#word count: 1748

[lyxandria]

daddy - diluc x f!reader

word count: 1748 cw: nsfw- mdni; smut; piv; multiple orgasms; missionary; mating press; overstimulation; size kink; begging; breeding kink; creampie; no protection used/condom fell off; talk of pregnancy; daddy kink; praise kink (reader referred to as "good girl"); female-bodied reader.

you couldn't believe this was really happening. a casual night of hanging out, sharing take-out and watching a movie with your longtime friend – your very cute friend whom you had just a mild crush on – turned into him confessing his attraction to you after an accidental kiss. 

one kiss led to another that led to more that led to you falling onto his bed.

naked.

your body was on fire as he disrobed in front of you. his cock sprang to attention; already hard, his length nearly reached his belly button.

unable to take your eyes off him – or rather, his thick, throbbing cock – your core flooded with heat, arousal quickly dampening your panties as you imagined his cock pounding your pussy.

“there's no going back if we do this," he said, giving you one last, final out as his bare body hovered over yours, the tip of his cock pressing against your thigh.

“we can still be friends,” you said, foolishly hopeful, not wanting to lose one of your closest friends. perhaps even best friend.  

“friends who screw each other?” he asked, smirking when you nodded in agreement.

neither of you were looking for anything serious – life was busy with new jobs and life just starting out, and neither of you had the time or energy to properly cultivate a healthy, long-term relationship. but sometimes, you had an itch that needed to be scratched, one that you needed help reaching. 

and diluc wanted to be the one to scratch that itch for you.

“yes,” you moaned loudly as he sunk his thick cock slowly inside you, changing the nature of your friendship forever.

****

this arrangement went on for some time. you had your regular dates as well as those times when one was feeling particularly needy.

tonight was one of those needy nights.

“i need to see you.” desperation was thick in diluc’s voice as he practically begged you to come by and relieve him.

you quickly changed into a dress – something simple and cute with easy access – and made your way to his place.

he was on you as soon as you walked through the door, like a tiger pouncing on a rabbit, pushing you roughly against the wall. his lips immediately on yours, his tongue invaded your warm mouth, a tease of things to come.

“i missed you,” he whispered between sloppy kisses, his cock so hard you could feel the bulge through his pants.

“i need you," he pleaded, his voice ragged, reeking of desperation. diluc pressed his body against yours, his tall frame towering over yours, rubbing his hips against yours.

“my hand just doesn't feel as good as your pussy.”

heat rose to your cheeks, arousal dripping down your leg at the thought of him pleasuring himself while thinking of you. you needed him, too. desperately.

he guided you to the large bed – one that had been witness to numerous lovemaking sessions – disrobing each other on the way there. he pushed you down on the bed; falling on your back, he climbed onto the bed after you. he sat on his knees before your naked body and took a minute to enjoy the view of your beautiful bare body spread out before him. his eyes lingered on your curves as his gaze roved over your body – a feast for a starving man. he placed both his large hands on your thighs and easily spread your legs, your pussy now on display for his eyes only.

he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. dipping his fingers along your entrance, he collected some of your slick and coated his length in it before sliding on the condom. only then did he climb on top of you and rub the tip of his thick hard cock along your soaked slit.

he gazed into your eyes as he began to sink inside you, inch by painfully slow inch. diluc, the sweetheart that he was, never wanted to hurt you and made sure to ease his thick cock into you.

despite how many times diluc had fucked you, you always felt a bit of a thrill when you saw his big, beautiful cock sliding into your pussy. no matter how many times he had fucked you, you were still as tight as the first time. 

his cock was long and thick and magnificent; it was the kind of cock that could split your body in half if he wanted to and destroy you so badly that you were left begging for more.

“so tight,” he groaned as he took his time stretching your walls, giving you time to adjust to his massive size. you dragged your hands down his back, fingers digging into the soft supple skin on his ass, pulling him closer to you, deeper inside you. your moans mingled, your bodies becoming one as he bottomed out, the feeling of fullness always overwhelming at first.

“good girl,” he praised, his balls slapping your ass, the sounds a lewd call to how deep his cock was inside you.  you glanced down to where your bodies were joined; a sense of pride filled your heart knowing you fit his entire thick length inside your pussy. 

“i needed this,” he whispered, burying his head on your shoulders waiting for you to acclimate to his large size. untying his ponytail, his hair tumbled down his shoulders, allowing you to weave your fingers through the long, red strands.

you needed this, too. without waiting, you lifted your hips, your walls squeezing his length, silently inviting him to fuck you. 

he groaned, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down on your delicate skin. “i can't promise I'll be gentle tonight,” he warned, his biting kiss stinging with pain as his teeth sunk into your skin. 

diluc was usually a gentle lover, preferring soft sex over rough. but every so often, he needed to fuck you hard and rail you. he would always warn you when he was in one of those moods, and you were always more than happy to spread your legs wider for him on those occasions.

if anything, you had slowly begun to become addicted to being fucked hard and rough, but you were always too shy to say anything. naturally, when he said this to you tonight, your body buzzed with excitement. 

you kissed him while your pussy clamped down on his hard cock, squeezing his shaft. he broke the kiss, caging you between his arms as he pulled his cock out, leaving just the tip inside, and snapped his hips against yours, drilling his cock deep inside. 

he grunted loudly as he roughly slammed his cock inside, treating your pussy like his own personal fleshlight. your body was a raging fire, the waves of pleasure ready to crash at any moment.

“fuck,” he muttered, stilling his thrusts, the peak of your pleasure slipping from your reach.

“why'd you stop?” you whimpered, digging your fingers in his back, trying to keep his cock inside you.

he looked down at your leg; your eyes followed his, spotting the problem stuck to your thigh.

the condom fell off…

when he began to pull out, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock slowly sinking back inside. “don't you dare pull out.” your pussy squeezed his shaft, not letting go.

“what if i–”

you knew what he was going to say – what if i impregnate you. with the amount of sex you've had recently, the thought had crossed your mind a time or two – no form of protection was 100%. but, if you were completely honest with yourself, whenever the possibility crossed your mind, the idea of diluc filled you so much, your belly swelled with his child…

it brought a smile to your face.

you bit your lip, nervous to speak these feelings aloud. “it's okay… i want to feel you when you –”

he covered your mouth with his just as he drilled his cock into you, the pain delicious as he fucked you so hard you thought your body would break in half.

his thrusts were erratic and wild, like an animal in heat.  it felt amazing to be fucked raw, no condom to dull the sensations. it was a feeling you knew you'd quickly become addicted to, maybe even already addicted.

“daddy loves you," he moaned, his pace increasing as he railed you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

you were close to losing it when you heard him call himself daddy. was this a new kink you didn't even know you had? was he even aware of what he was saying? it didn't really matter one way or another as your core flooded, creaming on his cock, your orgasm blowing your mind, leaving you trembling with aftershocks.

“tell me you want this," he groaned as he lifted your legs, guiding your ankles over his shoulders. the new position allowed him to penetrate you deeper, his thrusts overstimulating, hitting harder as he broke your limp body in half.

“i, ahh…want this,” you managed to get out, your voice a pathetic, breathless whimper, your body engulfed in the waves of pleasure. your breasts bounced vigorously with each thrust; if his goal was to destroy you, he was succeeding.

“you like this, don't you?” he watched, pleased, as you came undone once more, your hands tugging on his hair as rapture rolled through your body, your mind blank and cock-drunk unable to express a single thought.

“daddy's gonna fuck a baby inside ya,” he grunted, shoving his cock in so deep, kissing your cervix, his seed spilling inside your womb painting your walls white.

“such a good girl. take every last drop from daddy,” he coaxed gently as he stayed inside you, allowing you to squeeze his cock, milking his balls of everything he had. your body quivered; hearing him call himself that again sent you spiraling over the edge once more. you still didn't know what it was – just a kink or a real desire to be bred – but whichever it was, you were already addicted.

he kept his cock in you, plugging your pussy, helping ensure not a single drop was wasted. your body writhed under his, the overstimulation unreal. his cock began to spasm, a sign he was getting hard again. you bucked your hips up, eager for daddy to fuck you again and fill you with his seed, only this time harder and faster.

[aquagirl1978]

Reunion

A/N: My third entry for An Invitation to Crown hosted by @judejazza - this is Part Two to my earlier fic, Cigarettes After Sex. Pairing: Jude Jazza x f!Reader Prompt: body worship Word Count: 1748 Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; reader is female; reader is called 'princess'; oral sex (suitor receiving); come swallowing; piv; explicit language used.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone turned and looked at you - well, everyone that is but Jude. And Ellis. They weren’t there in the castle when Victor called everyone for this meeting.

“Are you sure about that?” Victor asked, his eyes searching yours for even a hint of hesitation.

“I’m sure,” you replied. You needed something – anything – to get your mind off of Jude and this mission presented the perfect opportunity to do so.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Victor announced with a wide smile and a clap of his hands. “Will, Liam and Alfons will go with you to –”

“She’s not goin’ anywhere. Too dangerous.”

The sound of silence rang loudly through the room as all eyes focused on Jude standing in the doorway. You looked at Jude, whose eyes were focused elsewhere, wondering why he was there. Not daring to hope he was there because maybe, just maybe, he still cared for you.

“She asked to go,” Will stated, his head tilted as he stared back at Jude. 

“She’s not goin’,” he repeated slowly, glaring at Will. “I won’t let her see what you're capable of,” he added under his breath, his gaze shifting briefly to you. 

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Jude. You missed him, far more than you cared to admit. Even momentarily, you could see the storm clouding his amethyst eyes, a storm you wished so desperately to be swept up into.

“To fulfill her job as Fairytale Writer, she needs to see with her own eyes what we do.” Will turned his gaze to you, his smile both mischievous and alluring.

Stop looking at me like that; your smile has no effect on me.

“It’s your choice. You don’t have to listen to him,” Will continued, resting his chin in his hand, blood red nails gently tapping the table.

“You’re not Ellis, you can do what you want.” 

A flicker of frustration flashed across Jude’s face as his body visibly tensed. “Go to yer room.” He didn’t speak your name or look your way, but all in the room knew his words were for you.

“What you choose to do next is up to you,” William said.

Your eyes flicked between the two men; really, it was an easy choice for you to make.

*****

“What’s going on, Jude?” you asked, spinning in your spot to face him. Safe in your room and away from watchful eyes, you were finally able to give him a piece of your mind. “You broke it off. You left me. You ignored me for days on end.” You spit each word out, hurling the truth at him, hoping one would strike him and hurt him as much as he hurt you. “Why now do you care what I do?”

“It's dangerous,” was all he said.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

Jude looked away, his gaze unable to meet yours and huffed a small breath. “Didn't want ya to get hurt,” he said softly.

“Jude…”

Your heart ached as you spoke his name; you were right, he still cared. 

“”Don’t go gettin’ yer hopes up. I’m still a bad man.”

“You're not a bad man, Jude. You’re a good man, who happens to do some bad things.”

Jude just stared at you, curious to hear what words would next come from your mouth.

“And I accept that. I want to –”

“No more yappin’,” he said, cutting you off. Before you could get another word out, he stepped in front of you. With his face mere inches away from yours, you braced yourself, expecting a barrage of reasons why this wouldn’t work, while staring straight into his eyes. 

And then you saw a flicker; it was subtle, but it was there. A softening in his expression as he stared back at you.

You weren’t expecting him to bring his hands to your face and cup your cheeks gently; he surprised you when he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. 

“Jude…” you said softly, pulling away from the kiss in a moment of shock.

“Shuddup,” he whispered, pulling you back in for another kiss. Wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, his fingers reached for the laces of your blouse, your body tingling from his touch. 

For the first time in days, you felt alive, his kiss breathing life back into you.  Jude was back. And you were in his arms where you belonged. 

He pressed his body against yours, his heat radiating as you felt a familiar firmness that stoked a fire in your belly. You pulled away from his kiss, his disappointment expressed in a strangled moan; overcome with desire, you flashed him a grin before you began to unbutton his shirt. 

Taking your time undoing his buttons, you let out a small laugh as you swatted his hands away from helping you. There was only one way to make up for lost time together and show him how much you loved him, and that was to drag this out as long as possible. 

Fingertips danced across his chest, tracing the lines of even the faintest scars, lingering when you noticed how his breath hitched and his body tensed the further you explored.

With a few quick tugs, you pulled the hem of his shirt free from his waistband to get to the last few buttons. Your grin grew wicked as you sank to your knees to finish your job. 

His gaze still upon you, he took your hand in his, and gently, so very gently, placed your hand on the bulge between his legs. Slowly, you traced the outline in his pants, enjoying the sweet, pleasurable sounds he made. 

Your gaze lingered on the prominent bulge in his pants. Sighing softly, you brought your hands to his waistband and unbuckled his belt. As your fingers wandered by his waistband, you tilted your chin up and looked into his eyes, waiting for his nod before continuing your exploration. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with desire, as he gazed back at you seductively. 

“Princess…”

To hear him finally call you that, his special name for you, was enough to send warm tingles all throughout your body. Wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your eyes shifted to the cock in your hand.

Words could never describe how much you loved his cock. How much you loved holding his cock in your hand. How much you loved sliding his cock inside your mouth. 

Unable to tear your eyes away from your hand on his cock, you began to stroke his shaft, so softly at first it was almost torture. Your thumb teased his tip – it was soft as velvet, a drop of pre-cum appeared; you could not wait to slide your tongue over it and lick that drop. You stroked your lover, enjoying the weight of his balls cupped in your hand. 

He brought his hand to your face, tangling his fingers in your hair. You glanced up at him adoringly, one last time before he guided your head towards his hips. With a smile on your lips, you teased his tip once more, another drop appearing; your tongue darted out, licking it, enjoying its sweetness on your lips. Pumping his cock a few more times, you opened your mouth wide while sliding his length inside. 

Dragging your lips up and down his hard shaft, he groaned as he pulled your head closer to his body. Flicking your eyes up to meet his, you loved seeing his face filled with such pleasure. Popping his cock out of your mouth, you wrapped your fingers around him as you placed a trail of kisses along his shaft. You then placed gentle kisses on his balls, taking each one into your mouth. 

Wrapping your hair in his hands, he guided your mouth back to his throbbing cock. Sliding it into your mouth, you sucked on him until his length hit the back of your throat. He held your head there firmly as he began to thrust into your mouth roughly. Heat flooded your body as your mouth was filled with his cock. 

“Ah, fuck…”

Once he began to tremble, you kept your eyes on his, never wavering, as he shot his load down your throat. Lapping up all his juices, you licked his cock clean as he moaned blissfully, his hand finally letting go of your hair. 

He offered his hand to you, helping you stand. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eager to see where the night led you.

With the moon shining bright through the windows in your room, Jude guided you towards the bed, shedding the last of your layers on the way there. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you gently fell onto the plush covers. Jude climbed onto the bed, his body straddling yours, a hunger in his eyes that you missed so much. 

His mouth fastened to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a trail of biting kisses, his long fingers traveling up your thigh searching for your sweet spot. You let out a lewd sound when he slid a finger inside you, his thumb teasing your clit. 

His touch filled you with so much pleasure that when he finally slid his cock inside you, you felt like you might come instantaneously. 

Later you could take your time with him, but right now, you just wanted to feel every inch of him inside you as you squeezed his length on each thrust. Dragging your nails down his back, you left light scratches, marking him, claiming him as yours. Enraptured, he claimed you, his mouth sucking sweet marks across your chest.

When your pleasure peaked, it exploded. A warmth filled your body like you never felt before as Jude joined you in a state of rapturous bliss. He collapsed on you, your bodies still joined, your euphoria ephemeral.

He lifted his head and stared at you; the room was silent, so silent you could hear your heart pounding in your chest. He brought his hand to your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

Jude finally smiled at you, a smile so warm it made you melt.

“I really can’t get rid of ya, now can I?”

“Nope.”

“Even though I’m a bad man who does bad things?”

“Whatever,” you said with a huff of laughter.

He couldn't hide his smile as he pressed a kiss on your lips before resting his head on your chest.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza

@xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777

@silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun

[krllkprzv]

fic recs

just some fics i've found myself returning to, or thinking about, recently (with my commentary attached). feel free to recommend me more! (or make your own posts because we should recommend fics more)

sidgeno

wait, is that...? by malk1ns g, 1748 words

cute, sweet, funny, and lighthearted. i love fics written from an outsider perspective looking in and i re-read this when i'm looking for something fluffy.

