#he wanted to cross to the next block but i had to squash it

[jakemyboy]

First Halloween house! I wasn't bold enough to position him in front of their front porch area. They went all out, hay bales, scarecrows etc. I'll get the pic another day, preferably a sunny day.

[sluttywoozi]

Give You My Wild | Like a Cowboy Pt. 3/4

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.1k (there is no plot I’m so sorry)

Part One | Part Two

Warnings: HEAVY BREEDING AND IMPREG KINK, historical inaccuracy probably, crying (during sex and not), size kink, oral (f.rec.), fingering, big dick gyu, lowkey somnophilia?? (idk its more like pussy put his ass to sleep now he’s calling you nyquil), cockwarming, dreams of pregnant sex, they want to have a baby i cannot emphasize this enough, feels v romance novelly to me 

Reader Notes: hands are smaller than gyu’s, has vagina and breasts, called baby, honey, sweetheart, wife

Mingyu watches from the porch, fondness and just a bit of exasperation in his eyes, as you organize and pack up the wagon. You’re about to embark on your pre-freeze fishing trip and he tried to help, but you like the packing done a certain way. You arrange by what you’ll need to take out first, keeping the tent closest to the edge and sustenance for the way there closest to the front, where you’ll be able to lean back on the bench and take something should hunger arise. 

He’s itching to get going, partly because he wants to reach the river by nightfall, mostly because he’s already envisioning what he’ll be doing to you in the tent after you arrive. And on the riverbank, on top of a blanket and under the stars. Perhaps also in the back of the wagon on the way there. 

He’s got an excuse now, or maybe an explanation, for his voracious appetite for you. 

It happened when you were cooking together a few weeks ago, pork tenderloin with garden grown squash. You were dancing a little dance to the beat of his humming and taps with the knife as he cut the vegetables on the butcher block when you stilled, a strange look crossing your face and your hands nervously wringing your apron. 

Mingyu had been scared something was wrong, that he’d done something to upset you, and put down the knife immediately. He’d crossed the kitchen to you, his humming silenced with his heart caught in his throat like it was, and took you by the hand, tugging you to the dining table. He sat in the chair heavily and pulled you to sit across his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you and holding you secure until you gathered the courage to speak. 

“I think I want…” you take a deep breath, looking away from him with teary eyes before finding his gaze again and continuing, “I want us to have a baby, Gyu. I want us to have a family.”

The gasp he took in was followed by more, quick breaths nearly mistakable for sobs as he pressed his face into your shoulder and let the tears gather on his lashes. Mingyu had wanted this for so long, since you married him, really, but you hadn’t been ready. Of course, he didn’t push you, resolved not to bring it up until you did, and he really wasn’t prepared for how he’d feel now that you have. He was sure you could feel his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest with how closely he held you to him, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just rested your head on top of his and let your own tears soak into his hair, gentle fingers grazing circles on his shoulders. 

Once all the tears dried up, the mood changed. 

It was like a switch flipped in him, realizing that the next time he made love to you, it would be with the purpose of filling you up with his baby. The herbs you took prevented it, but soon enough he’d get to watch your stomach grow and know that he’d been the one to make it happen. He’d get to rub your aches and pains away, fall asleep curled up around you with his hand pressed to your belly and tiny little kicks tapping against his palm, wait on you hand and foot once you got too big to easily navigate the house. All the things he’d been dreaming about, he would finally get to share with you.

He took you on the table that day, your legs caught in his elbows and his cock pounding into you, dishes clanking against the wood and flatware sliding off the edge with the force of his thrusts. After you climaxed and he emptied himself inside you, he’d knelt down and watched as your clenching walls pushed out his spend before gathering it all up on his fingers and pushing it back inside you, keeping you plugged up until your cunt stopped contracting around them and he was sure you’d be able to keep it inside. 

Mingyu’s gone wild for you in the days and weeks following, waking you in the night and sliding home once you sleepily part your legs, bending you over sinks and hoisting you up on counters, taking you against doors and walls, and once or twice, the railing of the front porch. 

Even now, as he watches you lift onto your tiptoes and bend into the wagon to rearrange the fishing poles, he’s thinking about pulling up your skirt, spreading you open, and fucking you full of his seed. And if he wasn’t so concerned it would make the coming journey more uncomfortable for you, he wouldn't even hesitate. 

The wagon bumps raggedly along the dirt road and Mingyu’s even more sure of his decision to hold off until you make it to the river. The idea was tempting but not worth causing you further discomfort, your sweet attempts to hide your winces unsuccessful. Wagons are not the most glamorous form of travel, but they’re the only option when one lives as far from the city as Mingyu and you do. 

There’s not much longer to go now, about an hour, and Mingyu is pleased to estimate about two hours of sunlight left, just enough time to arrive and set up camp. He has a lot of plans for this trip, all of which start and end with you, and he’s getting more and more excited to see them through. 

Mingyu heaves a sigh of exhaustion and sets his hands on his hips as he looks around your little section of the riverbank. The tent has been pitched, the smoker built, the food hung up and away, and he thinks there’s just enough time to watch the sun set on your naked skin. You’re on your hands and knees arranging the bedding underneath the canvas shelter and Mingyu makes his way over, rocks clacking against each other under his heavy steps, his boots landing harder as he nears you so he can ensure you’re not startled by his appearance. You sit back on your knees just as he approaches, turning around to beam at him and proudly present your hard work. 

The tent looks so cozy, duvet and pillows placed carefully and extra quilts stacked to the side for the inevitable drop in temperature.  Mingyu’s already looking forward to crawling in and pulling you close, wrapping you up in his arms and keeping you warm with the heat of his body. “Good work, darlin’. We’ll sleep well tonight but I’ll be sure to wear you out, just in case,” he flirts, knowing your cheeks must be heating and delighting in the way your eyes drop to the side, fondly taking in the bashful smile that graces your lips. 

You reach a hand up and Mingyu grasps it, pulling you to your feet and into his body, trying not to giggle at the way you stumble into him with a gasp. He forgets his own strength sometimes but this isn’t one of them, no, it's intentional, all part of his plan to have his wicked way with you. You love how strong he is, how big he is, and he takes advantage of it, riling you up with seemingly innocent acts until you’re as hot for him as he always is for you. It works, of course, your eyes shuttering as a haze overtakes them, your fingers holding onto his for dear life and your other hand rising to rest on his chest. 

Mingyu knows he should seduce you a bit more, that you deserve more wooing, but he’s wanted you all day and you’re just so soft and warm against him that he can’t help but lean down and press his lips to yours. You melt into him with a sigh, your mouth opening as soon as he brushes his tongue over your bottom lip. He does take his time kissing you, something he believes is always worth doing, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling his hand from yours to rest his palm on the curve of your neck, his thumb tracing over your pulse. It jumps when he moans into your mouth and he grins against your lips, your physical reaction to him as captivating as always. 

He follows when you start backing up toward the tent, his hands leaving your body to clumsily pull at the buttons of your dress, his lips forming a pout against yours when you push them away and undo the buttons yourself. “I don’t want you to rip them,” you mutter, your dress hanging open and your hands moving to unbutton his shirt.

“Baby, I would never,” Mingyu protests, hoping you won’t remember-

“Gyu, I’ve had to sew buttons back onto three different things just this week. Don’t even try it,” you hiss, shrugging your dress down your arms. 

Your breasts shift with your movement and suddenly, Mingyu can’t focus on anything else. His hands still at his belt and his gaze grows heavy as you shove the dress off, each inch of skin revealed making his heart beat faster and faster. Every time he sees you bare, it feels like the first. Like sunlight breaking through gloomy storm clouds, like a steaming hot bath after a long days’ work, like the first bloom of spring after a blistering winter. You’re pure warmth to him, everything good and kind and beautiful in this world, and Mingyu will never get over the fact that you chose him to share your life with. 

He wants to thank you, wants to get down on his knees and worship at your altar, so he does. He tugs your shift off with impatient hands, takes you by the waist, spreads you out on the bedding you’d so meticulously laid, and shoulders his way between your thighs. The gasp you let out lifts one side of his mouth in a satisfied smirk, but the expression falls when he sees the wet mess of your cunt. His groan is guttural, pained almost, and he wastes no time before diving into you. He’s relentless, his tongue dipping inside you for a taste before sliding up through your folds to tap at your clit, the moans and whimpers escaping you muffled by your thighs as they clamp around his head. 

Mingyu loves it, loves being buried in you, surrounded by you, can’t get enough, will never get enough of you. He knows this well, revels in it, basks in the knowledge that he doesn’t need to get enough of you because he’ll always have you. You will always be his and he will always be yours, the matching rings on your left fourth fingers and the baby he’ll put in your belly evidence. 

You’re close already, your clit pulsing under his tongue and your hips jerking into his face, but he knows you like something to squeeze so he sinks three fingers deep inside, your pussy sucking them in immediately like you’ve been itching for them. He wants, needs to feel you cum, needs to make you cum, his fingers curling in you to find that ridged spot that makes you leak like a broken faucet. By now, it’s easy to pinpoint, easy to rub just right, with just enough pressure to make you squirm as he fingers you open. 

He’s obsessed with your sounds, or what he can hear of them through your thighs. Your moans and whimpers and sighs might as well be music to his ears, and the noises that come from your cunt whenever he hooks his fingers or thrusts them in and out practically make him feral. You’re just so wet, goddamn drenched every single time he touches you, and it’s enough to send his head spinning, especially when he’s already got the taste of you in his mouth. He’s cum like this before, and he will again, but not today. 

No, today, you’re going to cum on his tongue and his fingers, then again (and maybe once more) on his cock before he fills you up with his load. He wouldn’t be shocked if you were already with child with how much he’s been giving you lately, but he plans on fucking you full until you tell him to stop, just for good measure. 

Your pussy starts its tell-tale quivering, your walls undulating around his fingers and your clit throbbing under his tongue, and he knows you’re right there, knows all you need is his lips around you and a good grind deep inside, so he gives it to you. He purses his lips around you and digs his fingertips into your sweet spot, his deep voice mirroring the moan you let out when you tip over the edge. He keeps groaning into you, whining when he feels you clench so tight he can’t move his fingers. He’s not sure how your wetness is seeping out with how you’re locked around him but he knows he wants to taste it, drink it down, savor it, because your cunt is the best meal he’s ever had and the only one he’ll ever want. 

He’s still sucking your clit, so enraptured by your taste that he doesn’t notice you trying to wriggle away in sensitivity until you push him from you by the forehead. He apologizes swiftly, shifting up to plant a wet kiss on your lips before checking in with you. 

“You alright, sweetheart? You still want my cock?” Mingyu asks quietly, unwilling to disturb the bubble you’re floating in right now. 

“Good, Gyu, I’m good. Want your cock, want you to fill me up,” you gasp, your voice weak but your hands strong in their grip on him. 

“I’ll fill you up, baby, you know I will,” he breathes into your mouth as his lips press against yours once more before he pulls away. His feet had been outside the tent the whole time, a fact that makes him chuckle to himself while he unlaces and toes his boots off.

After clumsily unfastening his belt and shucking his pants, he drops to his knees and yanks off his shirt, the buttons undone by your fingers what feels like eons ago. The temperature is already dropping with the setting sun so Mingyu stretches out and covers your body with his, knowing his own furnace-like body heat will keep you warm. He also just loves feeling you under him, how soft and warm you are, how much smaller than him. He knows you love it too so he lets some of his weight rest on you as he takes you behind the knees and pushes your thighs up to your chest. This is one of his favorite ways to make love to you, he can get so deep and you get so tight, especially when he climbs on top of you and thrusts down with the weight of his body behind him. You love that, so it’s exactly what he’ll give you tonight.

He lets his cock glide through your folds until it glistens with your wetness, until you’re whining beneath him and trying to buck your hips up to get him inside. He won’t tease you further than this, but he can’t help making you wait for it, just for a little. He likes how it makes you as desperate as he always feels when it comes to you, how you whimper and beg and shake, how you dig your nails into his skin in retribution, and oh, the threats…

“Mingyu, if you don’t get in me right now, I swear I’ll-” Your warning is cut off by a sharp gasp as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt still tight around him even after he was just three fingers deep. The heat that swallows him is intoxicating, incandescent, and the moan you grant him with spurs a thrust that sends him even deeper inside, down to the root of his cock. He waits for your walls to stop fluttering around him, waits for your fingers in his hair and your voice in his ear, telling him, “Please, Gyu, please, fill me up.”

Your words are like a trigger, his hips bucking into you without his permission. He manages to angle them up at the last second, make it count, and the sound you let out has him thrusting into you again. You’re so reactive, so receptive to everything he gives you, and it’s enough to get him close much too quickly. 

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold it off, was far too ambitious in thinking he could outlast you cumming around him after making you cum on his fingers and tongue, so he works a hand between your bodies and finds your clit with a work-calloused thumb. You’re so wet, he can glide circles over your swollen nerves with no friction, fuck his cock in and out with sounds so obscene, a blush rises to his cheeks. You’re making the prettiest sounds, your mouth stuck open with pleasure and your eyes squeezed shut, tears gathering on your lash line and threatening to drip down your cheeks. He’ll never not be infatuated with how you respond to him, never not love every noise that leaves your lips and every expression that crosses your face, never not adore getting to be with you in this way, to take care of you in this way. 

Mingyu is the luckiest man on earth, the most blessed person of all time, to have you. The knowledge makes his heart feel too big for his chest, brings grateful tears to his eyes, makes him fuck into you just a bit harder, just a bit faster. 

He’s getting so close and he can feel that you are too, in the clenching of your walls and the way your thigh shakes under his hand, and he knows that all you need is a bit of encouragement. 

“Fit me so perfectly, honey, gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me give you my baby?” His own words make his cock twitch and he can feel himself get harder inside you, bigger, and fuck, if you don’t break soon, he just might. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Gyu, want it so bad!” You throw your head back, one hand twisted up in the pillow and the other covering his on your thigh. Your fingers squeeze his and he’s quick to intertwine them, the difference in size shocking as always. 

The circles on your clit stop, but before you can complain he’s gently pinching it between two of his knuckles and fucking into you harder, his hips tilted so the spongy head of his cock can pound right into that bumpy patch inside of you. 

“Please, sweetheart, please,” Mingyu begs you to cum, begs you to fall off the edge before he does, and you listen. 

You listen, thank goodness, your sweet, hot cunt clamping down on his cock and sucking him in deeper as your walls try to milk him dry. It works, his balls seizing up and his dick jumping inside you, his seed flooding into your womb. His legs fold under your ass as he drops down to hover above you, bending you in half and leaning in for a kiss. You can’t kiss him back, panting as you are, but he doesn’t mind, pecking all over your face and down your neck. His teeth close on your collarbone just as his cock shoots one last rope of cum into you, making you whimper and arch your back for more. 

He’s discovered you like when he fucks you until he’s soft, so he draws his hips back and slides them forward again, his cum smoothing his movements even further. He’s glad you packed extra blankets because this duvet cover will need to be washed after he’s finished making a mess of you. His cheeks flame again as the slick squelch reaches his ears, the sound growing louder as you grow wetter. He keeps rutting into you, his softening dick drawing one last release from you before he finally pulls out. 

He covers your cunt with his hand before any more of his cum can drip out, shifting to lay on his elbows between your legs so he can see clearly as he gathers it all up on his fingers and pushes it back inside you. You look so well fucked, your eyes closed and your face slack in exhausted ecstasy, your cunt glossy and spread open. He would fuck you again if he had it in him, make you cum with his tongue if he didn’t want to keep his seed buried deep in you. Instead, he leaves his fingers inside and rises back up, sliding his arm beneath your back and pulling you into his chest. 

He thinks you may be sleeping, but he really should get you and the tent cleaned up, so he slowly withdraws his fingers and takes your hand, guiding it down between your legs. You know what to do, covering your entrance with your fingers and squeezing your legs closed as he pulls you into a sitting position and dampens a cloth with water from the jug you’d brought. 

He cleans you up gently, thoughtfully, smoothing the rag over your limbs and being especially careful with your inner thighs, where you’re sure to bruise from the force of his hips, before lightly running it between your legs. Mingyu loves this part too, having the privilege of caring for you in such a vulnerable state. It always feels sacred, as if he’s carrying out one of the most important of his husbandly duties, putting to action the vows he made years ago. To have and to hold. He’s had you, and now he gets to hold you. 

The washing of the duvet can wait until later, he just shoves it into a corner and takes hold of another, pulling it over you after carefully dressing you in your shift. Once you’re comfortable and warm, he sets about tidying himself, wetting a new rag and first cleaning your fingers before cleaning his own and the rest of his body. If this were home, he wouldn’t dress at all, but out in the wilderness, it’s simply unsafe to remain nude, so he pulls on his underclothes and pants. 

