#and all he got was a faceful of coffee breath :(

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[antoncore]

bro when i tell you i could NOT stop thinking about apologizing (not necessarily for something bad) and begging…. who in riize/bnd😴

gonna do a separate post for bnd if others want it as i made this longer than i planned but for riize, anton and eunseok.

anton is clingy and loves loves LOVES having his hands all over you. he had “ignored” you when you went into his home studio, asking if he needed anything while he worked (although he did have his headphones in) and you got frustrated, storming out of the room. he would get up instantly to see you in the kitchen scrolling, you wouldn’t even notice he was there until you felt his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. you ignored him, continuing to scroll as he placed the softest of kisses along your neck, murmuring apologies between each one. “didn’t mean to ignore you, darling, you know how i get when i’m focused,” as you continued to scroll, not paying any attention to his words, he nuzzled into your neck, whispering softly “i’m sorry, let me make it up to you, please.”

he gently turned you around to face him, lifting you up onto the counter. “i’d do anything for you,” he continued, his voice soft and pleading as he got on his knees as his eyes searched yours, practically begging for your forgiveness as his kissed his way up your thighs. you’d just let him, watching just how eager he was to please you. his full attention would be completely on you for hours as he ate you out. he held your hand tight as you put your other hand through his hair, apologies and pleas slipping from his lips every time he pulled away to breathe. would have you cum on his tongue multiple times until you said the words “i forgive you.”

eunseok had to work late on the night of your anniversary dinner. the deadlines for a crucial project were fast approaching, his team under pressure to finalise designs. every little detail mattered, needing his full attention. he sipped on his coffee as he sent you a text with a heavy sigh, feeling so guilty about missing such an important date.

eunseok: i’m sorry i have to miss the dinner doll, need to finalise the design plans tonight and i can’t leave until it’s all done.

your heart dropped slightly but you understood how stressful the night before a deadline was. you typed a quick reply, trying your best to reassure him that it was okay. as the hours passed, you found yourself glancing at the clock, every second only worsening your disappointment, wondering when eunseok was coming home. he’d walk through the door with a tired smile, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands as a small apology. despite the sweet gesture, you were still frustrated, unable to forget what tonight could’ve been.

he would make it all better by fucking the frustration out of you, letting you order him around slightly, him giving you his cock exactly how you wanted. he’d listen attentively to your every word, your every sound to know that he was making you feel good, if he needed to pick up the pace or slow down. he’d go for rounds until you wanted him to stop, the night ending in breathlessness and him collapsing on top of you, giving you forehead kisses. he would even book a last minute weekend getaway as an extra gesture so that you could celebrate and have some quality time together away from home and the pressures of work (and so that he could make love to you, just like you’d want on your anniversary, ending with you being full of his cum, another way of showing how you always came first, wanting to spend his whole life with you <3)

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[latenightdaydreams]

Blacksmith!König x Farmers Wife Part 2 (fem)

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, cheating, p in v, oral

1.3k word count

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You wake up before the sun begins to rise. The first thing you do is rush to the bathroom to wash your body well; you want to smell fresh for König. Last night he consumed your dreams. Dreams of his hard, muscular body pressing up against yours as he drips sweat down on to you. The thought sends chills down your spine.

As you linger in front of the wardrobe dripping wet you grab your mauve red dress, the fanciest one you have. You dress quickly, spritzing yourself with the perfume you were gifted the day of your wedding; it’s remained on your vanity untouched all this time. With one last look in the mirror, you rush out the door to the stables.

The ride seems to pass by quicker than before, your mind wandering to unholy places helped consume that time. You turn down the familiar dirt path, riding up to the barn to dismount your horse. He’s not in the barn, so you turn towards his home instead. You climb the two steps to his front door, knocking softly.

König sits in his kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee when he barely hears your knock. His eyes dart towards the door and step forward. Only wearing jeans, he opens the door to look down and see you. Your eyes drop to his chest before meeting his gaze again and smiling. The golden hue from the sun causes your eyes to shimmer and skin to glow. He stands there for a while, looking down at your cleavage then slowly back up to your eyes.

“What can I do for you, Schatz?”

The way he speaks sends a shiver down your spine; his wandering eyes don’t go unnoticed by you, causing you to blush. For a moment, you forget the reason you came here. All you can focus on is his sculpted body and shining blue eyes.

“I- I forgot my ax.”

“Ja?” König leans against his door frame, looking you up and down still. “Let’s go fetch it then.”

You step aside as he walks forward, closing the front door behind him, following him like a little puppy to the barn. His back muscles flex, almost putting you in a trance. He looks exactly like the drawing in books of Greek gods.

König pulls open the door of the barn, looking down to where he remembers you placing it. He bends down and grabs it, turning to face you now. You hold your hands out to grab it, but he doesn’t give it to you. Instead, he just lingers, gazing down at you as he steps forward. The smell of your floral perfume hits his nose as he stands only a few inches from you.

“You came all the way here, dressed in such a lovely dress…” König reaches out with one hand to rest it on your waist, “smelling of flowers, just as the sun comes up…for an ax?”

A small blush crosses your cheeks as he calls you out. His massive hand on your waist feels so warm and welcoming, making you crave the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Only a jumble of words spills out, not able to think quickly on your feet while so flustered.

“You came back for more, ja?” König leans in closer. “You came back for me?”

Before you even answer he leans in and kisses you, carefully dropping the ax to the floor. With both hands he grips your hips and squeezes as he pulls you against his chest. His mouth opens, slipping his tongue past your lips. Your tongues swirl around one another’s, causing your pussy to tingle from excitement.

König lets his hands slip to your ass, squeezing as he lifts you up into his arms; you wrap your legs around his torso as he walks forward with you. He takes your lack of protest as consent for him to do what he’s about to. Knowing Michael, he can imagine just how desperate and touch starved you are. Such a low man with such a goddess of a wife.

As König walks you into his home, you kiss and bite on his neck and chest; the salty taste of his sweaty skin becomes addicting. You breathe in the intoxicating musk you got a sample of yesterday; you’ve been craving it ever since. His hands hold you tightly as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom. He gently tosses you on to the bed, his lips crash against yours while his hands travel underneath the hem of your skirt.

In his hands he bunches up the fabric, slipping his fingers between your legs. You’re already soaked, causing König to let out a pleased hum. “God, I want you.” He whispers as he pulls away and lowering his head between your legs. The sweet smell of your arousal consumes him as he kisses your pussy.

He licks his lips, tasting you before leaning back in and completely burying his face in your cunt. His long, fat tongue finds your tight pussy, pressing himself in and wiggling his tongue as his hands part your thighs. You look down as you pull your fabric back more, watching as he eats you up like a starved man.

König swipes his tongue up, flicking over your clit before taking your small bud into his mouth and sucking. This causes your abdomen to tense, you cry out, begging him to not stop. He can’t stop, your pussy is like a delicacy and he’s just only begun.

“K- König…god…”

He shakes his head back and forth, his fingers digging into your supple thighs even more as your moans become loud pleas for your ever approaching release. Your thighs press against his head, bucking your hips up against his tongue as you cry out for König. If he tries to breathe, all he gets is a strong and overwhelming smell of you; it’s perfect.

König doesn’t stop as your legs slowly relax. He looks up to watch you untie the corset of your dress, exposing your beautiful breasts to him. With one hand he moves up to pinch your perky nipple, tugging on it slightly as his tongue laps between your folds.

“I want your cock.” You beg loudly. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Gladly.” He growls as he pulls back.

König stands, his eyes glued to your breasts as he undoes his belt buckle and pulls down his pants. His heavy cock springs free from the restraints of his pants, the tip leaking; desperate to feel your tiny cunt. Without even slipping out of your dress, he grabs your thighs and pulls you towards the edge of the bed. He looks down, watching as he lines the head of his cock with you.

“Mein Gott.” König moans as he watches your tight pussy swallow his massive cock. “Look at you, taking all of me.”

He pulls back and slowly pushes back in, his slow motion almost a tease for you. All you want is to be destroyed by him; bruises, bites, and all. “Please, fuck me harder.” You beg, your tone of voice almost pathetic.

By the time you stroll back towards the farm, the sun has begun to set. The whole journey back, you sniff your dress and enjoy the lingering scent of him on you. You can’t help but to smile and act giddy as you recall the events of today. Hours in bed with König as he took his time to learn every inch of your body; you’ve never experienced that type of love making before. Even when it was rough, he was still careful with you.

You stable the horse and walk towards your house. Michael sits on the porch drinking a beer as usual, with an unpleasant look on his ugly mug. His eyes travel over your dress. You never wear it, so why today?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Michael shouts as you get closer.

You say nothing, already annoyed that this is the man you’re forced to return home to after experiencing König. Instead, you drop the ax at his feet and walk past him into the house. Offering him no explanation. He looks down at the ax stunned. Did you…no. You wouldn’t, right?

[shhhsupertopsecret]

Orestes - Jason Todd

Prompt: “It’s rotten work.” “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

an: While I can appreciate fanon Jason, I prefer emotionally and romantically stunted canon Jason. Canon typical violence 

WC: 1079

The left side living room window was always unlocked. Slightly dangerous game in Gotham, but sacrifices had to be made. For him, you would take the gamble. It had been a few days without any sight of him. While this was not uncommon, the twisting in your gut followed his absence every single time. It was a persistent reminder of the ever-present danger he was in. So, the window remains unlocked. So, you pine. And you wait. 

You lay half-conscious on your couch, the TV bathing the living room in a faint blue light. Perfectly fitting of your melancholia. Then you had quite a startle. There was a gentle knock at the window. That was the sign that Jason couldn’t get in on his own. You jumped up, your heart jumping with you. You all but ran to the window to pull Jason inside. He swayed on his feet, his face obscured by that stupid helmet. 

The extensive first aid kit already lay prepped on the coffee table. You could run a medical clinic from your one-bedroom apartment. You got Jason to the couch as gently as possible, as gently as you could move a six-foot-200-pound man. He was almost completely dead-weight. 

With gentle hands, you moved to the sides of his helmet, pushing the release buttons and pulling it off. Jason’s face was ashen, his eyes glassy and unfocused—was it exhaustion or pain? You couldn’t tell.

“Hey, Jay.” You cradled his face, thumbs gently swiping the tops of his cheekbones, as you took in his damage. Multiple lacerations marred his skin and a bullet wound had torn open the flesh of his side. He closed his eyes and leaned into the point of connection. A black left eye too. 

“I’m sorry.” He was always sorry. Jason could never accept help without guilt. To you, it was an honor to be the one who he trusted, a fragile gift. Jason Todd’s trust was a rare commodity. You would give anything to make him quit, but he wasn’t him without the Red Hood. So you loved both of them. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” With a pace so slow you appeared to be still, you peeled what remained of the blood-stained shirt off of Jason’s body. Your hand grazed the litany of puckered scars from previous gunshot wounds. Your eyes were always drawn to the y-shaped autopsy scar that ran down his chest. The scar in a crude letter J that lived near his clavicle. It wasn’t that Jason was fragile, far from it. How much could one person take? You did everything you could to take some of it from him - to carry it for him. 

You started the familiar process. Examine, clean, stitch. You pull the jagged edges of skin together with secure knots. If you didn’t have an iron will before, you do now. All the while, he clings to consciousness. You can finally breathe after the last suture is knotted and snipped. 

“Why do you do this for me?” Jason’s words disrupt the silence. 

“Am I supposed to leave you on the sidewalk?”

“Maybe.” You knew he believed that. He doesn’t believe in affection without strings. He had never known a healthy relationship model. You tried not to let it offend you when he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I hate when you say shit like that. I do this because I can and I want to. I really want to. I’ll take care of you for as long as you’ll let me - might force you to endure it longer than that.” Jason did let his lips curl into a small smile at that. 