All is Fair by beggingwolf t, 3285 words

emotional post-retirement fic with established relationship that's on the rocks between sid and geno. sweet and romantic ending!

The Real Thing by sevenfists e, 34892 words

fics with time travel are always so interesting to me because it gives us a chance to contrast people in adulthood vs. adolescence. in the case of sid, not just as a player, but as a partner. it's lovely to see the way the author has characterized geno and how his affection for past vs. present sid and the differences between them.

anything that touches by saysthemagpie e, 48578 words

brutally (seriously, heed the warnings) angst-filled, but also incredibly... cathartic (?) read. depicts familial death, graphic violence, and non-consensual/dubiously consensual situations. tension is tightly written and maintained throughout the entire fic and that really elevates the tender moments that sid and geno share between all of the really bleak scenes. i have probably read this a dozen times or more.

Mating in Captivity by beggingwolf e, 25005 words

3.5 words: heartwrenching clownfish mpreg. it'll tug at your heartstrings and also teach you something about clownfish reproductive systems.

Uncontrollable by al-the-remix e, 15798 words

the image of sid cradling an octopus geno lovingly on ice to prevent him from becoming calamari is sweet enough to keep me coming back... amusing and funny, sweet, romantic, sometimes sad and emotional...

misc

All I Ever Wanted by WolfSpider e, 18927 (and its sequel, (was to make you mine)) (jonas brodin/brock faber)

i actually first read this from @simmyfrobby's rec list and it's really good! brods' contemplation of his dynamic, experience on ice, and past with dumba altogether compared to being scented by brock is really interesting and is conceptually blended altogether in a lovely way that doesn't feel "too busy" at all! i liked jeek's role as a side character as well. also i listened to the basshunter song this fic was named after a lot growing up so...

A tale of crushes and de ageing and a very blonde Jeff Carter by Belzebubcat e, 1964 words (tristan jarry/jeff carter)

the world (archive of our own) needs more tristan jarry being paired with overly sincere and eager people (and by people i mean jeff carter)

play pretend by daisysusan e, 6417 words (matthew tkachuk/quinn hughes)

sad, but also hot-sexy.

all dolled up by nationalhorribleleague e, 2109 words (matthew tkachuk/quinn hughes)

hot-sexy, but also funny. recruited me into the eldest daughter 4 eldest daughter ranks.

count me in by Anonymous e, 6888 words (matt boldy/kirill kaprizov)

funny! i love how flirty the dialogue is between boldy and kirill and the wink-wink nudge-nudge ending for the potential of something more between them...

[everythingelseisextra]

Poetic Justice

Request: No Description: You meet Tommy Shelby on his way to war, finding a cheerful and happy young man. A few years later, he returns to you, drastically different. Warnings: Mentions of war, alcohol, language Word Count: 1748 Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

You meet a boy on the way to war. WIth boyish charms and a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, bright and blue and slightly disconcerting. He tells tales of riding horses through the countryside and of petty thievery, of curses and Roma superstition. He cusses like a sailor and lives life on a wild and reckless edge, an Atlas who didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders yet, an Icarus who hadn’t yet peaked. 

He grins at you, speaks to you with a lilting, rugged accent, and you can’t help but be bewitched by him. You let him take you out from behind the bar and hold you flush to his body. He teaches you to dance like that, moving to the pound of the other soon-to-be soldiers’ feet, and you smile and twirl and let him spin you til you’re dizzy. You think it’s love when his touch sends you into a tizzy, smiling and laughing and on top of the world. You stay with him long into the night, talking and drinking and meeting his friends with accents like his and stories so wild you can hardly believe them. 

“We’re off to war,” he says, leaning his chair back and giving you a devilish, dark smile. “The lot of us won’t come back.”

“That’s awfully dark humor you’ve got.” You grin back, arms on the table in front of you, having completely abandoned your job. 

“Come on, love, we’re soldiers! What do we have except for humor?” He raises his glass, and a cheer rises from his friends around him. He takes a hearty gulp of the beer you’d given him.

“Let’s not talk about the war.” It saddens you, to imagine these boys so full of life going to risk it at the front. 

That glint brightens, sharp and deadly intelligent and playful. He laughs and switches his voice into a jaunty, posh British accent. “Too good for the war, then. A lady doesn’t speak of such atrocities.”

“Oh, shut up.” You shove him, lunging across the table just as he lifts his drink. It sloshes over his front and he yells, eyes flashing momentarily with an anger that sends panic through your body; you’re about to be attacked. But before you have time to stand, he’s back to laughing. 

“Guess that’s what I get for questioning such a rogue.” He flashes you a grin and stands from his seat, the blotchy amber stain on his white shirt sticking to his front, giving you a very welcome view of the thin, wiry muscles over his stomach. “Care to help fix your mistake?”

You grin, eyes on his chest. “It would be my pleasure, Mr…?”

You don’t know his name. After all this, the revelry of a last hurrah mixed with the joy of a woman playing along, the bodies moving and the tap of your feet on wooden tables. His laugh in your ear, his hands on your waist, teaching you to dance but also gently feeling at your hips, all that, and you didn’t get his name. 

“Thomas Shelby.” His arm slips around your waist, assured, and he starts walking, guiding you. You happily turn your brain off when he presses his lips to your hair, then whispers. “That’s Tommy, to you.”

“Tommy,” you say slowly, letting the syllables stretch over your tongue. “Why is it you’re going off to war, then? You don’t seem like a fighter, I’m pretty sure you’re meant to be a lover.” You run your eyes down his body, an eyebrow raised, your own body filled with an elated, and possibly drunken, kind of hunger. 

“Brilliant question.” He flashes you another grin. “Saw a man beating his horse and happened to have a weapon. I solved that problem. Turns out, the guy has friends, and all of those blokes out there with me are running from something or to somewhere.” 

You step towards him, watching with great interest as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it into the sink. He gives you an expectant look and you laugh, reaching forward to cup his face and pull him towards you. 

“How bout I give you something to come back to?”

Soldiers enter your bar and you run your eyes over them. Faces drawn and pale, or, worse, bandaged and bloody. All of them uniformed but covered in dirt and stains and unknown substances. Some of them limp in, others walk with their heads bowed, and others, the ones you take the most interest in, move with their shoulders drawn back, heads raised as though they own the place, eyes taking in the room as though there could be danger in any corner. 

“Holly!” You call. “Get another round going!” To them, you say; “On the house, loves. God knows you’ve paid enough already.”

A murmur goes through them. The majority sit at the tables, staring down at their own reflections in the shined dark wood, slumped down or sitting bolt upright. A few, though, situate themselves in front of you at the bar, looking up with a lack of interest and dark eyes. They talk quietly, secretly, with a hint of anger in each word you catch. 

The drinks come slowly but surely. You pass them out, one at a time, and take time to speak to each desolate soldier. In your mind, people aren’t born to fight the way they do. People aren’t made to murder each other, aren’t made for battle and blood. People aren’t born for war. So, you give them the time of day, meet their eyes and smile, because you know not everyone will. And you know that their fight isn’t over, that some of them will take their own lives or lose them in a panic. You know their kind, they come through often, those hit with shell shock and broken by things they saw. No matter what, groups like these are given free drinks. It doesn;t do much, doesn’t give them anything they don’t already have. Injuries of the body heal. Those of the mind bury in like a disease and grow like a seed, leech out what hope is left. 

“What’s your name, love?”

“Freddie Thorne.” The soldier’s sullen face stares up at you as you return to the bar, almost challenging, eyes large and strangely gaping. A covered wound bores out from under his shirt, bright white bandages in contrast to the dirt and grime of his skin. “And don’t call me love.”

“I won’t, then.” Not receptive. You hand him a drink and turn your attention to the soldier sitting next to him. “And you? What’s your name?”

He sits back, crossing his arms against his chest and fixing you with an icy stare. “You know me.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I…” You study him, then it hits him. Now bleak and sullen, hopeless, no hint of brightness or light. His body has changed, too, from wiry and thin and boyish to the body of a man, broad in the chest and muscular. But his eyes, you remember that gaze. The question in them, searching for something in each person he comes across, wanting, needing, hungry. That remains the only signifier of life  in the corpse-like body of Tommy Shelby. “Oh. Yes. I spilled my drink on you.”

“You said you’d give me something to come back to.” His eyes never leave yours, seeming to hold a curse underneath, some anger you can’t decipher. Whether at you or at the world that so betrayed him, you can’t tell. There used to be joy in his voice, a laugh in each word. Christ. “Here I am.”

You exhale a slow breath. “I’ll pull up a chair.” 

He nods once. The others around him watch him closely, waiting for a cue, and he inclines his head, giving permission. They visibly relax and some begin to drink, talk to each other, sounding less like men and more like small boys who are new to speech and unable to piece together their phrasing.

You pull up a chair to the boy returned, letting Holly take over the rest of your work. “So… it’s been, what, three years?”

“Less.” He raises an eyebrow, a bite to his words. “You’ve been here, eh? Serving drinks and flirting with soldiers.”

“No,” you sigh. “No, that was just you.”

He shakes his head. “I thought, what the hell, might as well come back here. See if she still knows me.”

A sharp pang of guilt crawls through you. “I remember your name.”

“Yeah?”

“Tommy Shelby.”

“That is my name, yes.” He leans forward, drumming his fingers on the bar between you. “Thank God the girl in the bar still knows my fucking name.”

“Sorry.” You lean back, cautious, almost scared. That anger that flashed in his eyes those years ago seems to be all there is now, wrathful, unadulterated. “I know it’s little consolation, but—”

“Nothing is consolation. Our prayers never made it out of the gas they threw.” He gestures vaguely to the air. “The poor returning soldier, godless, because they gave us nothing to believe in.” 

You struggle to find the right thing to say, then land on something, anything. If you’re here, and he remembered you, you might as well give him something. “Tell me more.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean, if you want to, I don’t—”

“You want me to tell you about what happened?” An incredulous hint of humorless laughter lingers cold in his voice. 

“I thought—”

“Here’s what happened. I’m underneath waves of mud and all I hear is rockets from their truck. Everything shakes and I think, wait, maybe it’ll kill me. Underground, anyway, here’s my grave. Dug it myself and all. Poetic justice.” The bar falls silent. They listen to his story. “No one digs you out anyway, because you’re dead and they’d just bury you again. And so I think, fuck, alive. No one survives this. But I did. We did. I got out because they want to save the unshot.”

You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

He stands. Most of the soldiers follow his lead. “You’ll have to forgive me. Still a fucking sleepy eyed kid.”

He walks to the front door of the bar, trailed by the others, then stops, looks over his shoulder. Dark hair over glinting blue eyes, no longer bright and happy, but shrewd, calculating, powerful. “If you’re ever in Birmingham, ask for the Peaky Blinders.”

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Pancakes and Carl

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: Daniel meets an unexpected guest of yours.

Warnings: Drinking, pure panic from the drivers, mentions of a stranger in your home. 

Word Count: 1748

Author's note: A silly little drabble about a silly little scene :D. Not a great ending but oh well, we move 😀

______________________________________________________________

Daniel wasn’t meant to be home that evening, but work had ended early and he had managed to book a flight back easily, despite knowing you already had plans with your friends, he came back anyway. Choosing instead to just not tell you he’d be back to make sure you’d still keep to your plans. Knowing that if you knew he was back, you’d cancel in a heartbeat, which wasn’t fair to you. You deserve the night with your friends. You deserve to get sloppy drunk. 

God, he hoped you’d be okay if you were getting sloppy drunk. 

At least you’d be coming home to him. Which is actually all he wanted. His week had been hell and he just knew he needed to wake up to you. Even if it was a puking, hungover, desperately needing a sports drink and a greasy breakfast you. 

You were such a treat when you got sloppy drunk. It was one of his favorite sights in the known world. Normally you were already ridiculously friendly and sweet, but sloppy drunk you, well, it just kicked it into overdrive and he ended up dealing with a cute, clingy ball of pure love. Quite frankly, he was pretty sure he had never heard a single human utter the words “I love you guys so much” or “I’ve never been so happy” as many times as you do when you’re sloppy drunk and if that’s what is crawling into bed with him tonight, then he can die happy.

So, while you were out with your friends, definitely past the point of no return if your messages were anything to go by, Daniel was on his balcony, drinking a glass of wine with Scotty and Max, a quiet night in contrast to yours, exactly what he had needed. 

And so the night dragged on, and he had assumed he would be in bed by this time, but a glass of wine turned into another and he is so bad at saying no to hanging out with his friends, but he was really starting to wish you would get home so he had an excuse to get his friends out of his house and he could just climb into bed with you. That would be the dream right now.

And then, as if God himself was paying attention to only his prayers, your head suddenly pooped out of the sliding door with a grin so wide he was sure your cheeks must be aching. 

“BABY! You’re home, what are you doing home?” he chuckled at you, watching you attempt to stay up straight, hand gripping the edge of the sliding door as a makeshift crutch for your excessively drunk self. 

“You honestly think I was going to miss sloppy drunk you? I’d move heaven and earth to see that love” how your smile got even wider he couldn’t be sure but there you were anyway, a look of pure adoration in your eyes as you stared at him, present company completely forgotten. 

“Oh! Listen, I'm about to get something to drink and make pancakes for me and Carl, am I making for all of you?” it was like you had snapped out of your daze and were suddenly aware that there were other people sitting with your boyfriend. 

A chorus of “yes please” sounded from his friends, desperately excited for those pancakes (and seeing you attempt to cook in your current state, the sliding door scooting wider and wider the more weight you rested on it, your toppling inevitable any second now). While looks of excitement at the prospect of pancakes settling on his friends faces, a look of confusion was on his. 

“Hey babe,” he called out before you could make your way back inside to begin cooking, “whose Carl?”

Scott threw Daniel a look, almost as if he was questioning the sudden concern from him. Everyone knew you wouldn't cheat, that wasn’t even close to what Daniel was worried about, but you had a pretty small circle and he had known about all of them, so hearing the name Carl pop up out of nowhere on a night he wasn’t meant to be home was a little worrying, not that Scott would know any of that though. 

Suddenly that ecstatic smile was back on your face and you animatedly began to explain, “oh! I found him like, skulking outside of the building, kinda like, in between the bushes out front” alarm bells were suddenly going off in all their heads, “he looked like he really wanted to get into the building for some reason so I just thought I’d bring him up here” Daniel could feel his blood run cold and suddenly Scott and Max understood the concerned questioning of this Carl character from Daniel, “and then I’d just get us something to eat and drink and let him crash on the couch and then I’d get him all sorted in the morning” your eyes were basically closed with how hard you were smiling at this point, but you didn’t miss the look of panic on all their faces, mistaking it for confusion instead though, “you know what, he’s just in the kitchen, I’ll go grab him quick” your voice began trailing away as you started making your way back inside. 

“BABE NO!” From that point it was like the boys were moving in tandem. Daniel was up first, moving quickly to grab your wrist before you could move closer to the kitchen, he quickly shoved you behind him, Max doing the same and Scott finally holding you to make sure you were safe. Your head was swinging wildly between Daniel, Max and Scott. The entire scene playing out before you could even begin to think of what questions you should be asking, you could do nothing but watch as Daniel and Max disappeared into the kitchen, shoulders squared, ready for a fight. Scott was gripping you close, looking around the room for a weapon if it needed to come to that whilst simultaneously intently listening to what was happening in the kitchen. 

Next minute you could both hear loud laughter rip through Max from the kitchen and an angry Daniel was storming out of the kitchen, the smallest white kitten with a thin black ring of fur around his neck cupped in his hands, “I swear to God, if this is Carl-”

He wasn’t even able to finish his sentence before you were shrugging Scotts grip from you and making your way towards Daniel, a soft “Mangy Carl” drifting from your lips in the most loving tone any of them had ever heard. 

Max had no joined the rest of you in the lounge, still laughing as he heard what you’d called the cat, Scotts own laughter now coming out, more so at the look on Daniel’s face as he watched you take the tiny cat from his hands and smoosh it against your cheek, a few kisses littering his face. 

This was a look of pure shock, one could almost hear the gears turning in Daniels head as he was processing how to handle this situation as calmly as possible. 

“Go to bed” it wasn't a suggestion from Daniel, he was actively telling you that he couldn’t handle anything else this evening and he needed you to go to bed so he could calm down from the adrenaline of thinking that in your drunk state, you had invited a complete stranger up into his home, who was lurking outside of his building. The thought of what could have happened still plastered in his head. 

