, “but one day soon…officially.”

“Soon, huh?” Your nose grazed his cheek, lips barely touching his, relishing in his contented hum.

“Can’t be giving away all my secrets now,” he whispered, nosing along your jaw, mouth dancing at your pulse point. “I want it to be a surprise.”

——

That surprise came a week before Eddie was set to leave on tour. Months had flashed before your eyes, your newborn suddenly six months old and more vibrant than ever. Constantly smiling and babbling. Your home was filled with laughter — yours, her’s and her father’s, the two of them the brightest lights in your life.

That same father stood in the kitchen, bobbing his head to a song as Elena sat in her baby chair, blinking up at the fan circling up above. It was her newest fascination — watching the blades spin around and around and around, like it was the most entertaining thing on earth.

“Eddie, I just finished washing the rest of your clothes. They’re just out to hang dry on the line now,” you told him, slipping your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. Could feel his heat through your sweater, sighed into it. “What if I just hold onto you so you can’t get onto the tour bus? Cling to your ankles?”

Eddie turned off the sink, wiped his hands on a towel, and spun around. Shifted you so now his arms curled around your waist, sliding beneath the fabric of your sweater, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. You’d never tire of him in this way; his hands on your body, his form against yours, his lips, times — though understandably less frequent now — when he’d have you under him or over him in whatever way you’d liked, crying his name like a song.

“We’re going to miss you.” You pouted, pressing your ear to his sternum.

“You’re going to be at the first few shows,” he murmured against the top of your head, swaying you back and forth, “but I’m going to miss you both more. You better take pictures every day. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Every day, I promise.” Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A tiny little box nestled in Elena’s fist, hand waving it back and forth in front of her face. “Hey baby girl, what do you have? Can Mommy see?”

Legs kicked, kicked, kicked in her cozy little sleeper, her happy cooing sounds growing louder the closer you got. And then you dropped down onto the floor, leaning over to give her a giant smooch on the cheek, prying those pinchy fingertips from around the box, and replaced it with a rattle toy so she didn’t end up bawling.

Once Elena was satisfied, you lowered yourself down onto your bottom, thumb brushing over the velvet material. Eddie’s voice was warm behind you, “Open it, Buttercup.”

“Eddie…”

“Told you I couldn’t tell you all my secrets.”

Too stunned to do much of anything, much less speak, Eddie joined you on the ground, hand curling around Elena’s foot as she continued to huff and kick, the only sounds in your home her rattle and the clanging of your heart in your chest. Eddie took it upon himself to take the box from you, flipping the lid open to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Your hands cupped your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out a sob.

“A little over a year ago I fell in love with a woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. You quickly became everything to me, even when you didn’t know it. There is no doubt in my mind that I wa —”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks now, Elena’s rattle growing louder with the fury of her movements.

“I didn’t finish,” Eddie laughed, grabbing your left hand in his, plucking the ring out of the box. It hovered over your finger for a moment as he continued, “You are my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. And I’d be a really lucky guy if you’d become my wife too.”

Your reply was a nodded cry of ‘yes’ and he pushed the ring up onto your finger, sliding it flush against the knuckle. It was a perfect fit. Arms circled his neck as you practically leaped onto his lap, giggling as his arms wound right around your waist and tugged you flush against him, lips sliding over yours.

Elena, seemingly unhappy with not being the main focus of all her parent’s attention, tossed the rattle onto the ground and cried. Pouty bottom lip wobbling as tears spilled down plush cheeks, her father was there to the rescue as you shifted off him to unbuckle her and pull the baby onto his lap, bouncing her until she giggled again.

“Someone was a little jealous,” you teased her, poking at her belly, “he was mine first, little missy, so you’re going to have to get used to sharing.”

He was yours. And you were his. From that very moment on Halloween, even if you hadn’t known it back then.

Eddie pretended to chomp on her baby cheeks, earning a loud, bursting round of giggles from his daughter. “Your mommy said she’d marry me. How does that sound, Elena?”

She shoved her fingers into her gummy mouth.

“I guess she’s happy,” you laughed, lifting her up onto your hip, clambering onto your feet. You held aloft your left hand, wiggling the glittering diamond as Eddie appeared at your side with a hand at your waist. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”

——

After a conversation later that night spent tangled in bedsheets, you quickly realized neither of you wanted to wait to get married. In a spur of the moment decision, you’d suggested a trip to get a marriage license that next morning, and that same day you were given the green light to go ahead with your nuptials at the local courthouse.

In the end, it had been a private affair just a few days later. Wayne was there as a witness, standing with your daughter in his arms as you and Eddie recited vows to one another. Made promises to uphold for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health, until death did you part. You cried as Eddie breathed life into those words, as he declared those promises, and he silently cried as you echoed them back, sliding a simple gold band onto his ring finger.