“Bed or couch?” 

“Bed.” His voice cracked, his words more of a croak.

This time, Jason was a bit sturdier on his feet and hobbled beside you to the bedroom. You slide into bed and turn over the sheet on his side. He slides into bed as gracefully as he can manage. His skin was painted an alarming purple against the stark white sheets. You remain a respectful distance away. Would you ever tell him you love him? Was it just one more thing for him to carry? You would like to think that your overwhelmingly fond demeanor had told him all he needed to know. So was his silence hesitance or rejection? 

It was faint at first, you could barely feel it. Sure enough, a pinkie interlocked with yours. You braved a look at Jason’s face. 

“Thank you.” His sincerity burned your skin. 

“Of course, any time.”

“That’s not what I meant. Thank you for everything. It’s hard for me to be…open. But, you meet me where I am at. You care.” His eye contact made you nervous. Jason is not world-renowned for his emotional honesty. His eyes continued to peer at you, waiting for your response.  

“I-Undoubtedly, I care. You find that hard to believe sometimes. But I do.” Jason turned on his (non-injured) side. He interlocked his fingers with yours, bringing both your hands to rest on the pillow in between your heads. He stared somewhere behind your head, losing what little bravado he had. 

“I think I love you. I think I do. I love you.” Jason blundered through his sentence while maintaining eye contact with the wall. His palm was sweaty. You could swear your heart was going to come out of your throat. 

With bravery you did not know you possessed, you put your hands to his face and brought his eyes to meet yours. It was moments like these that reminded you what Jason had lost. He looked like that 15-year-old boy, looking for validation in a foreign warehouse. And you adored him. 

“I love you, Jason. I know I do.” You both sat in the weight of your words. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Absolutely. Totally. Entirely.”

“It’s rotten work.” You wish he could quantify his self-worth. You don’t understand how someone you loved so utterly could loathe themselves. You would remind him, every day, if he let you. 

“Not to me, not if it’s you.” Jason bridged the gap between you, throwing his arm over your middle and pulling you close. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” Embarrassment lingered in the red of his cheeks. You could feel the weight and warmth that radiated from his arm. It felt safe.

“Of course.” You let the man you loved hold you until you both fell asleep.

[dira333]

Wanna go out? - Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Featuring Kirishima as the best wingman ever.

“You’d probably be more successful if you didn’t already expect the worst,” Eijirou points out from the kitchen.

“I know, I just…” you helplessly shrug. “I know my success rate, is all.”

“You’re not a firm trying to sell a product, you’re a beautiful, fun and kind person trying to find a partner.”

“And how well that has gone,” you joke but without much humor.

“Stop it,” he commands, setting your coffee down in front of you. “And tell me, is there anyone you found nice last night?”

You think back. 

It had been such a nice gesture from Eijirou to bring you with him, especially considering he technically had a date - Mina. 

All the faces and names you’ve learned dance in front of your eyes, but if you’re being honest, there’s only one person who stood out to you.

You hide behind your coffee cup, but it’s too late. You didn’t grow up alongside Eijirou for nothing, it seems.

“Spit it out,” he grins, his eyes full of hope. Oh, if only you could go on without disappointing him.

“Tamaki,” you admit finally, swallowing your nerves.

Eijirou beams up at you. “Really? That’s amazing. He’s an awesome guy!”

“Sure, sure,” you nod, swallowing and swallowing. “But you know, I’m me, so…”

Eijirou’s face falls. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. I can’t remember if I ever had a second date. You know my flaws and-”

“Tamaki is a really great guy,” Eijirou points out, emphasizing the word “great”.

You nod, your heart already sinking. “I got that. Which is exactly why that’s not going to happen.”

“Come on!” Eijirou whines. “You know he’s a little shy, but he’s nice. Why don’t you send him a text? Just ask to do something like yesterday again, hang out a little, chat over stuff. I’m sure he won’t say no.”

“And then?”

“And then you find out if you two are compatible. Or if you prefer staying friends. Don’t expect too much at first, he’s shy, remember?”

You take a deep breath, pick up your phone and stare at the screen. Could it really be so simple?

Eijirou himself is checking his own messages, smiling as he answers one.

Stealing yourself against the inevitable rejection you type a quick message, your thumb hovering over the send button.

“What do you have to lose?” Eijirou asks as if knowing what you’re about to do. 

And he’s right. You’ve been rejected enough times to know how to deal with it by know.

Seconds later, your eyes still on the screen, a little shocked about your own bravery, the blue checkmarks appear. He’s seen it. 

You slam your phone down, overcome with anxiety. If he answers, you don’t want to see it. At least not until you’ve calmed down a little.

“Oh,” Eijirou breathes out with a laugh. “Tamaki’s calling.”

“I need to pee,” you yelp, getting out there as fast as you can.

You don’t know yet that when you return, the first of many messages will wait in your inbox.

[pretentious-blonde]

birthday

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve never really cared for his birthday, his girl takes it upon herself to make sure he feels special. showing him how far he has come

warnings: none, fluff

a/n: steve likes madonna, fight me

The morning was quiet, still. The sun had just about emerged over the horizon as you stepped out of the car, balancing two coffees and a small paper bag in your hands. You had made the effort to get up early, driving a little further to visit the little cafe you knew Steve loved. He practically begged for you to let him take the detour every time, which you did. You could never say no to him. Not when he asked so nicely, pinching his eyebrows together in a sorrowful expression. Pitiful, truly. 

You got there a bit after it opened, just to make sure the croissants hadn’t sold out. Steve had a soft spot for chocolate. All sweet things really, especially in the mornings. He wasn’t particularly vocal about it, but after months of observing him ordering pancakes from the diner and never skipping dessert after date night, you figured he would appreciate the sugar. 

Standing at his front door, you reached into the plant pot, grabbing the spare set of keys. You were one of the few people he allowed to have this information. You did mention to him that the majority of people keep the spare set in a place like that, but he disagreed, telling you that at least it wasn’t under the doormat. 

It had been previously, until Dustin found it and entered his home without warning. 

You unlocked the door as gently as you could manage, slipping inside and removing your coat and shoes. Gently, you placed the small bag of gifts for him by the door. He could open them up later. 

You tiptoed up the long staircase, coffee cups wobbling in your hands as you made your way to his room. It was miraculous that you didn’t drop them in your efforts to keep quiet. The door was slightly cracked open, you could make out his silhouette in the dim light. 

He was sprawled out on the bed, one hand under the pillow and the other lying next to him. He always had a habit of sleeping on his stomach, limbs tangled in a chaotic heap, it looked as though he had a battle with his sheets whilst he slept. His broad back rose and fell in tandem with his deep breaths, hair tousled and messy, face half-buried in the cushion underneath him. 

The sight brought a smile to your face, it was endearing how peaceful he looked. He was usually so put-together, but this? He seemed almost boyish, relaxed, unaware of the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was a sight that was reserved for you and you only. It was something precious. 

You carefully set the cups and bag down on the bedside table, knowing it was time to attempt something impossible. Waking Steve Harrington up. 

You leaned closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Steve…” you whispered, trying the kinder approach to wake up the man. If Robin was here she would have just told you to open up the curtains, but you couldn’t do that to him. At least not today.

“Mmmph,” was the groggy response you earned, he shifted his legs under the covers, burying his face even further into his pillow. 

You had to bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping. You decided to shake him a little harder, trying to rouse him from his slumber. “Steve, come on. It’s time to get up.”

Ever the drama queen, he let out an exaggerated groan, a rouge arm flailing out from under the cover to try to bat away whatever was disturbing him. “Too early,” he mumbled, voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

You shake your head as you laugh, deciding to change tactics. You poke him playfully in the ribs, which earns you another groan, this time more awake but definitely more annoyed. 

“If you don't let me sleep, I swear to God…,” his voice trailed off, but there was no real threat behind his tone. 

Steve was certainly not a morning person by any means. He had no problem waking up if he needed to be somewhere, but he was certainly not fond of being woken up without prior knowledge. You had lost count of how many times he slurred that he needed five more minutes when you stayed over, giggling every time he shushed you with his embrace. 

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” you tease, perching on the side of the bed next to him. “I brought breakfast.”

That worked a bit better, a small but noticeable reaction—a low but sleepy moan of appreciation, as if the promise of food might be enough to drag him out of bed. You waited for a few seconds to see if there was any movement, you huffed when there wasn’t, his face now completely hidden by his arm. 

You prodded your finger on his back once again. “Steve…”

With a melodramatic grunt of effort, he finally rolled his body over onto the side, amber eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted back into focus. 

“Oh…hey, honey,” he greeted groggily, rubbing a hand over his face as he fought against his fatigue, completely forgetting about his previous comments. His brown hair was a complete mess, sticking up in all directions. You grinned as you took in his dishevelled appearance. “It’s early…what are you doing here?”

“Did you forget what today is?” Your eyes widened, slightly suprised at his question. You couldn’t have got the wrong day, could you?

Steve furrowed his brows, seemingly still stuck between the realm of sleep and reality. “Day? What…oh.” The realisation was quick to dawn on him as his brain started to function. “My birthday, right.”

The reminder sent a wave of embarrassment through him, his lips turned into a small, sheepish smile as he realised his mistake. It never was a big deal to him, something he never really celebrated. Back in high school, he would just throw a house party, which would essentially just be a gathering filled with people who couldn’t care less about what day it was. 

His parents were hardly home, and even when they were, it was just a card handed to him when he woke up. He used to get some cash in them when he was younger, but it seems they even forgot that too. It wasn’t the money that mattered, they probably only did that because they forgot to get him a gift. But at least it was something. 

The last few years he honestly never remembered it. Only when it got dark, just him alone in the big, empty house he pondered celebrating it. But the idea just made him feel hollow. 

He glanced over to what you had placed on the side next to him, heart leaping when he recognised the familiar logo, he placed his hand on your leg as you continued to look down at him. “Thank you, honey…but you really didn’t have to.”

“Well, I did,” you gave him a stubborn look before crossing your hands over your chest, your expression not filled with any malice. “And I’m not done either. I have a few other things for you downstairs.”

His eyes grew bigger, his shock evident. He shuffled up, propping himself on his elbows as he stared at you. It was vulnerable, a look you rarely saw on him. 

“Ok, now you really didn’t have to,” he murmured, tone softer now. 

You waved your hand in front of him dismissively. “Just enjoy it, okay? I’m giving you the whole ‘breakfast-in-bed’ treatment here.”

Now that forced a grin on his face as he sat up fully, his movements still slightly sloppy. “Breakfast in bed, huh? You’re gonna make me spoiled.” You went to stand up but were immediately stopped by a pair of arms winding around your centre. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not eating alone.”

You squealed in surprise as he dragged you up the bed, only releasing you when you were firmly settled by his side, under the duvet and everything. “Fine, fine. But if you get crumbs in the bed, it’s on you.”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, already tearing the croissant in half, not caring about the mess. “Worth it,” he smirked before popping a piece into his mouth, holding the other out for you along with the coffee. 

You rolled your eyes as you took a sip from the cup, nudging his shoulder with your own as you both ate. The morning sun was creeping through the cracks in his blinds, illuminating his features just right. He sighed as he leaned against the headboard, shoving the last piece of pastry into his mouth before gathering up the rubbish from the two of you. 

He slid out of bed, reaching above his head lazily, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a slither of his toned stomach. He gave you a sly grin when he caught you staring at him, feeling a sense of pride. 

He loved it when he felt wanted, especially by you. 

“Careful, sweetheart. Staring like that could get you in trouble.” 

You grinned wide, leaning back against his headboard, making a deliberate display of looking him up and down. “Who me?”