“But I need to feed-” Daniel was already taking the cat away from you, not allowing you to even finish the thought. 

“No, I’ll feed Carl, go to bed” He handed the new cat over to Max, knowing that he knew what to feed him, trusting he could find something in his home to keep the kitten sustained until morning, and then he was guiding you to your room, not even allowing you a moment to protest what was happening. 

A short while later Daniel was walking into the lounge, Scott and Max watching the kitten tucking into a bowl of milk, not the best option he assumed, but if this is what they had, then this is what they had. Both are still chuckling at the events of tonight. 

“Mangy Fucking Carl” it’s all Daniel could get out, throwing his hands up in exasperation, a loud slap startling the kitten as they landed against his thighs on landing. 

“It's from Brooklyn 99” Max hadn’t looked away from the kitten yet, prattling off the information to Daniel, still rooted on the spot. 

“I’m well aware where it’s from thank you” neither really acknowledging him at this point, too engrossed by the little milk beard over the kitten's face. Scott already with his phone out, no doubt a million pictures already filling his gallery. 

“Want me to take him? I’m sure Pen would love a little kitten” Max offered the suggestion that had Daniel recoiling. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? No. He’s our kitten” Daniel was finally moving to sit in front of Carl, gently petting his tiny head. 

“Didn’t think you’d want to keep him all things considered” a laugh coming from Max for the umpteenth time this evening. 

“Listen, this stays between us three and I will deny it until the day I die, but this is the cutest fucking cat I have ever seen, so no, we are not getting rid of it.” Daniel was already picturing you begging him to keep it. He’d put up a good fight and eventually ‘cave’ and you’d feel victorious and he was getting giddy at the thought of seeing your little pout in an attempt to get him to agree with you, but no, he’d already decided, Mangy Carl was the first pet you’d ever get together and he’s not even surprised it happened in the fashion that it did. 

“And because she brought it in” Scott gave him a knowing look. 

He hated that he was so predictable when it came to you, but Scott was right, it was because of you, you could do or ask for anything and he would be willing to move heaven and earth to make sure you got it, even when you were drunk and nearly gave him a heart attack in the process. 

“Yeah, because she brought it in”. 

[bobfloydsbabe]

dirty mind | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Imogen learns something new about Professor Bob.

WARNINGS: suggestive language, allusions to smut, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance. strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: ~ 1k

PROFESSOR BOB MASTERLIST

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SPECIAL THANKS to @ryebecca who sent this delicious prompt. It took on a life of its own, so I hope it's okay that I posted it separately. Your love for Eccentric Professor Bob is one of my favorite things about working on this AU, and I know I can always talk to you about him. You see and understand the vision. Enjoy ✨

She runs her fingers along the book spines in his home office, so much more neatly organized than the ones on campus. She’s impressed.

“What are you doing?”

She glances over her shoulder and finds the professor leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of him. Behind him, the house is dark and quiet. Only a faint beam of moonlight hits the wall near the staircase.

Smiling to herself, she refocuses her attention on the books. “Browsing.”

Illuminated by the lamp on his desk, she can make out several titles that she knows and loves. Fiction mixed with historical texts, old dissertations from former students that send a pang of jealousy through her, and a small section of books he’s written himself.

His footsteps sound behind her as he draws nearer. “It’s not a bookstore,” he tells her, voice still rough from sleep. “Or a library.”

Casting another glance over her shoulder, he’s now leaning against his desk, watching her. He’s only wearing boxers, and the lamplight makes his chest look even broader and more defined.

“I know. No bookstore or library would be caught dead with disorganized shelves like these.”

“They’re organized,” he argues, but she hears the lilt of teasing in his tone.

“Method to the madness,” she agrees for the sake of peace. “If it makes sense to y–no way!”

Through his rumbling chuckle, she pulls the book out and opens to the title page.

She spins around to face him so fast she feels a little dizzy and Bob has to reach out to stabilize her. “You okay?”

“Am I okay? You have a first edition of Fanny Hill. Of course I’m not okay.”

She holds the fragile book in her hands, flipping through the pages as gently as she can, so she won’t damage it further. It’s from 1748 after all, and she tries not to judge him for not storing it properly. As a history professor who works with texts even older than this, he should know better.

“Must’ve cost you a fortune,” she mutters to herself, turning to the bookcase again to put it back, only for her eye to catch sight of another familiar title. “Is Lady Chatterley’s Lover also a first edition?”

“I believe so.”

She scans the entire shelf and finds only novels in a similar genre, and she suddenly feels hot all over at the knowledge that he’s read these books and enjoyed them enough to get first editions.

As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, Bob comes up behind her, chest flush with her back. Sweeping her hair to the side, his fingertips graze her skin. He leans down and places the lightest kiss to her neck, and a shiver runs down her spine, breath hitching at the sensation.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

His hand travels down her body. The dip of her waist, the width of her hips, and the bare skin of her thighs. Her whole body’s on fire. He’s everywhere, low voice stirring something deep inside her.

As his hand trails up her skin, he inches toward her inner thighs where she’s sensitive and the wet patch in her panties should embarrass her, but it doesn’t.

“Tell me,” he whispers, breath tickling her ear.

She stifles the whine rising in her throat, willing it away. “Who knew you were hiding such a dirty mind.”

He chuckles against her skin, and his hand reaches the edge of her panties. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’m hiding so much more than a dirty mind.”

His other hand presses against her stomach, pushing her against him and his hard chest. She tries to rub her thighs together, but his hand there keeps them open. His fingers skim across her clothed clit, making her squirm in his embrace.

“Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you, baby?”

She wants to say no. She wants to tell him to fuck off, try to convince him she’s playing a game, and he can’t reduce her to a stuttering mess with just a few words and touches. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Not when she can feel his growing desire against her back, and not when he pushes her panties to the side, drawing slow, torturous circles on her clit.

“In your dreams,” she manages, but it comes out airy and needy.

He pulls his hand away from her aching pussy, and the high-pitched whine that leaves her throat seems to shock them both. He recovers quickly, spinning her around to face him, his features half illuminated by the lamp on his desk.

“You’re always in my dreams,” he tells her, walking her backward until he’s crowded her against the bookshelf. “And in my dreams, you’re always desperate for me, for my mouth.”

He’s sinking to his knees, and one hand trails down her leg, placing it over his shoulder. He glances up at her, a cocky look on his face as his fingers hook into the waistband of her panties. “You want me, baby?”

She nods furiously, unable to form the words when he’s right there, so close to where she wants him. Needs him.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice dark and dangerous.

“I want you.” She’s trying to hold on to some semblance of self-control, but she’s babbling. “I want your mouth.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and then he pushes her panties to the side again.

His lips close around her clit, sending her into orbit.

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TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @rosie-posie08, @attapullman, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @millieb-3199, @auroraseddie, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @hangmandruigandmav, @cremebruleequeen, @cherrycola27, @seitmai, @bradshawsbaby, @sio-ina-bottle, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @bluezraven

[thepaperpanda]

Fireworks || Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: Dabi agreed to visit a festival with you

Warnings: none

Word count: 1748

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Dabi grumbled, reluctantly pulling the hood over his head as you insisted on dragging him to the festival. He found the whole idea utterly ridiculous, and there were plenty of other things he could be doing instead of wandering amidst a sea of vibrant stalls and overly cheerful crowds. But for some inexplicable reason, he found it difficult to say no to you. "Why do you want to go there again?" He muttered, squeezing your palm as you kept pulling him forward.

You couldn't contain your excitement as you walked alongside Dabi through the vibrant festival grounds. The air was alive with laughter, music, and the mouth-watering aroma of various foods. It was a sensory overload that filled you with joy.

"Isn't this festival amazing, Dabi?" You exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across your face. "I love how it brings people together and creates such a lively atmosphere! Thank you for joining me."

"You were whining for weeks. I had no other choice but to join you," Dabi rolled his eyes, tugging the hood further over his head. "This place is too damn bright and colorful, with all these annoyingly happy families everywhere. How much longer do you plan on staying here?"

Sensing that Dabi wasn't quite himself, you decided to pause and give him your full attention. You came to a gentle stop, turning to face him with a concerned expression on your face. "Hey, Dabi," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine care. "Is everything alright? You seem a bit off."

"Yeah. I am fine but I'm not a fan of crowded places like this," Dabi muttered, casting a gentle frown in your direction. "But if you're enjoying yourself, then I suppose it's worth it. Are you having fun here?"

"I love all these stalls," you continued, eyes darting from one display to another. "The handmade crafts, the vibrant clothes, and the intricate artwork — it's like stepping into a world of creativity. But if you're not feeling well here, we can get back home."

"I didn't let you drag me all the way here just to go back home now. Let's just dive and explore, I bet you also want to see the fireworks."

It was peculiar that he took an interest in it. Festivals were never his thing, yet when you mentioned this particular one, he found himself searching online to see what it had in store.

"Look at the food stalls!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. "The aroma of sizzling skewers, the colorful array of desserts, it's like a feast for the senses."

You motioned towards a nearby stall, where a skilled chef expertly flipped and seasoned a plate of sizzling takoyaki. The tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, making your mouth water.

"I can't resist trying everything," you admitted with a playful grin. "From traditional favorites to unique fusion dishes, there's something for everyone. It's a culinary adventure."

Dabi chuckled shortly, looking at your excitement. It was actually very cute to see you like this, maybe coming here wasn't such a bad idea. 

With a loud sigh, he tilted his head to the side. "Well, then. Pick something. My treat."

"Hey, Dabi," you said, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I think a little something sweet might help lift your spirits. How about trying this?" You pointed to a plate of freshly made taiyaki, warm and fragrant, filled with a rich custard cream. The golden-brown fish-shaped pastries beckoned with their inviting aroma, promising a delightful treat. You quickly laid and offered the pastry to him.

Sighing deeply, he nodded and accepted the pastry.

Indulging in sweets wouldn't alter the circumstances, but perhaps it would bring a momentary spark of joy to your day. "Thanks. I can see you really enjoy all this."

"Yes, Dabi. Thank you for joining me!"

His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer against himself. "You know I want to make you happy, so don't thank me."

You nuzzled against Dabi, inhaling the scent of his intense cologne as it enveloped your senses. The aroma filled the air, mingling with the warmth of your proximity. Your nose pressed gently against his chest, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat resonating beneath your touch. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now c'mon, let's enjoy this whole thing before I change my mind, little one," he uttered, patting your head. "Let's go and see what else they have here."

As you strolled alongside Dabi through the bustling festival, your gaze scanned the surroundings until it settled on a familiar figure. Among the crowd, there was no one else but Hawks.

Dabi frowned, feeling how your hand slipped out of his. His displeasure grew as he realized you had left his side, but his disdain deepened further when his gaze fell upon Hawks.

Hawks perked up, feeling the gentle tap on the shoulder. He turned around and immediately smiled. "Little feather! How small the world is!"

"Keigo!" You got on your tippy-toes and offered him a hug. "Long time no see! How have you been doing?"

"Oh, ya know, busy! Flying here and there, keeping the number two hero title," he winked and tapped your nose. "Keep it down with the name, 'kay? I don't want people to spot me, since somehow I blended in."

"It would be easier if not the feathery backpack, heh," Dabi commented, walking up to you. "Don't you have better stuff to do?"

"And here is my favorite, crispy friend," Keigo smiled a little wryly. "I do but I also want to relax. I never took you for a guy that likes such colorful places. Kinda against your whole aesthetics," he teased, making Dabi groan.

"Forgive me, Hawks. I always forget about it!" You whispered quietly. You looked at Dabi above your shoulder. "Oh, he agreed to visit this place with me! I was whining for too long, probably."

Hawks' arm wrapped around your shoulder. "Oh, don't be silly, little feather. I bet you didn't whine, he is just grumpy. With me? I would take you here the moment you would have asked."

"But she ain't with you so keep your hands to yourself, chicken," Dabi muttered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to himself.

The hero only laughed. "Someone is getting jealous, as I can see."

"H-hey, Dabi!" You whispered, taken aback by his sudden reaction. "You know well, Hawks and I are friends for years!"

"So? I work with him, and you don't see me boasting about it," he snapped, his arms enveloping your shoulders in a tight embrace. Dabi pressed his head gently against yours, glaring at Hawks with fiery anger in his eyes.

"Aww! Grumpy and jealous," Hawks continued his teasing.

You reached out and ruffled Dabi's hair a little. "That's what made me fall for him."

"Look at you, Dabi," Hawks hummed, "So soft and gentle. So cute!”

"Yeah," Dabi groaned. "Hey! People! It's Hawks! He is here!" 

"Huh! No, no... Keep quiet!” Hawks pleaded, but it was too late. As soon as people realized that it was indeed him, he got surrounded by fans excited to meet their favorite hero.

Dabi used this little commotion and pulled you away. Finally, he had you all to himself again. "That's better."

"You were truly jealous!" You smiled at him, instantly intertwining your fingers with his. "But that was not necessary, now he won't be able to enjoy the festival calmly."

"I don't fucking care if this bird brain will enjoy the festival or not," Dabi rolled his eyes. "He was hitting on you, and this annoyed the fuck out of me."

"Excuse me, he was what?" You tilted your head.

"Are you really that clueless, Y/N?" Dabi growled. "He was hitting on you. Flirting with you, and you are mine, only mine. I don't need that chicken around you."

"No, Dabi! Hawks would never flirt with me, I'm completely opposite of his type!"

"He doesn't have a type. He is attracted to pretty girls, and of course my girl is the prettiest of them all." He said, pulling you closer. "C'mon. We are leaving this place. Just don't give me the sad face, it will be worth it.'

"Oh, already?" You made a sad tone but squeezed his palm. "Sure, then, let's go. Lead the way, handsome!"

"You'll like it," he assured.

Dabi guided you along as you walked together, eventually leading you to a serene hilltop. Seating himself on the soft grass, he pulled you gently onto his lap, enveloping you in a warm embrace with his strong arms.

You put your head on his shoulder. "What are we doing here?"

"You'll see in a moment. Just be patient," he nodded, patting your head.

As you nestled closer to Dabi, a mesmerizing fireworks display began to illuminate the night sky. With each burst of vibrant colors and dazzling patterns, your eyes were captivated, fixated on the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before you. The crackling sounds filled the air, harmonizing with your racing heartbeat as you both stood there, enchanted by the magical display of light and wonder. Time seemed to stand still as you watched the fireworks dance and fade, creating beautiful memories etched in your mind forever. "Look! It's pink! Oh! There! Such a beautiful green!"

Dabi's chin rested on your shoulder, and he pointed at the fireworks. "I can see pretty purple and blue hues there. Those are actually pretty," he admitted, squeezing your waist.

You side-eyed him; he was the most handsome man you've ever came across in your life. Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his cheek. "I love you."

"You are a lucky one," he nodded and suddenly pulled you into a short kiss. "Because I love you too," Dabi added shortly after pulling away.

"Dabi? Promise you will never leave me."

"Why would I leave the only good thing in my whole fucked up life?" Dabi nuzzled to your neck. "Leaving you would be a foolish mistake."

"Please... Don't say like that."

"I tell you how it is, little one. You are the only good thing in my whole life, and I am not letting you go."

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you held him close, enjoying fireworks.

Dabi cuddled you close; it was all he needed. He didn't care if the fireworks were pretty - the fact you were happy and with him by your side was the most important.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

daisy, chapter five

A/N: I'm sorry you've had to wait so long for an update, but I've just had really bad writers block for a while now :(

summary: “sorry, I just couldn’t really concentrate on that damn book with you sprawled out like this."

warnings: private school!reader, perv!steve, smut, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, fingering, the smallest of handjobs, loss of virginity (even though that's not how virginity works lol, but still... first time for p in v), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, the clothes stays on (except for her underwear)

word count: 3020

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As soon as the bus home from school came to a stop in Hawkins, your legs dashed directly towards Steve’s house. 

The history test that you had on Friday had you absolutely shaking in your boots. It didn’t matter that it was a subject that you usually did just fine in, you still felt the overwhelming urge to study every second of every day in order to calm your nerves.

Steve, being the kind person that he was, had instead of pouting when you said that you didn’t have time to hang out, offered for you to come over and study at his house since his parents, as per usual, were absent. He promised to bring you yummy snacks and help quiz you so that you could just concentrate your heart out and keep going till you eventually crashed. 