Mr. and Mrs. Munson.

Later, you arrived at home to find all your closest friends packed within, there to celebrate the newly wedded couple. Chrissy, finally showing with her second baby, had gone all out and decorated as much as she could, and Robin directed the flow of traffic to the food buffet table.

Everyone took turns toasting to the Munson’s, reminiscing on memories they had about the two of you, both alone and together, and celebrating love. The room was full of it. All glowing faces under candlelight, friends and family alike enjoying the closeness and community.

Every so often you snuck glances over at your new husband, bent in conversation with one of his bandmates, his fingers wiggling in a wave your way.

Husband. It sounded so crazy to think after all this time that was what he was. You’d chosen one another now and forever. Decided that you were going to nurture and grow this relationship for the rest of your lives.

Your family.

That night, after your guests left and Steve and Chrissy took Elena for the evening, Eddie loved you gently in the dim light of your bedroom. Tenderly. Fingers curled with yours against your pillow, the room filled with soft sighs and rolling hips seeking the pinnacle of pleasure. He kissed you slowly, held you tightly as you shattered around him, tucked you away from the rest of the world. Whispered he loved you, punctuated kisses against your face and shoulders with sweet nothings.

Head nuzzling your neck as you both drifted back to earth, he asked, “How does it feel finally being Mrs. Munson?”

Right.

It felt right.

——

Two and a half years later…

——

The stage was bathed in dark shades of maroon and red, the anticipation on eager faces awaiting the last song of a sold out concert a ripple that rose with every passing second. Hands reached out to touch him and his bandmates, a sea of screaming fans huddled before him, and yet his heart only searched out one face. Fingers pressed against strings, the feeling familiar, so practiced, a part of him just as simple as breathing.

A spotlight drifted toward center stage, illuminating his bandmates. His friends. His family. Jeff passed him a knowing smile, Gareth grinned devilishly, and Murphy nodded his head. He’d never be here, standing on this stage, in a crowd of tens of thousands were it not for them — for the years of blood, sweat, and tears. The sacrifices made.

And then, as the room rose in volume, cheering grew louder and louder, Eddie’s eyes drifted off toward the side of the stage. Found you there, his wife, the love of his life, glowing with your support of him as always, lips tugged into the proudest of grins. You were beautiful, wearing his Corroded Coffin band logo across your chest, with a floral skirt fluttering with your every movement falling against your thighs.

In your arms, against your hip, you bounced his newest little. Benjamin Munson, nearly four months old now, with a giant pair of headphones atop his curly head of hair. You swayed him back and forth, one hand curled around his tiny fist like you were dancing, the baby’s eyes transfixed on the stage.

To your right, playing furious air guitar, head banging in all her curly headed glory with a matching pair of headphones to her baby brother, stood his now three-year-old, Elena. His first baby, the one who made him a father, the second love of his life, one of the pieces of his heart. You reached down to brush your fingers over her head, Elena’s head tipping upward just enough, eyes twinkling and dimples that mirrored Eddie’s as she looked across the stage and saw her father standing there with a broad smile on his face.

She smiled back in wonder, always so full of love. He never understood it — how much he could love someone who was a part of him, someone who he’d had a hand in creating, how much they could love him back. How his daughter looked to him like he was her whole world, her hero. But he lived every day trying to be worthy of it, knowing he was.

The first notes of his guitar rang out onto the stage, head bowing, eyes closed. He pictured your smiling face, sitting there in that darkened bar on Halloween. Could see you, just as the crowd roared to life, pulling out a stool and joining him at that table. It was easy to do so, being back in the city where he first fell in love with you tonight. You’d smiled at him, and it had been all over for him, from that very moment.

It was that same smile he saw when his head lifted and he looked your way once more, your beaming face, love and support grounding him in this moment, doing the thing he loved most with the people he loved most.

And as the final note rang out, clear and true into the magnetic energy of the crowd, surrounded by all the people he loved, his dreams now his real life — he knew he’d do it all over again, if only to end up right here in this moment.

Infinite.

——

You left the concert with the promise that Eddie would meet you and the kids back at the hotel once he’d signed endless autographs and merchandise to make his hands hurt. By the time he slipped into the hotel room, you were propped up beside Elena in bed, her eyes locked on whatever cartoon you managed to find on the television.

Ben rested in the crook of your arms, hand against your chest, freshly fed and looking like he’d fall asleep at any moment. Eddie always pleaded with him to stay up so he could wish him goodnight. Not that the baby understood, merely blinking at his goofy dad in reply.

You watched a smile stretch across your husband’s features when he noted the long lashes that fluttered against the tiny face that was shaped so much like his fathers, you’d jokingly cried, “Figures I do all the work and you look like your dad” in the hospital the day he was born as they’d laid him in your arms.