He shook his head and chuckled under his breath. God, you were trouble. He made his way over to his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of blue Levi’s and a classic Steve Harrington polo. He tossed the clothing items on the bed, glancing over at you, his tone low and teasing. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might just forget the plans downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, holding in a sly grin. “Who says I mind?”

He tilted his head back with a groan, as he stripped out of his pyjamas, leaving him only in a pair of boxer shorts. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them up with deliberate slowness, knowing you would be watching his every move. “Oh, trust me,” he smirked as he reached for his belt. “I could make it worth your while, but…” He tugged on his shirt over his head, raking his fingers through his hair in a weak attempt to fix it. “I think I’d rather make you wait.”

“You’re such a tease, Harrington.” You glare at him playfully.

He raised an eyebrow, walking slowly over to where you were sitting. His arms were crossed as he leaned over you, lips purposefully brushing against your ear, sending a shudder down your spine. 

“I think you like when I tease you, sweetheart,” he whispered before pulling away. 

Your cheeks heated as you tried to recover, shifting your attention away from his comment. “Finish up in here, or you’ll be the one begging for attention later.”

He grinned devilishly, finally backing off and tugging some socks over his feet. He opened the door dramatically holding his spare hand out in front of him. “After you, honey,” he said, his voice now sickeningly sweet. 

You shoved the covers off with a giggle, smiling as you passed in front of him. Steve was close on your heels, placing his firm hands on either of your shoulders as you descended the stairs. As you reached the bottom, his eyes landed on the gifts you left by the door. He was overcome with a sense of tenderness at the sight of them, all wrapped up with cheesy wrapping paper. 

“Angel,” his voice now lacking the teasing tone present before. “This is…this is really sweet.”

You carried on walking towards it, picking them up before leading him to the living room. Pushing him down on the large couch and taking a seat next to him, your legs now brushing together. You were buzzing with excitement as you handed him the first package—a small box which he eagerly tore into. Paper falling away to reveal a tape. 

He looked closer at the label, in your swirly handwriting were the words ‘BMW Bangers’. It earned a full-bodied laugh from him. He deduced this was gonna be the new go-to when driving around with you. 

He turned it over to look at the tracklist, also written by you. He nodded his head as he read over it, all of his favourites seemed to be present, Duran Duran, Bruce Springsteen, Womack and Womack, and a few other hits. He paused when he spotted the last name causing a guilty smile to spread. 

“Madonna?” He asked in an accusatory fashion. 

You beamed. “Hey, I saw you singing along to her on the radio. You’re not slick.”

He shook his head, opened his mouth and began to protest. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Steve huffed, pushing your head away from him in a teasing manner, turning the cassette back over in his hands. “Okay, fine. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

He looked at you then, eyes softer despite his teasing demeanour. “This is amazing, sweetheart. Seriously.” He tells you truthfully, he was itching for a reason to get in his car now. Wanting nothing more than to spend the day driving around with you in the passenger seat, singing along terribly. 

“I try my best,” you say cockily, planting a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

With slightly pink cheeks, he placed the first gift down on the table and took the second from your hands, removing the wrapping just as carefully. When the present was finally revealed to him, his face lit up. 

“Oh man, look at this,” he said whilst rubbing his chin. In his hand is a framed picture of him and the kids, all with huge smiles at the pop-up Christmas market a few months back. He was looking mildly irritated, most likely with you insisting on a group photo of all of them. The memories of that day replayed in his mind over and over, it was one of the best holidays he had.

“Damn,” he laughed again, shaking his head slowly whilst taking in every detail of the image in his hands. “It’s like the cover of some crappy sitcom.”

“I know right?” You leaned in closer to him, eyes scanning over it. “The Brady Bunch 2.0. We could aim for a reboot.”

“Could be my big break,” Steve snickered. He was joking, but as his thumb brushed over the glass, you could see how much this meant to him. The family he never had. The family that chose him. That would always choose him. 

“Don’t let the kids see this,” he set the frame down gently next to the cassette. “Can’t let the little shits think I’ve gone all sentimental.”

“Steve, they already think that,” you tell him, tone light but honest. 

“My reputation is ruined,” he complained sarcastically, but he couldn’t deny how proud he was. How far he had come. “You know that Dustin even called me ‘dad’ the other day? It was an accident but…”

You chuckled at the idea of it. You couldn’t deny it though, Steve most certainly took on a parental role with the kid. Being the father figure he missed so much growing up, it was something both he and Dustin could relate to. You admired how deeply they cared for one another.

“Thank you. For—for all of this,” he rested his hand on your thigh, turning to face you fully. “Really, it means a lot.”

You brush his hand off as you wrap your arms around his midsection. He returns the embrace immediately, holding you close to his warm chest, resting his chin on your head. 

“You’re welcome,” you say, voice muted by the material of his shirt. “But, uh…don’t get too comfortable.”

He pulled back slightly, hand resting on the back of your neck as he held your gaze with curiosity. “Oh?”

“Well, I kind of… may have arranged for everyone to come over later,” you admitted, suddenly second-guessing your decision. “I mean, you didn’t have anything planned, so I thought maybe a surprise would be nice, but now I’m telling you, so it’s not really a surprise anymore, and—shit—I should’ve asked first—”

“Shh, angel,” he cut you off gently, placing a finger against your babbling lips. His voice was, calm, reassuring, laced with pure affection. “It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s perfect.” 

You blinked up at him slowly, taking in the familiar, easygoing grin that spread across his face. 

“I wasn’t exactly planning on throwing a rager,” he wrapped his arms around you again, feeling lonely without you pressed up against him. “You really went all out for me, honey. I love it.”

“Okay, good,” You sighed in relief. “I was worried I’d ruined the whole thing.”

“Nah.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “You just gave me a reason to be excited about my birthday again.”

You felt your stomach warm at his words, his affirmation overwhelming you with a rush of affection. You glanced up at him one more time, only to find his gaze locked on the photo on the table. I guess now would be as good a time as ever to break the news. 

“Oh, by the way…” you began, a hesitant grin creeping onto your face. “Eddie is in charge of the food.”

“Eddie?” His face froze in stunned disbelief at your statement. “Eddie in charge of food?”

You nodded, choking down the giggle building in your throat at his expression. “Yeah, he said he could handle whatever barbeque you have. Thought you’d appreciate the help.”

“Absolutely not!” You laughed at his horrified expression, which only spurred him on further. “No way am I letting Munson anywhere near a grill. He’ll burn the place down!”

You burst out laughing at the thought, picturing Eddie dramatically waving a spatula over a flame, maybe even wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. “Come on, Steve. How bad could it be?”

Steve shot you a deadpan look, truly baffled as to why you cannot see that this is a terrible idea. “Do you remember the last time he tried to cook at a party? We ended up ordering pizza because he set the stove on fire. Twice.”

“Alright, alright, maybe I’ll keep an eye on him,” you give in as he breathes a sigh of relief. “You can handle the burgers, grill master.”

“I like that better,” his body relaxing once more underneath yours. “No calling the fire department on my birthday. Please.”

You snuggled further into his chest, hiding the smile in the fabric. “Glad you like it.”

“I love it,” he tells you, gently placing his hand on your jaw, using his index finger to lift your face to meet his eyes, his smile was rich with adoration. The soft look was so intense it nearly took your breath away. He pressed his lips against your own, holding onto you for a little while longer. Until the inevitable chaos arrived at his front door in just a few hours. “I love you.”

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter two: calls

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, she leans back, and stares at the sky above her. She’s learned that looking down gives her vertigo, and if she’s lying down, she can pretend she’s not twenty-two stories off the ground.

Noya laughs at her, because he always does, but he still holds her hand, because he knows it makes her feel better. “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.”

“I feel like this is a super reasonable fear to have.” She inches a little but further away from the edge as she speaks. She doesn’t even wanna be close to it. “Plummeting to my death isn’t like, a big priority for me right now.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He would. She doesn’t even doubt that for a second. If right now she stood up and decided to take a swan dive off the side of the building, there would be nothing getting in between him and her, and Noya would have her safely in his arms before she hit the fifteenth floor.

But still. It fucking terrifies her.

“Okay, sorry my primal instinct does not recognize that you got bit by some weird science experiment spider and now you defy all laws of nature,” she rolls her eyes, still tightly holding onto his hand as he sits upright beside her. “I’ll work on that.”

Nishinoya leans over a lightly pinches the soft skin of her stomach under her t-shirt. She squeals. “Keep it up with the attitude and I’ll throw you off the side of this building myself.”

“Hmm, not very hero-like of you, Spider-Man.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

She grins. “I’m going to have to write an article about this. ‘Spider-Man throws innocent journalist with fear of heights off Flatiron Building.’ Jameson will love it.”

Nishinoya scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure he would. Too bad you’ll be busy being a sidewalk pancake.”

Her eyes find their intertwined hands. It’s always been natural, their friendship, everything that happens between them feels like it’s supposed to. The handholding and the couch-sharing and the arm over her shoulder. It’s always right, with Nishinoya. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

She watches his thumb as it brushes against her skin. “How’s it been out there lately?” she asks.

“Quiet,” Nishinoya replies. “Saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies across the street. Besides Sytsevich, everything’s been quiet since Osborn died. It’s kinda weird, y’know? Like eerie.”

“Yeah, I imagine waiting for the next disaster to strike can feel like that,” she comments, leaning back to stare up at the empty sky. You can’t ever see stars out here. “Hey, Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re gonna stay here forever?” she asks. “Just stick around and be Spider-Man for the rest of your life.”

He hums a bit. “I dunno. I think I’ll probably just go wherever you end up.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

She’s sitting on the train, a hot cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other. She’s looking down at an email from her favorite Yahoo user: If you don’t want the whole world to find out, do as I say.

It’s pretty explicit. It’s hard to misinterpret that kind of message, as much as she’s deliberately trying to. Her fingers tap against the paper cup, trying not to let panic work its way up her throat in the middle of this train cab, surrounded by bored commuters that wouldn’t flinch twice at any sort of breakdown she could have.

A heavy breath leaves her lung, and she pockets her phone, trying, with a tight feeling of desperation around her throat, not to think of it. If it’s not in her face, it’ll be marginally easier to pretend.

Yachi’s waiting for her at her desk when she gets into work. She slides into her chair, and Yachi skips the greeting. “Jameson’s pissed,” Yachi says, tapping a pencil against her desk.

“Yeah? What’d Spider-Man do now?” she questions, typing her password in. She mistypes it, and curses slightly under her breath.

“The PI he hired to find out his identity quit,” Yachi laughs. “Apparently there wasn’t enough for him to go off, and the guy got tired of Jameson raising his blood pressure at him for forty minutes a day.”

She snorts. Noya’s told her about private investigators before. Everyone touts that they’re going to be the one to unmask Spider-Man, but it’s kinda tricky trailing a man with superhuman sixth sense and the ability to basically fly through the city. “I give it another three months before he tries this one again.”

“I give it one,” Yachi counters.

Her desktop loads up, and she is immediately hit with a barrage of emails, looking like they’re coming in all at once, all in caps lock. “Fuck, looks like he’s taking it out on me again.”

Email after email, the subject lines varying from things like, “This piece is crap!” to “How are you still employed here?”

Yachi leans forward to get a better at her screen. “Oh, that’s bad. I’ll leave you to that.”

And it’s just that Yachi gives her a sharp grin and two-finger salute that another email pops up. No subject line, just a simple: Wait for my instruction.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn looks smarmy on the television screen, a thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead and slick smile that looks a little bit too pleased for his father’s funeral. She knocks her knee into Noya’s leg underneath the blanket they share. “That guy’s such a piece of shit,” she comments, jerking her chin forward towards the younger Osborn.