The perhaps unnecessary mountain of notes you had shown up with today, determinedly clutching them all in your tiny arms, had brought a smile to his lips. When you spread them out all over his bed in neat little categorised piles, he restrained himself from spewing off jokes about your adorable knack for keeping things organised. 

After a while, you’d managed to convince Steve to use the time wisely and study a bit as well. Laying on your stomach, facing the dark metal headboard of his bed, you heard the gentle turning of pages from behind you as he slowly made his way through the no-doubly very boring novel that he had to write an essay on. 

Sitting on the mattress, one of his hands was simply resting on the soft skin of the back of your bare thigh. Occasionally he would brush his thumb over it or move the palm in small soothing patterns, dancing over the exposed skin betwixt the tops of your knee highs and the bottom of your preppy skirt. 

Lifting your eyes off of the page in front of you, you closed them and recited quietly to yourself, “1748, 1753 and 17-…1755?” quickly glancing down to check if you had remembered the old dates correctly. You couldn’t stop the light wiggle your body did in celebration as you skimmed over the page, confirming the answer. Resting your cheek back down in your open palm, you turned the page and kept reading. 

The affectionate contact your boyfriend didn’t dare to break sent warm tingles throughout your body, nearly succeeding in making you sleepy. It was so comforting having him right there. You almost didn’t register when his fingers suddenly began to wander, your lids just grew heavy and your head started to lull, dropping down closer to the open page. 

His soothing touch crept up higher and higher, carefully dipping under the hem of your plaid skirt and eventually making its way up even higher till the tips of his fingers met your backside. Your low reciting of the facts written out on the pages before you slowly transformed into spellbound hums and whimpers. 

He kept his touch feather-light as he sneakily came to play with the edge of your underwear, just barely slipping the tips under the elastic barrier. Without even thinking about it, you sluggishly spread your thighs apart, gliding one knee up to be by your side and giving him plenty of room to play. 

Feeling his touch finally move down to meet your clothed cunt, he pressed down lightly on your throbbing clit, causing your head to drop down the last remaining inches to rest upon the now completely forgotten history book. His fingers must have surely moved from just how intense your pulse was pounding under them, playing with your dancing little pearl like that. 

Just as if you were falling asleep, you closed your eyes and sank into the euphoric feeling.

Teasing you till the echoes of your sticky arousal sloshed around in your ears, you could quite literally feel yourself drip, undoubtedly forming a painfully obvious wet patch underneath his touch. 

“Steve…” you slurred breathlessly, cheek completely squished against the printed painting of some gleaming nobleman.

“Mhm?” he hummed, sounding half dazed himself. 

“I-…” you tried and failed to force your eyes open, “I have-, the test is on Friday…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, lightening his touch. 

“No!” you rushed out, not needing any time to think about the answer. 

You had been going for a while now, probably couldn’t hurt if you took just a little break…

Pinching your puffy, covered lips with his thumb and forefinger, you dug into the sheets, clenching onto the fabric with your fingers and holding back a needy moan. 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t really concentrate on that damn book with you sprawled out like this,” he explained, hooking his pointer finger in the sodden cotton between your legs and dragging it down, “especially in that skirt.”

When his fingers finally returned to your dripping folds, you squeaked, “my skirt?”

“Yeah,” he coated his digits in your essence, “you look so fucking sexy in that uniform,” teasing your quivering hole just long enough to be considered mean, he finally gave you what you wanted and plugged you up with first one and then two of his long, thick fingers. Feeling him bow down closer to your body, he nuzzled his nose in your hair, “the skirt, the socks, all of it,” settling in partly beside you and in some ways also on top of you, he kissed your cheek and pressed his colossal erection against your thigh, grinding into it for some form of relief, “it’s like I’m in a wet fucking dream every time I see you like this,” he groaned into your ear.

Since your eyes were still screwed shut, his hot breath fanning across the side of your face was one of the only indications you had that he was now right there, close enough to kiss. But you couldn't open them even if you wanted to, being so far away in dreamland.

Even though the feeling of his fingers inside of you had become a familiar affair at this point, it still felt too thrilling for your heart to bear. While this time seemed to have been more of just a moment of not being able to resist himself, the rest of the times had been much more intentional. He was on such a determent mission to make you ready for his girth that he had settled into a raunchy routine where it nearly seemed like torture for him if he couldn’t feel your trembling walls cling onto his fingers every single day. 

“Jesus christ you’re wet ace,” he rocked his digits hard inside of you, amplifying the lewd noises, “just listen to how fucking perfect you are.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond as you felt yourself start to slip away into that delicious abyss. So instead, you simply whimpered pathetically into the pages of the book you were supposed to be studying.

“Fuck, you’re so relaxed right now,” he noted, the subtle rustling of his belt completely flew over your dazed head, “bet I could just-“ feeling him act out his filthy thought, he swiftly withdrew his fingers and replaced them with something else. Something much larger…

Straightaway as you felt the very tip of him push just slightly into you, splitting open your entrance, you tumbled over the edge.

A large part of you hadn’t even registered what had happened with his timing being so perfect to when your mind had already decided to melt. But as your excessively loud moans and attempts to bury your body deeper into the mattress subsided, you finally blinked your eyes open and craned your neck to look back at Steve. 

Veins were bulging out on his neck, perhaps it was from the strain of restricting himself the pleasure of just burying himself all the way inside of you, or perhaps it was because of the way your throbbing pussy had now clenched down around him, in some ways sucking him in deeper and in others trying to push him back out. 

“Oh my god,” you floated back down to earth, as your eyes flickered down to see just how tight one of his hands was gripping your bunched-up skirt and the staggering image of what still lingered behind that. His generous length disappeared completely in between your trembling legs. “Oh my god!” your yelp made your cunt flutter and expel the tip from your quaking hole, “Steve! Did you just-, is that-,“ you struggled, completely baffled by what had just happened. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” his purely carnal expression was quickly replaced by one dripping of guilt, “you were just so-, fuck!” he cursed, swiftly distancing himself from you, tugging his painfully hard dick away. 

“Steve,” your tone was completely serious, yet it had no sense of anger or anything akin to that shining through it, “did that really just happen?” it was more like a hint of pride that bubbled out as a small smile crept upon your lips, “did I really just-…” 

It felt like it had been forever now that he had prepared you, filling your head with warnings and perhaps blowing it up into something unnecessarily big and scary. 

“Well, it was just the tip, like barely even the tip-“

“Steve,” you interrupted, turning around completely and forcing his eyes to meet yours, letting him see your bright smile.

“Yeah?” he still sounded like he was more than ready for you to just slap him. 

“That really just happened.” 

“S-shit,” he shuttered, realisation seeming to wash over him and slowly letting a small smile eliminate his worried frown. 

Raising yourself up onto your elbows, you nodded gently for him to meet you halfway. Kissing him deeply as soon as he was in range, the fire still crackling deep within your belly persuaded you to dip your hand down below his loose belt and rub your palm against his hard cock. 

His stifled moan vibrated against your tongue as he fastened his fingers in the roots of your hair. 

Enclosing your fingers around his girth, the tips never quite meet on the other side. “Please Steve,” you purred against his lips, giving his dick a few gentle tugs. 

Pulling back from the kiss, his jaw hung low as he visibly fought to stifle another moan. His dark eyes found yours and he asked, “you sure, ace? I don’t wanna ruin you.”

Flashing him a smile, you shook your head and raised yourself up to kiss him once more, “you won’t ruin me.”

“No,” he tilted his head, denying you the pleasure, “I will.”

His completely severe expression set your inexperienced movements to a screeching halt. “Well,” you bit your bottom lip lightly, unsure of how this would turn out, “what if I want you to ruin me?”

Your warm tone melted him at once. “Jesus fuck,” he cursed, picking up your face with his hands and lowering himself to meet you once more, “I love you.”

Being too giddy now to simply make out with him, you quickly laid back down, snatching your fingers back from his pants so they could instinctually find the buttons of your crisp white shirt.

“Wait,” his fingers came to stop yours, “could you,” his hands cupped your tits, giving them a good enough squeeze to make them swell up in the low opening you had already unbuttoned, “keep it on?”

“Sure,” you couldn’t help but giggle at the staring contest he was winning with your cleavage.

“Fuck,” he shook his head lightly, trying to think straight, “okay, okay… stay right there,” he crawled a bit and then stretched himself out to reach his bedside table, fishing out a small bottle. 

Biting down on your sunny smile, you ogled up at your best friend and brought both of your knees up to your chest, feeling the cold air tickle your sobbing centre. 

“Fuck, okay, are you ready? Do you want anything before? Have you changed your mind?” he settled himself between your soft thighs, one of his hands resting the top of one of your socks, lightly fiddling with it, “because if you have then that’s totally fine-“

“Steve,” you cut him off, hooking a leg around him to keep him from straying away, “just stick it in me, please.”

“You sure you don’t want another orgasm or two?” he freed himself of the restraints of his dark underwear, brows knitting together as he touched himself, eyes wandering over your waiting form, “I could eat you out?”

“Right now, I just want you, I just want your cock,” you were practically aflame in front of his very eyes, “please, that’s all I want.”

Popping open the cap on the small bottle, he squeezed out a generous globe into the palm of his hand. Working it over his length, mixing the lube in with his own little beads of precum, he smirked, “yeah?”

“Please, please, please, please-“ the chants were messy and needy under your breath as he towered over you, lowering himself down to eventually swallow your prays with a kiss. 

Feeling the slickened head of his cock part your folds, he tried to tease you a bit, but your eagerness eventually won as you tightened your hooked leg at just the right moment for the tip to push inside. 

Gasping for air, you ripped away from the kiss. Your big eyes met his searching ones, and you gave him a frantic nod, encouraging him to keep going. 

Easing in just a tiny bit deeper, you winched “ouch,” not quite expecting the pinching stretch to be so severe. 

“Do you need me to stop?” his painfully slow pushing stopped at once.

“No!” you exclaimed quickly, grasping his bicep, “don’t stop, please Steve, do not stop!”

“Okay,” he picked up his slow journey once more, planting a few tender kisses along your brow as laboured breaths flowed out your lips, “I won’t stop.”

His forearms were pinned on either side of your head, caging you in and transporting you to another dimension where all you could see, and all you could feel, was him. 

You already felt so full, you didn’t even feel his pelvis anywhere near your own, yet you still felt so fucking full. 

“Holy shit, you’re so tight, ace,” he nudged his nose against yours. 

Not daring to glance down and check how far you had left to conquer, you simply dug your nails into his tense muscle and heaved, “m-more!”

Locking up his hips, not pushing in any further, he assured you, “you’ve got me ace, you’ve got me,” pure adoration shone through in his breathy voice. 

“But I want all of you,” you pouted, practically clawing at his skin. 

“And you will, I promise,” a hand came up to brush a few wild strands of hair out of your forehead, “just relax, okay?”

Locking his eyes with yours, he breathed in deeply, raising his eyebrows slightly for you to copy. They first came in short as your body was fighting hard to comprehend the new and overwhelming sensation. But in time, they became just as clear and deep as Steve’s was, hovering above you. 

“There you go baby,” he kissed your lips sweetly. Quickly losing yourself to the kiss, you felt him, without warning, begin to pull back out, reversing the movement till only a whisper of him remained. Smiling against your moan, he found an intimately slow rhythm, not seeming to care when your ability to kiss him back began to falter. 

“You’re so fucking amazing, ace,” his sloppy kisses started to wander away from your parted lips, “so warm, so tight, so wet…”

“S-so big,” blubbered out of you as his rhythmic thrusts shook your whole body. 

“Oh yeah?” the tips of his hair tickled your forehead, “too big for you, baby?”

“Too big, too big,” you found yourself agreeing as your mind utterly melted from the stretching pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he smirked, gradually losing more of his caring control, “am I too big for this sweet little virgin pussy or do you think she can take it all, huh?”

“P-please!”

And when he finally let the tip kiss your cervix, impaling you completely, one could have almost been fooled that the strangled cry that you produced was one of agony and not the aching pleasure that rippled through your tender body. 

“Definitely not a virgin anymore, huh ace?” he moaned as he crushed you into the plush mattress below, downright pounding your little cunt, “now you’re just a sweet little slut completely and utterly drunk on my big dick.”

“I lo-love you, I love you, I lov-,“ was all you could chant, blubbering as you creamed all over his cock, seeing the stars themselves.

A messy string of curses and a strangled, “christ, you’re choking me, ace,” flowed out of Steve as he came undone, pumping you full of his sticky, hot load.

You shook in his arms as you both slowly regained your breath. As he carefully pulled himself free of your suction cup-like hole, he checked, “are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay, that was-,” not quite believing that you’d actually just done that, “Steve, that was amazing,” you nearly cried. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? It doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Trying your best to ignore the light stinging of your sore pussy, you admitted, “maybe a little…”

“Ace, I- ,“ but he didn’t get any further as you yanked him down to shut him up with a kiss. You didn’t wanna float back down to earth just yet, you wanted to stay here in the clouds with him, having him hold you and kiss you and feel how his warm cum leaked out of your aching cunt, dripping down and surely staining your blue plaid skirt below.

“Oh,” you let out a sigh of relief against his swollen lips, “kissing helps.”

Feeling a content chuckle fan across your face, “okay ace, I’ll kiss it better for you,” and after a few gentle pecks he purred, “I promise that in no time you will be taking me like a goddamn pro…”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[vodika-vibes]

and in this case I would humbly request a spicy continuation of the Ordo fic 👀😄

💕

I Want To Have All Of You

Summary: Now that you've finally managed to get your first kiss from Ordo...your relationship continues going full speed ahead.

Pairing: Ordo Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 1748

Warnings: Y'all, this is straight up smut. Nothing but smut.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Guys. Guys. I put off lunch for two hours to get this out for you. I'm starving and my hands are shaking, but have some well crafted smut! I'm not going to go make lunch and hope that the pest control guy doesn't show up while I'm making food.

Divider by Saradika

“Come on this side of the couch,” You murmur to Ordo. Ordo who has his forehead pressed against yours. Ordo who’s staring at you like a starving man would look at a steak. Ordo, whose hands are tightly gripping the couch cushion with a white knuckled grip.

“I…” He closes his eyes, and exhales slowly, deeply, and when his eyes open again you can see that he has a tight grip over himself again, “I need to finish securing your shelf, and then I should probably leave.”

Your fingers curl around his shirt, “You don’t have to, Ordo. You can take a break.” You lightly pull him down so his lips are hovering just over yours, and you tilt your head slightly to try and kiss him. 

He moves his head out of reach and you whine low in your throat, “Ordo-”

“Cyare,” the familiar pet name falls from his lips in a sigh, “I only have so much self-control, baby.”

“That’s okay,” You whisper, your hands sliding under his shirt to trail over his stomach, “Can I take this off? Please?”

He sighs again, “Cyare…you’re going to drive me insane.” Ordo’s voice is a low murmur.

“Is that a no?” You ask.

He huffs out a laugh, “It’s not a no, cyar’ika.” You keep your hands on his stomach, not moving your hands at all, though it’s obvious that you want to. Ordo watches you for a moment, and then he laughs and grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side. “There. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” You reply as your hands start sliding up his stomach and over his chest, tracing muscles and scars and the many, many tattoos that cover his torso. “You’re so handsome.” you murmur.

“You talking to me, pretty girl, or my tattoos?” Ordo teases gently. 

You look up at him, and beam at him, “You, of course.” You slide your hand up over his shoulders and wrap your arms around his neck, “You’re perfect…I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Didn’t know you were so possessive, cyar’ika.” Ordo rumbles.

You flush, “Does it bother you?”

“No,” his arms slide around your waist, and he kisses you quickly, almost innocently, and then his lips trail from your lips to your neck, “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He trails his lips to your shoulder, and he absently moves your shirt to the side, before he bites down on the skin there.

You gasp and it very quickly turns into a moan of pleasure. “Ordo-”

He trails his tongue over the red mark rapidly appearing on your skin, “Was that okay?”

You nod mutely, and he clicks his tongue, “You have such a clever little tongue, cyar’ika. Let me hear your words.”

You whine quietly, and he nuzzles your throat with his nose, “Liked it,” You whisper.

He pauses, and then a wicked grin crosses his face, “Oh? What else does my pretty girl like?”

You try to press your face against his neck, and he allows it, for a moment. And then he’s pulling you back and his lips are moving to the opposite side of your neck to leave an identical mark on the opposite side of your neck. 