While Ben was serene and serious faced most of the time, Elena was still your giggly and boisterous little girl. Eddie’s twin in every way personality wise, though her features screamed you.

Said little girl hopped up onto the bed despite you telling her she shouldn’t be jumping on it. Ben stirred in your arms as Eddie dropped his things at the door and held his arms up like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, growling, “Daddysaurus is hungry and demands kisses.”

A routine. This had become a routine for them the past few weeks after Elena decided she loved everything dinosaur related. Eddie, wanting to encourage her desires wherever they lay, bought her countless dinosaur toys, books and stuffed animals to engage her curious mind. And then “Daddysaurus” became a thing and you were sure your daughter loved her father even more because of it.

Your big, lovable dork of a husband leaned down and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s middle, flipping her up onto his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the hotel room. Elena squealed in her excitement, hair spilling across his shoulders as she dangled upside down, his fingers wiggling at her sides.

Once properly tickled, he dropped her down onto his hip and kissed her cheek, beaming as her little hand settled against his chest and her head leaned onto his shoulder. “Miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m here now,” he reassured her, “it’s your bedtime though. How about you go potty and we’ll come help you get ready for bed, okay?”

“Do I hav’ta?” she whined, fingers twined in his curls, pouting when you nodded. God, your heart swelled every time she did that. “Benny sleeps too?”

“Yeah, baby, Ben is going to sleep too,” Eddie told her, lowering her down onto the bed.

Elena, still having no perception of how chaotic she could often be, jumped down to the ground and stirred Ben from the half-slumber he’d found himself in, before running off into the bathroom and slamming the door a little too loudly.

Chuckling, you handed Benjamin to Eddie, “You were amazing tonight. As usual.”

He grinned, arms coming up to cradle the baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth to soothe. “Helps that I had my biggest fans in the crowd. Hottest one, too. Wanted to flip her skirt up after the show in the green room.” He added that with a wink.

“Not while the kids are around,” you hissed, but heat still burned low in your belly all the same, craving the next time you’d be able to have some alone time. Luckily that would be tomorrow, when Micah and Jeremiah took them for a few hours so you could explore the city you’d fallen in love in years ago. “He did really well for his first concert.”

Eddie tugged the baby closer, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is that right, Benny Boy? Just wait — in a year or so I’ll teach you how to play too. Just like your sister. We can start our own band.”

“Don’t tell the guys that they’re getting replaced,” you laughed, palm curling up and over his broad shoulder as he settled down beside you on the bed. Cuddled up to his side and staring down at your sweet baby boy, you added, “Robin and Vickie called. Chrissy and Steve had another girl.”

“Poor guy is in trouble. Three girls.” Eddie whistled, running his index finger along Ben’s slackened bottom lip, little sighs falling from the baby.

“Heard from my publisher too. We finally solidified the release date on my next book.”

He leaned over and kissed you, forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

All your dreams were coming true — together.

Every day you loved him a little more than the one that came before.

You had your two beautiful babies.

Your family.

Your friends.

Life was good.

“How about you put him down for the night and I go check on our girl?” you asked, just as Ben finally slackened in his father’s arms, lost to the waking world.

Eddie nodded, happy to do so, whispering sweet words to his littlest love as you made your way over to the bathroom, peeking in to find Elena already finishing up pulling on her pajamas. “Look at you. Such a big girl. How about we go lay down and get ready for a bedtime story? I bet if you ask Daddy real nice he’ll tell you a good one.”

A tiny fist came up to rub at adorable doe-eyes as you carried your daughter back to the bedroom, finding Eddie sprawled out on the bed, the comforter drawn back to make room for the two of you to scramble on in.

Elena, naturally, untangled herself from you and rushed past in her hurry to plaster herself to her father like a starfish. Limbs all sprawled across his form, trying to be as close as possible. His hand slid up and over her back, locking her against his chest. After brushing a final kiss to Ben’s forehead and wrapping him within a blanket from where he lay in his portable crib, you tucked against Eddie’s opposite side, head over where his heart thumped steadily within.

“Missed my favorite girls,” Eddie said, kissing the tops of both your heads.

Your fingers stretched across his chest to tangle with Elena’s, giving her a little squeeze as she sleepily asked, “Story now?”

His laugh rumbled beneath your ear. “Yeah, what kind of story tonight? The one about the bears maybe — or the one about Mr. Turtle?”

“New one please?” She shrugged, nuzzling further into Eddie’s chest.

“How about I tell you the story about the day your Mommy and Daddy met?”

Her eyes sparkled in the darkened hotel room, head rising and falling rapidly.