Noya knocks his leg back into hers. “My guy looks like he just won the lottery,” he remarks, eyes not leaving the screen. There’s a bit of history between Spider-Man and the Osborn family, mainly consisting of Norman committing acts of domestic terrorism from the vantage point of a hoverboard, dressed like a fucking goblin.

“Yeah, well he basically did,” she snarks. “Imagine inheriting Oscorp before you’re twenty-five. Basically guarantees you a fucking thirty under thirty spot.”

He snorts. “I’d rather not have anything to do with Oscorp. I’d rather be broke.”

"Oh, you mean the company that basically sponsored the lizard-ification of Dr. Connors? I can't imagine why." She lops her head to the side to look at him. “And anyway, I’m broke. You’re a freeloader.”

Nishinoya waves her off. “Same difference.”

She snorts, turning to face the television again to see they’re playing old footage of Norman Osborn in a lab (coat and everything), explaining the mission statement of Oscorp. To build a better future.

There were rumors about Norman, post-mortem. Details floating around about how he was driven mad in his final year. That the Osborn curse had infected him beyond hope, and his mind had began to decay, along with his body. Some people think he’s been dead for much longer. Some people think a group of investors had been secretly running Oscorp for years while Norman received private care upstate. Some people even suspect him of being the Goblin.

She wonders if that was the better future he had envisioned.

Noya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. She’s sure he’s wishing the son will be better than his father. She’s hoping too.

His thumb traces circles over her knuckle. He doesn’t look in her direction. She tries to focus on the news and enjoy the way his hand feels in hers before there’s some police broadcast or distant siren or whatever to call him back to duty.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Meet me @ 300 W 57th St tomorrow at 8am. Or I tell everyone about him.

She sits at her desk, biting down on the end of a pencil, and weighing her options.

One: she could tell Noya.

There’s not even a chance he would let her go. Not even if he were there. No matter the argument she would present. Nishinoya would sooner web her to the couch than let her go meet up with some mystery blackmailer. She also knows that this threat would do little to sway him. If she tells Noya, the most likely outcome is him, masked up and aggravated, showing up to fight.

Which would result in ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com telling everyone.

Two: she could do nothing.

There’s really been no hard proof presented to her that shows that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg knows what he claims he knows. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding on her end. And so what? Even if he does know what he claims to, it’s not like the world would so easily believe that Nishinoya Yuu, random unemployed man, is Spider-Man. Random liars claim to be Spider-Man every day. Noya could easily blend in with random liars.

The consequence of doing nothing though is, of course, him telling everyone. And still, the possibility that the masses believe him or that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg does have some hard evidence on his side gnaw away at her. She can’t shoulder that.

Three: she could show up.

She could put some pepper spray in her bag and give Noya the address just in case something happens, and she could go and meet with this mystery blackmailer to see exactly what the fuck it is he wants.

And then, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

The thought of it puts knots in her stomach, and those knots are worsened by the acknowledgement that it’s probably her best course of action.

She sighs, using her cursor to highlight the address he provided and plopping it back into search bar. She’s envisioning some deserted alley, an abandoned storefront or someplace that would leave no witnesses if she were to be kidnapped and/or murdered.

What she wasn’t expecting was fucking Oscorp.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn’s office is neat. Almost empty, save for a few hard-drives and a stack of unopened newspapers at his desk. The wall to ceiling windows provide a view of the city she’s never seen before, and standing in the middle of it, she feels so starkly out of place. She looks behind her, just to see the assistant that led her up here closing the door behind him.

She feels trapped, at once.

Harry himself is leaning against a window, and as if operating on a que, he turns on his heel, a sickly grin plastered on his face, and, if she squints, she can almost see a greenish sort of hue in the undertones of his skin. “There’s my favorite journalist,” he greets, arms extended out as if he was going to hug her.

She steps back. “Erm, yeah,” she responds, head turning slightly to eye the closed door behind her. There’s something off in the air of room, something off-putting in the way Harry is looking at her. “Is there a reason you summoned me here through cryptic emails, or did you just wanna like, hang out?”

He stops, and lets his arms drop back down to his side, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “Straight to the point. I like that. I like that quality.”

It’s strange to be in the same room as him, New York City’s prodigal son. She’s seen his face on the cover of magazines and on news segments and she’s written articles about him. Harry Osborn has almost always been some kind of mythic figure in her head. An untouchable prince. Nothing she could get away with printing in the Bugle would ever have any impact on him.

But here before her, he does not look mythic, or untouchable, he looks like a very sick man. His hair falls flatly on his forehead, and he uses the back of sleeve to wipe off droplets of sweat. The longer she looks at him, the greener he seems, like his whole body is lightly stained.

Harry takes another step towards her. She steps back again.

“Y’know,” he drawls, and moves to stand behind the large desk that takes up most of the room; she watches him carefully, eyes trained on his every movement, “one of the most underrated parts of a power acquisition in a company like Oscorp, is that you suddenly have a lot more information at your disposal. A lot of information that money can’t buy.”

There’s something about the way he talks that is starkly unnatural. The PR training bleeds out of every word, and though he looks young, but the way he carries himself is eerily like his father. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. She looks over her shoulder, back at the door behind her. “O-okay.”

Harry takes a seat, like he’s unbothered by her presence. His hand lingers over one of the hard drives. “Did you know that, back in the early two-thousands, this company poured millions into researched on genetically enhanced spiders. They were supposed to be this miracle cure. A magic spider that could cure any illness. Until, of course, the head scientist died in some accident, and they had to kill off the whole project, including all the spiders they bred. Y’know, today, I think we only have one thing to show for that project.”

Her face is hot, and her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. This all suddenly feels like a mistake, like she’s in over her head and she never should’ve come here without Noya. Her tongue is dry when she tries to speak. “Is this, is this on the record, or…?”

Harry leans forward in her chair, and sneers. It chills her blood, that expression, cold and gnarled. “I’m not interested in going on the record with some second-rate journalist at a trash paper. I’m interested in this.”

Harry Osborn grabs the newspaper on his desk and slams it forward. She takes a step forward to get a better look and knows immediately what it is. It’s the Daily Bugle, with Spider-Man on the front page and her name printed on the bottom.

The First-Ever On-The-Record Interview with the One and Only Spider-Man!

Her hands are shaking. She looks up to see Harry grinning at her. “It’s funny, actually, how someone right out of school, with no credentials and no reputation to go off, could get this kind of interview.”

She can hear her heartbeat, and all she can think of is how unbelievably, colossally fucked she is.

Harry Osborn stands and makes his way to stand directly in front of her. The closer he is, the more of him she can see. The green tint of his skin, the almost scaly quality, the point of his teeth. “I want you to find Spider-Man, and I want you to get him to give me his blood.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On the busy street beneath the Oscorp building, her fingers tremble as she dials Noya’s number. He answers after the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? I’m just dropping this bodega thief off at the station-“

“Noya,” she cuts him off, trying to hold back the sob in her voice. “I fucked up.”

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[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 9

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Watching the former queen leave the palace felt surreal. But seeing the king lose his composure, even for a moment, made it all worth it.

Perhaps Alicia's return stirred something in Leonard. Did her presence remind him of who he used to be? Does he feel guilt for taking the life of the former king and his siblings?

Leonard clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated, but he couldn't do anything since she was a diplomatic guest.

"Welcome to the family," he said, tapping Bucky's shoulder. "As of today, you're officially part of royalty."

Bucky stood tall, his expression composed despite the turmoil of the evening. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my best to honor the family name and uphold my duties."

Leonard gave a curt nod, his gaze still clouded. "Now, go find my daughter. She must be shocked by the uninvited guest."

Bucky nodded and quickly left to find you.

He asked one of the guards outside, "Where is she?"

The guard hesitated, clearly nervous. "She went back to her chambers, sir," he stuttered, quickly correcting himself. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty."

Bucky didn't waste another moment. He hurried down the corridor toward your chambers, the tension from the evening still weighing on him. When he reached your door, he found the room shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His eyes fell on you, lying across the bed, already passed out from the alcohol. He sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding him. Today was supposed to be the day both of you had longed for, the day that sealed your love. But it didn't feel that way—not with all the chaos and the looming weight of what had happened.

Walking over quietly, Bucky knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. His hand lingered on your cheek, and his heart ached for you. You had endured so much, and now, instead of celebrating together, you were drowning in grief and confusion.

He gently wiped away the remnants of tears. He wanted to protect you from all this, but somehow, it all seemed to follow you both, no matter how hard he tried. Today should have been filled with joy, yet it felt as if the very world had turned its back on the happiness you deserved.

👑👑👑👑

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache, groaning as the light filtered through the curtains. As you blinked your eyes open, you noticed several servants standing around your bed, their faces full of uncertainty.

"Why are you all surrounding me like this?" you asked, your voice groggy.

"Your Highness," one of the servants said nervously, "today... you're scheduled to leave for your honeymoon?"

You widened your eyes in shock and threw your head back onto the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The last thing you wanted right now was a honeymoon. You felt exhausted—mentally and physically.

"Where is my husband?" you muttered, rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

"With the king," the servant replied.

"Fuck," you murmured under your breath.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The servants hurried to help you get ready, brushing your hair, and helping you into a more appropriate outfit for the day. But despite their efforts, you felt sluggish, your mood foul as you tugged on your shoes and stormed out of the room.

You ran through the halls toward the dining room, your steps quick and determined. As you pushed the heavy doors open, you were greeted by the sight of King Leonard and your newlywed husband, Bucky, sitting together at the table. The tension between them was palpable, though Bucky remained composed.

Leonard’s eyes flicked toward you as you entered, his smirk just as arrogant as ever. “Ah, here comes the bride. I trust you slept well?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a sharp look. “Not particularly,” you muttered.

Leonard chuckled lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to rest on your honeymoon. You’re leaving shortly, after all. I wish you both a safe and pleasant trip.”

Bucky stood up, offering you his arm, his expression neutral though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Shall we?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment but then linked your arm with his, glancing up at him. Together, the two of you walked toward the palace doors, with Leonard trailing behind. As expected, a crowd of press and citizens had gathered outside, their cheers and shouts echoing across the courtyard. They were here for the young newlywed couple—their eyes full of admiration and hope for a perfect royal love story.

Though you still felt tired and irritated, you forced a smile, waving at the crowd. Bucky followed suit, his arm still linked with yours as he raised his hand to acknowledge the people.

Once you reached the helicopter, the cheers faded into the background. Bucky slid into his seat, fastening his seatbelt, but he could feel the cold air between you. You had been giving him the silent treatment, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

As you reached for your own seatbelt, it was Leonard who stepped in to assist you. You let him fasten it, though the gesture felt awkward. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Stay at peace while I'm gone,” you warned, your tone sharp but laced with exhaustion.

Leonard chuckled, his grin smug. “You never know,” he said, his voice low with hidden meaning.

You glared at him one last time before settling into your seat, the sound of the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly as it prepared for takeoff. Though you were now on your way to what was supposed to be a joyful honeymoon, the weight of everything lingered in the air between you and Bucky.

As the helicopter soared through the sky, the silence between you and Bucky was thick and heavy. He glanced over at you several times, noticing how your eyes were already closed, your head resting against the seat. You looked peaceful, but he knew better. There was a tension beneath that calm exterior—a storm waiting to break.

Bucky’s emotions were all over the place. He had thought this day would be different. After all the time you both had waited, after the struggles and secret glances, this was supposed to be your moment.

But instead, it felt hollow. His chest tightened as he replayed everything that had happened, from the uninvited guest to the strange distance you now put between the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown.

On the other hand, you were drowning in your own thoughts. Behind your closed eyelids, memories of the past day swirled in your mind. Everything felt off. You were supposed to be celebrating your love, but it felt like the world around you was falling apart.

After what felt like hours, the helicopter began its descent, landing softly on a lush green field. You opened your eyes to see the sprawling beauty of the resort that would be your honeymoon destination.