As he bites down on your neck, you try to pull him closer, but the couch is still in the way, and Ordo is completely immovable. “Come on, cyar’ika.” He coos, “What else do you like?”

“Um…” You try to make your brain focus for long enough to answer his question, “Like being tied up,” You manage to get out through the haze of lust.

“Good girl,” Ordo purrs in your ear and is rewarded with a faint moan from his praise, and then he pauses as the words register, “My good girl likes being praised too.”

You pout at him slightly, and he chuckles.

“No judgment, cyar’ika. Just need to know how to make you feel amazing.” Ordo promises with a light kiss to your wrist, “Do you have any toys, cyare?”

You nod mutely.

He nips your shoulder lightly, “Use. Your. Words.” Ordo warns, “Or this stops.”

“Sorry,” You manage to get out.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika.” He kisses your shoulder, “But that’s the only warning you get.” Ordo presses a series of kisses up your neck, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” He kisses you quickly, and then pulls back, “Take your shirt off, sweet girl.”

You immediately grab the hem of your shirt, and lift it over your head, before you toss it to the side to join his shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Much better.” Ordo murmurs, his lips moving back to your shoulder to continue leaving marks on the newly exposed skin. “Now, my question, cyar’ika.” He reminds you gently.

“I have toys,” You confirm breathlessly, as you squirm under his onslaught. 

Ordo hums and moves his lips to your throat, “Take this off,” he murmurs as he snaps your bra strap, pulling a yelp from your lips. He waits until you're moving to remove the thin material hiding you from his view, before he asks his next question, “You use them often?”

You drop your bra to the floor, and gasp when his lips immediately move to the freshly revealed skin. A moan falls from you as he closes his lips around one of your nipples, “Yes.” You manage to gasp out.

“Since we’ve started dating?” He scrapes his teeth around your nipple and smirks when he hears a soft curse fall from your pretty lips.

“Yes!” You manage to get out.

He moves to your other nipple, “What do you think of, cyare. When you’re playing with yourself at night?” Ordo presses a light kiss against your nipple.

“You,” the word falls from your lips in a moan, “Always you, even before we started dating.” You clarify.

Ordo’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and a string of curses in several different languages fills the room, “You are making it very hard-” You interrupt him with your sudden giggles, and then you yelp when he pinches your side, “Difficult to focus, cyare.”

You flash him the most angelic smile you can, “I’m not doing anything.”

He leans in and kisses you so very lovingly, that you can’t help but to lean into him, “Finish getting undressed, cyare.” Ordo instructs with a small grin.

“Yes sir,” You pause when Ordo’s head falls back and he groans low in the back of his voice, “Oh…you liked that.”

He chuckles softly, “Get undressed, cyare, and I’ll show you just how much I liked it.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you scramble off the couch to slide your shorts down your legs, and toss them in the pile with the rest of your clothing. 

As you do this, Ordo circles around the couch and finally sits, though he still hasn’t removed his pants.

As soon as you’re totally bare, Ordo motions for you to come over to him, which you do eagerly. But he stops you from climbing onto his lap, which puts a pout on your lips. “Ordo-” You whine, as you wiggle your hips to try and tempt him into pulling you onto his lap.

He smirks at you knowingly, “My pretty girl is so needy,” Ordo teases.

“Yes, I am.” You agree with a pout.

“And what do you need, cyar’ika?”

“You. Just you. Always you.” You reply immediately. 

Ordo reaches out and lightly caresses your cheek, and then pulls you onto his lap. He catches your lips with his own, his teeth and tongue working in unison to leave you arching against him and breathless.

His name falls from your lips in a breathy moan as his hands trail down your sides. Ordo considers you for a moment, and then he takes one of your hands, in his and he presses a light kiss to each of your fingers, “Show me how you like to be touched.” He orders you softly.

The angle is a little awkward, which he apparently agrees with, as he lifts you off his lap and lays you down on the couch, your head nestled against the arm of the couch, while one of your legs is draped across his lap and the other is bent. 

“Show me, cyare.” He murmurs softly.

Your fingers drift down your body, and dip between your thighs. You gather some of your arousal on your fingers and then swirl your finger around your clit. You’re already wound so tightly from Ordo’s actions, that you know it won’t take long before you to fall over the edge.

And then you feel Ordo’s lips against your ankle, and your breath hitches. “Ordo-”

“Mm, I’m here, cyare.” His breath is warm against your leg as his lips trail from your ankle and up your calf, “You gonna cum over your fingers?” he asks, “Gonna make a mess of yourself. I bet you’re gorgeous when you’re falling apart. Show me, baby. Let me see it.”

Your finger moves a little bit faster, and you squirm slightly on the couch, and his name falls from you like a prayer for salvation. 

“That’s right, cyar’ika. Fall apart for me,” Ordo coos as he moves so he’s able to press his lips to your hips, “Fall apart for me and I’ll give you exactly what you want. Stars, you look so good like this. I bet you’re going to feel amazing around me, so warm and wet-” He nips your hip, and a stuttering moan falls from you. 

“Just like that,” Ordo breathes out, “So good. Such a good girl for me,” He praises, “doing exactly what I say.”

The combination of the praise coming from him, the feel of his teeth and lips on your overheated skin, and the sensation of your finger rapidly circling your clit is too much, and with a stuttering cry of his name, you fall over the edge. 

It takes you a minute to come down from your high, and you smile at Ordo when you see him lazily trailing his finger over your hip, “Ordo,” You murmur his name. “Did I do good?” You ask.

“You did great, cyar’ika.” He gathers you into his arms, and kisses you slowly, deeply. “Do you think you can keep going?”

“Yes,” Your answer is immediate.

And he chuckles and stands with you securely in his arms, “Not to worry, cyare, I’ll take care of you.”

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 9: A Heart Fish

Pairing: Mer Commander Cody x Reader, background Codywan

Summary: You end up going on a quest with a weird fish that’s actually something far more important.

Author’s note: There is a not so secret Codywan agenda. I’m not sorry. It’s implied you and Obi-wan are just friends while you both are in a relationship with Cody. But I mean… who knows what happens after the end of the fic.

Warnings: Some swearing. Obi-wan and Cody both being depressed after Order 66.

Word Count: 1748

Prompt: Something strange is caught in our net, a bulbous fluttering fish with no face. “Mermaid hearts live outside their bodies,” says the captain. “Bizarre to catch one this close to shore.”

Prompt 3033 by deepwaterwritingprompts.

Something strange is caught in your net, a bulbous fluttering fish with no face. “Mermaid hearts live outside their bodies,” says the captain. “Bizarre to catch one this close to shore.”

“Now you know that’s not true, cap.” You say with a roll of your eyes. However, the faceless fish still unnerves you; it is definitely magic of some kind. You get a bucket of sea water and set the strange fish inside. You watch as it slowly moves around in circles; actually half the crew is now doing the same thing as you.

“It is a mermaid heart.” Another sailor argues.

“Come on-”

“I’m serious. I’ve been to Mandalore a few times while working on a Merchant ship. Don’t ask what exactly happens, but I saw a Mer carrying a fish like that in a tank. And when I asked about it, all they would say is ‘it was part of him.’ What else could that mean?”

You stare down at the odd fish then back out at the watery horizon. If this really was a Mer heart, where the hell was the Mer it belongs to?

The hot sun blazes down on you and your new companion when you return to Mos Espa’s port. The Mer has still not come for it and it bothers you. You take your paycheck and begin to head home. The fish just continues to swim in circles around the bucket; sometimes it changes speed when you talk to it, but that’s about as close as you get to any kind of reaction to anything.

It continues on like this for a few weeks as you wait for the Mer to arrive at Mos Espa. You find yourself having full on conversations with the fish, who now stops at the side of the bucket to listen to you; you joke they’re a better listener than most people are.

An entire month goes by with still no one coming. You end up having to take your new pet with you on your next fishing job. This time the ship stops at Mos Eisley on the other side of the island to sell the fish before returning.

The moment you set foot on land the fish began to go crazy. It starts banging against the side of the bucket. You panic at first, but quickly realize it wants you to go in the direction it’s pointing; it relaxes and just points its non-existent face in that direction as you begin to follow.

“You can’t be serious?” You pause at the edge out the port city and look out into the barren desert. The fish begins banging again and so you whisper a prayer to any diety that might hear you before you turn around.

“I’m getting us an Eopie.” You grumble to your fishy companion. “One second.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I think I’m lost.”

“You would have to be to come all the way out here.” The hermit kindly offered you a moment of reprieve from the hot sun as your ride takes a break.

“Would you believe me if I said I was following a Mermaid heart?” He freezes before turning to critically analyze you. A chill goes up your spine even in the hot weather.

“Show me.” You stare at Ben a moment before heading over to your sattle and supplies. You had covered it up in a few thin blankets to help protect the water from evaporating. His blue eyes grow wide before tearing up; the fish is pointing directly at him.

“It’s you.” You gasp. “It was looking for you.” Ben gently sticks his hand in the water and the fish cuddles into him. The man presses his lips together tightly.

“He… He’s been looking for me.” He mutters to himself as he slowly moves his hand out of the water even though it seems he doesn’t want to. Ben then waves for you to follow him inside.

Over the next few days, you are told a long and fascinating story. A part of your mind is still reeling from the fact your talking to a real Jedi, the only beings able to use any kind of magic. Of course there were certain specialized spells that were almost always out of reach; myths of a Sea Alor being able to control every aspect of a hurricane or a powerful harpy calling the air out of a person's lungs were still whispered about from time to time. However the majority of Jedi prefer to use telekinetic and spatial magic while wielding their kyber swords.

There are parts of the story that he is leaving out like why he chose to hide here, but you leave them be. In short, Ben, or Obi-wan, had slowly fallen for his second in command during the war and the feeling had been mutual. At least, he had thought it was. Commander Cody had turned on him just like the entire Mer clone army had done to all the Jedi almost a year ago. Obi-wan had barely escaped and now lives here in hiding. However, the fact that Cody’s heart had sought him out complicated things.

“Mer heart fish, while defenseless and make any Mer easy to kill, are some of the most intense sources of raw sea magic. They can do things a normal Mer could not like…”

“Tracking you.” You finish softly. Obi-wan nods as he watches the fish swim in slow circles.

“We never had an official bond or made any kind of deal, but genuine bonds of any kind are sacred to the Mer. Loyalty and family mean everything. He was able to follow me just with that.” The Jedi fades off into silence as you both sit there. There is something more he wishes to say, but it takes him a moment to compose himself. There is a deep sadness in the air.

“Also, Mer heart fish can only be created under very specific circumstances. A heart can only leave a Mer’s body if an emotion is too powerful for them to bear. And this fish was made from sorrow, guilt, and loneliness.” So that was how he knew Cody meant him no harm. You look at the fish again as the Jedi runs a hand down his face.

“So what happens now?” Obi-wan turns to look out the window. The hot winds swirl around the deserted landscape.

“From what I can gather, it’s taken him so long to get here because he’s using a very convoluted route to keep the Empire off his trail. He’ll be here soon though.” You jolt in your chair and almost fall over. Obi-wan barely catches your arm before you hit the ground.

“Should I leave?” You ask nervously as he helps steady you. The Jedi’s eyes grow wide before he looks at you confused. “I mean… he’s been looking for you. Why should I be here? I’d only be intruding.”

“But that’s not…” The Mer heart begins banging on the bucket interrupting Obi-wan.

“See I told you Cody just wants to see you. I’m just happy I was able to get his heart where it needed to go.” He doesn’t stop you this time as you head out the door; you ignore the way the Mer heart continues to bang on the bucket.

Back in Mos Eisley, you prepare to head back to your home port. Even though Obi-wan’s home was toward the heart of the island, it was still faster to head back the way you came to get home; the island of Tatooine was quite large and the rough terrain and creatures just made the journey a bit too difficult alone.

“Why are you here?” You jump before you turn around to meet a hooded man. As you look at his face, you notice the scar that went around his left eye like in Obi-wan’s description and the exact facial features you had seen a million times on flyers.

“Cody?” You whisper tentatively. He nods as he moves a bit closer. He points to a nearby alley and you follow.

“Why aren’t you still with General Kenobi?” You half smile at hearing the use of his old military title. Something feels off about what had happened; Cody obviously loved Obi-wan so the betrayal made no sense.

“I… your heart went looking for him. Why would you want to meet me?” You half joke only to watch the man shift a little uncomfortably.

“I hear and feel what it does.” Cody admits quickly. It takes you a moment to process that and your face burns. Oh Maker.

“I’m so sorry. I…” He shakes his head.

“I want to get to know you. Please don’t go.” He holds out his hand and smiles you. “My heart is…” He stops, trying to find a different word to use. Cody lets out a sigh when he can’t.

“A bit captivated with you. I was seeking you out first for more than just getting my heart back.” Your mind goes completely blank. This whole situation is insane. However, the honesty and genuine admittance makes you want to combust. You’re flattered and embarrassed all at once.

He offers a hand to you. With how he keeps looking away from you, he’s just as uncomfortable as you are. Not knowing what to say, you just take his hand and allow him to lead you back toward the edge of the city. To your surprise, you see the Jedi with another eolpie waiting for you and Cody to share.

“You’re in love with Obi-wan.” You state softly and he nods with a slight blush. “Then why…?”

“Is sharing completely out of the question?” He asks seriously, but gently. “I would still like to get to know you after everything. Even if it was just as friends.”

You take the trip back to think about it, leaning against Cody’s back as you travel through the sand. You look over at Obi-wan and think about how he tried to stop you from leaving; he had been able to tell what Cody felt about you from the heart fish and didn’t have a problem with it. You look up at Cody’s face and bask in his handsome features and kind eyes.

“I think I can share.” The smile he gives you is warm and comforting even after everything he had been through. It is at that moment you know without a shadow of a doubt you are gonna fall head over heels.

[dino-boyo-agere]

Not On Valentine's Day

╰→ Steddie AgeRe fanfic

[Word count: 1748] holy crap, that's a big boi!

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Character info:

Steve - Age Regressor (lil age 3-ish)

Eddie  - caregiver ("Poppa")

Plot:

Steve deals with immense pressure, caused by him planning a elaborate Valentine's Date for Eddie, while desperately trying not to slip into little space.

Tw! Angst, Hurt & comfort, mention of: impure regression, mental health, self loathing, anxiety & intimacy.

╰→ It's all kept SFW!!

! Age Regression is not a k*nk !

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

Steve felt like he was going to burst under all this pressure, it was to much. He planned and prepared a romantic valentine's date...

Well, he wasn't quite done yet, even though it was already Feburary 14th.

It was still in the early hours of the morning, but nonetheless, his anxiety was through the roof. He barely got any sleep and he still had so much to do. Steve whished he could just curl up infront of the TV, in his PJs, eating fruit loops and- 

Oh, no..

He could feel himself beginning to slip.

No, he can't have that, not today, darnit..

"Get it together, Harrington.." he mumbled to himself, slightly slapping his own cheek, as a means to stay aware, stay alert, stay big.

He wanted this day to be perfect.

He wanted tonight to be a romantic and.. hecc.. intimate experience with Eddie. Not whatever his stupid, effed up brain wanted to make out of it.

He won't- no.. He can't let himself ruin this for Eddie, not again..

Why did he always have to make everything about himself? Eddie deserved better. He deserved a nice, romantic date, in which he would be the center of attention. And Steve was going to make that happen, today.

He pushed aside the self-destructive thoughts and his urge to regress, focusing soely on making this work. On making this day perfect, for Eddie.

So, he continued with the preparations to make this happen.

He went all out, exhausting himself more and more in the process.

The whole ordeal also took him way longer than anticipated, since he continually had to fight slipping.

While cleaning the house, he constantly got distracted by finding toys or other 'little stuff'.

Whilst cooking a fancy three course meal, he found it frustratingly hard to read and understand the recipe, resulting in him having to start over two times.

He had to calm himself down and remind himself that monsters aren't real, before being able to enter the cellar, so he could pick out one of the most expensive whines from his parents collection.

Upon selecting some romantic movies, he had to resist just throwing in- and watching a cartoon.

He had to give up on the idea of building a blanket fort, while making the bed.

When he took a shower, he denied himself using his 'spiderman shampoo', though he really wanted to.

And as he picked his clothes, Steve had to go with something elegant, instead of his cozy footed PJ's he so desperately wanted to snuggle up in.