“Once upon a time, there was a giant Halloween party in a beautiful…uh, castle. A traveling minstrel — which is a fancy word for a musician — looked across the room and spotted the most beautiful princess in all the land…”

He told her the story of Halloween.

He told her the story of where it all began.

He told her the story of your love.

——

well, this is the end. thank you so so much everyone for all of your lovely comments every week, all of our conversations and just generally thank you for loving this story as much as i have. cannot wait to share the next eddie stories i have planned with you all. and please please — if you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know. it means the world to content creators, and i love getting to chat with you all. until next time, xoxo - luna. 🩷🩷

[stariikis]

𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 | nishimura riki | encafe *₊˚☕୧

↬ rest of the encafe series (ongoing!) synopsis ; following an unexpected encounter with a long-lost friend, riki sparks a fresh connection with a familiar face. and what if he wants something more with you this time, and the boundaries of your friendship extends into unfamiliar territory? (news flash: he’s loving every second with you.)

pairing ; barista!nishimura riki x fem customer!reader genre ; fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual crushing trope ; barista x customer reunited buddies wc ; 4417 warnings ; kissing! reader is very very very oblivious and riki is very in love, they are so cute :(

taglist (open!!) ; @chaseyikis @nikiswifereal27 @llvrhee @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @doyochibubu @jikepi @enwonz @rikihqq

14.02.24 – valentine’s day.

If not for a particular order of caramel macchiato on a cold winter’s day. That’s what Riki likes to think when he looks at you with such a look of adoration you can’t help but cover your face in your hands, cheeks flushing a vibrant pink. 

Similar to the wisps of steam rising from atop your coffee mug, you can feel Riki’s love for you swirling in the confines of your heart. Just last winter, your heart whispers, was the moment when he came crashing back into your life. One quick decision to slip into the quaint little coffee shop before work was all it did. 

He’s still in his custom designed apron, scooting ever closer at the window seats. And though he remains content in the pin-drop silence, the hand that sneaks up your back speaks on his behalf. Suddenly, you can’t bear to meet his gaze and turn to the cosy view of the dim street. 

It’s the definition of a romantic street down a road in London – just in Korea. Cobbled roads lined with streetlamps that have a soft golden glow once sundown approaches. Every once in a while in the darkness, a couple or person donned in light winter wear strolls down past the cafe. And Riki looks over at you with a wistful, longing expression as if he wants to be one of those couples. He wants to go out and dance with you, he wants the flurry whiteness embracing you both at the darkest hour. 

He taps your shoulder, enthusiasm glimmering in his eyes, and begins to untie the back of his apron. You carefully sneak a glance at your signature marking its spot on the back of one of the lacings. Your boyfriend had insisted on getting it printed there when you became official, last valentines. 

You would never have imagined that the boy, peeping out amidst the craze with a pink, valentine-themed iced drink in his hands and fumbling uncharacteristically for the right words to confess his feelings to you, would be your long-lost childhood friend.  

(riki’s pov, 10.12.22)

“Psst. Riki! Pretty girl’s coming up to the counter. Hurry – do something!” 

Riki’s coworker nudges him teasingly, noticing his relentless stare on the office worker who has just entered their cafe. It’s not unusual that pretty girls walk in on early weekday mornings like this, but this girl, clearly not a regular, seems familiar somehow. She seems to move in slow motion towards them, and Riki has to put down the ceramic cup he’s holding before it inevitably falls to his feet. 

While it may be an exaggeration to say, her chic grey office clothes seem to sparkle in the minimal lighting. Her brown hair also seems to swish like time has slowed, blonde streaks evident when she tosses her locks. Long eyelashes, a petite nose and strawberry freckles that Riki could spot from a mile away. It’s like he’s met her before. A memory is fighting its way to the surface of his mind, but his efforts are useless when the girl continues to walk up to the counter. 

His mind keeps going completely blank. 

Sunoo drags him by the hand towards the cashier area, raising his eyebrows and giving him a knowing look. When Riki finally snaps out of his mesmerised daze and turns to protest, Sunoo has already taken over the order he was preparing. Gulping, Riki turns to meet the girl in the eye. Or more like past her eyes, because he barely feels enough strength to meet her gaze. He’ll probably faint. 

The idea that he knew her in the past keeps popping up in his head, but he repeatedly shoves the thought down. He’s probably intensely attracted to her, and it’s making him think he has history with her. Which isn’t really a good thing at the moment, with his throat dried up and Sunoo sneaking peeks over to see how he’s doing. 

“U-Um, what would you like to order?” 

The girl leans in and laughs. There’s a sick, uneasy feeling brewing in Riki’s stomach as she does so, because the memory he’s been trying to uncover is slowly emerging from the back of his mind. She recovers from the bout of laughter, still smiling, and when she opens her mouth to speak, Riki remembers. 