You had hoped for somewhere far away, but Leonard had other plans, citing safety concerns. At least this place was special—a resort with several private islands. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway, secluded from the rest of the world.

The resort’s staff greeted you and Bucky with utmost care, ensuring everything was perfect for the newlywed royal couple. After checking that everything was in place, the managers and employees finally left, leaving the two of you alone on your private island.

The air between you remained tense as Bucky stood near the window, watching you move around the room. The silence was deafening.

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low but firm.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum, searching through the ice bucket. Your hands moved mechanically, trying to find something to numb the unease creeping up your spine.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Stop it,” he said softly but with authority. His blue eyes searched yours. “I’ll answer it. Whatever you need to know, just ask.”

You paused, the rum bottle slipping from your grasp and landing with a soft thud on the counter. Your chest rose and fell with frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning to face him fully, but the hurt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Bucky exhaled deeply, his grip loosening but not letting go completely. Both of you stood there, a heartbeat away from what could either be a breakthrough or another layer of distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, the tension in the room palpable. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes locked onto yours, determined, but there was also a flicker of doubt. He knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer.

"I started the coup d'état," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

The moment those words left his mouth, it felt like a thunderclap in your ears. Your heart pounded as you processed the confession, your mind racing to catch up with the weight of what he had just said.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, disbelief and anger flashing in your eyes.

“I know... I know,” Bucky said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm the rising storm. "But we—I mean, me and the others—had one goal: to make the king step down. That’s it.”

You let out a frustrated groan, rubbing your temples as if that could somehow ease the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Bucky, I love you to death, but what you did was stupid.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I did it for us! And for the victims of that tyrant king!”

You couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The king—your father—had left a trail of victims in his wake. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the horror that had befallen your family. “The king killed his three older siblings, along with their spouses and children,” you said, your voice trembling. “My cousins... they’re all gone because of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the pain in your voice, but he didn’t speak. He knew the reality of your father’s cruelty, but it was different hearing it from you.

“He was a no one,” you continued, your voice thick with disbelief. “And yet he became the king that everyone fears.” You stared at the ground, the weight of your father’s reign heavy on your shoulders. “He knew his weaknesses, and the people who supported him exploited them.”

"What made me even more furious," you continued, your voice sharp with betrayal, "is that I’m the future queen, yet I had no idea what was happening in my own country. My husband turned out to be the leader of a coup d’état, and my father—the tyrant king—knew it before I did!"

You lifted your head, locking eyes with Bucky, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m your wife, but you left me in the dark!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to defend himself, but you weren’t finished.

Your words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Bucky looked at you, his expression torn between regret and defiance. You both sat there in a tense silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.

Finally, you sighed, leaning back in your chair as exhaustion overtook your frustration. “I’ve been living in a bubble,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I didn’t want to leave you out of it. I thought... I thought I was protecting you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling with the gravity of the situation. “I did it for us—for a better future. You know the kind of man your father is. I couldn’t just sit by and let him continue.”

You looked at him, the raw emotion in his eyes matching your own. Despite everything, you knew his intentions had come from a place of love, no matter how misguided they were.

“I get it,” you said, your voice softer now. “I understand why you did what you did. But you should have trusted me, Bucky. I should’ve been part of this.”

Bucky reached out, taking your hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You squeezed his hands, feeling some of the tension start to dissolve. “We’re supposed to face things together, not alone,” you said softly.

“I know. And from now on, we will,” Bucky promised, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

You both sat there for a moment, the silence no longer oppressive but comforting. You had reached an understanding, even if the road ahead was still uncertain. There was still love between you—love strong enough to survive even this.

As the tension between you and Bucky began to ease, you both found solace in the quiet moments of your honeymoon. Finally, it was just the two of you, no more secrets or unspoken words hanging over your heads. The weight of everything slowly lifted as you immersed yourselves in the beauty of the private island.

The days were filled with a tranquil bliss, the warm sun kissing your skin as you and Bucky strolled along the secluded beaches. The turquoise waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your peaceful escape. You’d often find yourselves on the balcony of your villa, overlooking the ocean, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Bucky had his arm around you as you leaned into his chest, both of you quietly enjoying the view. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe and content, the weight of the past slowly fading into the background.

You and Bucky spent your days exploring the island—swimming in the crystal-clear waters, relaxing in hammocks under the shade of palm trees, and sharing intimate dinners under the stars. His laughter was lighter now, and your smiles were genuine. There was no need to rush; this one month of vacation belonged to the two of you.

At night, Bucky would hold you close as the two of you talked about the future, making plans that seemed so far away now but filled you both with hope. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed your forehead before you both drifted to sleep—it made everything feel right again.

But on the last day of your honeymoon, that peace was shattered.

The morning had started quietly enough. After breakfast, you and Bucky curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. As you turned on the news, something caught your attention. The usual cheerful headlines were gone, replaced by the stark seriousness of a breaking news broadcast.

The image of King Leonard, standing behind a podium, filled the screen. The sight of him immediately sent a chill down your spine. You could feel the air shift, the sense of foreboding creeping in.

Leonard stepped closer to the microphone, his expression grim. He paused for a moment, scanning the audience, before leaning in and saying, “We’re going to war.”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" you and Bucky blurted out at the same time, both of you staring at the screen in disbelief.

Bucky's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "This can't be happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, pacing in front of the TV.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what you just heard, but dread weighed heavily on your chest. The peaceful bubble of your honeymoon had been shattered, replaced by a terrifying uncertainty. War meant everything would change—and not for the better.

Bucky stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “We need to go back.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I knew something was off,” you murmured, fear creeping into your voice. “But war?”

Neither of you could believe it, yet the reality was there, staring at you from the screen.

The honeymoon was over.

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[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You: Part 4

SUMMARY: The next day unfolds as a perfect day for you and Tyler, starting with a lazy morning spent wrapped up in each other before venturing out for coffee. You stroll through town together, enjoying the relaxed pace as you shop and explore, savoring the simplicity of each other's company. Back home, the day ends with the two of you making dinner and dancing in the kitchen, the playful moments turning into something more intimate. As the night deepens, the connection between you strengthens, leading to another night spent together, the bond between you and Tyler growing even deeper.

WARNINGS: Fluff. 18+ Smut. (Female Receiving Oral, P in V Sex)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3

NOTE: There will be a FINAL part coming soon! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Hope you enjoy! xx

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(I believe I have everyone added/tagged that wants to be on my tag list! If you have asked and don't see your username tagged, I may have missed your request. Feel free to send it to me again and I'll make sure I get you added!

The soft glow of morning light filters in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Tyler stirs first, his eyes fluttering open as he becomes aware of the comforting weight of your body resting against his. His arm is still loosely draped over your waist, holding you close, and he takes a moment to just watch you, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, your face relaxed and serene.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. You stir slightly but don’t wake, so Tyler moves lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. He lingers there, his kisses gentle and unhurried, each one filled with affection.

You let out a sleepy sigh, your eyes slowly fluttering open as you feel his lips trailing over your skin. A soft giggle escapes you as his stubble tickles your neck. “Mmm… morning,” you mumble, still half-asleep, but already smiling.

“Morning,” Tyler murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough from sleep. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft as he gazes down at you. “Sleep okay?”

You nod, still nestled comfortably against him. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you admit, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

Tyler’s lips curve into a small smile, and his hand moves to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Your bed hair’s got a mind of its own this morning,” he teases, his fingers combing lightly through your tousled locks.

You let out a playful groan, burying your face in his chest. “Like you’re one to talk,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him.

Tyler chuckles, his chest vibrating against you as he tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Fair enough,” he admits with a grin, his own hair sticking up at odd angles from a night of sleep. 

You lift your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the mess. “There. Better,” you say with a satisfied smile, though it’s clear you’ve only made it worse.

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what we’re calling it.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, his laughter fading into something softer, more intimate. The kiss is slow and unhurried, the kind that makes time feel like it’s standing still, with only the two of you wrapped up in each other.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with a tender expression, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “I could stay like this all day,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth.

“Me too,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. You feel so content, so at peace in this moment—like everything you’ve ever wanted is right here, in his arms.

For the next hour, the two of you stay wrapped up in each other, tangled in the sheets and pillows, sharing quiet conversations and even quieter kisses. Tyler jokes about the night before, teasing you about how you’d hogged the blankets, and you fire back with a playful comment about his snoring. The banter is light, the laughter easy, but beneath it all is a tenderness, a sense of comfort that neither of you wants to let go of.

Every now and then, Tyler leans in to steal another kiss, each one a little longer, a little deeper, as if he’s trying to savor the feeling of having you close. His fingers stroke gently along your arm, your back, your side—wherever he can reach—just to remind himself that you’re really here.

At one point, you shift so that you’re lying on your side, facing him. “What?” you ask with a smile, noticing the way he’s looking at you.

“Nothing,” Tyler replies, his voice soft. “Just... I like waking up with you.”

Your smile widens, and you press a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. “I like waking up with you too.”

You both fall silent after that, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with shared smiles, the soft rustling of sheets, and the occasional kiss, until the world outside your bedroom slowly starts to come alive.

Eventually, the soft warmth of the morning and the comfort of being wrapped up in each other give way to the realization that the day is waiting. Tyler shifts beneath you, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we probably should get up.”

You groan playfully, burying your face in his chest. “Do we have to?”

He chuckles, his hand running up and down your back soothingly. “Unfortunately, yeah. how about we get some coffee?”

That perks you up a bit. You lift your head to meet his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “I like coffee.”

With a shared laugh and a few more stolen kisses, the two of you finally untangle yourselves from the sheets. You get dressed, slipping into something comfortable for the day, while Tyler pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, the casualness of the morning suiting the easygoing nature of your time together.

Before long, you’re out the door and walking hand-in-hand to a nearby coffee shop—a small, cozy place you’ve been to countless times. As you approach, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, and you both quicken your pace slightly, eager for the first sip.

The barista greets you with a warm smile as you step up to the counter. You don’t even need to ask Tyler what he wants—you already know by heart. “I’ll have an Iced Chai please. He’ll have one black coffee with a shot of espresso,” you say with confidence, then add your own order.

Tyler watches you with a raised brow, a grin forming on his lips. “I see you still remember my order,” he teases.

You flash him a playful smile. “I’ve known it for months now. Don’t think I’ll forget it in a week.”

After paying, you both grab a seat at a small table by the window. The coffee shop is quiet, with only a few other customers scattered about, creating the perfect atmosphere for a laid-back morning. When your drinks and pastries arrive, you hand Tyler his coffee with a knowing look.

He takes a careful sip, and the moment the coffee hits his taste buds, his eyes light up, and a broad smile spreads across his face. “Now this is what I’ve been missing,” he says, his voice full of appreciation. “First good coffee I’ve had all week.”

You laugh softly, pleased with yourself. Tyler sets his cup down and reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb strokes gently over your knuckles, and his smile softens into something more intimate. “You really do know me that well, huh?”

“I know a few things,” you reply with a grin, your heart swelling at the easy, familiar rhythm you’ve already fallen into with him.

As you both enjoy your drinks, the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by the occasional shared laugh. Tyler tells you stories from his latest trip—his coffee mishaps, Boone’s questionable song choices, and the one time they nearly got lost trying to navigate the backroads. His storytelling is animated, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, the sound of his deep chuckle making you feel more at ease than you have in days.

“Sounds like I missed out on some quality chaos,” you say with a smirk, taking a bite of your pastry.

Tyler nods with mock seriousness. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t worry, we saved plenty for next time.”

You take another sip of your coffee, watching as Tyler talks animatedly about the chaos on the road. His comment about “next time” sticks with you, and you raise an eyebrow playfully.