They feel itchy on his sensitive skin, on his spent cock, but it was all worth it. And it’ll be worth it tomorrow morning and afternoon too. 

Mingyu jerks awake, your finger poking his chest and your voice soft against the rushing of the water and the sounds of nature. It’s still dark, likely midway through the night, and as soon as he sets eyes on you, he can tell why you woke him. You look dewy with sweat, your eyes hazy and warm and your skin even warmer. 

“Need me?” He rumbles lowly, waiting for you to nod and reach for his pants before undoing them himself and helping you climb atop him. He can barely open his eyes, he’s still so tired, but with just a few grinds of your wet center on his cock he’s hard enough to fuck you. He only gets harder when you sit down on his dick, your cunt open enough from earlier that you don’t need any prep. You’re snug around him, still sticky inside with his cum, and his exhaustion only adds to his euphoria. 

He’s lost in a dreamlike state as you fuck him, his head lolling back on the pillow and his hips mindlessly bucking into yours each time you drop yourself down on him. He’s too gone to wish he could help more, too drunk on your warmth to think about anything but staying inside you for the rest of forever. His head spins, his fingers clenching in the blankets as you clench around his cock, but when you tighten on him with a sharp gasp, he forces his eyes open. 

You’re touching yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck, you’re touching yourself, your hand buried between your legs and your little fingers bumping against the base of his dick as you rub sloppy circles your clit. You’re not even looking at him, your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back, and he can just barely see the glint of your wedding ring in the moonlight that soaks through the canvas of the tent. You’re so beautiful, his perfect wife, who woke him just because she needed him, because she needed to use him. 

Mingyu didn’t know he would, but he fucking loves it. Loves being used by you, needed by you, and he should have known. It’s so obvious he could laugh if he wasn’t so busy moaning, his voice caught in a breathless loop of groans and whimpers of your name, pleads slipping out as your cunt swallows his cock over and over again. He’s getting so close, doesn’t even know what he needs to fall over the edge, but as always, you do, even subconsciously and, perhaps, selfishly. 

What he needs is for you to cum, and when you do fall apart around him, he’s quick to follow, nearly whining your name as his sensitive cock twitches and fills you with cum again. His eyes fall shut, his lungs burning as he pants as if he did any of the work, and when you snuggle into his chest, he does his best to wrap his listless arms around you. 

“Can I stay?” He breathes into your hair, waiting for you to nod and kiss his pec before almost immediately falling back asleep, his snores filling the air and his cock filling you. 

This time, Mingyu wakes you. 

He had the most wonderful dream; you were riding him again but this time, your belly was bigger, and your breasts were too. You were with child, his child, and it felt like the realization of everything he’s ever wanted. You, growing a miraculous little being that would hopefully look more like you, and him, holding you up and holding you close. 

And when he blinked awake, you were on top of him and his arms were wrapped around you, and if he didn’t feel that your belly was the same against his own, he almost could have pretended his dream was real. What was real was his cock, and how hard it was inside of you. 

He didn’t want to fuck you without asking first, so he set a hand on your hip and squeezed gently, murmuring your name until you stirred. 

Now, here he has you, both hands on your hips, holding you up and fucking into you just like in his dream. Soon, the rest of it will be real too, and he’s already nearing the edge just thinking about it. 

You’re so sensitive, he knows this will have to be the last time for at least half the day, so he makes it count, bringing a thumb to your tender clit and whispering all of the details into your neck in between kisses and bites. 

It’s not long until you’re shaking apart on top of him, quietly whining into his chest and digging your nails into his shoulders. It’s reflex by now, to cum when you do, and he can’t stop the wave of pleasure that overcomes him any more than he can stop the deep groan the spills from his lips as he fills you for the last time. He exhales thank you’s into your hair, petting at the parts of your hips that he gripped too tightly and rubbing his hands up and down your back to soothe you as you hiccup against him, your tears soaking into his skin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Mingyu asks, his concern clear. 

“I want it to be real so bad and I love you so much, that’s all,” you sniffle, your tears drying surprisingly quickly and your hands rising to wipe your face before he can. You smile brightly at him, then point over his shoulder, “Look, we literally made love till the morning light.”

Mingyu twists his head around, chuckling as he sees what you’re referring to. The colors of the sunrise seep into the cream canvas of the tent, giving your white shift and the blankets a dreamy glow. Love fills his chest and he can’t resist the urge to pull you down into a kiss, his lips soft against yours. 

His cock is softening too, and this time he can’t stay inside. He wraps his arms around your back and slowly rolls over so he’s above you before carefully pulling out. He doesn’t bother plugging you up, knows he’s filled you more than enough tonight, and dampens one more cloth to cleanse your skin of the evidence of the past few hours so you can enter the day brand new. 

“I love you,” Mingyu reminds you, discarding the cloth in the same corner as the old duvet and meeting your eyes once more. 

“I love you,” you respond, reaching your arms out to him and tugging him down into a hug. 

“I’ve gotta get to fishing and the laundry,” he breathes into your neck, “But you should rest.”

He grins as you pout but acquiesce, loosening your hold on his shoulders and playfully feeling up his bicep before letting him go altogether and snuggling back into the fresh blankets he’d covered you with. 

“Wear your hat,” you caution him sweetly, not wanting his eyes to get too tired with the light or for his skin to get sunburned. 

“‘Course, darlin’,” Mingyu beams, pulling on his clothes and lacing up his boots before leaning down for one last kiss. He ducks out of the tent, his height making this difficult, and pokes an arm back in, feeling around blindly for the hat, which somehow makes its way into his hand. 

Mingyu grins a little grin, feeling his canines press into his kiss-swollen bottom lip, and puts it on his head, his boots quiet as can be on the riverbank as he sets up his fishing gear. 

His wife needs some sleep, after all. 

AN: okayyyy i wanted to wait to post this until the anniversary of the first part but i figured i’ve taken long enough already! if you enjoy, pls reblog or comment with your thoughts and feelings!

JK ABOUT 3/3 ITS 3/4 HERES PART 4

My Masterlist

[mrsjobarnes]

Not the Only Cowboy - Chapter 5

Summary: Jake had never been the type of guy to fall first, maybe you’ll be the one to change that. 

A/N~ Sorry this took so long guys, I had writer's block, and then uni started and it got put on the back burner! However, I’m back and ready to finish this story! Also a huge Thank you to @angel-0f-verdun for helping me with this!

Jake Sersin x Nurse!reader 

Word count: 1,172

Warning: Abuse, Angst, Violence 

Likes & comments are welcome! 

Please do not steal my work! 

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

2 weeks. It took you two weeks for you to leave the guest room. You requested time off and were granted 2 weeks but after that, you’d have to go back, back to the place that no longer felt safe since Blake had found you. 

He had crossed the country to find you, he didn’t care about the restraining order or that you had only packed the essentials and moved. No, you were still his, his to control, his to break, his to own till death, and even after that. You were his baby, his honey, his sugar, and he needs you back home. Your love hasn't always been like this. He was your college sweetheart, you were his tutor. His smart, kind, patient, and outgoing Y/N/N. After he graduated he went into the Navy to be a navigator and you continued your nursing school. Once you had graduated you became a civilian nurse serving on base. It was picture-perfect if you ignored the screaming matches and the occasional pushing and shoving. It didn't get bad until you were treating some of the naval men and he saw them flirting with you. 

That's when the abuse started, he’d beat you within an inch of your life in places no one could see. He’d even threaten to shoot and kill you if you ran away. No one noticed till you were wearing long sleeves in a Virginia July. That's when your charge nurse Maggie asked you. You tried to lie but the 55-year-old saw right through you. She slipped a paper in your locker later that night with several phone numbers to call for help. You knew that she was just looking out for you but, at the moment you felt hurt and angry. Thankfully, the calm part of you kept that note and hid it in your locker. After six months of plotting with Maggie, the clouds parted and Blake was given orders to be deployed for 2 months. You took that as your chance to run. After saying your goodbyes, you sold your car and changed your phone and phone number, opened up a new bank account and purchased a plane ticket to your new haven.  

It was your haven until he showed up. Destroying all you had built up, all of the work you’d put into making this place feel like a safe place had just been squashed by him. So here you are lying in Phoenix’s guest room, scared he’ll break through the second-story windows or the door.  He’d threatened to kill you before who’s to say he won’t kill Phoenix to get to you? You need to start over again, how far would you go this time? Coast hopping didn’t work, maybe you needed to go to a northern state, he did hate the cold. Maybe in a small town in Montana, get a job at a hospital this time. Yes, that should work. You’ll just choose the smallest town possible, maybe ditch your phone and switch to a pager, they still had those right? You hear a knock at the front door. Your blood runs ice cold, and quickly you run into the ensuite bathroom and lock the door. 

“Hey, Y/N it’s just me,” says Phoenix. “I bought groceries, what do you want for dinner?” she asks from the kitchen. You slowly exit the bathroom and start to head to the door, placing your hand on the handle you stop. Maybe you should just run at night and just take what you had here, grab your car, withdraw most of your money from the bank and run. By not telling anyone it would keep them safe right? Turning around, you text Phoenix that you’re not hungry and ask if she is going out tonight. She replies that she is, unless you want to talk. You tell her to enjoy her night and start researching on a private browser about where to go, maybe Sidney, Montana. It seemed small enough that no one would think to look there, now to look at apartments. After googling for about 30 minutes, Phoenix shouts that she’s leaving. Walking over to the window you peer out waiting till she leaves. Once the coast was clear you quickly started packing a bag and making a mental checklist of what you needed to do. 

Pack 

Shower 

get food

Leave a note 

Call Uber to the base 

Bank and gas 

— 

25 minutes had passed and all you needed to do was get food and gas then stop at the bank, but first, you needed to get your car.  You bring all of your things to the door. When all of a sudden you hear someone knocking at the front door. “Fuck” you whisper under your breath. Quietly you grab a kitchen knife and look through the peephole. When you are met with the most perfect green eyes. It was just Jake, you sigh and put the knife down. “Go away Jake,” you say through the door.

“Phoenix gave me a key, I’m coming in,” he asks. 

“No, go away,” you say. He doesn’t listen and slowly enters the apartment. You grab the knife and point it at him, enraged he didn’t listen. “I said don’t come in Jake,” you say, clenching the knife for dear life. As he crosses the threshold, the two of you make eye contact. He has never seen someone so broken and scared, it breaks his heart.  

“Hey Y/N” he says slowly approaching, you clench the knife trying to push back the fear. It's Jake, he’s not going to hurt you, but you thought the same thing of Blake. How could you have been so stupid? “Y/N Imma need you to put the knife down darling, I just want to talk okay?” he said, itching closer to you. 

“Jake please leave, I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone” 

“No it looks like you're trying to run” he says pointing to the suitcase and backpack next to the door”. 

“Why does it matter if I do? I have only brought trouble into the team's life. I've taken over Phoenix house and probably have a write-up at work for causing a scene. So just let me go, you’ll be fine without me.” you say hesitantly placing the knife down. 

“No” 

“No? What do you mean, No?” you say looking into his eyes. 

“No, what about me? I know that’s selfish but you can’t leave me. I was an ass before I met you, I didn't care if I died on a mission as long as I went out in a blaze of glory, but now you’ve given me something to care about, someone who wants to come home too. So please stay, we can get you help. Cyclone says he could look into it, he just needs your permission.” Jake hesitantly walked up to you and cupped your face. 

“Can you promise that you won't hurt me? '' You say as your eyes glisten with tears. 

“I promise,” Jake says, pulling you into a hug. 

Taglist-

@alana4610

@taytaylala12

@lonelywitchv2

@junegrey2

@novagreen04

@pookie-cleary

@emma8895eb

@littlebadariell

@djs8891

@loving-and-dreaming

[dead-dove-yandere]

You could make Smiley with a reader who is flirtatious and party-loving and who charms any woman (men too if you want), even receiving notes. Technically for Smiley the Reader would be betraying them. I also think it would be an idea that would suit Laura and Cayce with a singer reader who has an affair with someone every month and the student council president reader who appears to be dating or simply liking someone - 💙☺

I really like all these ideas, and think it’d be cool to explore how each of these characters react differently to a flirtatious darling - they’ll all be hurt, but maybe they all have different approaches to dealing with their “problem.”

I’m going to eventually write a story for all three of the characters you mentioned, but for the sake of brevity and also to make it easier to add to the masterlists, I’m going to make them in separate posts - I wrote Smiley first. Thought I might try something different and write it from Smiley’s point of view. Let me know what you think!!

Part 2 - Laura | Part 3 - Cayce

TW: Stalking, obsession, implied cheating (except that it isn’t really cheating, Smiley just thinks it is), delusional beliefs, reader flirts with both a man and a woman

I squeezed the red biro hard in my hands as it scratched uselessly across the post it note, leaving only a faint mark where red ink should have been. My grip grows tighter in frustration. I recall hearing that people sometimes take deep breaths to calm down, and so I try it, sucking in a lot of air, and then letting it all out quickly.

“What are you sighing for?” The man in the cubicle next to me asked, peeking his bald, sweaty head over the top of the flimsy MDF wall that normally separated us. I bared my teeth. A grin, people called it, and one of the easiest expressions to recognise. Yet, it also seemed the hardest to replicate.

“Oh, Monday Blues. You know how it is,” I recited, just as I rehearsed many times before. He tilted his head.

“The office party is going to start soon, though. Surely you can’t be sad during the office party.” I lifted my shoulders up and then released them in what was called a “shrug.” This movement seems to satisfy the man, who sank back into his cubicle and kept working. I tapped my empty pen against the block of post it notes, before squeezing the pen hard enough to snap.

The office party started about half an hour before we were usually allowed to clock out. All of us were squeezed into the break room, uncomfortably close, each with a plastic cup of squash and a few pizzas to share. I’d never tried pizza, but the smell of soggy, withered vegetables on what was called the “vegetarian” pizzas put me off and made me wrinkle my nose. I pressed my back against the wall, staying close to it for the security and watched as everyone mingled and chatted to each other with ease - I couldn’t fathom how they did it. I kept my gaze glued to my lover, watching as they milled around the party, sipping their squash and eating pizza. I pretended to sip my squash as a woman approached them and started talking. My eyes narrowed instinctively.

The woman, some floozy, smiled at my lover, leaning closer towards them. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping they’d reject her, but of course, I had no luck. They smiled back, a shamelessly lustful look in their eyes. I hissed, gritting my teeth as I watched. It wasn’t surprising that they were able to charm anyone they liked - after all, they were perfect. But their smiles should be for me and me alone. Why would they waste them on just anyone? My lover leaned in closer to the woman they were flirting with, not even pretending to be embarrassed that they were doing it here, right in front of me, humiliating me before the entire office. Everyone said love was good. That it felt good, was positive. This just felt as though my chest were caving in, a carapace crushed under the boot of someone careless.

“Are you alright? You look tense,” Someone asked me. I tore my gaze away and looked at them. I think their expression might have been called worry.

“Did you know, humans aren’t actually monogamous?” I replied. They gave me a blank look.

“O-oh?”

“Everyone thinks they are. But they aren’t truly monogamous like spectral bats or swans are. Just culturally monogamous, and usually serial monogamists at that. Of course, that doesn’t stop them cheating,” I growled behind a smile as I glanced at my lover again. They’d moved on to flirting with some man now. Disgraceful. The person talking to me nodded slowly.

“Well, uh… good luck with that,” they said before moving on to talk to the next person. I looked at my lover again, then the man they were flirting with currently, then the woman who they’d flirted with before.

At least I knew where to get more red ink.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

[justawhitewall]

hello, hope you are well. could we maybe, possibly, have a tiny sneak peek of the masterpiece that is mirages of you? pls 🥺

i gotta say, this ask yanked me out of my writers block, so thank you <3 here's a little preview of the next chapter!!

--

“Can nuns get hickeys?”

Beatrice frowned. Her hand rose halfway to her neck, then froze. “Physically? Nuns have the same anatomy as anyone else, I suppose, so if someone were to –”

“Beatrice.” Ava folded her arms in front of her. “You know that’s not what I meant. Are you, like, allowed or whatever?”

Beatrice’s mouth twitched downwards. “Well there’s no specific rule about it, but I wouldn’t consider a hickey chaste. Why? Are you…” She trailed off, then straightened her shoulders. When she spoke again, her voice was pitched down, soft and a little dangerous. “Are you thinking of giving a nun a hickey?” 

Well, shit, now I am. 

Beatrice’s eyes didn’t leave hers. It almost felt like she was issuing a challenge, like Ava had crossed a line and Beatrice was – well, Ava didn’t know what she was, but she knew what the words did to her, and pushed that feeling down as far as she could.  

“No,” she lied. She stepped forward, raising a hand to Beatrice’s neck and lowering the collar of her shirt an inch or two. She hadn’t seen it up close, but now that she had, it was undeniable. “You already have one.” 