“Your sciences are pretty good, Riki, are you planning to pursue them in the future?” A fourteen-year-old version of the girl standing in front of the counter asks. 

Riki replies sheepishly, taking his report card off y/n’s table before others in the class have the chance to see. “Actually, no.” 

“Really?” She tilts her head, hunches over and laughs. “Don’t tell me you want to be an artist or something. But actually that would be pretty cool.” 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Riki looks away from her gaze. He knows she’s not the type to judge, but he doesn’t like when people jab at his interests and prides. And y/n seems to find even the littlest things funny – she has the habit of leaning in and laughing when she finds something amusing. 

“I won’t, pinky promise.” 

“Why are you laughing?” 

Finally, Riki can muster the courage to talk to this ‘mystery girl’ now that he remembers her and knows her name. It has to be her, and it can’t be anybody else. There’s only one girl he used to know with chocolate hazelnut eyes, the bad habit of rumpling her own hair every few seconds (she got it from him), and a height she deems short enough to require heels everyday to work. 

She’s back. When did she fly back from Japan? When did she get a corporate job? When did she dye streaks into her hair like she said she wanted when they were younger? 

“No reason, you just seem frightened.” She – y/n – giggles and Riki swears her head leans in towards him once again. 

He grins. “Why would I be?” Liar, liar, liar, liar liar liar liar liar–  “Anyway, what would you like to order?” 

“Hmm. It’s cold out. Why don’t you surprise me with a warm drink?” Playful as always. This is undeniably y/n. But she seems as if she doesn’t know it yet. Has she erased Riki from her memory or is she pretending to not recognise him? His nametag states his name clearly. His facial features haven’t changed much since then. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Riki tests, for her answer. I won’t, pinky promise. 

It’s what Riki expects her to say. Or, more accurately, what he desperately hopes she’ll say. His stomach drops with the possibility that this might be the last time he ever sees her. If she fails to realise he’s her long-lost best friend from their teenage years, will she ever show up in this cafe ever again? 

The face-framing strands of her hair flutter as she nods earnestly. “I won’t.” 

This is going to be hard to work with. 

“Okay, then, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll surprise you with a custom order.” He winks at her, the only flirtatious move he feels comfortable executing. “Shall the name I put on the order be y/n?” 

“How’d you know?” The girl purses her lips and looks at him curiously. 

She still doesn’t realise? Just how much has she erased from her memory? 

“U-Uh…” He scans her for any hints or labels. Luckily, her corporate key card is strung over the straps of her bag, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he points shakily its way. Y/n follows his gaze and gasps cutely when she notices.

A fantasy of a scene. 

When she finds herself a seat by the window, partially hidden through numerous wisps of smoke rising off coffee mugs, Riki finds his heart aches the same way it did all those years ago. 

With the pain that came with leaving her for the first time, he hopes she won’t leave forever for the second time. He turns to where Sunoo is grinding coffee beans, fully concentrated. He doesn’t even look up when he asks,

“So, what’s the order?” 

Riki’s voice cracks when he replies. “Caramel macchiato.” 

What a teenage dream.

“Order for y/n,” Riki calls gently, one hand holding a tray with her hot drink and the other hand reaching out to tap her shoulder. She unplugs the earphones from her ears and blinks warmly at him. Just as warm as the coffee Riki quietly prepared and snuck an extra shot of caramel in. 

“Oooh,” she giggles and claps her hands. “What’s the surprise drink?” 

“Try it,” Riki pushes the tray closer to her and raises his chin. Subtly, he also takes a seat beside her, while his mind unhelpfully screams, notice the nametag, notice my name, notice my face, notice me!

But instead of looking at him, she carefully blows on her coffee and takes a sip. The face she makes instantly after is so vague he doesn’t know whether she loves it or absolutely despises it, never to return again. 

“Who made this?” Her expression still refuses to give anything away.

Panicking in the split second of a moment, Riki blurts his coworker’s name. “Sunoo. There.” 

“Ohhh, it’s really good! Thank him for m–” 

“I did the foam art!” Once again, Riki lets his mouth run loose and internally smacks himself hard when he gestures towards the heart-shaped imprint in the sea of white. The girl stares at him for half a second before bursting into laughter again. She leans in close and places a hand on his shoulder. 

‘How did you guys know that caramel’s my favourite?” 

“I want to be a barista.” 

“What? Really?” 

Teenage Riki scratches the back of his head and nods. Accompanying his mother to her coffee shop on their ‘bring your child to work day’ was enough to lock in his love for the pleasant aroma of caffeine. He particularly enjoyed creating his own versions of cafe-art. He’s born to be creative, a natural artist at heart. Lab experiments and hypotheses may be his strong suit, but all he wants is to express himself with the tasty remnants of coffee beans and cocoa. 