“Next time, huh?” you say, pretending to mull it over. “Who says I’m going back?”

Tyler’s laughter falters mid-chuckle. His smile fades slightly as his brows knit together, his confident exterior slipping just for a moment. “Wait—what do you mean? You’re not…?” He stutters, clearly trying to process what you just said, his usual easygoing demeanor shaken.

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin as you watch him stumble over his words. “I mean, what if I just stayed home? Couldn’t you guys handle it without me?”

Tyler leans back in his chair, still trying to recover. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, something he only does when he’s genuinely thrown off balance. “Well, I mean, we could, but—” He pauses, then shakes his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Wait, are you serious right now?”

You hold the straight face for just a second longer, enjoying seeing him a little flustered. But when his expression shifts from confused to mildly concerned, you can’t keep it up anymore. You burst into laughter, finally putting him out of his misery. “I’m just messing with you, Tyler! Of course, I’m coming back.”

Tyler blinks, then lets out a deep sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “You really had me there for a second,” he admits, his hand resting over his chest as if to calm his racing heart. “I thought I was going to have to beg you to come back.”

You grin, leaning in across the table. “Well in that’s case…maybe I need to rethink and tell you I’m staying home again,” you tease, enjoying the rare moment of Tyler being thrown off his game.

His smile returns, warm and genuine, as he reaches for your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. “Well, I’m glad I won’t have to. Seriously though… I’m glad you’re coming back.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel the depth of his words in the way his thumb brushes gently against your skin. He looks at you with that same intensity, the weight of his feelings behind his eyes, and it’s hard not to feel the warmth spreading in your chest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply softly, squeezing his hand in return.

Tyler’s smile widens, his earlier nerves long gone, replaced by that familiar confidence you’ve come to love. “Good,” he says, “because I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Boone’s playlist for another week”

After you finish your coffees, you and Tyler decide to venture around your neighborhood. The conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—recapping the week’s chaos, reminiscing about old memories, and making plans for upcoming chases. 

You wander through quaint little shops, discovering hidden gems and quirky finds. Tyler is attentive, holding the door open for you, laughing at your playful comments about the knick-knacks you come across, and offering to carry your purchases. There’s a sense of rediscovery in the afternoon, not just of the town, but of each other.

You find yourselves strolling through a nearby park, the path lined with trees and dotted with families and couples enjoying the day. Tyler catches your eye as you pause to admire a particularly vibrant tree, his gaze softening with a small, contented smile. When you look back at him, you see that he’s watching you with a look of genuine happiness, like he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light.

There’s an ease in the way he moves beside you, an unspoken understanding that this is where he wants to be. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking, a smile playing at his lips. It’s a reminder of the comfort and joy he finds in your presence, and it makes your heart swell.

As the afternoon light begins to fade, you both continue to explore, savoring the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The day feels like a dream, filled with laughter, shared moments, and a renewed sense of connection.

After a day of exploring, Tyler drives you back to his place. The drive is lighthearted, filled with easy conversation and laughter. When you arrive, he tells you to make yourself comfortable while he showers and changes into something fresh. You nod and settle into his cozy living room, draping a blanket over yourself as you sink into the couch.

A little later, Tyler comes downstairs, looking relaxed in a simple shirt and jeans. He takes a seat next to you on the couch, and you move your legs to make room for him, before resting them gently on his lap. Tyler's hand naturally finds its way to your knee, and you feel a pleasant warmth as he makes himself comfortable.

There’s a moment of peaceful silence, with Tyler’s thumb gently brushing your leg. You glance up at him, and he looks back at you with a soft smile. The evening feels intimate and comforting, filled with the quiet hum of contentment.

Tyler breaks the silence with a casual tone. “So, now that we’re together and all, have you thought about how this is going to work with the team and the traveling?”

You smile, appreciating his straightforwardness. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. It’s definitely something we need to figure out.”

Tyler looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was thinking, maybe we should just be honest with the team. They’re going to figure it out at some point anyway, right? But we don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

You nod in agreement. “We should probably just keep it low-key until we’re ready to talk about it.”

Tyler grins, clearly relieved. “Sounds good to me. I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page. I’m in this for the long haul, you know.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I am too. It feels really good to just talk this out and be on the same page. It makes everything seem a lot clearer.”

Tyler leans back, his smile growing. “Yeah, it does. It’s nice to just be here with you and know we’re figuring this out together.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics as you both relax into the couch. You chat about your favorite movies, make jokes about the day’s adventures, and share little stories. The easygoing vibe of the evening continues, making you both feel even more connected.

As the sun sets and the evening light filters softly through the windows, you and Tyler decide to stay in for dinner again. This time, you both agree on a little culinary adventure—something a bit more ambitious than the simple pasta from last night. Tyler suggests trying a new recipe he found, and you happily agree, eager to explore the kitchen together.

You set out the ingredients on the counter, and Tyler rolls up his sleeves and gets ready to help. “Alright, Chef,” he says with a grin, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

You laugh, handing him a couple of vegetables to chop. “You’re on sous-chef duty. I’m taking the lead, so just follow my instructions and try not to mess things up.”

Tyler feigns offense but takes his role seriously, chopping and stirring with exaggerated care. The kitchen is filled with the sound of chopping and the occasional clink of utensils, punctuated by your playful banter.

“So,” Tyler says as he adds a pinch of salt to the pot, “what’s the craziest recipe you’ve ever tried?”

You think for a moment, a smile playing on your lips. “There was this time I tried to make homemade sushi. It was a disaster. The rice was too sticky, and the rolls fell apart. We ended up with a pile of sushi salad instead.”

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Think I’m glad I missed out on that meal.”

As you both continue cooking, the conversation flows naturally from light-hearted stories to more meaningful topics. Once dinner is ready, you set the table and sit down to enjoy your meal together.

After finishing dinner and clearing away the dishes, you and Tyler decide to wind down with some music. Tyler sets up the Bluetooth speaker in the living room while you head to the couch, pulling out your phone to show him the playlist you’ve saved.

“I made this for you awhile back,” you say with a smile. “It’s full of your favorite songs.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow, clearly touched. “I didn’t know you kept track of my favorite songs.”

You laugh, feeling a warm glow at his reaction. “Well, I try to pay attention. Now, let’s see how well I’ve done.”

As the first song starts playing, you both settle onto the couch, letting the melodies fill the room as a background for your conversation.. Tyler pulls you closer, resting his arm around your shoulders. You start swaying gently to the music, feeling the comfort of his embrace.

An upbeat song came on, prompting Tyler to stand up and grab your hand with a mischievous grin. "C'mon."

You look up at him, a confused look spreading across your face. “What are you doing?”

“Dance with me?” He said, continuing to hold out a hand to you.

Laughing, you let him spin you around the kitchen. Your feet easily found the rhythm, and soon enough, you were dancing across the floor, Tyler’s hand firmly at your waist, guiding you with effortless ease. The energy between you felt vibrant, playful, and carefree—just two people enjoying the moment. You were laughing, teasing each other when one of you missed a step, and it felt like everything else had melted away.

Then, a slower song drifted in, the kind that made the air feel a little heavier, more intimate. Tyler’s hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you a little closer as his movements slowed. He didn’t need to say a word. The moment naturally shifted from playful to something deeper, quieter. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, swaying together in the dim kitchen light. The feel of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the warmth of his arms around you, made everything else disappear.

Tyler’s hand gently moved up your back, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly as if he wanted to memorize every part of you. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes was filled with something you couldn't quite put into words. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

It started slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t. But soon enough, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into him, your fingers threading through his hair. The kitchen seemed to vanish around you, leaving just the two of you, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

Tyler broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice husky but laced with care, as though he wanted to make sure you were right there with him.

You nodded, your breath coming out shaky but full of certainty. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered.

With that, something shifted between the two of you. Tyler’s lips found yours again, more passionate this time.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the world fall away, leaving only Tyler’s warmth and the softness of his lips against yours. Without breaking away from you, Tyler's strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips still locked in a heated kiss as he carried you down the hallway toward the bedroom. Every step was slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, refusing to rush a single moment. The way his hands cradled you, steady and gentle, made your heart race with anticipation.

When he finally reached the bed, Tyler lowered you onto it with such care that it made your breath catch. He hovered above you, and for a moment, just looked down at you, his eyes searching yours. "You don’t have to…" he began, his voice low but tender. 

You shook your head, cutting him off with a quiet but firm whisper. "I want this. I want you."

Tyler’s eyes darkened with desire, but his focus never left your face as you pulled him down into another kiss, more urgent now, fueled by the heat between you. His hands slid down the curves of your body, mapping every inch of you as if he needed to commit it to memory. You shivered under his touch, his hands dipping lower to the hem of your shirt, where he began pushing it upwards, his fingertips grazing your skin in the most tantalizing way. The kiss broke only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside.

He paused to admire you for a beat, before his mouth was on you again—pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your shoulders, your collarbones, and further down your chest. His mouth moved between the cups of your bra, each kiss setting your skin alight. As his lips continued their trail down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your jeans, you felt your body ignite with anticipation.

But Tyler didn’t rush. He gave you another lingering kiss, his tongue softly teasing yours as your fingers found the buttons of his flannel. You paused for just a second, smiling to yourself. You loved the way he looked in his favorite red flannel, but you knew you might like it even more off him. You quickly began unbuttoning it, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. Tyler shrugged out of the flannel, tossing it carelessly to the floor, and the moment it was gone, your hands were on him, running down his chest and tracing the hard lines of his muscles.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice husky but full of concern. His thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze intense but careful.

You nodded without hesitation, smiling softly. "I’m sure."

His lips curved into a smile before he kissed you once more, this time with more urgency. As his hands moved lower, they found the button on your jeans, swiftly popping it open. He slid them down your hips, leaving you in nothing but the black lace bra and matching underwear. His eyes darkened as he took you in, his breath hitching just slightly. 

"God, you’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with admiration.

Without another word, Tyler shed his own jeans, his belt clattering to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. He crawled back onto the bed, his lips meeting yours again, but this time his hands were more eager. One hand slipped behind your back, and with a single motion, he expertly unclasped your bra. You barely had time to wonder how he’d gotten so good at it before his mouth moved to your breasts. His warm lips wrapped around one of your nipples, while his rough, calloused hand cupped the other, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a soft moan escaping your lips, and the sound seemed to drive Tyler crazy. "I could listen to that all night," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with raw desire.

As his mouth worked on your breasts, one of his hands slipped down to the fabric of your underwear, teasing you through the lace. You instinctively rolled your hips, desperate for more friction, more of him. Tyler chuckled softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at you with that familiar smirk. "Needy, huh?" he teased, his voice deep and low. 

Your breath hitched at the thought of him between your legs, and the soft groan you let out gave you away. Tyler’s eyes flashed with desire. Without a word, he moved to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pulled you down to meet him. In one swift motion, he slid your underwear off, tossing them aside, and then spread your legs with a gentle, yet commanding, touch.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes meeting yours before he delivered one excruciatingly slow lick up your folds. You whimpered at the tease, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. Tyler grinned up at you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Patience, baby" he murmured, before leaning in again, his tongue moving with more purpose now, drawing out soft moans and gasps as he worked, making you feel as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you and the heat building between your bodies.

Tyler didn’t stop until he felt you trembling beneath him, your body arching into his touch as you reached your climax. His mouth continued its relentless work, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were a mess of gasps and moans. When he finally pulled away, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Crawling back up the bed, he hovered over you, his hands gently brushing stray strands of hair from your face as he looked down with concern. "You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb tracing your cheek in slow, comforting strokes.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your body buzzing from the high. "I’m more than okay," you whispered, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. But there was more—something deeper pulling at you, and you met his gaze, your voice soft but full of need. "I want to feel you."