She let her fingers trail against it for a second, curious. 

“Ava,” Beatrice said. There was a quiver in her voice that Ava didn’t quite know what to make of. “I can explain.”

Ava shrugged and pulled her hand away. “Don’t have to.” 

“I – I don’t?” A hint of something hopeful colored the edges of her words, and Ava felt bad for being angry. Beatrice deserved to explore, to live a little. She’d taken her vows younger than most, she’d said, and they were about to wage war on a dude who was either a demon or the devil in a battle for Earth itself. Beatrice deserved to enjoy the little time they had in this idyllic town however she pleased.

Ava just wished it was with her. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Her voice sounded tight, unnatural, even to her own ears. “If you need me out of the apartment just – leave a sock on the door, or something.”

Beatrice frowned. “A… sock?” 

“Yeah. Like in the movies, when some dude bro brings a girl back to his dorm he leaves a sock on the door to let his roommate know.”

“‘Dude bro?’” Beatrice shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me. But I – Ava, I’m not bringing anyone home.” 

For a second, Ava was relieved, until she realized that that made it worse, actually. Beatrice was hooking up with someone – where? In public? In their house? Her imagination took the thought and ran. The image was becoming a bit sharper, and she didn’t like it one bit. 

“I’m just trying to say that it’d be fine if you wanted to.” 

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “It would?” 

“Of course.” Ava put on her best smile, then, to her own horror, reached out and lightly punched Beatrice in the shoulder. “It’s like, totally cool. I’m glad you’re getting out there.”

And deep down, she was. Beatrice deserved to live authentically. She deserved to explore, to experiment, to thrive. Again, she just wished it was with – 

No. She squashed the thought, twisted her metaphorical foot on top of it to make sure it was good and dead. She wasn’t going to be like this. She was going to be a good friend. 

Beatrice looked down at her shoulder, frowning at the spot Ava had just nudged with her fist, then back up at Ava. “Ava, I – “

“I should get back downstairs. I think I heard Hans call for me.” 

She hadn’t, and she was pretty sure Beatrice knew that, but Beatrice nodded anyway, her mouth flattening into a thin line as she nodded. “Right.”

--

that's all for now, but I have been chipping away at it little by little and hope that the rest will be done soon!

I don't think I've talked about this much on tumblr, but I had about a month or so there where I was having some problems with my hands and couldn't write much at all, and once I got that more or less sorted, the writers block had set in. I really appreciate everyone who has sent an ask or left a comment, you've all been very kind and patient and it's been lovely to feel that support :)

[chimchimsauce]

Fairest

Is beauty a blessing or a curse? All of her life, princess YN was told that her beauty was the greatest gift her late mother ever gave her. But when her looks attract a man cruel and bloodthirsty, YN begins to think that her greatest asset is the beginning of her demise.

“Checkmate.”

YN cannot help the grin that spreads across her face as she utters the word, watching as her older brother groans with disdain.

“You always win!” he complains, acting very much like a child.

“That’s because you always get too caught up in the current move, dear brother. The future decisions are the most important ones.”

YN’s older brother, first in line to the throne of their small country Ameris, huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Chess is like war. You get too focused on winning battles that cause you to lose the war. I certainly hope that won’t be the case for our kingdom . . .”

YN is only jesting. Her elder brother is an excellent leader and will make a wonderful king. He’s just really impatient with games. 

“I’m sure I can beat you next round!” her brother says playfully.

They both know it’s unlikely, but YN clears the board and begins to set up another game. As she’s placing the last pawn, a knock comes at the door. One of her handmaidens opens it, revealing one of their father’s special guards. 

YN’s breath catches ever so slightly before she schools her expression back into one of unbothered royalty. It’s always so hard to ignore her secret lover when other people are around, but she knows she must. A relationship between her and her father’s most trusted guard would cause a scandal that would undoubtedly get Wonho’s position revoked. He’s worked his entire life to get good enough for a spot on the King’s royal guard and there’s no way YN would do anything to sabotage that.

“His majesty has requested your presence,” Wonho says, not even looking YN in the eyes.

He’s much better at keeping his emotions in check.

YN’s brother stands, tapping his finger on the chessboard.

“Lucky thing I’m being summoned, or else I would have absolutely destroyed you in this game.”

YN laughs, maybe a little more politely than she would if Wonho wasn’t standing at the door.

“I’m sure of it,” she says, “Feel free to come back anytime to play again.”

YN’s brother nods and leaves her quarters, following after Wonho. Being the heir to the throne means that YN rarely gets to see her brother. He’ll be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time as he tours the neighboring countries to learn everything he possibly can, as well as maintain a positive relationship with their allies. Ameris may be a small country, but it is located in the perfect spot for transcontinental trade and filled to the brim with valuable resources. One could dig in a mine for just a few moments and emerge with a diamond the size of a robin’s egg.

Thankfully, Ameris has not had any problems with its neighboring countries in hundreds of years. The last war was ended by YN’s great great great grandfather and peace has blanketed the region since then.

Well, for the most part. In the last several years, the Eastern kingdom of Moonbyss has been steadily expanding and taking over small, unclaimed villages. They have not breached any borders or broken any treaties, however, so there is no cause to worry quite yet.

YN sighs as her thoughts shift back to Wonho. Their secret love affair has been going on since they were teenagers. At first, Wonho was just an attractive boy who was willing to indulge her wanton fantasies, but soon enough an affection bloomed between them. It’s so hard to pretend not to be in love with him, especially when he grows more handsome by the day.

“Thinking about him, my lady?” YN’s lady in waiting, Irene, asks her.

Irene is YN’s closest confidant and friend. She knows almost everything about the princess. Ever since she arrived in the castle from abroad two years ago, they have been inseparable. 

“Of course,” YN says, standing and walking over to the window that overlooks her private gardens. 

She opens the glass door and steps outside, her skin warmed by the sunshine. It’s an absolutely beautiful day, cloudless and blue. Birds chirp sweetly and the scent of flowers wafts on the breeze. The princess stops at the fountain in the middle of the garden, sitting on the bench and looking into the bubbling water. YN often made wishes in this fountain when she was younger, tossing in coins that reflected the sunlight back at her. More recently, though, she’s only wished for one thing - to be with Wonho. Her father, although he loves her, would never allow a union between them. Her older brother, however, has promised to allow YN to marry whoever she desires once he takes the throne on his thirtieth birthday.

He does not know that someone already has her affections, but no matter. YN is not worried about being married off. While her brother is the only prince in the kingdom, the king was blessed with twelve daughters and YN is the youngest. Every available man of power in the kingdom and the surrounding countries have already been wedded. 

YN has Irene bring her a book to read and she settles in, getting comfortable in her garden. The hours pass by quickly as she is sucked into the tale, but soon enough a shadow blocks her reading light. 

The princess looks up and is shocked to see Wonho standing in front of her. Alarm flares up inside of her. The two of them have agreed to never be seen together in daylight.

“Won-”

“Your Majesty,” Wonho says stiffly, “The King requests an audience. I have been asked to escort you to the throne room.”

YN hesitates a moment. She can tell that something is wrong by the strain in his voice. Something must really be bothering him for the guard to allow it to leak into his words. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, but she never knows who is watching so she simply stands, handing her book off to Irene who stands beside her.

“Very well,” YN says, trailing after him and back into the castle.

He walks three paces in front of her, leaving her to stare at his back. So much about him has changed in the last few years. He’s gained an immense amount of muscle, something that YN has really grown to appreciate during their midnight endeavors. It’s a shame that everything is covered up by his uniform, but she must admit he looks dashing in it.

As they walk, YN notices that Wonho isn’t the only one acting strangely. The various maids and butlers who usually flit around and chatter pleasantly amongst themselves are dead silent, walking with perfectly straight backs and zipped mouths. The princess notices a few pitying looks tossed her way and something cold settles in her stomach.

What’s going on?

Wonho knocks on the throne room’s closed doors. They are ever so carefully opened a few moments later and Wonho leads YN into the grand room.

Her father sits on the throne, a smaller one empty next to him. It always makes YN sad to see her father by himself. The Queen passed away only a year ago and was her father’s closest friend. The late Queen was kind to everyone, even YN’s mother - a poor girl her father discovered in one of his hunting trips. Apparently, YN’s father was so taken with her mother that he simply had to add her to his harem and rarely visited any of his other concubines afterward. But it didn’t last long - YN’s mother died shortly after her birth. Everyone says that she left YN her ethereal beauty, a fact that led YN to being hidden away in the castle for the majority of her life.

“You’re the most valuable diamond in all of Ameris,” her father told her once, “It’s important that few people know of your existence.”

It had saddened YN when she was younger that she could not attend the lavish parties and balls like her elder sisters and brother, but she came not to mind once Wonho came into her life. It mattered not if other people thought she was beautiful - as long as Wonho desired her, that was more than enough.

Standing to her father’s side is YN’s brother. The jolly air that had surrounded him mere hours ago is gone completely now. He looks furious, an expression YN has rarely seen on his face. He’s looking at a man who stands before the throne, a crown placed perfectly on his head.

Visiting nobility? 

The man turns as the click of YN’s heels sounds out against the marble flooring. YN’s step falters as a large, nearly terrifying grin spreads across his face. He is incredibly handsome, but the smile on his face does nothing but creepy the princess out.

“There she is,” he says, quickly extending his hand towards her.

YN, uncertain, looks at her father who gives her a stiff nod. Hesitantly, YN places her hand in the stranger’s grasp, making sure to school her expression as he places a cold kiss that lingers too long against her gloved hand. The princess has never been more glad to be wearing gloves.

“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” YN asks, careful to watch her throne. 

“King Seokjin Moonbyss, your highness. I must say, the rumors of your beauty do you no justice. You’re much more radiant in person.”

YN’s blood freezes in her veins. This cannot mean anything good.

“Thank you,” YN says, a slight tremble in her voice.

The man has still not released her hand.

“YN,” her father says, giving her an excuse to look away from this man - no, this monster - beside her, “King Seokjin has asked for your hand.”

YN barely squashes the shout of protest that so desperately wants to escape her throat. There’s no way this can be happening! No way! Her eldest brother is just three years shy of taking the throne, three years more of having to tiptoe around with Wonho. No way she can get married, especially to someone from so far away.

“Excuse me,” Wonho says, speaking up from his place behind YN, “I thought King Seokjin was already married.”

Relief flows through YN. If Seokjin is already married, then surely this is an error.

“She failed to provide me with a male heir, so I had her disposed of,” King Seokjin says simply, glaring at Wonho, “Do not question me again.”

There is not a trace of remorse in his voice at all, nothing but anger.

YN begins to tremble.

“Father -” she begins.

“King Seokjin has made us an offer I cannot refuse,” he says, cutting her off, “And besides, YN, you’ll be able to be Queen. You never would have had that opportunity here.”

YN’s father would normally never make this sort of decision, especially not for the daughter he tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Of course, sweet YN,” King Seokjin says, “You are free to reject my offer if you so desire. I would, however, be forced to declare war on Ameris. After all, this country is the most resource rich of all the lands. It’s a shame. It would have been so much nicer to make a positive connection with this beautiful country. I wonder how much of its splendor will be left once my troops march through it.”

The threat is crystal clear. YN has to marry this King or her country will suffer for it. YN glances at her father and brother, seeing the fear that’s in their eyes. Ameris is much too small to fight Moonbyss and win, especially since the eastern country has been gaining a lot of territory very rapidly. YN swallows. In a matter of hours, her perfect daydream has been shattered.

“I would be honored to marry you, King Seokjin,” YN says, trying her hardest not to cry.

She can release her tears once she’s in the safety of her own chambers. She cannot show any weakness in front of this man.

“Beautiful and smart,” King Seokjin says, “It will be my honor to have you as my bride. After all, the most handsome man in all the world deserves the most beautiful bride of them all.”

YN never really thought much of her beauty. She’s always heard it was a blessing, the only one her mother ever left her, but right now it feels like a curse. 

“I pray that you’ll join me for dinner this evening, my betrothed,” King Seokjin says.

“I would love to,” YN says even though the thought of having to spend even a single moment more in this man’s presence makes her want to hurl.

“You best retire to your quarters, my love. Your father and I have much to discuss before this evening. I’ll send someone for you when I’m ready.”

The dismissal is clear. YN turns swiftly and leaves the room, Wonho following closely behind her. She walks much too fast to be considered ladylike, but she does not give a damn, wanting to be as far away from the throne room as possible. 

“YN, wait!” Wonho calls out to her.

He grasps her wrist, uncaring of who will see, and pulls her to his chest. As soon as the warmth of him touches her, YN loses all composure, breaking down and sobbing into his pristine uniform.

“Wonho,” she cries out, grasping him as close as she can, her fingers creasing the silk he wears, “I don’t want to be Queen! I want to marry you!”

YN feels something wet fall against her head. Based on the way his shoulders shake, Wonho is also crying. She hasn’t seen him shed a tear since one of his best friends was murdered on a mission.

“What are we going to do?” YN asks into his chest, her voice muffled, “I don’t think I can bear being apart from you, especially with someone as cruel as the King!”

“We’ll figure something out, YN, I promise,” Wonho says, pulling away just enough to give YN a salty kiss.

“At least once more,” YN says once their lips part, “I must have you at least once more.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Wonho says, pulling her along to her chambers.

The two fall into the sheets, both knowing that this is the last time despite desperately wanting to spend eternity together.

On the other side of the castle, Irene makes her way through the hallways, stopping at a grand door and knocking three times. No one answers, so she swings it open, prepared to wait for as long as it takes. 

Maybe half an hour later, King Seokjin opens the door, looking quite pleased with himself. He doesn’t greet Irene, instead instantly walking over to her and pinning her against the wall, his lips meeting hers passionately. Irene barely has any time to catch her breath, but she doesn’t mind at all, too enamored with this man she knows is only using her.

When he was only a prince, Seokjin was infamous for being a womanizer. All too often, he lured servants and noble girls alike into his chambers, whispering promises and pressing kisses against their skin only to leave them abandoned like trash when he grew bored of them. Irene was one of those servant girls, but Seokjin has kept her around for longer than most. A part of Irene is convinced it’s because she’s special to him, but she knows it’s really not true.

Seokjin has been obsessed with YN, the secret twelfth princess of Ameris for five years now. Ever since he spotted her while visiting Ameris with his late father, he wanted her - needed her. After all, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, trying as he might to find another. His late wife was incredibly beautiful as well, but she didn’t compare to YN. No one else was worthy of her but him. It was YN that drove him to murder his own father and take the throne before he was supposed to. After all, Seokjin has never been a patient man.

Seokjin pulls away from Irene, looking unbothered as ever.

“No good,” he says, “Simply imagining that you’re YN does nothing. I’m tired of waiting.”

His words sting Irene’s heart. She tries not to be bitter, but jealousy is a powerful emotion, one that overshadows the genuine affection she feels for princess YN.

“Well,” the King asks her, “Who is it? The one YN claims to be in love with.”

The King rolls his eyes, gripping his fists tightly. How dare YN love another when he’s already claimed her.

“It’s Wonho,” Irene says, pushing down her feelings, “the guard that accompanied her today.”

“A guard huh? How dare he think he deserves someone as beautiful as YN!” he says, furious.

Seokjin is terrifying when he’s angry. Irene tenses, preparing for the worst. Instead of gripping her hair and tossing her to the floor like he usually does, Seokjin grabs a decorative vase and tosses it against the ground, watching as it shatters into a million pieces.

“You didn’t strike me,” Irene says, shocked.

“I have been practicing,” the King says, “After all, it would be a shame to make a single mark on YN’s perfect body.”

Much too soon, Irene is knocking on YN’s private chamber door.

“Your majesty,” she calls out softly, “Your betrothed has requested your presence.”

YN rolls over to Wonho, tears in her eyes. He blinks them away, wanting to remember this moment clearly.

“One moment,” YN calls out, listening as Irene walks away.

“Run away with me,” YN pleads, her voice desperate.

“You know we can’t,” Wonho says, his eyes sad.

“Yes we can!” YN insists, “You know this country better than anyone. We can get up right now and flee and -”

“YN,” Wonho says, “What about the country? You know we’ll be forced to go to war if you disappear.”

YN sniffles.

“I don’t think I can live without you,” YN confessed, “And if I can, I don’t want to find out.”

Wonho is silent for a moment before he sits up, an idea in his mind.

“What? What is it?” YN asks him.

“What if you didn’t?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to live without me? I’ve heard rumors amongst the staff of a poison you can take that will put you in a deep slumber for a fortnight. If some was mixed into your dinner tonight, it can seem that you’ve been poisoned and passed away. Then when you awake, you and I can disappear together.”

YN brightens. Even though being unconscious for a fortnight doesn’t sound pleasant, anything will be better than having to marry KIng Seokjin. Besides, she trusts Wonho with her life.