“Will you make me a drink then?” Y/n smiles brightly. She doesn’t seem to be weirded out by the unusual career choice. Instead, she’s beaming as if it’s a normal occurrence for a top student to want to live a peaceful life at a cafe. “A test run for you.” “Sure,” Riki plays along, his heartstrings tugging seeing her contagious excitement. “What drink would you like? I’ll make it when you come over today.” 

“Hmmm.. make me a caramel macchiato. Nowadays, it’s my comfort drink.” 

“Got it.” 

“Oh, Riki,” She calls as he heads back towards his seat before the next lesson. He whips his head around, raising his eyebrows. “For the record, I think baristas are cool.” 

“It’s a customer favourite in autumn and winter,” Riki lies through his teeth. He doesn’t even stutter once – how commendable. “It’s practically our house special.” 

“Mannn, I thought I’d be special,” she jokes, finishing up her coffee in a few quick sips. “Augh, that’s hot. Anyway, I gotta go to work, I think I’m late.” 

Her eyes widen and she checks her watch. 

“Shoot, I really am. Okay, bye, see you!” 

She waves and darts out the store before RIki can say anything more. Is it odd that all he worries about is the way she’s dressed in the blistering cold? She really needs to bring a padded jacket around. 

Days turn into weeks, and it comes as a surprise to Riki when y/n shows up the next day. And the next. And the subsequent days. She comes to get the same order every day, the same personalised cup of coffee with Riki’s signature foam heart. Little does she know, though, the whole cup is made by him, with love. Not Sunoo, not another coworker, not following a standard cafe recipe. 

Around Christmastime, Riki snags her socials. When she finally learns about his name, tagged to all his accounts, she merely tilts her head as if its clogged. “Why does your name sound familiar to me? Ehh, must be deja vu. I’m getting it a lot these days.” 

Yeah, deja vu, Riki thinks, scrolling through all her pictures of every single cup of coffee she’s ever had from the cafe. It’s like a daily update, and she posts nothing else apart from occasional group pictures and selfies. I’m just a disconcerting feeling to you. 

(y/n’s pov, 14.01.23)

There’s a number of things that are off about today. One of which, is the way Riki doesn’t greet you at the counter as you walk in. His coworker does instead, the one who you remember Riki pointed out to have prepared your caramel macchiato. Another unsettling thing that can’t be helped is the way you have to order manually instead of Riki smiling and keying in your order without a word needed to be said. 

When you receive your beverage, the barista doesn’t sit down beside you to engage in small talk. The curls of steam don’t clear to reveal a heart print in the foam. Rather, it’s a traditional cafe leaf, grains of cocoa flecked on the froth with no emotion whatsoever. And usually, Riki has a way with his words to manipulate time into travelling faster. In a few seconds you finish your drink and head to work like routine suggests. 

Today, everything is different. 

When you hesitantly take a sip out of your coffee, you cringe. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s not the same. Without Riki’s latte art, the taste can’t have changed that much, could it? Or did the cafe decide to revamp their recipes? And just what happened to Riki? 

The next day, you’re secretly hoping he’s behind the counter laughing with his coworkers like normal. But he isn’t. And so you begrudgingly order your caramel macchiato, to go, and leave with hope for tomorrow. 

Third time’s the charm – but not today. Riki still hasn’t come back, your coffee tastes like wet dirt (it’s not even that bad, but you’re not used to it. Why doesn’t it taste as sweet as it used to?) and it’s another unordinary day. 

It’s what constitutes the change from this cafe to the newer one closer to her workplace, down the street from it and next to a popular florist. There’s an ache in your heart, perhaps because you don’t like changes. Perhaps because you’ll miss the comfort of frosted windows and small talk. Or perhaps because you’ll miss Riki. 

(riki’s pov, 21.01.23)

“What do you mean she doesn’t come anymore?” 

Riki’s heart drops all the way down to his feet, and Sunoo looks at him with a mixture of guilt and sympathy. “After she tried my coffee, she pulled a face. I’ve never had my pride shattered like that.” 

“And a few days later, she didn’t come back. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you first…” 

Sunoo’s words drown in his thoughts as he pulls out his phone and checks her socials. She is bound to have posted something about it. Either that, or post pictures of her coffee from whatever new cafe she might be purchasing from. And true enough, her page displays jungle-green coffee mugs with drizzles of caramel atop the foam. 

“Oh, isn’t that the new branch further downtown?” Sunoo’s voice suddenly penetrates through his train of thoughts once more. “I think Sunghoon hyung’s starting his job there soon.”

“How do I work there?” Riki leans against the counter and mutters without hesitation. “How do I take a shift there?”