Tyler’s expression shifted, he pulled back slightly, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand for a condom. You watched as he tore open the wrapper and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving yours as he prepared for the next step.

He leaned back down, positioning himself at your entrance again. Slowly, he slid into you, the feeling so overwhelming that both of you let out a low groan at the same time. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed all the way inside you, your body adjusting to the fullness, and you felt his grip tighten on your hips, his strong hands grounding you in the moment.

He paused for a beat, letting the two of you savor the closeness before he started to move, his hips pulling back slightly before he began thrusting again. His movements were slow at first, deliberate and gentle, as though he was savoring every inch of you. The sensation was almost too much—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his skin as you held on to him, anchoring yourself to the moment. Tyler picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more sure, more powerful, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him, your hips rising to meet his rhythm.

The room filled with the sound of your soft moans mingling with his heavier breaths, both of you lost in the moment. You could feel the pressure building again, an undeniable heat pooling low in your stomach. Tyler must’ve felt it too, because his pace quickened, each thrust more urgent, more insistent.

You moaned his name, and that seemed to drive him over the edge. His hands moved to cradle your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his voice rough with desire. "I’m close," he muttered, his breath ragged.

You nodded, unable to form words as your own climax started to build. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you, and when you finally fell over the edge, it hit you like a wave crashing through your body. Tyler groaned as he felt you tighten around him, and a moment later, he followed you, his body shuddering as he found his release, buried deep inside you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, tangled together, your bodies pressed close as you both came down from the high. Tyler’s forehead was still resting against yours, both of you panting softly, hearts racing in sync. Slowly, he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with a heavy but contented sigh.

The silence that followed was comfortable, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and your combined breaths. You turned your head to look at him, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you met his eyes. Tyler looked equally dazed, his chest still rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"That was…" you began, but you couldn’t quite find the right words.

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. "That was something."

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just lay there, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, that hazy afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. 

Tyler shifted, pulling you closer so you were curled up against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, strong and reassuring beneath your ear. As you drifted into a peaceful silence, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. 

[island-babys-blog]

🌺 Mini Beach Stories Ep 4 🌺

Characters: Male Morticia Addams x Yandere black reader

Author's Note: I see a lot of genderbending Wednesday Addams, but what about gender-bend Morticia Addams 😏

Synopsis: Wednesday feeling curious, wondered how her psychopathic loved-obsessed Mother got with her freak-of-nature Father at Nevermore Academy. So why not tell her the whole love story?

Morticia sips his black coffee on the couch of their unique home, watching the rain pour from the sky. He savors its bitter taste. He smiles lovely at the sky, "What a miserable day it is." An appearance of Wednesday appears in Morticia's vision as he watches a thunder strike the sky

" Father, I have something to discuss with you," Wednesday says soullessly as her brown skin shows proudly as each thunder strikes. Morticia stands up and looks at Wednesday, "What is it mi belladonna mortal?" he asks.

Wednesday takes a deep breath and then speaks." How did you meet your mother? Did you kidnap her or chain her up" Mortica smiles and chuckles at his daughter "No, mi belladona mortal, I couldn't have snatched her when she caught me herself" He sighs heavily as a heavy blush spreads across his pale skin.

"The way your mother trapped me in her web, Wednesday, she was like a spider" Mortica cradles his daughter's face. " I have never been loved like that, not even my parents love me like that, she made me feel like I was the only shark in the ocean, she treated me like a king" The blush on Morticia's pale skin is a rare display of vulnerability and deep affection. It signifies the profound impact that Wednesday's mother had on him, revealing a softer side beneath his typically stoic exterior.

“ Let me tell you the story, our love story”

* Morticia Past *

As he closed the locker, a young Morticia, with dark hair reaching his back, hollowed cheekbones, and black eyeshadow, wearing the purple with black striped nevermore uniform, along with his gothic boots. Grabbing his books Mortica moved to his next class not noticing two pairs of eyes staring at him from afar

“ Oh Gomez isn’t he perfect, like a black rose in a garden” you said clutching your books to your chest dark skin glowing, as your curly hair stopped below your chin eyes almost forming heart-shaped pupils the longer you stared at him. Talking to your friend. Gomez was a pretty handsome boy himself with gressy parted hair and a gap between his teeth.

“ I guess but aren’t you allergic to roses” He says with a raised eyebrow. Gomez knew about your obsession with the boy, but being a good friend it never bothered him but it did make him worry when you would hurt yourself in the process to make the tall boy to notice you.

“Do you think he will notice me if I leave him a note with some roses” You spin around looking at Gomez with childlike eyes.

“ it could work, but y/n you are deadly allergic to roses why not bring him a dead bird,” he says grinning like a madman

“ I did, but he gave it to some guy that was harassing him as a threat, which was pretty funny…" Too bad they couldn't find his body” you chuckle

“ Didn’t it take you hours to blend up the body,” Gomez says as he remembers you told him before

“ I did. but that doesn’t matter anymore. All I know is Project Win Morticia's heart is still a go, and you gonna help me right Gomez?” You say with a smile and dark undertone, but your eyes tell another story that creeps Gomez out a little

“ pshh, right...right” Gomez waves you off, heading to class, shoving his hands in his pockets as you giddly smile and plan to win Morticias heart

In Mrs. Ivy's homeroom, her room was filled with plants of all sorts from poisonous to carnivorous, Walking to his sit Morticia looked at the class plant that was set out for a project, a live venus flytrap that was the size of a head, purred at him smelling his scent and whined wanting another snack that mortica would sneak into class.

Scratching the plant softly, Morticia moved his head seeing a bouquet of black roses and a note attached to it

Dear mi amor oscuro

In your darkest hour, in the blackest night… think of me…and I will be with you. Always For where else could you go? When I saw you, flowers started growing in the darkest parts of my mind.

Love to death Your secret admirer

Feeling his face become hot, thoughts rushed to his head. Who could this be? Who wrote this? Is this a prank? Does someone…love me? Deep in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the paper being snatched from his hand by some bullies

“ Aww, look at this little Morticia got a love note..what.a.freak” the bully slowly sounded out with a disgusting smile on his face as the rest of the goons laughed, as some pulling on his hair, ripping the note and others stomping on the flowers.

“ You think someone would love a freak weirdo like you... You a nobody whose parents doesn't even love” one of the bullies says walking away and leaving to sit down as the class gets ready to start leaving a sorrowful Morticia with single tear running down his face, hair creating a barrier to shield is crys from onlookers that saw the scene

Not noticing a deadly smile on Gomez's face, knowing the doom that would soon fall upon the group of boys when he tells You, the soon-to-be lover of the sad Morticia Addams what happened today in class.

It was the end of the day, and school was close to ending, Mortica stayed behind the last one out, still feeling mournful over the loss of his flowers and precious note that someone left behind. Almost heading out the door, he heard a hunting scream that gave him goosebumps. Furrowing his eyebrows, he walks closer, seeing a closed door with what seems to be…leaking blood. From underneath.

Bringing his shakey hands toward the doorknob, hearing the door unclick from the lock. Pushing the door slightly but all the way to see the unsettling horror of what occurred

The display shook Morticia to the bones, the bodies of the boys were laid all across the room with their eyes open permanently in horror as their mouths held a frozen scream trying to get away from something…something terrifying.

Morticia gasped in shock, hearing a voice you turned around away from the boy that you just killed, getting ready to kill the next victim that dared show there face to you.

Turing your head you meet with the eyes of Morticia, feeling as if a bucket of ice dumped over you. Tears start pooling your eyes as you try to save yourself, save your image of a good girl who could do nothing wrong.

“ Morticia, w-what are you doing here” You dropped the knife hand dipped in the blood of the bullies and face splattered in blood walking slowly to Morticia as he slowly took steps back “ I-I can explain please, it's not what it looks like”

You were freaking out and Morticia could see it. Your eyes globbed with tears as you try to cover yourself from him like you were hiding your darkest secrets from him. Blabbing to him as you try to explain to him.

But all Morticia could hear was the sound of his heartbeat and the heavy breathing that he was producing.

You killed his bullies…you killed his enemies…you care for him…you must love him right,,,

It didn’t take long for Morticia to realize that it was you all along that gave him those eccentric gifts, the note the flowers even seeing the harsh red rash on your palms.

His face bloomed into a heavy blush as he walked towards you. You still hid from him as tears rolled from your eyes but feeling warm arms wrap around you and a head buried in your neck. Feeling his hot breath on your ear, as you hear him speak in his deep monotone voice that made your body as if it was being lit on fire.

“ Oh my mi araña venenosa, it was you…how could you love a person like me? "” he moaned, tightening his grip on you, a clear sign that he was never letting you go

“ Oh Morticia, mi amor oscuro, you have no idea. I want you to spill me open, to dig your fingers in and pry open my ribs, lick my heart and my blood and bones. Pick open my bones and suck out the marrow. I want to be devoured by you. I could never live without you. My body could never handle not having you at a moment. We were meant to be, you know that, right?” You purred in his ear as he studdered, your body burned with need it felt like agony, but your heart melted with happiness expressing your love to Mortica

Taking his head from your neck, you grabbed his face staining it with blood, smashing your lips with his feeling his hand grip your waist deliciously as he opened his mouth wider as if he was pushing himself further into your mouth

“Umm Father”

Present

“ Oops sorry almost told you how I convinced you” Mortica giggled with his hand covering his mouth as tiny bits of drool escaped ‘Disgusting’ Wednesday thought rolling her eyes as she heard heels click from the hallway

“ Sorry I'm late you two, had to take care of some things” You came in as your fitted black dress trailed behind as blood was shown on your face.“ What are you two talking about” You tilted your head as your fox eyes squinted, looking at your husband and daughter

“ how you meet Father,” Wednesday says with a straight look, eyes staring into your soul

You gasped a small blush appeared on your face feeling embarrassed by the story and how you left the bodies of the bullies so out and open, your father would have been ashamed of you. But you smiled at your daughter

“ Oh Wednesday when you find your special someone” You go and sit next to your husband kissing him on his cheek and caressing his hand. You stare deeply into your daughter's eyes as your dilated and dark smile appears.

“ You would wipe out any obstacles in your way, so it can be you and them…forever okay?”

“Okay mother”

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @pickonerain! You've been an absolute star to me and seeing as you love Sherry, here's her little addition to the story 😇

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Divergence

It was not like Claire and Leon to hide from you, but somehow they had ended up right at the other end of the room, far away from the counter, out of sight. They seemed deep in conversation, their expressions grim, and Leon was gripping his porcelain cup so tight you were afraid it would shatter to bits in his hand.

Curiosity—or rather, nosiness—got the better of you, and you scooted closer to the couple, pretending to sweep the area so you could listen in more easily.

“This was why you wanted to meet me, Claire?”

“Isn’t it important enough? I don’t get why you’re being so defensive!”

“I thought you wanted to catch up over coffee, not use me for one of your schemes!”

“Use you? Are you even listening to yourself? How does bringing down that son of a bitch count as ‘using you’?

“Chief Irons probably had a good reason, and all these rumors—”

“Rumors? There’s cold, hard evidence! We just need that one missing piece—”

“No! Forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“So, this is it, huh? You go your way, and I go mine?”

“I…”

“I’m embarrassed I even called you a friend.”

Kicking out her chair, Claire threw down a couple of bills on the table before storming out in a fit of rage, slamming the front door behind her. 

Before you could even react, Leon had beaten you to it. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, though he had ducked his face away, red with shame. “I know you heard everything. You weren’t exactly being very stealthy.”

“That was never really my strong suit,” you admitted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the seat beside him, still unable to look you in the eye.

Spying his half-finished drink on the table, now cold, you resisted the urge to get up and fix it, knowing there were other things he needed more in that moment. So, you continued to sit with him, and even though you did not exchange any words, you breathed together, content with sharing in each other’s company until he was ready to speak.