“Okay,” YN says, agreeing right away.

“Are you sure, YN?” Wonho asks her, “You will end up getting rather sick for a few days before the slumber.”

YN nods eagerly.

“Yes, anything,” she says.

“Very well.”

Wonho hops out of bed, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he possibly can.

“I’ll get everything ready. YN, go to dinner with the king, alright? I won’t be able to see you after this so as not to arouse suspicion. I love you, princess.”

He leans down to kiss her.

“I love you more,” YN says, watching as Wonho slips out of a glass door and into the gardens.

Unbeknownst to the lovers, King Seokjin is outside the door, his ear pressed against it to hear everything. He had come to escort his beloved like a sweet fiance would, only to hear his to be wife scheming to get away from him.

He’s never been so angry, but he suppressed it, not wanting to let YN know that he’s been here. He grabs Irene by the arm roughly and leads her out into the hallway, bending over to whisper in her ear.

“Make sure to add enough of the poison to YN’s food to keep her under for longer than a fortnight. Put as much of it in as you can without bringing her to the brink of death.”

“Are you sure your -”

Irene’s question is cut off when he backhands her, one of his elegant rings drawing blood.

“Do NOT question me!” he says, “Do as I order!”

Irene rushes off to do as the King says, tears brimming in her eyes. She’s never regretted being Seokjin’s spy until now, too blinded by love. She should have warned YN, should have helped her disappear with Wonho - someone Irene knows truly loves the princess. King Seokjin is just obsessed with her beauty and determined to own her like she’s some sort of object to be bought and sold.

Peeking around the corner, Irene sees Wonho pouring a liquid into the soup bowl meant for the princess. When he leaves and when the coast is clear, Irene snatches the vial from the counter and empties the rest of it into other dishes reserved for the princess before refilling the vial with water and placing it back where Wonho left it.

“YN, I’m so sorry,” she whispers to herself before fleeing into the night, never to be heard from again.

At dinner, YN pretends not to notice the odd taste in her food. It’s obviously been tampered with, but YN doesn’t let it show at all, eating properly and conversing with King Seokjin as much as she can bear. YN misses the look of glee in his eye as he drinks from his goblet, still believing that everything is going to plan.

YN starts feeling ill once the final course comes around. She quickly asks to be excused and King Seokjin offers to walk her back to her room. YN accepts, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own with the  way the room begins to spin.

For the next three days and nights, YN is in and out of consciousness, the world swirling around her in a nauseating mix of bright colors and fuzzy shapes. When she closes her eyes at midnight of the third day, her thoughts are on Wonho and the fact that the next time she opens them, she’ll be free to be with him.

But YN does not wake up. Not for a fortnight, not ever. Seokjin, furious, intends to find Irene and hang her for murdering his beloved before realizing that she’s nowhere to be found. It’s easy enough to frame Wonho for her murder and a matter of hours after YN dies, Wonho follows her from the gallows.

At his request, YN is preserved and dressed in a wonderful white wedding gown, still looking very much alive. He marries her anyway and has her crowned, determined to have her even in death. She’s too beautiful to be buried underground, so he commissions a glass coffin to display her in, putting her corpse in his bedroom where no one else can see her. King Seokjin finds that he does not mind YN being dead. She’s much less bothersome in passing, much easier to fall to his will.

King Seokjin stands before her, placing his hand flat against the cool glass of her coffin. Even in death, YN is the fairest of them all.

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again. 

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll 

Fresh coffee.  

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.  

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.  

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.  

As he remembers exactly where he is.  

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.  

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.  

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.  

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.  

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.  

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.  

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.  

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.  

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.  

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.  

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.  

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.  

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.  

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.  

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.  

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.  

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.  

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.  

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.  

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.  

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.  

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.  

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.  

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.  

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.  

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.  

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.  

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.  

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.  

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.  

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.  

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.  

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter,  “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”  

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.  

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.  

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.  

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.  

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.  

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.  

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.  

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.  

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.  

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.  

“You’re wet.”  He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”  

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.  Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.  

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”  

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.  

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi?  You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.  

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”  

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.  

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.  

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.  

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 2,509 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Daryl make a break to get out of The Sanctuary.

Your name: submit What is this?

You waited for Negan to roll out the next morning, and he did so with quite a caravan and a lot of trucks. The Sanctuary felt empty and quiet. It was just what you needed. You decided to try one last chance for a weapon. Dwight’s room. You slipped inside and looked around. No sign of the crossbow or the vest—he was probably wearing them, but you found a knife in a leather sheath. There were piles of folded clothes on a table near the door and you grabbed some for Daryl, shoving them hastily into your bag, which was already loaded with water and food. You nestled the knife in on top and headed for Daryl’s cell. You carefully glanced around and listened for any approaching footsteps. You heard none. You unlocked the door and Daryl was standing inside. “Here,” you said, handing the clothes and shoes to him. “And this.” You held out the knife and nodded at him. He could read fear in your eyes but you looked determined.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I’m gonna do a sweep down to the exit and back up. I’ll be back,” you said, starting to fiddle with the keys.

“Hey,” Daryl’s hand landed on your arm. “Be careful,” he drawled. There was fear in his eyes too. You nodded.

“I will. Five minutes,” you said. You closed the door and locked it again, just in case anyone happened to check, shoving the keys in your bag and trying to walk casually when every muscle in you wanted to run.

There were a few workers mopping a side hallway, but they were almost done. Otherwise, the coast was clear. Several guards were bullshitting in the guard room with their feet up, laughing loudly and swapping stories about their best walker kills.

You inserted the key into the door that led outside and unlocked it. You pushed it open just a sliver and glanced around the small gravel lot. It was empty. And there sat Daryl’s bike.

You withdrew, locking it again, just in case someone tried it, and forced yourself to walk slowly back up to Daryl’s cell, checking around each corner before you moved. Your heart was pounding. You were so close. Almost there. You just needed your luck to hold out a little longer.

You lightly tapped on the door and heard Daryl let out a low whistle. You unlocked it, and pulled the door open. He was standing there in the clean clothes you had given him and you almost started crying just at the sight of him out of that horrible sweatshirt. “It’s clear,” you whispered. “C’mon.”

He kept his hand on the knife and followed you silently. You peeked around the first corner. Clear. The second corner. Clear. Down the back staircase. You poked your head out and checked both ways down the hall. Clear. You rifled through the keys and found the one you needed to unlock the outside door. Then you dug a hand into the pocket of your jeans and pulled out the motorcycle key. You turned and looked at Daryl, holding it out with a nod. He took it and nodded back, rocking a little anxiously on his feet and glancing back over his shoulder.

You crossed the hallway to the door and unlocked it. You could smell freedom. You pushed the door open about an inch and listened. You pushed it open a bit wider and glanced around. Nothing. You glanced back at Daryl and grinned, tilting your head.

You both slipped into the yard and Daryl went to his bike, checking to make sure there was gas in it and that everything was connected to get it started. You were waiting anxiously nearby when you heard feet scuffing on the gravel and a familiar voice behind you.

“Whoa. Hey—Y/N and—woah. Okay,” Joey said nervously, lifting his hands up. “I won’t say anything. I just—you can go. I won’t tell anybody. I swear.”

You exchanged a glance with Daryl, who had unsheathed the knife, and turned back to Joey. “Shut up,” you said. “Don’t move.” That’s when you saw Rick’s gun sticking out of his waistband. You scowled at him and pulled it out, looking back at Daryl again. No hesitation, Daryl plunged the knife into the base of Fat Joey’s skull. He dropped instantly with a weighty thud.

You stared down at him for a moment, feeling a wave of remorse. Daryl touched you on the shoulder. “I had to. He woulda told everyone,” he said. “C’mon.”

Daryl mounted the bike, kicked up the kickstand, and started rolling it to the gate. You unlocked the padlock on the gate before heaving it open as the bike roared to life.

Daryl gave you a triumphant smile as you jogged over to climb on, wrapping your arms securely around his waist. At the feeling of your arms tightening around him, he revved the engine and you were gone, speeding away from The Sanctuary and leaving nothing but a cloud of dust.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You’d been riding for a while, squeezing onto Daryl at every turn, glancing back over your shoulder every few seconds, certain that you would look back and see them on your tail.

But at some point, the realization washed over you that you had made it. You had made it. You were out. You were gone. And Daryl was in front of you, safe. You held more tightly to him and you were surprised when his right hand pressed over your left one which was resting on his side. You could feel the roughness of his palm against your skin as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You relished the feeling.

You pressed your cheek against his shoulder and shut your eyes, breathing in a gasping, shaking breath like you had been underwater since you’d walked out of the woods with your hands up at that outpost. It was like you had been slowly drowning and suddenly were able to come up for air.

Daryl must have felt you shaking because he glanced at you over his shoulder and began to slow, abruptly turning off into the woods and stopping the bike.

You straightened up, suddenly anxious and scared all over again, glancing over your shoulder as he climbed off the bike. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked urgently. Had you let out that sigh of relief too soon?

He shook his head and held out a hand to help you off. You accepted it and climbed down. “Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong,” he said. He was staring into your face as you glanced around. You seemed to be reeling. “I just—I thought—might just need a minute,” he said. “We can stop for a minute.”

Your chest was still heaving and you nodded at him, glancing around at the green forest you were in and then back at the man standing in front of you. He watched as your breathing slowed and became shallower, and something shifted. You shut your eyes and suddenly leaned forward, putting your hands on your knees and hanging your head, a curtain of your hair falling forward and blocking your face from view. If he could have seen it, it was contorted with emotion.

Daryl rushed forward. “Hey. Ya alright?”

You nodded, feeling lightheaded and sank down to your knees, relishing the feeling of the soft soil beneath them and the cool moisture soaking through your jeans. “We made it,” you said breathlessly. “We fucking made it.” Your tone was complete disbelief and Daryl watched you kneeling there in front of him.

“Ya. We did.” He sat down in front of you, leaning back on his hands and digging his fingers into the earth. “You did that,” he said. He shook his head. “Ya did all of it.”

You simply stared at him, trying to catch your breath, your lips slightly parted. A few tears escaped your eyes which were all the more vibrant looking due to the glassiness in them.

“Y/N,” he said, shaking his head. “What ya did—” Daryl was never much for words, but at that moment they failed him completely.

You tore your eyes away and shook your head. You weren’t ready for that yet. “Oh—here,” you said, digging in your bag. You pulled out two canteens and some food. “You need this.”

Daryl gave you a perceptive look, not missing the quick subject change, and accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.” He watched you as you raised your canteen to your lips, the bruise on your neck from Negan even more glaringly obvious in the bright daylight.

His fist clenched. “I’m gonna kill him,” he growled suddenly. The deep rage in his voice shot your eyes back up to his face. “Negan.”

You replaced the cap on your canteen and stared down at your knees in the soil. “I think you may have to fight Rick over that,” you said quietly. “Or me.”

“Nah. They’re mine,” he said, unwrapping the bread you had packed for him. “Him and Dwight. They’re already dead,” he growled.

You stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, but then dug a hand into your bag and withdrew a bandana. You uncapped your canteen and poured a little water on it. “Here,” you said, straightening up and moving closer in front of him. “You’ve got blood on your face. And it’s not yours this time.”

Daryl didn’t flinch as you gently wiped the spatter from his forehead and cheek. He sat stock still and used the moment while you were intent on him to study your face up close again, the flecks of color in your eyes, the soft fray of your eyelashes, and the full pout of your lips. He felt a longing in his chest that was impossible to ignore but he quickly squashed it down as best he could, shifting a little where he was seated. You weren’t safe yet.

“I wanted to clean you up every time I saw you,” you said quietly, withdrawing after you had gotten the last of the stains off his cheek. “Even just wipe the dirt off your face. But I was afraid they’d notice even that.”

Daryl averted his eyes back to the bread in his hands. “Ya. I probably stink,” he said, glancing up at you with one corner of his mouth twitching up. “Sorry. Ya gotta smell me all the way back to Hilltop.”

You smiled at him, just a small one, but at that moment he’d take it. “All I can smell is the fresh air and freedom.”

Daryl broke a big chunk of cheese off the wedge you had stolen and brought along and he nodded. “One more minute. And then we’ll go,” he said.

You nodded and stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees. You paced away over to a big oak tree and leaned back against the trunk, watching the archer eagerly devour the food you’d brought for him. You rested a hand on the handle of Rick’s gun, which you had tucked into your waistband. “I’m sorry. I tried to find your crossbow and get your vest but—that asshole must be wearing them.”

Daryl sighed and nodded, wrapping up what was left of the food and drinking deeply from the canteen again. “Yeah. He is. He always is.” He brushed the soil from his fingers and jeans and tilted his head toward the bike. “C’mon. Let’s get you behind some safe walls.”

You climbed on behind him and wrapped your arms around him again. Daryl focused on the feeling of you leaning against him.

For the rest of the ride, you kept your mind blank and just looked and felt. By the time the walls of Hilltop came into view, you were exhausted, physically and emotionally.

Maggie was up on the lookout post, just staring out at the landscape, sometimes deep in thought and sometimes just numb. But she snapped up straight when she heard and saw a lone motorcycle approaching. She grabbed the binoculars and looked through. “Oh my God,” she said aloud. “Sasha! Enid! Get out here!” She turned to the men on gate duty. “Open the gates!” she urged, immediately rushing to climb down.

You watched over Daryl’s shoulder as the gates opened to you and he pulled inside. Maggie was standing there waiting, a look of disbelief on her face. Sasha and Enid were running over as Daryl helped you off the bike. All of them stood looking at the two of you in disbelief. You felt like you were in a daze. The voices and sounds around you were hazy, distorted, and your vision was starting to be a bit blurry around the edges.

Maggie rushed and grabbed Daryl into a tight hug. You watched his whole body stiffen. She released him and stood in front of you, a teary smile on her face, and grabbed you tightly too. You hugged her back with everything you had.

“You’re alright? They said you were sick,” you said, pulling back to look into her face. You were surprised at how weak your voice sounded, and it wasn’t lost on anyone around you. Their faces immediately contorted into concern and Daryl moved closer to you again, studying your expression. You ignored it. Tears formed in your eyes as you thought of Glenn. “Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m alright. The baby is fine,” she said holding onto your forearms as you pulled back from her hug.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered. You nodded and pulled away from her all the way, still forcing yourself to ignore how shaky and weak your knees suddenly felt. You didn’t have a second to breathe before Sasha grabbed you, followed by Enid.

Enid looked up at you. “How is everyone at Alexandria?” she asked desperately.

You gulped and shook your head, almost struggling to speak now. “I don’t—I don’t know. I haven’t been there in… a while.”

Daryl moved closer to you again and spoke your name. You looked at him and tried to focus on his face but the blur around the edges of your vision was encroaching completely now and you suddenly staggered on your feet. “Y/N,” he said desperately.

Maggie exchanged a frantic look with Sasha.

“Y/N! Hey!” Daryl said again, reaching out and grabbing gently onto your arms. You were in a fog as you held onto him, wavering on your feet. He swore under his breath. The color drained from your face and the next moment everything went black. You didn’t fall. Daryl was right there, scooping you into his arms as you went limp.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 9

Helmetless + Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  You make a promise to Din before you leave to meet with your superiors, but will you be able to keep it?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,976

Warnings: fluff, the angst is back people, protective and possessive Din, your superiors are assholes, overuse of italics, swearing, plot plot plot

Author Note: All the love to every single supporter out there! Don’t hate me too much for this segment please.

Links to Part 1 and Part 8 and Part 10

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“I’m going with you, angel.”

In exactly one hour, you’re due to report back to headquarters. You’ve been loathing this meeting from the get-go, but now, after being matched with Din, the mere thought of leaving him is as painful as a physical blow. You wish you had more time to revel in his heated kisses, the touch of his hands against your skin, the low growls he elicits when you run your nails through his curls.

Deep down, you know as immortal beings you will have an eternity to experience all of these thrills together. But right now the bond you two share as soulmates doesn’t care about the future, only the present. In your mind, it resembles a sapling soaking up every ounce of affection it can from you and Din, craving more and more intimacy in order to become stronger. Just thinking about being separated from him, even for only a short while, makes your chest hurt something fierce, as if a bundle of thorns has become wrapped around your heart.

Din is not immune to the effects of the soulmate bond either. Since his return to Arvala-7 he has not let you out of his sight for longer than thirty seconds. Anyone else, you would have been annoyed by the incessant staring, but with Din you only feel desired and, as sappy as it sounds, cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.

Which makes it all the harder to meet his gaze right now, frowning as you shake your head at him.

“Din, you can’t,” you say quietly, praying your voice doesn’t break because you know it will trigger his overprotectiveness and then you’ll helplessly melt into a puddle of warm emotions. “Only Cupids are allowed at headquarters. No outsiders allowed, not even Death.”