Hopelessly klinging on to his big headspace, Steve had to remind himself to stay focused on the mission, constantly.

In the evening, he was finally done, right before Eddie arrived.

He embraced his boyfriend with a hug and excitedly explained his plans for the day.

Steve could still feel his brain being fuzzy, though he eagerly tried to hide it.

Eddie could tell that something was bothering Steve, he avoided eye contact and seemed to be restless. Always jumping up 'to get-' or 'because he forgot something'. 

So, he asked his boyfriend if everything was alright.

Steve just shrugged him off, stating: "Oh, yeah. It's- I'm just a little tired, that's all. And so excited for today, really."

Eddie knew he was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth, but he didn't want to push it, so he just accepted Steve's explanation and moved on from the topic.

The date was going great.

Their food was delicious and they've snuggled up infront of the TV, watching some cheesey romance movies. They liked judging- and making fun of the stupid decisions characters tend to make.

Under the blanked, Eddie started gently caressing Steve's thigh. As he was just about to lean in for a passionate kiss, he stopped right in his tracks, when he saw Steve's face. A look of unease, or even fear, in his glazed eyes.

Eddie knew that look. He knew it too well.. This was the look of a- no, of his deeply afflicted darling boy.

Immediately, he lifted his hand from the boys leg, ever so gently placing it on his cheek instead.

He rubbed his thumb against the soft skin lovingly & with such vigilance, as to not scare Steve further.

"Oh, oh baby, I'm so sorry." Eddie said, his voice shaking from guilt and hurt, for almost harming his little one.

He felt like punching himself in the face. How didn't he catch that sooner?!

He almost kissed his little one passionately, hasn't he looked up in time. What kind of awful Caregiver would he be if..

Eddie could feel his stomach turn at the thought of that.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated.

Steve was perplexed, at first.

He didn't notice how far he had already slipped, cuddled up on the couch like that.

He wasn't fully regressed yet, still capable of thinking  somewhat adult-ish. But it was definitely noticable that he wasn't fully there.

Nonetheless, he wanted to play it off, he's come so far, he won't let himself ruin this for Eddie.

"N- no, it's okay.. look." Steve tried to sound as convincing as possible, leaning in for a kiss, desperately pushing away the feeling of unease and disgust. Attempting to assure, not just Eddie, but himself aswell.

'Eddie is my boyfriend, darn it.. Why do I have to be so weird about this.. He's not disgusting..I should just kis-'

Eddie stopped his thoughts and advances, backing away, while gently holding Steve at arms length by his shoulders.

"Whoa there, Kiddo.. What are you- That's not appropriate!" He exclaimed.

Eddie was mortified.

Something was clearly affecting his little one in a very negative way and he had to know what it was. He had to know how he could help him.

Steve, meanwhile, grew frustrated.

"What do you mean 'not appropriate'? You're my boyfriend and boyfriends kiss." He snapped at the bewildered man in front of him.

Eddie remained calm.

"Yes, I am your boyfriend, when you are big-Steve. When you are little-Steve, I am your Poppa. And right now you are not big, Buddy." He explained, his voice assertive but tender.

Tears formed in Steve's eyes, prompting Eddie to pull him into a warm hug, kissing the top of his head. "It's okay, Darling. I've got you. You can talk to me." He reassured his little one.

Steve began sobbing, slipping further into his regression.

He started apologizing. "I'm s- so sor-ry. I ruined valentine days. I aways ruin tings an I'm aways se- selfish.. sorry.. sorry."

He was unbelievably upset with his actions and ashamed for again making everything about himself..

At least that's how he viewed the situation.

Eddie tightened the hug.

"Don't say that. You didn't ruin anything, nor are you selfish in any way.-"

His attempt to comfort Steve was interposed by the latter, who was vehemently fighting his regression once again.

"Yes, I did an- and yes, I am.. I always do this.. I- it's always just.. me. Me. ME.. This was sup- supposed to be y- you day. So.. so I tried to.. just.. s- suck it up.. and.. and.."

Steve was visibility shaking, when Eddie interrupted his rambling.

".. and just kiss me? Disregarding your own emotions? Ignoring how you felt unsafe and uncomfortable?"

Tears where forming in his eyes now aswell, at the thought of his Darling having to deal with such harmful thoughts, all on his own. Eddie's body also began to tramle too.

Steve looked up at him, having fully slipped now. Besides, he was to exhausted to fight it any longer anyways.

*¹ "Is sowwy. I kno it bad foa meh. I jus' wan u to be happeh. sowwy, Poppa."

He sniffled into his caregivers chest.

Eddie pulled him even closer.

"Steve, Darling.. I love you." He could feel hot tears running down his cheeks.

"Wether you're big or small. I'm more than excited to spend valentine's day with you." The boy in his arms looked up at him, wiping away a tear from his caregivers face, before letting him continue.

"I don't care if we eat fancy cuisine or dino nuggets. I don't care if we watch a romantic movie or cartoons. I don't care if we get intimate or just cuddle." He paused again, to kiss Steve's forehead.

"I am happy, as long as I am with you. So.." Eddie tightened his hug, pulling his Darling closer once more.

"..just let me be with you, whichever you it may be. Please stop trying to hide yourself, to try and accomodate me."

He loosened the hug, to gently grab Steve's face with both hands, lovingly looking into his eyes. "I love you, Steve. I love each and every part of you and that'll never change, ever."

Eddie was full on crying now.

Both of them embraced in a tight hug again, weeping into each others sweaters.

They stayed like that for a little while.

As the sniffling and sobs slowly subsided, Eddie could hear a soft whisper. So quiet, he couldn't make out what was said.

"Sorry, Stevie. I didn't quite catch that. What did you say? Could you repeat it for me, Darling?" Eddie asked softly, rubbing his little one's back.

"Pwomise?" Steve repeated, intently staring at his carer's hoodie strings, with which he was fiddling.

Eddie immediately understood what he was referring to.

"Promise. I'll always love you as you are, Sweetheart." He promptly answered and placed a kiss on Steve's forehead.

*² "Wuv yuh too, foreva.. pomise." The boy replied, now sleepily chewing on the strings of Eddie's hoodie, his eyes half closed.

He was exhausted..

Exhausted from all the planning and preparing.

Exhausted from trying to fight slipping all day.

Exhausted from crying so much.

Exhausted from having to deal with all those big feelings for so long.

After sitting there, cuddling for a while, Eddie got up. He turned on some soft music on his speakers, before carrying his Darling Boy to bed.

Kissing his forehead again, he whispered: "Happy Valentines day, Stevie." into the little one's hair, before closing his eyes aswell.

Steve knew he was safe now. In Eddie's arms, he was home.

His strength was barely enough to give a dazed "mhmm" in response.

Eddie was content with that answer. With Steve in his arms, he was home.

They layed like that, tangled up in each other's arms, snuggling, until they fell into a deep and much needed slumber.

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

I hope you liked my little Valentine's Day story.

& thank you so much for reading!

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

Footnotes:

╰→ (Stevie's Baby-Talk Translation)

*¹ "I'm sorry. I know it's bad for me. I just want you to be happy. sorry, Eddie."

*² "I love you too, forever. I promise."

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

Banner by @froggy-clubhouse !!!

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#nates stories

[blurscolours]

The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Part Ten

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Reading From a Romance Novel, Mature/Explicit Themes [manual stimulation - m receiving] - 18+ only.

Word Count: 1748

Author's Note: The extractions from Julia Quinn's The Duke and I are entirely property of HarperCollins and included in tribute to her fantastic talents. This story is for entertainment purposes only and not for monetary gain.

The heat broke at last with a string of thunderstorms, keeping the weekenders away and the two of you inside. You had settled on the veranda to read after cleaning up following lunch, you on the daybed looking out over the lake, him in the rocking chair beside you. He had only a few pages left in a biography of Winston Churchill, and you heard him set the book down on the table.

“Did you need a new book?” You asked, looking up to him.

“I will find one, don’t worry.” He kissed your temple as he passed you on his way to the bookshelf, returning with one of the smutty romance novels he had watched you read. You looked up as he sat at the end of the daybed and gently parted your legs, smiling as he settled his back against your chest, his head resting against your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around his waist warmly. You had found he enjoyed being held – with the stories he had told you it was no surprise. In fact, it was your pleasure to shower him with affection and comfort.

As he lifted the book, a laugh burst forth from your lips as the title of Julia Quinn’s ‘The Duke and I’ came into view.

“Are you aware that is an entirely different genre than what you have been reading?”

He nodded, undeterred.

“Your heartbeat was quite rapid at times when you were reading this last week. I am intrigued.”

You flushed and bit your lip, turning back to your own novel; a more serious one this time, in your defense.

The next two hours passed peacefully until he shifted slightly, over halfway through the book, and looked up to you.

“This book is quite erotic.” He commented and you cleared your throat.

“True.” You replied quietly, slightly embarrassed to have been caught, even after the fact. Focusing on your book intently, you missed the wicked smirk that cross his features.

“Daphne’s breath fled as she watched him slide the silk slowly from side to side, the sweet friction causing her nipples to pucker and harden.” Your body went rigid as he started to read aloud from the novel, the words positively sinful when delivered by his voice.

The grin that unfurled on his features as he felt your reaction was positively devious. He continued from further down the page.

“With deft and knowing fingers, Simon slid the rest of her clothes from her body; until she was nude in his arms….”

He continued to read the steaming words from the page, and you noted his voice was taking on a husky quality. You set down your book and bit you lip as you wondered if you could best him at his own game. Your hands began to slide down again his sides and you noticed the shudder in his breath, but he continued to read aloud the wedding night of the two characters. As your hands reached his hips, they traversed across his lower abdomen to meet over the fly of his shorts. A thrill of triumph raced through you as you could feel his growing erection beneath the fabric.

You massaged his groin encouragingly and his words stuttered before he went silent. You leaned down to nibble lightly on the tip of his ear.

“Well, don’t stop now…” You own voice betrayed your arousal as you fairly purred the statement.

He shuddered with a groan but after a deep breath, he continued reading as requested. Your tongue traced the shell of his ear as you worked his shorts and underwear down his thighs, just enough to grasp his rapidly hardening cock.

“Simon felt her thighs slide apart as he settled his body against hers, his manhood hot against her belly…”

You licked your lips and stroked his flesh, shifting down to nip and suck the column of his throat as your other hand cupped his testicles softly. He had been such a generous lover; it gave you great satisfaction to focus your attention solely on him. You felt the moisture of a bead of precum slide down his cock and you cupped it in your fist, tightening your grasp around him.

You cast your eyes about for the bottle of lotion you knew was out there on the veranda and continued to stroke him as you pumped a few squirts into your palm, wrapping your second hand around his length and ensured he was well lubricated before your hands moved in tandem along his skin. The sentence he had been reading broke off into a moan emanating from somewhere deep inside him. It reverberated through your chest, egging you on. You slid your thumb to begin teasingly the tip of his cock, circling the head, gathering more beads of precum from the slit.

“He began to move within her…” he continued shakily, his exhales heavily laden with pleasure.

You slid your right hand down to the base of his cock, following it with your left, repeating the downward sliding motion slowly as the coupling in the book grew in intensity.

“He moved ever faster, his teeth gritted as he fought to maintain his control…” he rasped, his hips rutting up into your hands.

As your right hand started at the tip of his cock again, you wrapped only your thumb and forefinger around his girth and began to rapidly stroke it up and down his weeping length. The fingers of his free hand dug into your left thigh and his head arched back, eyes screwed shut as he panted and groaned eagerly. You latched your lips onto the tender flesh behind his ear and you suckled at his skin. In preparation for his release, your free hand splayed across his lower abdomen, sliding upwards, his shirt catching at your wrist and exposing the fluttering muscles of his stomach.

“Ahn!” He cried out, very close. He was panting your name and fully bucking his hips in time with your strokes. You added your middle finger to your motions, positioning it so it traced along the sensitive connection between the head and shaft of his cock. Curses of Atlantean origin fell from his lips and he let the book fall to the floor to allow for his other hand to grasp your right thigh. He thrust his hips harshly, thick white ropes of cum painting his stomach as his release exploded from him. You wrapped your hand around him fully once again, stroking slowly and gently to prolong his pleasure.

He shuddered from head to toe as the waves of pleasure receded, and you felt his weight press fully against your chest as he went lax. You kissed his cheek softly, grabbing some tissues from the side table and wiping his stomach clean before gently redressing him. His hands were sliding up and down your thighs in gentle affection, but he didn’t quite seem capable of speech at the point.

“It is quite an enjoyable read, is it not?” You asked cheekily and he managed a nod. You kissed his temple and shifted back against the pillows, stroking his hair and eyebrows until his breaths deepened and slowed as sleep took him. You grinned to yourself in triumph before resuming your read.

As he was waking about an hour later, the sky was also beginning to clear, a refreshing wind from the North bringing a clear twilight sky and cooler temperatures. While you were grateful for the more comfortable weather, it reminded you that summer was coming to a close, that you only had one week left out here.

You felt Orm rise and turn in your arms before he kissed you slowly – lovingly even. You blushed at the affection radiating from his actions and licked your lips as he pulled back.

“What troubles you?” He murmured; voice still thick with sleep.

“The passage of time.” You replied ambiguously before adding, “I’m going home in a week, and we still haven’t heard a thing from Arthur.”

He nodded thoughtfully, shifting to sit beside you. His fingers twined with yours and you smiled a little.

“The lack of news is troubling. I am certain he did not intend to be dealing with this for the length of time it has taken.”

You nodded firmly. “Exactly…we should start thinking about what to do if we’ve had no news by Friday…I have to leave Saturday to get home and ready for…well real life the following week.”

It was a sobering thought, for both of you. The last three weeks had been so isolated, in your own world centered on the pair of you, that the ‘before’ felt foreign now. Your life without him. You felt a flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. How on earth could Orm fit into your normal life outside of this cottage in the woods…

His fingers squeezed yours softly, seeming to have sensed your inner turmoil. You turned to look at him.

“We will find a solution.” He said solemnly and lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your features relaxed a little and you nodded, kissing his cheek.

“Thank you.” You smiled a little and he pressed his lips to your reassuringly.

He took a shower while you made dinner. As you were standing in the kitchen your lower back began to ache a little and you tried some stretches to relieve the discomfort. You had been so focused on bringing him pleasure, who knew what position you had contorted yourself into.

He came into the kitchen, finding you in a forward fold as the rice cooked on the stove.

“I am not sure what you are doing…” He commented as his feet came into view first.

“Oh, my back is just bothering me…another human talent…random, unexplainable pain.” You laughed and carefully straightened to stand.

“Let me clean up tonight, then. The dishes will dry in the rack on the counter.” He insisted.

You didn’t argue with his offer and once you’d finished eating, you retired to the couch, finding a comfortable position. You watched quietly as he dealt with leftovers, compost, and washed all the dishes – he looked surprisingly domestic and quite at home in the kitchen – so much had changed in the past three weeks.

He coaxed you to bed early that evening, simply holding you once you had found a comfortable position. Somehow, it felt like the most intimate thing you had ever done, merely falling asleep in his warm embrace.

Read Part Eleven

Masterlist

[lifeofkaze]

Stars Above

A/N: This story was written for @hp-12monthsofmagic November prompt "Remember, remember." Warning: dealing with grief, death of a family member

Castle Combe, 1979

“Orville, Gregory. Parish constable. 1671 - 1715.”

“Okay, how about this one?”

“Weaver Penelope. Seamstress. 1748 - 1782.”

“And this?”

The voices of the two children carried clearly through the older part of the Castle Combe graveyard. It wasn’t the most common place to play but people passing them by on their way into the old church of St Andrew's hardly took notice of their presence. The Campbell children had always been odd; no one really questioned them. 

“Franklin, Edmond. Cheesemonger. 1815 - 1835. Struck dead by a cheese wheel falling onto his head.”

The little girl walking behind the rows of weathered graves stopped short in her tracks.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“But I do.”

“How?”

The older boy, with the same gold-blond hair as his sister, drew his lips into a patient smile. “It’s called research, Ava.” 

Ava made a frustrated noise. They had been playing for the better part of an hour now, and Jamie was five correctly guessed - no, not guessed; remembered - historical dates ahead of her. Her count had been better than average but she had messed up the baker’s daughter and the old vicar. Frustrated, she sank into the grass in front of Miller, Adelaide, 1813 - 1878.