“Do you think I’m naive?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m scared that I am,” he confessed, his voice small and tired. “What if I’m wrong? What if Claire’s wrong?”

Cradling his cheek in your hand, you caressed it softly. He didn’t protest, but leaned in indulgently, nuzzling his nose against your palm like a deer. Then, something clicked internally and he broke away, straightening up in his seat as though he had not just given in to his desires a moment ago. However, this time, his face was angled towards you, waiting.

“What does your gut feeling say?” you put forward. “I’d trust that.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath as he stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. “A snake oil salesman—that’s one way of putting it.”

“Chief Irons,” he clarified. “Whenever I get close to something nasty, he throws me off scent.”

Another hunter—a more seasoned one, you observed.

“I guess you have your answer.”

He collapsed into the backrest of the armchair and exhaled, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” he stated, mostly to himself.

“I know you will,” you said encouragingly.

He had chosen the more difficult path, but at least he had made peace with it and was no longer in denial about Chief Irons’ deception. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Once again, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It felt nice like this, as though your very thoughts and beings were connected.

“I want to know more about you,” he professed out of the blue. “But somehow, you always manage to steer the conversation back to me.”

You gulped, fiddling with your hands. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Your backstory, your favorite color, what do you do outside of work…” he trailed off.

“I’m not used to talking about myself,” you spelled out.

He grinned cheekily, as if the battle had already been won. “Don’t worry, I’m a good listener.”

And so, you yielded to him, letting things unfold as they should. Hours passed while you shared tales and secrets over cups of spiced tea with sweet milk. The flavors of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg swirled around your tongue, bringing to mind the warm, inviting breeze of a coastal town near the Red Sea.

“There’s many names for it,” you explained, circling the rim of the cup with your finger lazily. “But I know it as Shai Adeni.”

Leon nestled his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the table as he gazed at you, captivated. “Incredible.”

“Hmm?” You were not sure if he had registered what you had just said.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you close. His heated breath moist against your flushed skin, and the scent of his cologne was dizzying. “You’re—”

The door chime jingled.

Both of you jolted, separating yourselves away from each other in a flash, as your eyes fell upon a little girl standing shyly by the entrance. She was dressed in a school uniform, her hair neatly swept back with a headband into a braided bun.

“Hey there,” you greeted, brushing your hands against your apron as you stood up, shuffling past Leon towards her. “Would you like something to drink?”

At this, she nodded enthusiastically, following you to the counter to grab a seat. As you infused white chocolate into milk with a good dollop of citrus, you exchanged looks with Leon, who held the same concerns as you.

Sliding over another high chair adjacent to hers, he gently opened with, “Hey, I’m Leon. You got a name, pumpkin?”

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced at the nickname. “Sherry,” she replied timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Sherry,” Leon said, shaking hands before he continued, “So, it’s really late, huh? Do your parents know where you are?”

She twiddled her thumbs, swinging her dangling legs back and forth on the chair. “They don’t care,” she said finally. “They’re busy.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at Umbrella. They’re making important new medicine,” she revealed proudly.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Leon empathized.

After sprinkling the glittery icing sugar on her drink, you set it before her with a flourish. “Voilà, your Yuzu Meringue, Miss Sherry.”

She giggled at your performance and slurped down the foamy surface. “Mmm!”

“Good, huh?” Leon gave her a side smile.

“Tell you what, Sherry,” you began, “when you finish your drink, my friend Leon here will take you home, okay?”

Her nose was dusted with powder and the cup was still covering half of her face as her eyes darted towards the man.

“He’s a good cop, you’ll be safe with him,” you reassured her. 

Scribbling down your shop’s telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, you handed it to her. “Keep this, you can call me anytime you need to.”

Taking it, she pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly as she stuffed it away into her pocket. “Can I—” she paused, “can I come here whenever I want? You and Leon are nice.”

A pang of loneliness hit you. You sensed it from the tone of her voice and what was left unsaid. It didn’t seem like she had many friends and you wondered about it.

“Please?” she begged, interrupting your thoughts.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you!” she squealed, running over to give you a quick hug before taking Leon by the hand.

Turning to you, a rosy hue spread across his face as he smiled meekly. “So… uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, as usual, Leon.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[lollipencil]

ITPM: What If... Same-Age Robins?

Saw a few bits of things using this concept, and got inspired. I'd recommend reading/re-reading Chapter 1 of the main fic to avoid confusion. @harleyification, here it is as requested.

Enjoy and be gentle ---

It was halfway to their intended destination, when a soft thump from his right had Steven startle hard enough to almost summon the suit once more. "Howdy," another, darker clad Robin drawled, his hood almost highlighting his grin. "Heya Hood, we're getting burgers. You coming with?" the original Robin smiled calmly. "Yeah, alright."

Their walk from there was silent. Only once inside did Steven speak: "Um, yes, hello. We would like three burgers. Uh, please?" "And one black coffee," a voice added. For the second time that night, Steven jolted at the sudden arrival of a Robin. "Ah, no," Hood promptly stated to the shorter teen. "You've been up since yesterday night Red," Robin pointed out with his hands on his hips.

Red Robin's face soured. "Fine. One decaff black coffee then." "Would you like fries with that?" the cashier drawled. "Um, yes, please," Steven answered to a bunch of nods from the round of Robins.

"How many of these guys are there?" Marc asked incredulously as they claimed a table. "So," Robin chirped, "Powers?" "Yeah," Steven admitted, "In a way." "What's that mean?" Hood asked as the plates were set before them. Red said nothing, just pulled out a tablet and started tapping away. "...What do you lads know about the Egyptian gods?"

"That there's a lot of them?" Robin sheepishly replied. "Which one's relevant right now?" Red asked without looking up. "Khonshu," his name was punctuated by mouthfuls of fries. "Hey, hey, careful," Hood urged gently, "Try to not eat too much right now."

Steven paused and breathed. "Wound up in a... situation," he admited, trying to not think about the full story, "Managed to call to him by accident." "And now?" "I help him protect others who travel by night, as he protected u- me," Steven stumbled over the pronoun. Thankfully, none of them seemed to notice. A hum spread between the round, just as the door opened.

The last Robin had finally arrived. "So, this is where you all vanished to," he drawled blandly. "Put down your hackles," Hood snarked, "Can't some guys have a late-patrol snack with a new friend?" "You-!" "The fries are cooked in sunflower oil," Robin offered, burger halfway to his mouth. Crested Robin sighed through his nose before sitting next to Red Robin. Red moaned but said nothing and shuffled over, handing off the tablet to Crest as he took a big sip of his drink. It was a few minutes later that the Bat himself appeared.

The door was near silent as he entered. But the shadow he cast was obvious. Instantly, Marc and Jake who'd been about to go to sleep, were wide awake. "Mierda," Jake cursed quietly. If Batman noticed them, he said nothing. Just tiredly watched the Robins eating and turned to the cashier: "Thank you for taking care of them. I'll have a white Americano."

From there, a suprisingly comfortable silence settled. Steven managed about half of his burger before he had to stop. At Hood's look, Steven nodded, and he promptly transferred Steven's remaining fries Crest's way. Crest looked up at him and nodded in thanks.

Once the plates were more or less cleared, everyone got up and staggered out. The Batmobile was parked right outside. Before Steven could consider how to get back to their usual warehouse, a gentle hand on his back guided him into the Batmobile. All four Robins blinked as the door closed with Steven inside.

Then Hood snorted. As he covered his growing giggles, Red sighed and Robin just leaned into Steven's shoulder. "Not again," Crest lamented quietly. A deep echoing laugh followed them as they drove off.

[maxillness]

╰┈➤Need You Now || JB22 x ex!reader

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, second chance

Wordcount: 0.8k

She sat on the floor of her living room. Pictures of her and Jenson scattered all around the floor

She tried so hard to fight it, but she ended up reaching for her phone on the coffee table, scrolling down to the contact labelled with his name

It went to voicemail, just like she had expected

“Hey, it’s me… I’m sorry for calling so late, I just-… Sometimes I wonder if I ever cross your mind… For me it happens all the time. I know it’s a quarter after one, but I’m all alone and I need you now” A tear rolled down her cheek

“I know I said I wouldn’t call, but I’ve lost all control and I need you now” Her voice cracked slightly “And I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now”

She hung up the phone and threw it back onto the coffee table

Jenson sat in his leather chair, another shot of whiskey in his glass

He couldn’t stop looking at the door, wishing she’d come sweeping in the way she did before

Sometime he wonders if he ever crossed her mind. For him it happened all the time

He heard his phone ringing. He looked over at it, her name lighting up on the phone

He didn’t pick it up. He should’ve. He was just thinking about her

He should’ve picked up

He waited until he got the notification she had left a voicemail to pick it up

He heard all of it, his heart aching as he heard her voice crack

After a minute of just sitting there, thinking, he picked up the phone again, calling her back

”Jense?” It was like his whole world had healed itself again as he heard her voice

“Hey” He took a deep breath “I know it’s a quarter after one, and I might be a little bit drunk…” He chuckled slightly, looking up into the ceiling “But, um… Can I come over?” He asked softly

”Not when you’re drunk. I’ll come to you” She sighed, an obvious smile on her lips as she spoke ”I’ll be there in 10 minutes, okay?”

“Yeah. That’s- that’s fine” He said, nodding along his words, trying to hide the excitement in his body

She kept true to her word. 10 minutes later, he opened his door after she had knocked on it

She stepped inside, standing close seeing as the entryway was shallow

He stepped closer to her once the door was closed, her body pressed up against the wall, his lips hovering over hers

“Jense… You’re affected” She Said, pushing softly at his chest to get him to back up

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry” He said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face

She put her hand on his jaw, his slight stubble scratching against her palm “We can cuddle like we used to, if you want?” She suggested instead

He nodded slightly “Yeah. I’d like that”

They both laid in his bed, Jenson in her arms, his head on her chest, his arms around her waist, her nails dragging along his scalp, soothing him

“You’re here when I wake up, right?” Jenson asked softly, almost a whisper

“Of course I am” She answered in the same volume of tone

“Good. I don’t want you to leave” He sighed, his grip around her tightening

When she woke up, Jenson was still laying in her arms, but his head was now in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin

She smiled softly, almost forgetting that they weren’t together anymore, and this was just because they were both lonely the night prior

She shifted slightly, but it woke him up. He groaned softly, pulling her tighter against his body

Before she could say anything, he had his lips on hers. She kissed back immediately without thinking about it

The kiss was tiredly done and slightly messy, but it really didn’t matter in this moment

“Jense-“ “Let me love you again” His blue eyes were begging, glazed with guilt from how they ended things

“Just give me a chance” He tried again, his hand on the dip of her hip “Let me prove to you that I’m capable of love” His eyes had started swelling with tears

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Jenson” It pained him to hear his name like that. She never called him by his name

“A month. That’s all I’m asking. You can leave again after that. I promise, just a month” He was now sitting up on his knees, looking down at her

She sighed softly “Okay” She gave in

“Thank you so much” He barely got his words out before his lips were back on hers, kissing her tenderly “Breakfast?” He asked softly as he pulled back

“That’s be nice, yes” She nodded

“Eggs and bacon like you like it?” He asked, getting out of the bed

“Like I like it” She chuckled

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea as she thought

[someloserinajaywig]

I think the love triangle arc in rebooted is as stupid and bad and vaguely misogynistic as the next guy, but one thing that made me laugh my ass off upon rewatch was nya’s reasoning as to why she liked each of them

Oh Jay? yeah he’s a cutie he’s so funny, he’s the only one who can make me laugh we have so much history

Cole? he isn’t jay, and that’s more than enough for me