His jaw clenches, displeased by your rebuttal, but his fingers are gentle as they trail across your cheeks. That’s another thing you’ve noticed since he’s reunited with you: his gloves have yet to make a reappearance. It’s like now that you and the universe have assured him of your requited feelings, his iron walls of self-control have crumbled to dust, revealing a lonely, touch-starved soul who has long been told he could never physically connect with someone without the risk of killing them and is now desperate to make up for the lost time.

With this in mind, each time he initiates contact, you always make sure to return the gesture with as much affection as you can muster, whether that be by deepening his kisses or by intertwining your fingers tightly with his when he reaches for your hand. Or, such as in this instance where the two of you are lying together and cuddling on Kuiil’s bed, you take advantage of him having removed his full suit of armor to curl closer against his chest, nuzzling your head beneath his chin.

The Ugnaught had taken Din’s return in stride when he and IG-11 had paused their farmwork outside to check up on you about twenty minutes ago. Upon seeing them, Din had started to untangle himself from you so he could stand to greet them. His lack of urgency to conceal his face surprised you initially, but then you recalled Kuiil already knew Din resembled a human male, meaning at some point during their friendship Din had become comfortable enough to not wear his helmet around him. Petty jealousy swirls inside of you, upset you’re not the only one who knows Death’s true face, but you squash the ridiculous emotion not even a second later. If anyone is worthy enough of seeing Din’s true self, it’s Kuiil.

Before Din could get to his feet, Kuiil had merely shaken his head, saying he didn’t want to interrupt your time together when he knew you had to leave soon. Which is what prompted Din to insist upon himself accompanying you to headquarters.

“I don’t want you anywhere near those bastards,” he mutters darkly, lines of frustration forming ridges along his forehead. He still hasn't forgiven Hess for causing you to have a panic attack.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, not with the intention of stopping his soothing ministrations, but instead grounding yourself in the moment using the skin-on-skin contact. Perhaps, you acknowledge privately to yourself, he’s not the only touch-starved soul in the room. I don’t want to be near them either, you want to tell him. Let’s fly away together on the Crest, somewhere far, far away...

Instead, you force yourself to say with the same carefully even tone, “The meeting should just be an hour or two, then they’ll make me take a reassessment test about Cupid regulations which I’ll pass easily.” You lift your head to peck the bridge of his prominent nose before holding up your pinky finger. “And by later this evening, I’ll be right back here in your arms. Pinky promise.”

Din stares at you for several heartbeats, stubbornness lingering in his gaze before at last he exhales a quiet sigh of surrender. He wraps his pinky around yours, squeezing tightly.

“I thought leaving you behind here was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, but this—letting you go face them alone and knowing I can’t intervene—it’s a pain I’d only wish upon my worst enemies.”

You want to say something lighthearted, a teasing remark to ease the heavy tension in the room and make that stunning smile of his light up the space instead. Maybe, if you’re funny enough, you can make his precious and lone dimple appear in his cheek so you can press your lips to it. But your words get trapped in your throat, forming a lump that won’t go down no matter how hard you swallow.

You are equally as surprised as you are grateful when Din continues to speak.