Another coughing bout attacks him before Sunoo can answer. Stupid flu, if he had never caught the illness he wouldn’t have to scheme some kind of master plot to be able to see y/n again. He blames her too, of course, for not telling him, but he blames his white blood cells first. 

“What’s this about wanting to take a shift where?” 

Riki, recognising his boss’s voice, whips around and practically falls to his knees. He doesn’t really, it’s embarrassing, but he feels like he’s grovelling in some way or another. “Heeseung-nim. Please let me take a shift at the new branch tomorrow morning. I can take someone’s place if they’re sick – I’ll even do restocking.” 

“Restocking. How mundane. You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” Sunoo whispers in his ear, and Riki shoves him aside with eyes only for Heeseung. 

“Please!” 

Fortunately, his boss just huffs in amusement. “You’re ridiculous. I’ll ask if there are any slots you can take as a cashier or waiter.” 

“You’re the best, hyu- Heeseung-nim!” 

The next day, Riki wishes he could replay the astonished face y/n makes when she walks through the doors and sees him immediately. “Deja vu, huh?” 

To the confusion of the other workers on shift at the time, he takes over the whole order, insisting he knows what he’s doing. They don’t bother to argue with him though, when they see the latte art he makes. The prominent heart shape says all the words he never did. Holds the explanation that was never necessary. A man in love is not be interfered with en route to his destination. 

“Why did you change cafes?” Riki sighs, trying to act nonchalant as he pushes the tray in front of her face. As she reaches out to pick up the cup, he grabs her hand and shakes his head. “Answer me first.” Her eyes grow wide, cheeks flushing slightly. But she turns to face him properly, looking nervous as she tries to explain herself. “I think the cafe changed the recipe of the caramel macchiato or something… and you didn’t come for days… so I just decided..” 

“I don’t come for a few days because I’m sick and you disappear?” Riki can’t help but tease, his heart beating in his ears. “You’re funny.” 

She looks shocked at this revelation but giggles to herself, body leaning in towards him. 

“The coffee didn’t taste the same either. Even though the hands who prepared it were the same, I clearly saw your coworker making my coffee. And I’m not saying it’s because of this, but there wasn’t your signature foam art, and I kinda missed it.” She gestures towards the cup. And Riki can’t take it anymore.

His lip trembles as he bursts out, “That’s because it wasn’t Sunoo hyung who prepared the drinks for you. On the first day, I made your drink. I added an extra shot of caramel because I knew you liked it. I deliberately took care of your order myself.” And you still don’t know why, to this day. You don’t remember me at all. Of course, at the airport, I was the one crying ugly tears, wishing you weren’t going. I wanted one more chance. I knew you didn’t like me back, and it felt like you never would. 

Now that you’re back, how am I supposed to let you go again? 

“Come back to our cafe. I’ll be there. I’ll make the caramel macchiato like you like, and I’ll even design custom latte arts on your coffees.” By the end of his outburst, he’s wiping his sweaty hands on his apron, scared to hear her answer. Will she say yes and let things return to how they usually were? Or would she reject him and tell him she was fine without him all along? 

“Okay,” she smiles and it reaches her choco-hazel eyes. “I’ll see you there tomorrow, then. But I have to rush, I’ve got a movie I want to see.” 

Oh? A movie? Isn’t this perfect to… 

“Is it the new Disney one?” Riki blinks earnestly when she nods. “I’ve really wanted to see that too!” 

“Why don’t you come with me, then? I’m going alone, since all my friends are busy and tomorrow’s the last day it’s in theatres.” 

Consider Riki the luckiest boy in the world.

“I’ve got something to show you,” Riki whispers, in the pitch-black darkness of the back of the movie theatre. The movie has just ended, but all Riki remembers is the way y/n laughs and coos at the animations and characters. He only recalls his reaction to seeing her in such a whimsical dress as she walked into the cafe on a Saturday morning. Thin, soft pink ribbons holding her french plaits together, accentuating the doll image she wanted.

All he wants is to finally make her his. He wants to be able to call her beautiful without sounding like a creep. He wants to be the reason why she wakes up and stops by the cafe every weekday morning. Though he has an inkling that he already is, and she just doesn’t want to admit it. 

“What is it?” 

Her eyes. They gleam even in the utter darkness. How is that possible? She’s like a materialisation of a fairy from a fantasy story. 

His voice wavers as he says, “let’s head out first.” 

“Okay…” 

She follows him out the theatre, and they head back towards the cafe. Riki’s glad he’s not on shift today, otherwise Heeseung would definitely have his head off. All the way back, he fiddles with his wallet, which holds the photograph of truth. 

“I don’t want you to go…” On the 8th of December in 2017, Riki waits by the airport barricades and wipes his snot away when y/n leans in to hug him goodbye. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Not long, I promise.” Tears well up in her eyes upon seeing her best friend in this state. “I believe we’ll see each other again, if it’s truly fate.” 