“Why must you always be so clever?” she asked Jamie with a wrinkled nose. 

“Runs in the family, I believe,” Jamie laughed, but not unkindly. “Maybe some of it will rub off on you eventually.” 

“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.” Ava paused. Quietly, she said, “It’s going to be lonely without you, once you’re back at school.” 

“First term is only until Christmas. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Promise?”

Jamie raised his hand towards Ava, little finger outstretched. “I’ll always be there for you, Ava. I’m your brother, am I not?” 

Smiling, Ava hooked her little finger beneath her brother’s. “Forever?”

“For as long as there are stars above.” 

1987 

Castle Combe had gone dark. The wind had picked up earlier and was chasing heavy clouds over the sky. It lifted Ava’s hair off her shoulders as she slipped from her parents’ house unnoticed. Quietly, she walked through the deserted village streets. When she reached the graveyard, Jaime was already there. 

He stood in front of the grave of Miller, Adelaide, pensively watching the stone that had only crumbled more and more since the last time he and Ava had visited the graveyard together.

“You’re back.”

Ava had stopped a good deal from her brother, having to raise her voice not to be drowned out by the hissing of the wind. It didn’t matter. Jamie had known she was there from the moment she had stepped foot onto the leaf-littered grass. He turned, a solemn expression on his face. 

“I felt like there were some things I needed to explain.” 

“Go on then.”

“I don’t think you understand what it meant to me, Ava,” he said, taking a step towards her. “The Vaults are a mystery, a myth, to all of our kind. This was my chance to find out something nobody has before, to be looked up to for what I’ve achieved.”

“I’ve always looked up to you.”

Jamie’s rush of words ceased. He fell quiet, until eventually he said urgently, as if he wanted desperately for Ava to believe him, “I never thought it would blow up like it did but I couldn’t stop. I needed to keep everybody safe.”

“You didn’t keep Olivia safe.”

She didn’t raise her voice but her words hit home regardless. The fire that had burned behind his eyes went out.

“No,” he echoed tonelessly. “No, it didn’t. But the toll needed to be paid. There was no other way.”

“Hadn’t you meddled with the Vaults to begin with, there would have been no need.” 

“Why don’t you understand? I needed to know!”

He had moved forward, extending his hand toward Ava, who recoiled from him. 

“There are more important things than what we want, Jamie.”

“Is there?” His eyes were flashing angrily. “As if you didn’t meddle. You followed all the clues, just like I did, and —“

“To find you, to save you! Because I thought you were my brother!”

“I am your brother, Ava,” Jamie said. His gaze had an intensity to them that would have made Ava shiver if not for the sheer force of her own will. “Believe what you will, but we’re alike, you and I. I will always be your brother…”

Ava closed her eyes, not wanting him to say the words.

“… for as long as there are stars above.”

She took a shuddering breath, making herself look the boy - the man - who had once been the centre of her world and was now a stranger in the eye. Her voice was icy as she spoke.

“You are no brother of mine.” 

1988

As if to mock their grief, the sun shone down brilliantly and bright on the graveyard and the small group of mourners clad in black. 

Not many people had come. It was mainly family who had gathered, some distant relatives and the odd person from the village but Ava was fine with it. Not like there were many people left to mourn her brother’s death. 

The service in the cool shadows of St Andrew’s passed her by. Then they went outside, where the vicar continued droning on next to the hole in the ground that would soon harbour Jaime’s dead body. Ava kept her eyes fixed on it, as much to keep herself from snapping at the old man in front of her as to not look at the coffin waiting to be buried in the earth. 

When the draw of the polished oakwood became too overwhelming she shifted, letting her eyes wander over the assembled mourners. Her relatives were there, Carolyn Pendleton with Ava’s aunts and uncles. Their - her - cousin Mina had tried taking her hand during the service earlier, but Ava had drawn away from her sympathy and pity.

Behind her, Ava’s parents were standing arm in arm, looking aged beyond their years. There was an almost physical tension extending from them towards her, burning with the need to hold her, hold onto their only remaining child, but Ava remained at a distance, just far enough to not seem strange and still be out of reach. She couldn’t bear to be touched; not by anyone, but especially not by them. 

Not when it was her fault.

Everything was her fault. 

Her uncles stepped forward to help lower the coffin into the ground as the mourners sang a solemn song, and Ava closed her eyes not to watch her brother’s remains disappear. Pictures flashed before her inner eye, of a dark, dark forest looming around her, and her brother’s voice telling her not to go there alone. She had thought she was clever enough, as clever as him, that she could handle finding the last Vault by herself, that she could handle the Vaults by herself.

She had been so wrong.

Rakepick had found her in a clearing, had stepped from the shadows as if she’d been a part of the darkness pervading the trees. She had drawn her wand and pointed it at Ava, eyes hard and gleaming. She had told her something about a curse, a blood toll that needed to be paid. That was what had been agreed; that was what needed to be honoured.

She had said more but Ava hadn’t understood a word. All she had seen was the glowing tip of Rakepick’s wand, aiming for her heart. 

She hadn’t even known Jamie was there. She never heard his footsteps, or him shouting her name when he suddenly appeared, flinging himself between her and the curse, crumbling to the ground like a broken ragdoll. 

Ava and Rakepick stared at each other, then at Jamie’s body lying on the ground. Hoarsely, Rakepick whispered, “The toll has to be paid, one way or another.”

Then, she disappeared. 

She left behind deafening silence, only broken by a shuddering gasp as Ava moved forward. The gasp turned into a scream as she collapsed onto her brother’s dead body, crying, cursing, wanting him to come back, begging him to, but he didn’t, he couldn’t, he would never, never again.

Night had fallen when Ava snuck from her room and back toward the graveyard. There were flowers everywhere, left by the mourners and others who had come after the service had concluded. Ava stood over the colourful sea of petals and ribbons decking the freshly upturned earth, thinking how obscene it was to celebrate Jamie’s death in a way that his life never had been. 

She sat down before the tombstone, drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. She stared at the letters etched into the stone without really seeing them, just looking, before finally - finally - the tears were starting to fall. 

1999

The night was dark and drenched in rain. It fell from protruding roofs and hanging branches, cloaking the small village and its graveyard in a shroud of rainfall. Many fresh graves had been dug here lately but the one Ava was drawn to was older. She walked past the rows of crosses and stone angels like in a dream, her feet taking her on familiar paths, past memories of different times, a different life.

Orville, Gregory, parish constable. 

Weaver, Penelope, seamstress.

Franklin, Edmond, unfortunate cheesemonger.

Then, Miller, Adelaide. 

She stood, swallowing hard.

Campbell, Jamie. 

It had been years since she’d been here. She stared at the grave in silence, barely recognising the plants and candles that had been set into the pitch-black earth. The cold wind coming from the East hit her bare neck, making the pendant resting against her skin feel like a lump of ice. Shivering, Ava wished for something to keep herself warm but there was nothing that would help. She covered the big red scar spanning her abdomen; she hadn’t felt warm in weeks. 

“Things have changed,” she told Jamie’s gravestone. Her words rang through the silence of the graveyard, dropping to the ground with the rain still falling around her, heavy and cold. “I understand what you did now, and I’m sorry. For everything.” 

She was met with silence. Ava closed her eyes, conjuring the memory of this same graveyard filled with hers and Jamie’s laughter. The pang of longing that hit her was so sharp that it almost made her gasp. 

“I’m going to leave,” she continued quietly. “I have found a way to end it, once and for all. I have to, you know that. You always knew. It has to end. But I’m not sure if I’ll come back.” She paused. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to.”

Reaching out, Ava touched the tombstone, fingers barely grazing its surface. Tears were burning in her chest but there weren’t any left to shed.

“I’m sorry, brother,” she whispered, words picked up and scattered into nothingness by the wind. “I’ll always remember you… as long as there are stars above.” 

She took out her wand, her spell barely more than a breath. Then she turned and walked away without looking back, leaving behind a single amaryllis flower bowing its head to the rain falling from an ink-black, starless sky. 

[2af-afterdark]

Trust

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Barbatos x F!MC x Solomon

Characters: Barbatos, Solomon, Main Character

Additional Tags: afab!mc (you/your), mc called 'good girl' and 'babygirl', Daddy kink, threesome - F/M/M, blindfold, double penetration, teasing

Summary: Solomon and Barbatos decide to play a game with you.

A/N: I could have made this longer… I almost did…

Word Count: 1748

“You’re going to take me like a good little girl, yes?” Solomon asked as he slowly rubbed the head of his cock along your soaking entrance, watching you keen every time he threatened to finally push inside but didn’t. He hadn’t even entered you yet and your pussy was already painted in his precum.

“Mhm. Yes, Daddy~” Something in the pit of your stomach jumped forward calling him that. If you weren’t drenched already, you were sure you would have been by now.

“Oh, really?” Barbatos questioned as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip, pulling your attention toward him, “Do you plan to leave me out?”

“Of course not,” you pout, pressing your lips against his tip and looking up at him with the largest eyes you can muster.

“You’re both so cute,” Solomon cut in.

Barbatos sighed, “Please don’t say that.”

You only whimpered in annoyance as they used their conversation to distract them both from taking care of you.

Solomon looked down at you again, a smile plastered on his face, “I know.” He dragged his cock through your slick folds again, bumping against your swollen clit as he rocked against you without pushing in, “Be patient, Babygirl.”

You whined but accepted it because he was giving you something at least.

“Hey, Barbatos, want to try something fun?” The smirk that reached Solomon’s eyes should have worried you, but you were too needy and anxious to question it

“Your idea of fun is usually troublesome,” Barbatos shook his head.

“Oh come on. This is good, I promise.” He beckoned Barbatos over by crooking a single finger, whispering something into his ear that made the demonic Butler smile just as wide.

“I take it back. That does indeed sound fun.”

“What does?” You ask.

“Just a little game,” Solomon hummed, “One the three of us can play together.”

“Would you like to play as well? A game where you aren’t allowed to know anything?”

You blinked at them, wondering what that could mean.

“The rules are simple. We’re going to cover your eyes and then we’re going to touch you however we want. If you can guess who’s touching you you get a point. If you fail, we get a point. Whoever has the most points at the end gets to decide who gets to use which of your pretty little holes.”

You pout, lifting your hips to grind against the underside of Solomon’s still hard cock, “But, Daddy, you’re so close.”

“But you don’t want to leave Barbatos out unfairly, do you? This is a more fair way to decide who gets to use you.” He slapped his heavy cock against your still soaking entrance a few times, sending sparks through your body

You bit your lip but nodded, “A quick game won’t hurt.”

Solomon smirked, “Good girl.”

Barbatos crawled out of the bed, walking over to one of the dressers in the room and pulling out a black tie before coming back over and handing it to Solomon to examine.

"Would you mind if we put this on you?” Solomon asked, holding up the makeshift blindfold for you to examine.

You only nodded.

He sat you up and placed the fabric over your eyes, tying it behind your head so you couldn’t see, “How does it feel?”

“It’s comfortable.”

“And you truly cannot see?” That was Barbatos’ voice.

You shook your head.

The men looked at each other with mischievous eyes, knowing that their plan was so close to being set in motion, “Well then, let’s begin.”

Soft lips tickled the side of your neck, slowly creeping higher until they were nibbling at the shell of your ear. You groaned at the touch, stretching your neck so they had more room to kiss and play with.

“Come on, Babygirl. Don’t go silent on us.” That was Solomon again, “Who’s touching you?”

Given that Solomon had just spoken and those lips hadn’t left you once, “Barbatos.”

“Ding ding ding. Wonderful guess.”

“So astute,” Barbatos added after giving one last kiss to your temple.

“You made it too easy for her.” Solomon laughed, “The next one should be harder.”

You felt the bed shift beneath you right before lips pressed against your own. They started feather-light, almost shy in how they sought out your own, but the kisses quickly turned hungry. A tongue slipped inside, tasting your own and grazing over the walls of your mouth as your head went fuzzy. You awkwardly rubbed your legs together to try and satisfy the feeling that continued to grow between your legs.

But you knew those kisses; the kind that couldn’t wait to seek you out and threatened to eat you alive.

You pull away and breathe heavily before answering, “Solomon.”

“Right again,” he whispers just in front of you so his breath tickles your skin.

“Who made it too easy now?” Barbatos teased.

“It’s only a warmup,” he reassured as he pulled away from you.

Smooth hands crept forward across your skin, groping at your breasts as they played with the weight. Thumbs spiralled around your nipples and flicked at them playfully.

“Nggh,” you whined as the sting hit you.

“That’s not a name, Babygirl.”

You bit your lip, “Barbatos.” He loved to toy with your breasts, so the feeling was familiar.

“You continue to show your brilliance,” his velvety voice whispered straight into your ear, sending a wave of electricity down your spine, “What about this?”

Something cool and thin wrapped around your waist, the very edge slipping down your navel and toward your swollen nub. You groaned as your folds were pushed aside and your clit was attacked with vigor. It was slow, purposeful, almost artistic in how they teased.

“Barbatos.” That had to be his tail. The cool, wet feeling of the duo ends focusing on such a small spot that drove you wild was something only he could do.

Or not, as Solomon spoke, “That’s a point for me.”

“Did you really mistake his magic trick for my tail?”

Yes. “I’m sorry.” It just felt so much like the real thing.

“Don’t apologize, Babygirl.” Hands were placed on your knees and proceeded to spread you open, “Just do better.”

This time, the feeling against you was warm. The flat of a tongue licking a messy stripe up your slit before soft lips wrapped around and sucked at your still aching and needy clit. Then the pattern repeated, this time with their tongue pushing deeper into your heat so they could lap up your dripping juices.

You honestly had no idea who was between your legs, “S-Solomon?”

“Too bad,” Solomon chuckled as you felt a finger slip into your pussy and scrape against your walls, “Is it really that hard to tell us apart?”

“I’ll do better, Daddy. I promise.” It wasn’t like they were testing you in this game of theirs, but you still felt you should apologize for not being able to tell who was touching you.

“Then who has you right now?”

“Barbato- Ohhh.” Your words are lost as another finger finds its way inside of you, scissoring you open.

“Very good,” Barbatos voice vibrates against your cunt, “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

Hit. Hit. Miss. Hit. Miss. Miss. Miss. Hit. Miss. Miss.

The longer they kept going, the more they both toyed with your already needy and wanting body, the more you started to blur their touches together. It was too hard to keep track of who was pressing their lips against your chest or running their tongue across your skin; who was humping between your legs without giving you what you wanted or who was stuffing you with their fingers. Sometimes they would even work together as one kissed you enough to leave you feeling starved of oxygen while the other lifted your hips and kissed you in a different way.

It was all too much by the time they decided to end the game, leaving you a sweat coated mess as you panted against the bedsheets. In all the time they’d played with you, they had been careful not to penetrate you but also not to let you cum and you were starting to feel it. All you wanted was to finally have them stretch you around their cocks.

“I believe that’s my win then,” Solomon said as he reached around to undo the blindfold and let it slither to the ground.

You didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you didn’t care. You just wanted someone to finally do more than tease you.

“Please, Daddy.” Your bottom lip jutted out with the tiniest of pouts as your glazed over eyes stared into the far distance, unable to focus on anything properly, “Please fuck me.”

“Shh, I know. And I know you’re going to take everything like the good girl you are.”

Solomon sat you in his lap with your back pressed flat against his chest. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, just barely opening you up as you mewled and begged for more.

He tenderly kissed the side of your head before slipping his hands under your knees and lifting them so you were spread open and unable to hide anything from Barbatos who looked on with his hand lazily stroking his own cock.

“Don’t you remember, Babygirl? We can’t leave Barbatos out of this.” He gave the demon a smirk, inviting him closer.

He did so, sitting on his haunches as he lined himself up much the same way as Solomon, the very tip of his cock promising to bury deep inside of you as soon as he was ready.

“Now, ask nicely.”

White-hot fire rushed across your skin as you stared down between your legs where they both promised to tear you open, “Please? I want both of your cocks so bad.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, Solomon dropped your weight down onto both of their lengths as they pushed forward into you. The way your pussy accepted them without a fight made you blush, but more than that it made your toes curl and your head lull backward as your mouth opened in gaping shock. All they had done was push inside and you could already feel that little ball inside of you coiling up so tightly it felt it would snap.

They were going to ruin you before the end of the night, you just knew it.