“You’re my soulmate, angel, so when I swear these next words to you, I want you to have no doubt I mean them with absolute sincerity,” he says, a possessive and darkly seductive note creeping into his voice that has you instinctively biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning embarrassingly. “If anyone dares to keep you from me even a second longer than what is strictly necessary, I will stain the ground with their blood and reap their soul from their body so slowly they’ll weep for damnation.”

~~~

Headquarters is kriffing freezing.

That’s the first thing you notice when you step inside, goosebumps immediately rising along your arms and a shiver racks your spine as you navigate the maze of hallways towards the center of the building where the conference room is located. Every footstep reverberates off the black marble floors, but the sound isn’t loud enough to prevent you from overhearing the whispering voices of other Cupids watching you pass by, gossiping about your impending interrogation. You’d be angry at them, except that would make you a hypocrite since you’ve also spread a rumor or two about your coworkers in the past. You can feel an increase of anxiety rush through your bloodstream, making you stuff your hands into your pockets lest anyone sees them trembling and laughs.

Your three superiors are already seated and waiting in the conference room when you arrive. You make eye contact with each one, bowing your head as both a greeting and sign of respect. Lang, a dark-haired man who is known for shooting first and asking questions later, offers you a jaunty salute before lacing his hands behind his head as he balances his chair on its rear legs, the image of relaxation. Morgan Elsbeth, the only female of the trio, elects to ignore you in favor of boredly drumming her fingers on the glass tabletop, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than here. Hess returns the nod with a leering grin, further convincing you he was half-womp rat in his mortal life.

You reach for the chair closest to you, planning to pull it out to sit, when Hess’ low, gravelly voice has you freezing mid-motion. “Cupid 1-1-7, you are to remain standing for the duration of this meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back.

Hess turns in his seat towards the holoprojector that is set up on the table. He presses several buttons and a holographic figure flickers into view, dressed in dark armor with a long black cape. You recognize the seraph immediately, never able to forget the first face you saw when you woke up as a Cupid. Moff Gideon is the supreme leader of all Cupids, imposing and sharp-witted with violent powers you’ve often heard described as barbarically ruthless. Everything about him terrifies you and you’ve done all you can to avoid being in his presence.

Only now there is no escaping him. You can’t even teleport to save yourself. When headquarters was initially built, Gideon infused his powers into its structure with the intent of protecting the building from being discovered or, worse, attacked. (Though who would want to battle a bunch of Cupids, you have no idea). However, to the detriment of all Cupids currently inside headquarters, Gideon’s enchantment also blocks any of you from using your abilities. According to him, it’s to prevent any power-sensitive beings from detecting your aura signatures and you’ve never wanted to risk being murdered to try and find a flaw with that logic.

To put it bluntly, you’re a regular human in every sense except you get to keep your immortal youthfulness. Which is literally the least helpful perk you could ask for right now.

“Cupid 1-1-7,” Gideon says, dark eyes peering at you with such focused intensity you feel sweat begin to form along your hairline. “You were granted forty-eight hours to determine your client’s soulmate. Tell us, were you successful in finding his match?”

“I—” you cut yourself off, noticing his use of a gender specific term.

He chuckles at your dumbfounded expression, a quiet huff of air that you quickly deem the scariest sound you’ve ever heard. “You may have been able to conceal Death’s identity as your client from my associates, but few incidents occur in the galaxy without my knowing about them.”

Your three superiors each display unique reactions to the reveal. Morgan’s drumming stops, attention now hooked by the present conversation and she gives you a once-over, clearly reconsidering her overall impression of you. Lang nearly falls backwards onto the floor, barely managing to correct the chair at the last second to balance himself. Hess props his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, observing you in a similar fashion as Morgan, but there is an eerie glint in his gaze you don’t like the look of.

You swallow thickly, feeling sick to your stomach. “What do you want from me, sir?”

“The full and honest truth.” There is a brief pause, increasing the tension in the room. “Were you successful in finding Death’s soulmate?”

You don’t understand why he’s asking you the same question twice when he’s admitted he’s practically omniscient. And the way he’d paused just now, makes you start to worry he’s baiting you into a trap, but you have no viable means of escaping to avoid giving him an answer.

Your voice comes out meeker sounding than you’ve ever heard it. “Yes, sir, I was successful.”

When it becomes apparent after a long beat of silence you are not going to admit any further information, Gideon levels you with a stern look. “I strongly urge you to reveal their identity to us, Cupid 1-1-7, so we may make note of them in our archives as is customary for all matched pairs.”

Well now that makes you definitely feel cornered. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head; half of you is convinced he already knows you are Din’s soulmate and is toying with you, while the other half believes he actually has no idea at all and is trying to scare you into revealing the truth.

Kriff. What do you do?

You stare over their heads at the far wall, uncomfortably aware of how the silence stretches on as they wait for a name. Your name. Maker, why do you keep ending up in these horrible scenarios? Who did you piss off in your mortal life?

“If your tongue has failed you,” Gideon says, tone deceptively light and airy. “Might I suggest that an alternative way of answering would be to show us your hands.”

He knows.

Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.

You continue your staring contest with the wall, refusing to let them see any indication your blood has turned to ice or that your lungs are on the verge of collapsing. Think, you rack your brain frantically. For Maker’s sake, think of something .

“You’re already in hot water, Cupid 1-1-7,” Lang says. His southern accent softens the words, but you still manage to detect the warning laced within them. “Don’t make it worse for yourself by being stubborn.”

As much as you loathe to admit it, Lang has a point. By continuing to resist, you’re only hurting yourself by increasing the time spent separated from Din. You don’t want to break your promise to him. Or, that little voice in the back of your mind chips in, cause Din to destroy Kuiil’s farm out of a panic-induced rage when you don’t show up tonight like you promised you would.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady your nerves, you hold out your marked hand, palm facing up to clearly display the soulmate marking. The little black heart almost seems to glow at being the center of attention.

“That is impossible,” Morgan murmurs, looking from your hand to her colleagues and back again. “No one can have two soulmates.”

“And yet here we have living proof contradicting that belief,” Gideon answers, gesturing towards you grandly with both arms. There is something in his voice—awe, you identify a second later—that has your body instinctively stiffening.

“That belief is the natural order of the universe.” Morgan’s voice is snappish, but outwardly she is her calm and collected self, not a single strand of hair out of place. “She is a deviation of the norm. A glitch.”

“If other Cupids find out about her,” Hess begins, pointing a finger at you like the others have no idea who he’s talking about. Like you’re not able to hear every word. “They’ll start thinking maybe there’s a second soulmate out there somewhere for them too, someone to replace the one who rejected them in their mortal life. They’ll start questioning the natural order, the foundation of our galactic society, and all those questions will only lead to one thing: unrestrained chaos.”

“In order to prevent that unfavorable outcome, I would like to encourage a moment of observation.” Gideon looks to someone out of range of the holoprojector, nodding his head once in confirmation. “Take one last long look for Cupid 1-1-7 is a unique anomaly you may never have the chance of seeing again.”

You blink, heart going still as the implication registers. “What?”

Before anyone can answer or scold you, a purple-skinned twi'lek Cupid you don’t recognize casually enters the conference room, like she isn’t guilty of intruding on a private meeting. Almost as if...someone had summoned her. Your gaze darts briefly to Gideon, suspicions confirmed when you see his smirking face, before looking back at the twi’lek drawing closer.

“It’s time for your reassessment test. I’m here to take you there,” she tells you, baring her fanged teeth in what you think is supposed to be a smile, but it lacks any warmth or friendliness. You can only stare back at her, every cell in your body screaming this isn’t right. You shouldn’t need an escort to the testing room.

“I can go by myself,” you protest, holding your ground.

She lunges forward with lightning-quick reflexes, seizing your elbow and leaning disturbingly close into your personal space. “Pity,” she says, feigning a pout. “I thought we could become friends.”

Something sharp pricks your arm. You first notice the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes, and then when you look down, you discover a needle being pulled out of you arm. The room starts to spin, fuzzy black spots appearing in the corners of your vision, and you sag against the wall, balance failing you.

Closing your eyes, you try to focus on your soulmate bond, calling out to Din as the numbing sensation spreads to your feet and you collapse onto the floor without an ounce of grace.

Then, distant and distorted, as if it is coming from somewhere underwater hundreds of miles away, you hear a responding cry, “Angel!”

Din. Oh, thank the Maker, you think hysterically. The delicate line between reality and imagination shifts and blurs, as if it also is succumbing to the drug’s influence. You feel his hands clutch at your face, then move to your shoulders, shaking you in an effort to force your eyes open. You want to see his beautiful face, even if it is merely an illusion, but your eyelids feel as if they suddenly weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Tell me where you are,” he demands, tightly gripping your arms to the point of pain. “I’ll come save you, just tell me where I can find you.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, only your mind starts to drift again, pulling you away from him towards unconsciousness. Your bond's strength wavers, unable to keep the connection stable across the lengthy distance separating you and him, and it begins to curl in on itself.

Din must notice this, too, screaming so loudly it verges on roaring, “Stay with me, angel! Please, just stay with—”

The last thing you think of before everything goes black is how much you hate breaking your pinky promise to him.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[wicked-mind]

Soulmates: Chapter Three

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Swearing, little bits of violence, heavy drinking.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: Russian bits translated from google translate

*gifs not mine

Previously

Bucky took the card, examining it. It was like a pure gold credit card but the only name on it was his own- James Buchanan Barnes. His eyes flickered back to Y/N when she continued speaking.

“You should know, as soon as you guys hack that card, the buyer will know. They’ll assume I was killed trying to procure the information, but they’ll probably send someone to make sure I am, or a few someones.” Y/N said, tilting her head at him. Whoever the buyer was with the amount they offered, she knew they were powerful and would want to make sure she was compromised, “And with the amount they offered just to get the information, I’m sure they’ll be willing to track me to the ends of the earth.”

Bucky suddenly frowned at her words, realizing what she was saying. By taking this card, he was putting her in danger. But if he let Y/N give the buyer the information on the card, the buyer could be looking for a way to create more Winter Soldiers like him. He watched her carefully, “Come back with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He said walking towards her, placing his flesh hand on her cheek, “I’ll make sure nobody finds you, I’ll help you hide. I thought I would never find you, and I’m not going to lose you.” The words echoed honesty in his voice. Bucky would be whatever he needed to be to Y/N whether it was a lover or protector. And he was determined to keep his soulmate in his life.

Chapter Three - 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Bucky’s suggestion, tilting her head so all her hair fell to one side. Every cell of her being was pushing her to say yes, but that wasn’t what passed her lips, “You want me to come live at the gigantic facility full of super persons?” She smiled a little bit, “At the place where whoever that buyer is will probably come next to get information, or you? I think I’ll take my chances running.” 

Bucky’s frown deepened on his lips at her words. God, she was so infuriating. He knew Y/N wanted him as much as he wanted her, he could feel it in his core how much she screamed for him but her actions and words never matched that feeling. Why couldn’t she just give into him? He spoke in a stern voice, “No running. Whatever this is, we can handle it.” He tried to sway her, but when he saw her emotions unchanged he tried something else, “Look, whoever the buyer is you say they’re powerful. You’ll be living the rest of your life on the run and that is no way to live, trust me. Stay at the facility for safety in numbers, and when we deal with whoever the buyer is, you’ll be safe to return to your life.”

Y/N considered his offer, folding her arms as she listened. She took a sigh before nodding with a twitch of her nose, “Fine.” She said, “But I’m not going back in that cell. There’s no color in there and I get antsy when stuck in one place. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to patch things over with Nat.”

Bucky took a sigh of relief and nodded, “We’ll find you a room.” He promised with a small smile. He couldn’t help but feel a small victory bubble in his chest, finally some sort of headway with Y/N. At least she would be close now so he could try to let her open up to the fact they’re meant to be. He watched Y/N pull out a small duffel bag, putting her clothes inside along with the red notebook. Then she looked at the half full bottle of whiskey as if debating to bring it, then shrugs to herself and puts it in the bag. She flipped her mattress over, revealing her hidden small arsenal. She picks up a few knives and guns, tucking them into the bag as well, “What’s the deal with you and Natasha anyway?” He asks curiously.

“Natalia and I just have some things to sort out.” Y/N said as she swung the now packed bag over her shoulder, “After you, tall, dark, and handsome.” She said, gesturing towards the door. She followed him back down the hallway and down the stairs, smiling when she saw Natasha with a foul look on her face at the sight of Y/N’s duffel bag.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Natasha said towards Bucky and Y/N, “She’s not moving in, Barnes.”

Y/N put a playful pout on her lips, “What’s the matter, Nat? Don’t want to be roomies again?”

Nat scowled at Y/N before turning to Bucky for an explanation. 

Bucky was confused with Natasha’s hostility towards Y/N, there must’ve been something from their past with each other from The Red Room. Whatever it was though, the hostility mostly came from Natasha’s side, “Look, if she stays with us she’s safe. She’s my soulmate, Nat. What did you want me to do? Let her go? Run and maybe get killed?”

Nat shrugs, “Wouldn’t of been a bad start.” She said before sighing, “Fine. Let’s get back.”

Y/N smiled at Natasha breaking, knowing that even without Bucky’s words she would’ve given in eventually. The three made their way back to the facility where Bucky gave the gold card to Natasha to go decrypt while he showed Y/N to an empty guest room across from his.

Y/N looked around the room, putting the duffel bag down and immediately going and shutting the curtains. It was a force of habit plus she mostly worked throughout the night so the daytime wasn’t really her friend. She turned to see Bucky leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirking at her, “What?”

Bucky tilted his head at her question, “Nothing, darlin.” He said to her, “My room is right across the hall if you need anything.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him slightly, a playful smile on her lips, “Anything, huh? Thinking you might get a late night visit?”

Bucky chuckles at her comeback, nothing would delight him more than her sneaking into his bedroom at late hours, “If that’s what you want, it wouldn’t bother me.”

Y/N shrugged, “I’ll keep that in mind. Now if you don’t mind, I haven’t slept for over 24 hours on account of being locked in a cell all night and I should get a little sleep before talking to Nat.” She walks towards him, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him out of the room before shutting the door behind his godly figure. She bit her lip gently, before turning the lock on the knob and climbing into the bed. She had been sure to pull out one of her throwing knives to tuck under her pillow just in case.

Y/N awoke later that night, around nine. Darkness had taken over the sky and the stars were gleaming in the clear skies. She pulled herself out of the bed, determined to find Natasha and squash what was between them. They used to be best friends until they weren’t and Nat wasn’t a good enemy to have or to live with. She walks down the hallway until she could hear Natasha talking to Steve, Clint, and Bucky about her, pausing behind them quietly so she could listen to them.

“I feel really bad for you, Barnes.” Nat said towards Bucky who was scowling at her already, “Having her as your soulmate is nothing but bad luck.”

Steve frowned at Natasha, “What happened between you two?”

“She’s a backstabbing traitor. She’ll do anything for herself and leave anybody in the dirt that gets in her way no matter who they are to her.”

Y/N chuckles, making her presence known and the four quickly turned their heads to look at her, “C’mon, Nat. I never left you in the dirt.”

Natasha stood, walking up to Y/N glaring daggers, “Yes, you did.” She hissed out.

Y/N took a step closer to the redhead, staring her down with a smile on her lips, “Вы хотите об этом поговорить (Do you want to talk about it)? Lead the way, Natalia.”

“хотелось бы (I would like to). And it’s Natasha now.” Natasha said before turning and walking away, Y/N following behind her with a smile on her lips. Steve, Bucky, and Clint all got up to follow, curious about what was about to unfold. The two didn’t seem like the type to just ‘talk’ it out. When Natasha lead Y/N to the training room and into the boxing ring, it made a lot more sense of what they were going to do.

Y/N tilts her head, her neck cracking a little as the same smile sat on her lips as Natasha stood across from her in a fighting stance. Y/N raised her hands up, ready to fight Natasha, “Alright, you start.”

Natasha frowned and quickly moved forward, throwing punches at Y/N who was blocking them and never returning any blows, “You left me there. We were supposed to be a team after graduation and you left me there like the heartless bitch you always were! You were my person.” She said, landing one punch to Y/N’s face which caused her lip to split.

Steve shook his head at the sight, “Hey! This isn’t talking it out.” He said, climbing up in the ring to stop the two but Natasha and Y/N immediately landed a synchronized kick to his chest causing him to stumble back out of the ring, “Stay out of it!” They both yelled at their audience at the same time before turning attention towards each other again. When Y/N and Natasha were at the Red Room Academy together, this is how they would sort out problems when they were mad at each other. One person would talk while attacking and the other would simply block and listen before switching off.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Natasha, a smile still on her lips, “Okay. My turn.” She told the redhead before advancing, throwing punches and kicks, most of them are blocked while some  landed, “I didn’t leave you. I left for you, Nat.” She said, landing a kick to the chest of Natasha which made the redhead stumble back slightly, “I left the day before my graduation because it wasn’t going to be my graduation.” She said, walking towards Natasha and throwing a punch again which was caught by her opponent, “It was going to be yours. And they were going to make you kill me just to see how faithful you were to them.” Those words made Natasha pause which Y/N was able to land a punch to her face, causing Natasha to have a split lip as well, “You really think I didn’t have the balls to kill an innocent and that’s why I left?”

Natasha frowned, coming forward at Y/N and jumping at her, taking her down and holding her into an arm-bar submission, “You’re lying! All you do is lie.” Y/N twisted her body, pulling her arm away from Natasha and maneuvering behind her, wrapping one arm around Natasha’s throat in a rear-naked choke, “Well, lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on.” She said with a chuckle before continuing, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to kill me, so I left. And I never stopped being your person, I even found you a new one.” She adjusted her grip so Natasha was staring at Clint, “Your name came across one of my gold cards from SHEILD and I declined it so they sent someone else. Who do you think told Legolas over there to give you a chance instead of killing you?” Y/N released Natasha, standing up and looking down at the redhead, “I was still your person even if you weren’t mine. If you weren’t, I would’ve tracked you down and killed you myself for what you know about me.”

Clint suddenly looked uncomfortable, that was information he had never shared with Natasha as to why he chose not to follow orders and assassinate her. When he saw Natasha glaring at him as if to ask the truth he slowly nodded.

Bucky and Steve stood there listening to the whole ordeal, sort of shocked this is what they meant by ‘talking it out.’ Bucky winced slightly at every punch landed to Y/N, feeling the slight pain she was feeling on his tattoo. It burned for him to go protect her, but knew he would be met with hostility from the two women for interfering as Steve had.

Natasha stood up and looked at Y/N, breathing deeply. It looked as if puzzle pieces were being put together in her head. She quickly landed a quick punch to Y/N’s face as her hands were down, “Fine. That’s for not telling me.” She hissed out before a small smile curved across her lips.

“I deserved that one.” Y/N said after the punch landed to her cheek, wincing slightly before smiling at Natasha, “So, we good?”

Nat nodded, the small smile still on her lips, “We’re good.” She told Y/N, “Let’s go.” She said, slipping through the ring ropes followed by Y/N.

“So that’s it, you two are good now?” Steve asked the two women who looked at each other and shrugged, “Maybe next time you two can have an actual talk.”

“Not likely.” They both said at the same time before walking past the three men and out of the training room. 

Steve looked at Bucky and Clint, “Should we go make sure it’s really good now?”

Bucky shook his head, “Nah, I trust Y/N when she says their good. I think they need some time alone.” He said knowingly. He could feel what Y/N needed and it was time alone with Natasha.

The two made their way to the kitchen, Y/N pulling herself up to sit on the island counter while Natasha pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka. Natasha passed the whiskey to Y/N who took it and untwisted the top and took a long swig of the amber alcohol, “That’s Bucky’s whiskey, probably shouldn’t drink too much of it. He likes his whiskey.” Y/N shrugs, looking at the bottle, “We’re soulmates. What’s his is mine and mine is his, that’s how it works isn’t it?” She said with a smile, “What happened to your soulmate? I saw that little green tattoo on your wrist when you punched me in the face.”

Natasha sighs, sitting next to Y/N on the counter and taking a drink from the clear bottle of vodka, “I made him mad. He went to space and hasn’t exactly found a way to forgive me.”

Y/N nods, “Space. Cool.” She said, “Well, if it makes you feel better, my soulmate was dumb enough to kiss me after seeing his paralyzed friend in the elevator. So that means you’re still my person even if I have a soulmate. You never would’ve fallen for that.”

Natasha laughed a little at the comment, “Yeah, that wasn’t his smartest moment.” She replied, “You know I never told anybody what happened to you.” She said gesturing towards Y/N’s hip where the large scar was, “Did you find him?” Y/N shook her head, “Not yet. One day I will though.” She said and looks over at Natasha, “Did you find anything from the card?”