Riki’s mother, heart aching at the exchange, steps back and suggests, “let me take a picture of you both for you both to remember, okay?” 

Riki doesn’t notice the flash between sobs. 

When they reach the cafe, Riki sits y/n down at her favourite window seat and puts the very same photograph in her palms. He awaits with bated breath for her response, but she just remains silent. He doesn’t know if she’s breathing anymore, either. 

Finally, after nearly a minute has passed, she looks up with a glaze over her eyes. 

“It wasn’t just deja vu, was it?” Riki doesn’t know how he manages to tease her even in this tender moment. She gasps like what he says is scandalous, before pulling him in close to hug him. For a few moments, they remain this way, Riki wondering whether she can hear his heart pounding as if it’s going to shatter his ribcage. 

Even if she does, though, she says nothing of it. 

“So I was right,” she murmurs, pulling away from the hug. Her cheeks are smudged with wetness. “I was right like I always used to be. Idiot.” 

He cocks his head, bemused. 

“It’s destiny. I said we’d meet again if fate aligned, and it did.”

Like the north and south poles of two magnets, they’ve found their way back to each other. It’s like a fever dream.

(y/n’s pov, 14.02.23)

There’s no way Riki would ask you to come to the cafe at 12pm sharp for no reason, right? In the middle of a huge crowd, no less, knocked right and left from the couples who are here for a Valentine’s date. You have a feeling that a confession is awaiting you, but how does a confession come about without the confessor? 

You continue to stand in the middle of the crowd in your carefully selected pink dress, white laced leg warmers adorning your calves to keep you warm. Riki’s always very adamant about you staying warm, so you put on extra layers to please him even if you’re not cold. Otherwise, he’s bound to smother you with jackets and sweaters. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Riki rushing over to you with an iced pink drink in his hands. It’s the first time he’s ever prepared an iced drink for you, considering you’ve only experienced winter season together. He looks regretful about this, staring down at his carelessly tied apron for comfort. 

“Sorry I didn’t make it a warm drink, I wanted you to be able to see the pink. And I can’t put hot drinks into the plastic cups… obviously…” He rambles, holding the drink out for you. Just as you fish out your wallet to pay him, laughing all the while because of how cute he looks in the moment, he shakes his head. “Oh, it’s on the house.” 

“That’s not legally right,” you stick your tongue out at him and pull out a five-dollar-note in spite. His hand comes up, but as you think he’s going in for the note, he grabs your wrist and tugs you close to him instead. He angles his head and his eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. Drink still in his other hand. He drops your wrist and pulls your waist instead. 

Breathless when he pulls away, he whispers, looking deep into your eyes, “if you go out with me, it counts as the couple special. Be my girlfriend.” 

You bet your cheeks are as pink as the drink Riki prepared for you when he goes in for another kiss. 

13 February 2015

“Do you like anyone?” 

Ten-year-old Riki poses his very important question to you as he hangs from the monkey bars. You take a while to think, but eventually can’t come up with a name that’s worthy enough to be considered your crush. “Nope! You?” 

“I think so.” 

“Really? Who is it?” 

Riki makes a hushing face as his way of telling you he’s not ready to reveal his secret. “I know tomorrow is Valentine’s day, but I think we should grow up first before I tell her.” 

“Awwww, will you at least give me a hint?” You beg, oblivious that the girl of Riki’s dreams is you. It has always been you. He smiles softly and shakes his head no. 

He drops down from the monkey bars and comes to sit by your side on the grass. “I’m very close to her. I think one of these Valentine’s, I’ll tell her. Isn’t that romantic?” 

“Man, I hope she doesn’t steal you away from me. We’re best friends, you’ll remember that, right? You promise?” 

“I will. Pinky promise, chocolate sprinkles on top.”

↬ rest of the encafe series

NOTES ; thank you all so much for reading this first inclusion of me and @enwonz series !! we hope you give us lots of support and love hehe. please like and reblog if you enjoyed, and drop either of us an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[bits-and-babs]

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade. 

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred. 

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king. 

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign. 

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king. 

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?” 

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound. 

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way. 

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy. 

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now. 

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern. 

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs. 

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison. 

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication. 

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist. 

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t. 

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered. 

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….” 

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting. 

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress. 

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly. 

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you. 

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home. 

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment. 

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.  

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing. 

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.” 

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other. 

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around. 

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward. 

“Oberyn-” 

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….” 

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you. 

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs. 

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist. 

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic. 

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason. 

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation. 

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort. 

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’. 

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold. 

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him. 

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you. 

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover. 

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen. 

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it. 

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement. 

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you. 

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you. 

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

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