[sunflowerharrington]

Can you pleaseeeee write part 2 to the Billy story???

A Little Surprise

PART ONE

PART THREE

word count: 1748

picture this scenario and tell me i’m not the only one that’s down bad for hargrove and munson PLEASE!!! also this is so bad i’m sleep deprived and i just need billy and eddie to be real PLEASE BRO 😭

“Lift your hips for me, love,” he encouraged, his whispers ghosting your skin, prickling goosebumps in places you didn’t even know you could get goosebumps, and all over the rest of your body. After several hours of pleasurable preparation, you finally felt ready to take all of what he would give you.

As you raised your hips to pull your panties down, he locked his hands in place, his fingers grabbing at the supple flesh of your lower back as he positioned his hips to press against yours, skin to skin contact igniting a fire in your stomach.

“So perfect. So, so, perfect. Just for me, hm? All mine?” As his words circled the air and into your ears like the sweetest of melodies, you felt yourself beginning to clench around nothing, desperate for a release.

After print-outs of Jonathan’s pictures of you and Billy began circling the school, and the horrible names people were calling you started flying around, you had been so desperate to jump back into Billy’s arms. But he’d broken up with you and moved on to another bitch in town with a boyfriend, fucking her like God knows what in her boyfriend, Jason’s, bed while Jason was in the shower. And getting her cock-drunk in the staff bathroom at the community pool.

Until he got bored. And then he came back to you.

Fucking pathetic, right?

And let’s not even get started on his most recent fling either.

You smiled up at him, gazing deep into his eyes, trying to find the reason why he kept on coming back to you. Anywho, you replied with, “The only person who owns me is me, William.”

“Don’t call me that, sweetheart,” he said through a gritted smile.

“I’ll never let a man hold power over me again, especially you,” you whispered back, ignoring him, catching his lips in another delicate kiss, grazing his lower lip with your teeth, gently tugging as you pulled away.

“That’s not what you were saying when I was practically devouring you at your little birthday party, sweetheart.”

He pressed the throbbing head of his cock to your soaked folds, collecting some of your wetness for needed lubrication, even after preparing you for the upcoming stretch. He took one deep breath before sinking his hips down to meet yours, skin to skin once more, your heartbeats synching up with one another.

“Fuck you, Hargrove.”

“I’d rather fuck you, princess…”

The stretch was agonizingly slow, entering inch by inch, sending you into a euphoric bliss before he had even started to roll his hips against yours.

“…I don’t know why you’re getting so angry at me, you’re the one who started this. Remember when you walked up to me at Jason’s Halloween bash a few months ago? Remember when Jason called asking if we knew who broke his mom’s bed and we lied and said we didn’t know?”

It took all of what was left of his self control to not pick up a brutal pace from the start, but he somehow managed to keep his pace slow, knowing that even after the several hours he fingered you, the hours he had his head between your thighs devouring ‘his pretty pussy’, that he would still hurt you if he fucked you with a rough pace from the get-go.

Your safe word was ‘pink.’

“Atta girl, come on, keep your hips up for me. That’s it, such a good girl for me,” he praised under his breath as his thrusts started to pick up a little more speed, your moans filling the room as he did. “Do you want me to stay at this pace, sweetheart? Or do you want me to go faster?”

“Mmh, a little faster, please!” You unintentionally cried out.

“Is that begging I hear?” He mocked, jutting out his lower lip into a pout. “Did I not hear correctly when you said you wouldn’t beg for me?”

“This is not begging. This is manners, William. Maybe you could learn a thing or two about them from me,” you chuckled under your breath, tracing the veins on his forearms with the pads of your fingertips as he brought one hand up beside your head to steady himself.

“You’re on your last warning, Toots. Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

He could feel his pillowy lips tingling from when your lips pressed gently against his, his body still warm from when you wrapped your arms around his waist, now replaced with your fingernails raking down his back, trying to find something to grab onto.

You threw your head back into the pillows as he pumped himself in and out of you, his thrusts matching with your erratic panting as you tried to catch your breath, to no avail. He smirked happily down at you as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Awh, just a little longer babydoll, you’re doing so well for me,” he cooed. “Just a little- fuck.”

His groans and grunts mixed with your almost pornographic moans filled the room as words began flying from his mouth, and you couldn’t understand what he was saying, too busy trying to hold on until he said you could let go. Even though you wanted power over him, you didn’t want to leave with your ass battered and bruised more than it would be if you disobeyed.

“So good for me,” he whispered in your ear, taking his trail of kisses down to your neck. “You like that? Hm, doll?”

“You’re the worst fuck I’ve ever had, Hargrove, and I’ve even fucked fucking Harrington.”

“Is that so?” He asked calmly, grabbing you by the neck once again, his lips brushing against yours. “You let that piece of shit touch you?”

“Better than you touching me, ‘cause every time you do, everyone finds out about it. No matter where we are, asshole,” you blurted out, causing his expression to go from soft and calm to dark and intense in a matter of a split second.

His voice was a hush as he trailed his kisses down neck to your chest, sucking, kissing and nipping at the skin, leaving pretty little marks all over. So everyone would know you’re still his, even after the messy break-up.

“I know we hate each other now, babydoll, but there’s no need to be like that. Talking about Harrington in front of me like that. Hating each other doesn’t change that fact that you’re fucking mine, doll. I want you to say you’re mine,” Billy whispered in his ear, sending a slap to your ass when you didn’t reply. “Fucking say it!”

“No.”

“No?” He barked an incredulous laugh, grabbing you by the chin with his thumb and his index finger. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you understand what you’ve just done.”

His tone was low, too soft, too calm, trailing his fingers down to your neck and wrapping them around it. He leaned down, his lips pressed to your ear to whisper. “You disobeyed me. You know what happens when you disobey me.”

You stifled a moan as he licked a wet strip up your neck to your ear, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the exact same plains of your skin. “Do I?” You ask, earning yourself a sharp smack on the ass.

“Mhmm, you damn well know it.”

You huffed as he pulled out, losing the euphoric skin to skin contact, which Billy noticed, and it made him chuckle under his breath. “When you disobey me, darling… You don’t get to play with me. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to breathe near me. And you don’t want that, do you? You want daddy’s cock, hm?”

“Please,” you whimpered, reaching your arms out to grab at the air, trying to motion him back over to you.

“Please, Daddy,” he corrected, annunciating each syllable with more force than usual.

“Would you rather me call you Master?” You quipped, licking your lips as he crawled back onto the bed, like a tiger on the prowl, ready to catch its prey.

“Using the nickname I give the freak for me?”

“Hey, don’t call him that!” You defended, not knowing what definition of ‘freak’ Billy was actually using, furrowing your brows in confusion, until realization hit you like a truck.

“You mustn’t have seen the handcuffs in his bedroom,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as he pushed back inside you. “They’re tight, but it’s so fucking worth it. You should go over and give them a try sometime, I’m sure my other little brat will let you do whatever you want with him.”

“Eddie is your boyfriend?”

“Stop asking questions,” he groaned, snaking his arm up the shirt he lent you earlier, a silver and black Metallica tee, holding your breasts over the thin fabric separating his large hands from your skin. His other hand pressed against your stomach, being able to feel his dick sliding in and out of you.

“Mmm, feels so good, baby.”

He moaned in agreement, his thrusts in sync with your rapidly beating hearts, the only sounds in the room being your collective moans and the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You began to claw at his back, leaving red marks in your nail’s wake.

“Fuck, Billy. More! —Want more, baby.”

“Such a needy little whore,” he teased, pulling out of you again before he could send you completely over the edge, attaching his lips to your sensitive nipple, sucking and kissing the skin as he spoke. “How about I call up my little boyfriend so he can ruin you for me, since I apparently can’t do that.”

The sound of somebody knocking on the door made you jump, and you quickly covered yourself and your face.

“That must be him.” Probably Billy’s recent summer fling, whoever he was.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.” You tugged the shirt away from your eyes and saw Eddie Munson, the freaky handcuff owner (according to Billy), leaning against the doorframe in nothing but a tiny pair of boxer briefs. “Stuck in traffic—“

Eddie was cut off by Billy pressing his lips against his, Eddie pushing him up against the wall in a frenzy of bites, kisses, licks and soft moans.

To Billy, Eddie was the definition of perfection.

You watched as the two took it to the bed, pulling you in with them, the rest of the night consisting of moans, screams of each others’ names filling the room, and of course; those goddamn handcuffs.

@will-byers-is-my-boyfriend @quickiesgirl @sunnymunson-deactivated20220814 @wzrlds @sympathyforher @eddies-bat @eddiebillysteve @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @taecube

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Scales

Summary: When the protector needs protecting, where does he go? Jake is haunted by the scales from the Duaat.

Warning: Feelings of not being real.

Word Count: 1748

Word Prompt:  Scales

--

Jake didn’t have nightmares. 

He wasn’t sure if he was even capable of dreaming. In his mind, he didn’t sleep. He was either active or he wasn’t. He was vigilant or he wasn’t. When the head hit the pillow he was not active. 

He was not always vigilant, but he was always ready. He could go from nothing to in full control in a heartbeat because sometimes that was all that they had. 

Jake could not afford to be stressed, to panic, to melt down, or to be afraid. He was the one that stepped in when the others experienced those things. He was the one that stepped in to handle the problem. 

Yet lately, in the dark, he could see the glint of gold slowly swaying. He could hear the light tink tink tink as the scales adjusted up and down. He could feel the weight of his own heart bearing down on him. 

He jerked awake, mistaking his own panic for that of the others as he wrenched control from them. Looking around, he found himself in a library holding a book on Egyptian agriculture. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, taking a minute to still his pounding heart. Pounding and pounding as it beat against his ribcage. He placed a hand over it as if to force it still. It thudded and he wondered how it would have looked pulled from his chest. White and crystalline? Black and dripping? Red and full of his sins to tip the scale with an echoing clang? 

Agitated, he held up the book and gave the body back, slipping back down into the dark. Quiet and peaceful and comforting. A place with no memories or dreams. 

A place of pounding fists on cold hard wood. A place of straining to listen. A place of wondering… Wondering if he would get out. If he was somehow tied to them. Would he have their same fate without his own judgment? Would his judgment bring them down with him? 

He felt his heart burst through his chest as it was clenched in claws that squeezed…

He woke up screaming. The darkness of the room pressed in on him as he slammed his fist into the bedside table. 

Pain brought him back and he clutched at his hand, rocking in the bed in anger. Once the wave of pain had passed, he got up and gingerly placed an ice pack on his swelling knuckles. 

This one would be harder to explain. He hoped he didn’t break the night stand. 

Standing alone in the kitchen, he gazed around at the furniture and books. He watched the shadows that slid over them as the traffic lights outside passed by. 

He sat down in one of Steven’s chairs and stared down the darkness. He refused to be afraid. He had always found comfort in it before. When his knuckles stopped swelling, he returned the ice pack and lay back down. A moment passed and he still had not closed his eyes. It was silly. He had nothing to be afraid of. He couldn’t just be in control all the time. There was nothing to be vigilant about. They were safe. They would always be safe. 

He closed his eyes and slowly sank back down. We are safe. 

A golden feather. Heavy and solid. Balanced against a heart made of nothing. The hippo had reached into his chest and found nothing. Nothing because he was nothing. “You don’t belong here.” She gave him an angry look. He was not a lost soul. He was not worthy of the Duaat or the field of reeds. 

He watched Marc and Steven fade away. Leaving him as he was, nothing and no one. 

Jake jolted awake. Tears streamed down his face to pitter patter on his shirt. 

He looked up to find he was at the table sitting across from Layla. A fork fell from his fingers. He did not have the energy to look around. He was so tired. He didn’t even know what day it was. How much time had passed. How long had it been? What had happened? 

Was this the life that would be judged? A life spent living in darkness? A life spent coming out to judge those that had done wrong? A life without a life. 

He could not stop the tears. He wasn’t sure if he could. Face blank, he felt them fall like a leaky faucet late at night. 

He watched Layla’s face slip from one of joyful love to one of fear. His heart ached. His heart. Their heart. 

He clutched at his chest, fingers digging into the shirt there as if trying to rip out the traitor there. The thing that caused him so much pain. 

He could see Layla’s lips moving as she asked him a question. A question not meant for him. One he couldn’t hear as his ears buzzed and burned, closed off from emotions he didn’t want. 

Tears turned to anger to rage to helplessness all in the blink of an eye. Steven was triggered. He had never done that before. He could feel Steven clawing to the surface. It was what he did. What he had always done. He was the one that protected their soul. But Jake had nothing to protect. So why would Steven try? 

He fought back. “No. There is nothing here.” He faced the dark and panic set in. He couldn’t go back. Not where he would be chased by the slowly swaying scales. The horrible heartbeat. The never ending darkness of being locked away so he could not make them fail. 

A hand on his arm and he stared down at it. Tears fell and stained it, wet and glittering in the dark. A voice in the back of his head, “Just breathe. Just breathe through it. It’s alright, mate.” 

Jake gave in with a broken sound leaving his throat. He hated this feeling. Hated this weakness. Hated needing… But he needed. He was supposed to protect but here he was, calling out for Steven to protect him. But Steven could not protect him. Steven could not take away this pain. Steven was not meant for him. 

Arms wrapped around him and pulled. His body sank into warmth as Layla hugged him close. Tight and secure. He could feel her heart beating over his as he leaned into her shoulder, tears staining the light fabric there. 

He shuddered as she shushed him. Breathing words of comfort into him as she rocked him gently. 

He could still feel Steven there, murmuring words of comfort. Words he had once heard Marc give to him. How silly that they protect the protectors. That they provide the emotional stability to the emotional support. 

Jake gathered just enough steam to whisper “My scales don’t balance. I was not even worthy of being judged.” 

Layla did not understand. She didn't even know him. That did not stop her from continuing to hold him. 

There was silence from Steven and for a moment, Jake thought he might be stuck. Stuck out in a place he wasn’t supposed to be. Ruining things forever. Ruining a life that wasn’t his. 

Then there was a glimmer and Jake felt Steven wrap around him with utter love. Love from someone that knew the fear of not being real. Someone that knew the terror of falling into the dark without knowing what might be there. The dread of watching the boat leave without him. Of hearing the scales balance now that his own heart was no longer there to mess it up. Of knowing that Marc was whole without him. 

“Hey.” Steven was so soft. So gentle. “You aren’t bad. No part of us is evil. No part of us is fake. What happened in there was… It wasn’t ours. If that makes sense. It was for him. It was always for him, yeah? His pain called out so loudly that he felt he needed to be judged. He came in thinking he was guilty so yeah, the scales came to him. I was there for my own understanding. How could I help him if I didn’t understand who he was? Who I was.” 

“I should have been there.” He shuddered. “I should have helped.” 

“Mate, maybe you could have gotten us out of there, but we needed it. I needed to see the story of him before I could know my own story. Marc needed to know he was worthy to heal. I’m sorry if we overlooked you. Do you want to talk? Do you want to tell me who you are?” Steven was kind. 

Jake wrapped a trembling hand around Layla, his fingers feeling the fabric of her shirt and curve of her spine. She was real. If she was real, then he could feel her. Could she feel him? 

He slowly pulled back and wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “I’m here.” He looked around slowly then looked up at her. “You see me.” 

Layla nodded, her brows furrowed in concern. “Yeah. I see you. You’re really here.” 

Jake closed his eyes. “No.” He addressed Steven gently. “I think I need some time. I need to find my place again.” 

Steven smiled. “We’re here if you want to talk. You don’t always have to lurk back there like you do. You can come out any time you like.” 

Jake nodded. “Do you think if all our hearts had been on the scale, would they have balanced?” 

Steven didn’t even have to think about it. “I do. It wasn’t fair to expect pieces of a whole to balance. Then again, we have to find our own balance, don’t we? It was never about the feather, wasn’t it? It was about Marc and I finding balance. Maybe now we need to find balance with you.” Steven offered a hand in the dark. 

Jake took it and they gently traded places. Steven blinked away the tears that were not his. “Oh wow. Body’s a right mess, isn’t it?” 

Layla smiled. “Everything okay?” 

Jake lingered. He wasn’t ready to go back down. He let Steven know he was still there. He would always be there, even when he wasn’t. Ready to protect them. Maybe they were always there to protect him too. 

Steven nodded. “Yeah. We’re getting there.” 

The scales continued to wait in the darkness, but now one glowing heart sat perfectly balanced. Whole at last.