“It’s still decrypting, should be done in the morning.” Nat informed with another swig from the vodka bottle.

The two sat and talked about all the things they missed from each other’s lives like old friends, taking shots after every story until both of them passed out in the kitchen. Natasha had at some point fallen asleep against the refrigerator with the half empty bottle of vodka next to her while Y/N fell asleep on the island counter top, snuggling the bottle of almost empty whiskey. Bucky awoke in the early morning hours to walk out and see the two, chuckling slightly as he saw Y/N snuggling his whiskey passed out on the counter. He walks over and touched her arm gently, trying to wake her.

As soon as Bucky touched Y/N, instinct took over, her eyes snapping open and she pulled a knife out from a hidden strap under her shirt, holding the knife against Bucky’s throat. As she blinked at Bucky, her drunk vision focusing on him, she lowers the knife, “God, you should know better than to sneak up on someone, lover boy.” She muttered out, sitting up so her legs swung off the counter and narrowing her eyes to focus on him.

Bucky looked at her, not feeling threatened at all. He looked at his almost empty whiskey bottle, “Wow, you almost drank all my whiskey.” He said with a chuckle, watching her trying to focus on him with narrowed eyes.

“I lived above a bar.” Y/N said with a small smile, “I’m practically an olympian when it comes to drinking. We are definitely going to need a lot more whiskey though.”

Bucky took the bottle from Y/N, twisting the top-off and chugging the rest before discarding the empty bottle in the trash, “Yeah, a lot more.” He said with a smile towards her. He walked over to her, positioning himself between her legs and setting his palms on the counter on either side of her thighs. He smiled at her drunk face, he had never seen anybody so adorable yet dangerous looking when completely hammered. He leans closer to her face, “How about you let me help get you to bed?” He purrs out to her.

Y/N smiled at his warm, whiskey smelling breath so close to her face. It sent a shiver up her spine and once again she could feel her body leaning forward towards his. She quickly looks over to Natasha asleep against the fridge, “Help her first. She’ll be mad if I leave her in the kitchen alone.” 

“Nah.. I got it.. I’m good.” Natasha said suddenly awakened from their talking, slowly stammering to her feet. She holds her hands out to balance herself for a bit, “I haven’t drank that much in a while.” She mumbles out, staggering down the hallway.

“Get used to it! I missed it!” Y/N yelled after Natasha before watching her disappear through a door. She looks back at Bucky, another smile creeping across her lips, “So bed… your room or mine?” She said with a soft bite of her bottom lip following and a raised eyebrow. The fire her tattoo felt was undeniable, it was reaching, screaming for him to touch her and to be with her.

Bucky kept his palms on the counter on either side of her legs, a crooked grin appearing on his features once they were alone. Being this close to her felt right, making his heart jump slightly. Everything about her in his eyes was perfect, even the infuriating bits where she pushed away their bond. It just made it more of a cat and mouse game for Bucky and he was determined to win. He didn’t need to respond to her words, he quickly placed his hands on her hips and swooped her up from the counter, leading her legs to wrap around his waist, “I think there’s more whiskey in my room.” He breathed into her neck while carrying her down the hall towards his room. The way her skin felt on his caused fire to corse through his body and he knew he was making Y/N feel the same way. He could feel everything she was feeling, all the desire and dare he say love?

Bucky steadied Y/N as she ripped off her jeans once they made it back to his room. He helped her slip on one of his t-shirts before pulling her into his bed. He didn’t want their first time to be when she was piss-drunk, even if she was teasingly kissing his shoulder non-stop once he removed his shirt. Bucky pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face into her soft hair. He could feel her breathing slow, slipping back into sleep. This was something Bucky never thought he would have, and even if the way she was around him wasn’t what he expected of a soulmate, he loved all the parts that made her Y/N. Even the ones that resisted him.

_____________________________________________________________________

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Taglist: @vibraniumqueen​ @thatoneperson5000​ @dude-whatawave​

[scatter-the-stars]

Prompt: Aspen

prompter: @qyootip

warnings: age difference, adultery (Kurt cheating with Blaine)

note: while not the main focus of the story, I tried my hardest to fill this prompt the best I could

Part 1

The door to the hotel room closes with a soft click and for the first time that day Blaine lets out a deep exhale and relaxes. He loosens the tie around his neck before walking down the small foyer and into the living area of the hotel room. Surprise lifts his eyebrows when he finds Kurt curled up on one of the couches reading a book.

Of all of his son’s boyfriends, Kurt is the first guy he can recall actually liking. Where his son had a tendency to date wild, chaotic men, he was shocked when he first brought Kurt home a year ago. Kurt was nothing like the men Dex dated before. Kurt was calm and sweet and easy-going. And extremely easy to get along with. That’s why their friendship didn’t surprise him. Why he found it easy to have long, deep conversations about anything with Kurt.

All of that was probably a mistake since Blaine has found himself wanting his son’s boyfriend. Those deep conversations over the past year have lead to feelings and desires he shouldn’t feel for someone so fucking unattainable he’s practically the moon.

“Hey.” He walks over to the small kitchen area and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I thought you and Dex were going out tonight?”

“That was the plan. Then he made friends with some guys he met on the slopes and decided to go drinking with them.”

“He ditched you again?”

Kurt closes the book he’s reading and stands. “It’s okay. He said he’ll make it up to me.”

Blaine wants to say something. To tell Kurt that his son has told him that numerous times and has rarely kept his promise. That Dex has a tendency to make promises he doesn’t keep. That he’s done this to him time and time again. But he keeps the words in. Doesn’t want to anger and upset Kurt any further than what he sees he is. Reminds himself that he has no reason to butt in on someone else’s relationship.

“I’m sorry about that.” He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

“I really wasn’t up for dealing with a bunch of drunk guys. So I stayed back and caught up on some reading.

Blaine further loosens his tie. “If you’re up for it, I have reservations at a restaurant. Want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll get ready and meet you back here in forty minutes.”

Kurt is already waiting for him when he walks out of his room. His breath is stolen at the sight of him. At how stunningly gorgeous he is.

It’s not the first time he’s had such a thought about his son’s boyfriend. The very first time he saw Kurt, he thought he was beauty personified. Seriously contemplated for a moment that Kurt was unreal. Couldn’t believe someone so stunningly beautiful could be real.

He still has those thoughts every time he sees Kurt. Always feels a pang of jealousy toward Dex, then feels guilty for feeling that. Reminds himself to be happy for his son for finding someone so great. Even if his son is screwing up their relationship.

Blaine pulls on his coat to have something to do that isn’t creepily stare at Kurt. “Do you mind if we walk? The restaurant is only a few blocks away.”

“That’s fine. I love walking.”

“Alright. We can head out.”

Aspen is gorgeous as they walk to the restaurant. The sun has just finished setting and the night sky is coming alive with stars. White Christmas lights are wrapped around trees and lit up. A small layer of snow covers everything.

It never fails to put a smile on Blaine’s face. And he always appreciates the beauty around him. Never takes it for granted. Loves that he gets to experience Aspen this way every year.

They reach the restaurant and are immediately escorted to a table after their coats are taken. Blaine takes a seat as Kurt sits across from him.

“This place is nice,” Kurt states.

“It is. I try to come here every time I’m in Aspen.”

A sommelier comes and Blaine orders a bottle of wine.

“I can’t believe you get to come here every year,” Kurt says after the sommelier leaves. “I wanted to come so bad last year, but Dex made those plans and I couldn’t.”

Blaine remembers that. Remembers the disappointment he felt when he found out Kurt wouldn’t be able to come to Aspen with him. Then felt guilt streak through him at realizing he didn’t feel as upset when he realized Dex wouldn’t be there joining him like usual.

“I’m glad you could make it this year.”

“Me too.”

Their server arrives and Blaine’s cock twitches when Kurt orders his food and perfectly speaks French while doing so. He crosses one leg over the other and presses his thighs together for some relief.

“I always love hearing you speak French. I think I only know the bad words.”

Kurt laughs. “I learned because-“

“You want to go to Paris one day,” Blaine finishes.

“Yeah.” Kurt wears a look of surprise. “You remembered that?”

“Of course. You looked so hopeful and determined when you said it. I never forgot how you looked.”

A blush stains Kurt’s cheeks. Blaine wants to reach over and stroke thumb over his cheek. To feel that warmth under his touch.

“Dex doesn’t know I speak French,” Kurt says.

“He doesn’t?”

Kurt shakes his head. “He’s not big on learning much about me.”

“What is he big on, then?”

“Drinking, playing video games, and hanging out with his friends.”

Blaine exhales a heavy breath. He really hoped Dex had gotten past this phase of life he’s in. That he would finally grow up and learn to be a responsible adult. He thought he was headed that way when he started dating Kurt, who is everything he needs his son to be.

“Forgive me for being so forward with my next question, but why are you still with him? You could do so much better, Kurt.” Of course, Blaine wants to tell Kurt the better he’s talking about is himself. That he could treat him how he deserves to be treated.

“I, um… I have my reasons.”

“I hope they’re good ones.”

A grin teases at Kurt’s lips. “They are.”

Blaine really doesn’t want to find out said reasons. Not if they put that kind of look on Kurt’s face.

Their food arrives. They eat and carry an easy conversation throughout the meal. There are several times Blaine shifts in his seat when his cock gives an interested throb as he watches Kurt talk and eat. It’s almost erotic in a torturous way.

After they finish their meal, Blaine orders dessert, gives a friendly smile to the older gentleman who smiles at him from a few tables over.

“Who are you-“ Kurt looks back to see who he’s smiling at. “Oh.” He faces forward, a blank look on his face. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Blaine swears he hears a hint of jealousy in Kurt’s voice. But he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Squashes that hope that started sprouting before it grows into something that will disappoint him.

“No,” he tells Kurt. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Don’t let me stop you, Blaine, if you want to go talk to him. I understand. You deserve to have some fun this trip.”

“I promise you, Kurt, I’m happy right here. I don’t want to go and talk to him.”

A sad smile spreads across Kurt’s face. “You should. At least then one of us would be having fun.”

Blaine cocks his head at that. “What does that mean?”

Kurt finishes the wine in his glass. He breathes and on the exhale he says, “It means that Dex hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

Blaine sees Kurt’s eyes go wide at his confession. Watches as his cheeks flush from embarrassment as he looks away.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Kurt softly mumbles. “Can you forget I said that?”

“Of course.” The last thing he wants to do is further embarrass Kurt.

“Thanks.”

They finish their desserts.

Blaine pays and they leave. Start the walk back to their hotel. A light snow has started falling. He pulls his coat tighter around his body. Shoves his hands into the pockets.

“I love the snow.”

When he says that, Blaine looks at Kurt and nearly stumbles at the sight of him. At his face slightly tipped up to the night sky and lips pulled into a soft smile. At his eyes looking up and taking in the beauty of not just the snow but the wonder of the Earth.

“The sky is so beautiful here,” Kurt softly murmurs, more to himself than anything.

Blaine is positive nothing is as gorgeous as Kurt in that moment. He quickly looks away and mentally scolds himself for that thought; for all the thoughts he’s had of Kurt since they arrived in Aspen two days ago. It’s wrong for so many reasons. Not only is Kurt twenty-two years younger than him, but there is the huge deal of him being his son’s boyfriend. And he should not be having those kinds of thoughts about Dex’s boyfriend.

“Yeah, it is.” He figures he needs a drink and to get laid, like Kurt suggested.

“It’s crazy. You live in the city for so long and you forget that the sky can be so beautiful and amazing.” Kurt looks to Blaine. “You forget a lot of things after a while.”

Blaine sees the sadness pass over Kurt’s face after he says that. He wants to question Kurt and what he’s really talking about but stays quiet. Doesn’t want to push him about something that clearly upsets him.

They don’t talk much after that. In fact, except for a few words from him, Kurt is completely silent. Blaine can see he’s lost in thought. Contemplative about something. There are several times that he wants to pull him into his arms and hold him. To give him the comfort and attention that he so obviously craves but isn’t getting.

The room is quiet when they make their way inside a few minutes later. Kurt calls out for Dex but no reply comes.

“I guess he’s still with his new friends.” Kurt shrugs out of his coat and hangs it in the hallway closet.

Blaine pulls off his coat and hangs it. “I need a drink after walking through that. Do you want one?”

“Sure.”

At the small bar that’s set up in the space between the kitchen and living room area, Blaine pours two glasses of whiskey for Kurt and himself.

Kurt walks up next to him and takes the glass he offers. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Blaine watches Kurt lift the glass to his lips and easily knock back the two fingers of whiskey he poured in it. He bites a groan at the sight. Finds it extremely sexy and arousing. His cock gives a twitch. Heat pools in his belly as Kurt trains his eyes on him while running his tongue along his bottom lip.

He’s not sure what’s happening. But he can feel it. Can feel the tension and pulsing need building between them. It’s palpable. And he isn’t sure he wants to ignore either.

“Kurt-“ His next words die with a surprised Oomph when Kurt suddenly crashes their mouths together.

A beat of time passes between his brain registering what is happening and returning the kiss. The glass he still holds slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. It shatters and sends glass and whiskey scattering at their feet. But he ignores it in favor of pulling Kurt as close as he can. He grabs Kurt and lifts him in his arms; walks with him to the kitchen area and sets him on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

The sound of another glass shattering against the floor rings in the air a few seconds later. It takes Blaine a second to realize it was the glass Kurt was holding.

Pressed close to Kurt, groaning at their bulges rubbing together, he holds the back of Kurt’s head and deepens the kiss. Pushes his tongue past Kurt’s lips and strokes their tongues together.

Kurt beautifully moans and arches into him. Plants his hands on his ass and squeezes while opening his legs wider and rocking harder into him.

Blaine groans. Ignores that voice in head telling him this is wrong. That reminds him this is Dex’s much younger boyfriend who is probably making decisions because he’s drunk.

That last thought has him pulling back. He breathes heavily. Cock throbbing at the sight of Kurt looking up at him with lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

“Why’d you stop?”

“We shouldn’t do this.” Blaine takes a few steps back to breathe and clear his head. “You’re drunk and not thinking straight.”

Kurt erases the space Blaine created. Presses close to him again. “I’m not drunk, Blaine.”

“Prove it.” It’s stupid of him to encourage Kurt. To encourage whatever this may be.

Kurt smirks. “Fine.”

Blaine lets out a short chuckle when Kurt recites the alphabet. Backwards.

“Told you: not drunk.” Kurt leans in and brushes their mouths together. “Can we continue now?”

Right as he moves to kiss Kurt again, the sound of the main door opening and closing has them jumping apart instantly. Blaine drags the back of his hand across his mouth as Kurt turns away to fix himself. He’s just getting his hard-on down when Dex stumbles into the room right before falling forward and face-planting on the floor.

“Ow,” Dex groans before breaking out into laughter.

“Dammit!” Kurt lets out a tired, annoyed huff of breath. As if this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with this. He makes his way over to his drunk boyfriend.

Blaine walks over and helps Kurt pick Dex up. “Let’s take him to his room.”

They struggle to transport Dex to the room since he tries every few minutes to turn to Kurt and kiss and grope him.

“Stop, Dex,” Kurt says the third time he does this. “Your dad is right there.”

Blaine hides his anger and jealousy when he sees what his son is doing. Grows angrier at the guilt and pleading look in Kurt’s eyes.

He isn’t one to ever truly get angry at his son. But in this moment, he wants to yell at him; to tell him how stupid he’s being.

He grabs Dex and yanks him away from Kurt when he laughs and says he doesn’t care. At least that’s what he thinks he said, the words are too slurred for him to discern much.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says after he’s deposited Dex on the bed facedown.

“Don’t apologize for him,” he replies. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Help me undress him.”

After undressing Dex down to his underwear, they walk out of the room.

“Thanks for helping me,” Kurt says.

“Of course.”

They don’t say anything. Not about Dex. But especially not about what they were doing before he stumbled into the room.

While cleaning up the broken glass, Blaine momentarily contemplates asking Kurt what that was about. Wants to know how long he’s wanted to do that. But he says nothing. Doesn’t want to put Kurt under that kind of spotlight and pressure right now.

He tosses the last of the glass in the trash.

“Blaine?”

Kurt’s voice comes close by from behind him.

“What?”

“Please, look at me,” Kurt pleads in a small, soft voice.

Blaine turns around. Hates the way his breath hitches and cock throbs at the wanton look he gives him. And he knows what Kurt is going to say when he opens his mouth. He stops him before he can speak by saying, “We shouldn’t, Kurt. It’s a mistake.” He can’t believe he’s actually trying to deny himself this. Is trying to be the good guy. But he knows it’s the right thing to do. And he fucking hates doing the right thing.

Kurt steps close to him. Gazes up at him with those blue eyes that easily draw anyone in. Blaine feels like a helpless fly in a spider’s web, and he doesn’t mind one bit at being captured.

“You’re right. It is a mistake.” Kurt draws his hands up Blaine’s stomach and chest. “But some mistakes are worth making.”

Blaine barely has time to respond before Kurt is kissing him.

He knows he should push Kurt away. Should be the big guy and do the right thing. But he can’t. Because he’s weak when it comes to Kurt. Because the right thing to do will never in a million years feel as fucking good as Kurt does.

A soft growl falls from his lips as he lifts Kurt up in his arms. “Fuck. I can’t tell you no.”

Kurt giggles. “Good. Because I really want you to fuck me.”

Blaine carries Kurt the few feet to the living room and sets him down. They both quickly undress and fall to the couch while making out. Kurt’s soft moans at their cocks rubbing together as he grinds down on him only add fuel to the fire he shouldn’t be stoking.

He pulls up for a deep breath after several minutes. Sits up and takes the opportunity to finally take in Kurt’s naked body. As he stares at Kurt’s gorgeous body, he finds it nearly impossible to believe that Dex has all this to play with and seemingly doesn’t want to any longer.

“Holy fuck!” He silently exclaims. Runs a hand over Kurt’s chest. Ghosts the pad of his thumb over a peaked nipple.

Kurt whines and pushes up into the touch. “Please…”

“What do you want?”

“Don’t care.”

Without thinking, Blaine dips his head down and sinks his mouth down around Kurt’s cock. Kurt loudly gasps and grasps at his hair.

“Fu-“

He sucks Kurt. Twirls his tongue around the swollen head. Teases the tip into the leaking slit. Moans at the taste of Kurt he gets.

It’s been years since he’s gone down on someone. Mainly because he prefers getting head rather than giving it. But for Kurt he would gladly suck his dick every day for the rest of his life without complaint.

Blaine stops long enough to lift one of Kurt’s legs over his shoulder and suck two fingers into his mouth before resuming what he was doing. While sucking and bobbing his head, he presses one of his wet fingers to Kurt’s hole. Kurt momentarily tenses before relaxing and taking the finger.

He works Kurt open with one then two fingers while still sucking his cock. Finally pulls off after some time and grabs for his pants and the wallet in the back pocket.

Kurt strokes his cock while he rips open the condom packet and rolls it on.

After slicking up his cock, and Kurt hooking his legs over his hips, he guides the head to press against Kurt’s hole. Slowly he presses in until the head is surrounded by Kurt’s wonderful tight heat.

A small voice in the back of his head tells him to stop. To consider the consequences if Dex ever found out. But Blaine slams the door shut in that voice. Blocks out anything it has to say.

Kurt flutters his eyes closed and draws his lower lip between his teeth as Blaine sinks inside him.

Blaine continues to gently rock in and out until he’s fully sheathed inside Kurt’s body. He stills inside him. Hips flush with the curve of his ass. He takes a few moments to calm down and soak up the feeling of Kurt gripping his cock. Now knows for sure that any fantasy he had extremely pales in comparison to the real thing.

Kurt is striking as he stares up at him. From his beautiful blue eyes, the blush staining his cheeks, to the smile that teases at his luscious lips.

“Feels so good.” Kurt clenches around him.

“So do you.” Blaine does a small, shallow thrust. Groans at the amazing sensation of his cock sliding in and out of Kurt.

Kurt crosses his ankles at Blaine’s lower back and pushes him down closer to him. “Please start moving.”

So Blaine does. And he doesn’t go easy on Kurt. He plants one forearm on the cushion by Kurt’s head as his other hand shoots up to grip the armrest and uses the leverage to fuck Kurt as deep and hard as he can. Repeatedly slams his hips forward. Does so hard enough to shove Kurt up the couch every time he thrusts.

“Wait,” Kurt says after several minutes.

Blaine immediately stops and sits up. Thinks Kurt has changed his mind about this whole thing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Kurt shakes his head. “Just want to move.”

After pulling out of Kurt, he watches him turn over and go to his hands and knees. He groans at the sight of his ass. Wants to do so many dirty things to it. Instead, he settles with pushing back inside and continuing to fuck it.

Hands on Kurt’s hips, he watches his cock repeatedly sink inside Kurt as he fucks him. Can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Kurt stretching open around his cock. Almost wants to pinch himself to make sure this is real. Because he’s had dreams this amazing and has woken up severally disappointed.

Kurt squeezing his dick and thrusting back on him while softly moaning his name, though, tells him that this is real. That he’s actually fucking his son’s boyfriend.

Talk about a dream come true.

Kurt drops his shoulders to the couch. He grips the edges of the cushions. “Fuck me harder.”

Blaine tightens his grip on Kurt’s hips and increases the force of his thrusts. Grunts and groans as he fucks Kurt like a madman. He doesn’t hold back. Fucks Kurt like he’s wanted to for the past year.

Kurt moans and whimpers beneath him. Takes the brutal movements he’s giving him with ease and without complaint.

When Kurt sits up on his knees, Blaine winds an arm around his chest. He takes his mouth in a rough kiss after he turns his head. Plunges his tongue into Kurt’s mouth. Swallows his deep moan. Stills inside him before completely pulling out seconds later.

“Wha-“

“Ride me,” Blaine says after he sits down.

Kurt grins and moves so he’s straddling Blaine’s waist. He grabs at Blaine’s shoulders and lowers his hips.

Blaine bites back a groan as Kurt sinks back down around his cock. “Fu-“ Nothing has ever felt as good as the heat of Kurt surrounding his dick.

“Am I a terrible person if I say I love how you feel inside me? That you feel better than…”

The unfinished thought hangs heavy in the air. Blaine can see the guilt on Kurt’s face.

“If that makes you a terrible person, then I’m a fucking horrible person for not stopping this,” he says to ease what Kurt is feeling.

Kurt leans in and kisses Blaine. “We’re terrible people,” he murmurs against his lips. Starts to gently roll his hips.

Blaine softly hums in agreement. Winds his arms around Kurt and grabs at his shoulders. Gently thrusts up into him.

When it comes to playing by the rules and being a good person, he’s happy to go against what he’s always done. Is more than glad to not do the right thing at this moment.

“Don’t let me go,” Kurt says after reaching back and grabbing Blaine’s knees before leaning back so he’s at an angle.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Kurt drops his head back and begins to masterfully roll his hips. Moves with the finesse of a dancer. Blaine stares at the beauty of his body. Commits every line and ridge and muscle and scar to memory in case this is the only time this happens. Which he highly believes it will be. Because this can’t happen again. This is a one time time thing. This is them getting out the built-up sexual frustration and tension that’s been between them for the past year.

If this becomes a thing, there’s a better chance of Dex finding out. And that can’t happen. It would devastate Dex and ruin relationships.

So he continues to commit everything to memory.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous.” There’s no other way to describe how Kurt looks straddling his waist with pleasure written all over his face as he rides his cock.

Kurt sits up and grabs Blaine’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah? You like how I look riding your cock?” He drops his hips and grinds them down.

Blaine groans and flexes his hips up. Grins when Kurt trembles and softly moans. “Love how you look riding my dick,” he growls. “Love watching you fuck yourself on my cock. You’re so fucking hungry for it. You’re so desperate for cock you’re letting your boyfriend’s dad fuck you, aren’t you?”

The words fall from his mouth without hesitation. Blaine knows it has to be the alcohol still coursing through his system that has loosened his tongue. Any other time and he wouldn’t be brave to say what he did. Of course, any other time and he wouldn’t be fucking his son’s boyfriend while said son sleeps only a few feet away.

Kurt softly mewls. “Yes. I needed this.”

That’s a truth Blaine can believe after what Kurt accidentally revealed earlier at dinner. And he��s more than happy to help remedy the situation.

If his son can’t satisfy Kurt, he’ll gladly do the job himself. It’s wrong and fucked-up. But he doesn’t care about that when Kurt feels so fucking amazing. When Kurt looks beyond pleased.

Grabbing Kurt and flipping him to his back on the couch, Blaine sits up on his knees. He grabs the back of Kurt’s knees and pushes them up to his chest. “Oh fuck,” he groans as he sinks deeper inside Kurt’s tight ass.

Kurt arches and lets out a quiet whine. “Fuck me,” he begs. “Fuck me. Make me come.”

Lips smashed together to be quiet, Blaine starts to fuck Kurt as hard as he was doing moments before. Kurt tips his head back and claws at his forearms as he roughly plunges his cock inside him over and over again. He sees him biting his own lower lip to be quiet.

For how hard they try not to make a sound, the noise of their skin slapping together is loud. If Drew wasn’t passed-out drunk, Blaine is positive he would hear that and discover them.

“Look at me, Kurt.” His voice comes out rough and gravelly. Kurt opens his eyes. Blaine sees the pleasure that has darkened his eyes. Sees the deep need he has trouble keeping off his face. “You want to come?”

Kurt nods his head.

Blaine roughly takes Kurt’s jaw in his hand. “Then come untouched.” He crushes their mouths together; shoves his tongue into Kurt’s mouth while continuing to fuck him.

Kurt moans and digs his fingers into Blaine’s back. Moves faster and harder with Blaine.

Several minutes pass before Kurt presses his face into the curve of his neck. Blaine groans when he suddenly sinks his teeth into his skin and comes. He feels the hot splashes of cum coat his stomach as Kurt clenches around his cock.

He thrusts a few more times and comes himself. His cock jerks inside Kurt. He thrust until his orgasm wanes. Collapses on top of Kurt after.

That was easily the best orgasm he’s had in years. And the fact that it happened because of his son’s boyfriend is not lost on him.

“Holy fuck!” Kurt softly exhales near his ear.

“I concur,” Blaine breathlessly replies.

They both lie there in a star of bliss and pleasure. Both of them breathe heavily and say nothing.

It takes a few minutes before Blaine can fully function. He sits up and pulls out of Kurt.

They still say nothing. Time passes and they just stare at each other. The full realization of what they just did slowly starts to dawn on them.

“I… I should go before Dex wakes up and wonders where I am.” Kurt sits up and gathers his clothes. “This was, um… I…” He stands; covers himself with his clothes. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Blaine stays seated for a long time after Kurt scurries away going over in his head what he did. He drops his head in his hands and groans as the reality of the situation fully slams into him.

What the fuck did he just do?

He just fucked his son’s boyfriend.

“Fuck!”

The next two weeks in Aspen are about to be real interesting.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welp. Here's the first chapter of that Tang fic I was talking about. Hopefully the characters aren't too out of character for this first chapter. They will be for sure in the future though. No content warnings yet but if that changes I'll make sure to add them. There's going to be lots of pairings in this one but I don't really know any of the ship names so if people want to call them out as they appear I'll add them to the tags.

AO3 Link

Chapter Two

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter One: The Cycle

Tang seems to be stuck in a strange cycle. Might as well make the most of it.

-------------

Tang was certain by now that whatever was happening wasn’t a time loop. The starting points of each new cycle were too inconsistent, as were their endings. After nearly three dozen of these strange restarts and only a third of them beginning on the day MK received the Monkey King’s staff, the scholar was fairly confident in his conclusion.

“Alright, let’s see what this timeline has in store for us,” the man said as he stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror next to his dresser. He had started this little exercise around the seventeenth reset or so after noticing something else that only added more evidence against his original time loop theory.

“My name is Tang. I work at the public library.” So far nothing out of the ordinary. “I share an apartment with my good friend Pigsy.” Ah, the first and most common change he had noticed throughout this strange experience. And it was a change. He was fairly certain he had his own place originally. “While I am not in a romantic relationship with Pigsy, I harbor a small crush on him.”

Tang continued listing things about his current life as they came to him. He had discovered the various discrepancies compared to his original time fairly early on. So far the differences had been relatively minor. Demon Bull King being freed in the Winter instead of Spring. Mei’s family being descended from a blue dragon instead of green. Sandy’s ship being filled with therapy ferrets instead of cats.

The scholar was at first thrown by the changes, and had gone through some rather embarrassing freakouts the first few times. Luckily he discovered early on that while he never personally experienced the events of these worlds or timelines, if he focused enough, the memories of them would appear. Thus his new little routine he did at the beginning of a new cycle. He found looking at himself in the mirror seemed to speed up the recollection.

“It has been roughly two weeks since Demon Bull King has been freed and MK received the Monkey King’s glaive, thus becoming his successor.” Now that was interesting. This was the first time the Monkey King’s signature weapon was different.

It was all these changes to the world and the new memories that matched them that had squashed the initial time loop theory. In all his reading of both fiction and historical events, Tang had never heard of time travel that worked this way. His second theory, that he was somehow trapped in the Calabash by Jin and Yin, was also quickly discarded. He had the displeasure of experiencing its effects first hand several cycles back and it certainly did not implant new memories into his head.

Tang finished up the recap of his new memories and paused. Nope, nothing else it seemed. With a shrug he finished preparing for work. Hopefully it would be a slow day so he could get a bit more research done into what might be happening. Perhaps this was a celestial punishment as opposed to a demonic curse? He hoped that wasn’t the case but he wouldn’t be a scholar if he dismissed any avenue of investigation just because he disliked it.

Locking the apartment behind him, Tang made his way to the nearest bus stop with a spring in his step. While the situation was certainly less than ideal, the thought of some thorough research was always something he looked forward to.

------------

Tang slowly stirred the noodles in his bowl, his brow furrowed in distraction. One of his favorite reference books for ancient mystical history at the library had been changed. Well, to be more accurate, it was different in this timeline. The author was the same, but the contents were certainly not.

Why had it not ever occurred to the librarian that if the current history around him could change, that ancient history could as well? If that was the case, then how could he trust whatever lead he might find to be actually helpful to his situation? What if the knowledge he needed didn’t exist in the timeline he was currently in? What if it only existed in his original timeline?

With a despondent sigh, Tang continued to swirl around his untouched noodles, his negative thoughts seeming to spiral in the same circular loop.

“Oi! Earth to Tang!”

Tang jumped, almost spilling his bowl as he jerked at Pigsy’s shout. He looked up to see the pig demon across the counter with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“If you’re going to be a freeloader you might as well appreciate the food I worked hard on,” the chef scolded without any real heat in his tone. “Something eating you?”

“Uh, y-yes I suppose you could say that,” Tang stammered. Pigsy raised an eyebrow and Tang flushed. The lack of confidence he normally projected had certainly been noticed by Pigsy.

“Well spit it out then. Don’t have all night.” Despite the gruffness of his words, Tang could pick out the small bits of concern in the chef’s tone.

“Well, I seem to have hit a stumbling block in one of my research projects,” Tang explained as he pushed his glasses back up and began to relax. While Pigsy always acted angry at Tang for the mooching of noodles, the pig demon, across every timeline so far, never forced the scholar to pay and was always a great listener. “I’ve come across some evidence that many of the historical texts I’m looking into might be presented differently to the events that actually transpired.”

“Isn’t that how most of history is like though?” Pigsy leaned against the counter, his scowl replaced with a puzzled frown. “Didn’t you say something last month about how history books were mostly the writers' biases or something?”

Tang blinked at that. He did somewhat recall the conversation as he focused on it, but hadn’t thought Pigsy had been paying enough attention to his rant at the time.

“Yes I suppose that is true,” the scholar conceded.

“What do you normally do when you come across these changes?”

“I keep looking for a more accurate version of the text or form an educated guess based on all the evidence I gather.”

“Then what’s the problem? If you already know how to solve the issue then there’s no reason dwelling on it. Just keep going until it's fixed,” Pigsy said bluntly.

Tang just stared at the chef for a moment. Was it really just that simple? A smile slowly spread across his face as he realized that, yes, yes it could be. Even if the knowledge in this timeline was different, that didn’t make it useless. Knowledge was power, and who knew what tiny pieces he could find to fit together into a workable solution. Leave it to Pigsy’s pragmatic outlook to cut straight to the problem and efficiently solve it.

“Thanks Pigsy,” Tang said, smiling sincerely.

“Yeah, no problem.” Pigsy waved his hand in dismissal and, was that a blush Tang saw? “Now eat your noodles before they get cold.” The pig demon quickly moved off to help a new customer that had walked in, leaving Tang to his bowl.

As he ate the delicious noodles, Tang watched Pigsy as he worked.

He had always admired his friend, even in his original timeline. What he was unsure of were the romantic feelings he had for the pig. Outside of sharing an apartment together, the relationship status between the pair was the second most common change he experienced. The first time he had woken up in the same bed as Pigsy had resulted in one of his earliest embarrassing freak outs that had resulted in a few hurt feelings for a while.

While Tang could see how these feelings could have blossomed, he couldn’t quite remember if he had felt this way in his original time. He had simply gone with the flow the many times they were romantically involved and if he was honest, they had been some of the most pleasant moments he could remember since this whole timeline jumping mess had started.

He studied the chef as he gracefully moved about his kitchen, chopping vegetables and rolling dough. The pig demon had a gruff exterior, but obviously cared about those around him a lot. He was steady and sensible, always scolding someone for doing something stupid but always there with straightforward advice if asked. He made sure that no one would ever be hungry while he was around and woe be it unto any customer who insulted his family within his earshot.

Pigsy, as if sensing the eyes on him, looked up and met Tang’s gaze. He gave the scholar a brief smile before returning to the broth he had been stirring.

As a warmth filled his chest that didn't have to do with the noodles, Tang made a decision that he was sure Pigsy would have approved of. It didn’t really matter what their relationship was. Platonic or romantic, Tang loved Pigsy for being Pigsy and always would. If these alternate worlds seemed set on making them more than friends, well then who was he to complain.

Drinking the remaining broth in his bowl, Tang grinned as he decided to act on Pigsy’s advice. This version of him had a crush on the chef and he already knew the solution for fixing that.

“Hey Pigsy! You free for a date this Friday?”

His grin grew wider as Pigsy dropped his ladle into the pot of broth and whirled around and began stammering. Behind him, the scholar heard Mei crow in victory and began demanding that MK ‘pay up’.

These strange jumps in time were certainly a less than ideal situation, but Tang decided to not worry too much about them. He knew it was only a matter of time until a solution presented itself. While he waited for that to happen, who would blame him for trying to enjoy himself in the meantime?

----------------

First chapter done wooo! Now the following chapters won't be in a strict chronological order as Tang jumps around, but some events do come before others. As for what's going on... You'll just have to wait and see~ See you in chapter two!

[hollyharper]

At first, I was going to post this fic as one peice. But for the last month, I’ve had the worst case of writers block. I do intend to fhish this, but for now here’s part one of my dickbabs fanfic: Time Bomb.

Part 1

Barbara shook her head again. It couldn’t be true.

She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. She clutched her knees to her chest and suffocated a sob.

It wasn’t true. It was impossible.

Street lights slowly flickered to life under her. It was. Deep down she knew it. Her heart felt it.

But her brain?

It fought to find every fault in the information. Barbara couldn’t find any. Barry wouldn’t lie, especially about something like this.

Would he? Of course, she questioned.

She wanted any reason to believe it wasn’t true. Was she really going to die? Everyone did. But by the end of the year? It was only November. The leaves had dropped, and winter’s wind was already bringing the foretaste of snow.

That’s what Barry had said. During a trip to the future, he had seen her gravestone and the year of her death.

This year.

No. Again she fought the reality. There was no escape. The end was coming. All she could do was prepare. She heard a small thump.

“Babs?” She didn’t have to look up to recognize Dick. “Are you okay?” His voice was flooded with worry. “Bruce is looking for you. He said it was important.”

“I don’t care,” she growled.

“What’s wrong?” Now he was even more concerned. Concerned enough to cross that unspoken barrier. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She brushed his hand away and stalked off. “I’m going home.”

“Barbara!” He called after her, but she had already disappeared.

Swing through her bedroom window, Barbara collapsed on the floor. Thoughts ran through her mind at hyper speed. Everything blurred tighter into an intangible mess.

She sighed, trying to reorganize her thoughts. What was the most important thing? Her family. She would need to talk to her father eventually. When she- died, Stephanie and Cass would be without her guidance. She would have to teach them as much as possible before-

The Birds would need a new Oracle, as would Batman. Her gear would have to be moved and- her mind flicked back to Nightwing.

They had been each other’s lifeline since childhood. Without her, he… she didn’t really know.

Maybe he’d be fine, or he would be like she had been after he was shot. Every memory of him came flooding back. The way he held her the night Ainsley died. His tears soaking her blood-stained shirt as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

How he held her hands every time she was put under for surgery. His encouragement and patience as she learned to navigate life from a wheelchair. His gentle presence in a night that was haunted with nightmares. He had always been there.

All of her life, he had been caring for her. And this, this would drive him to insanity. This would push him off the edge. And after everything he had done for her, she couldn’t cause him more pain.

--------------

If there was anything Barbara did that drove Dick crazy, it was this.

When she went into a workaholic mode to distract herself. It had been three days since he last saw her. Within twenty minutes, she had gone for extreme break down to 24/7 vigilante.

He doubted she had even refilled her Batarang stock. Her anxiety was unlike anything he had ever seen from her.

Worse, she refused to respond to him, and from what he could find no one else. He knew better than to allow her actions to affect him, but they did anyway.

The only way Dick could find to calm down was far different. He resorted to curling up in bed watching chick flicks and eating junk food. It was only after he ran out of potato chips, that he ventured out of his apartment. Even then it was only to the closest convenience store.

He could tell something was off the moment he stepped through the door. An unusual floral scent wafted through the apartment. He quietly closed the door and tip-toed to the kitchenette. A redhead was seated on his couch.

“Babs?” He whispered inching over.

She was in full costume and shaking. Her head lifted enough for him to see her dilated pupils. Cautiously, he reached a hand out.

“N-n-no.” She pulled farther away.

“What’s wrong?” Dick dropped to his knees.

“Ivy.” Barbara’s voice wavered. “Out of…”

“...Antidote,” he finished.

That wasn’t good but explained her reaction.

He crossed to the bathroom. The cabinet creaked open. After a moment of confusion, he found the right basket and rifled through the bottles.

At the bottom was the dark blue vile. He tried to hook it into a shot. The bottle refused to screw in. Babs scrambled to the other side of the couch as he sat down. By the time he got the vial in place, she had crawled back to him. Her head nuzzled against his back. Dick stilled while she settled. Her entire body shook. He swept her hair to the side and eased the needle into her neck. Barbara winced. When the last drop had been injected, he removed the needle. She gave a shaky sigh.

“You need to take a break,” Dick whispered.

“Mph,” was her only reply.

She shifted, scooting closer to him.

“What happened out there?”

“Ivy sprayed me with her love pheromone. I was out of-“ a yawn cut through the middle of her explanation. “-Antidote.”

It would take a while for the cure to take effect. He could tell simply by how affectionate she was. Barbara wasn’t a very cuddly person, except at the moment. Not that he was complaining.

Even if he wasn’t sure where they stood, he knew how he felt about her. Neither believed in soulmates, at least he didn’t use to. She was making him rethink that.

It took some coaxing for her to move on enough for him to settle. The moment he had comfortably sat down, she was back in his lap. The tv remote sat on the coffee table. With one hand, Dick reached for it, all while holding her steady. When offered the remote, Babs simply batted his hand away. He rolled his eyes and started to scroll through options.

“No chick flicks,” she mumbled.

At least the poison had worn off enough for her pickiness to show. Every suggestion he made, she shot down. All of hers were rejected. Even through the bickering, the two remained cuddled. Eventually, Dick gave way. With a pleased expression, Barbara flicked the movie on. He closed his eyes and focused on her breathing.

Barbara continued to keep her distance from Dick. The ache was strong, but her will was stronger. Cassandra and Stephanie knew something was wrong but never spoke a word. Tim and Jason whispered behind closed doors. Damian had attempted to confront her but was brushed off. Bruce was the only one who knew. She avoided him too. Barbara rehearsed responses until it was impossible to tell she was lying when she said she was alright. It was a lie so deep and dark, that she had to lie to herself to keep it. And eventually, she tricked herself into believing the same lie she kept telling the others.

“You have to tell them.” Bruce was never one to beat around the bush.

“I will,” she fibbed, not turning her eyes from the computer.

“Tonight.”

That caused her to jerk her head up.

“No.”

“I called everyone together. You’re going to tell them.”

Her face still showed resistance.

“And if you don’t, I will.”

“It’s my life. My decision.” Her voice held a fit of contained anger, only a breath away from breaking free of her control.

“Bruce?” Dick’s voice echoed through the cave.

Barbara ducked her head. Footfalls approached.

“Hey, Babs.” He didn’t know what else to say.

With her face hidden there was no way to tell what she was feeling. To his surprise, she didn’t even jerk away when he causally laid a hand on her shoulder.

She stayed slumped over as all the others filed in. Tim stood as if in an army lineup. Next to him, Steph chattered nervously, her hands fidgeting. Cass stood solemnly. Her saddened gaze was focused on Barbara, even as Jason fought for her attention. Damian, as always, simply looked grumpy.

Bruce cleared his throat. Everyone stilled, except Steph, whose nervous fingertips were now playing with Tim’s cape. Instinct told Dick to stay by Barbara’s side, as she stood in front of the group. Bruce nodded to her and stepped to the side. A knot formed in Dick’s throat. Whatever this was, it caused his stomach to feel empty. Barbara seemed to panic. One look from Bruce though, and she cleared her throat.

“Barry has brought news from the future.” Dick’s hands closed into fists. Her face remained emotionless. “During his last visit, around three weeks ago, he saw my gravestone.”

Murmurs spread like wildfire. Stephine’s nervousness had escalated. Tim wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to calm her. Jason stared, barely breathing. Damian appeared concerned, and Cass seemed to know exactly what Barbara was about to say.

“The date of death was, is…” Her breath caught in her throat. “This year.”

The room erupted. The monstrous claws of fear gripped Dick’s racing heart. Jason’s face was empty and paler than death. Damian was gripping his father like a lifeline. Tim stood motionless, except instinctually comforting a sobbing Stephanie. Cass was still for a moment. She threw herself into Barbara. Babs hugged her back. The young girl had always looked up to Barbara. Their bond was far deeper than teacher and student.

A single tear trailed down Barbara’s cheek. Without letting go of Cass, she lifted her head. Her eyes welled with emotion. A deep dark fear. He didn’t know what to do. Her eyes begged. Her entire face was red, even though only a few tears had escaped. Dick took a cautious step forward. With no negative reaction, he dared to pull both girls into an embrace. Cass remained with her head pressed into Barbara. Babs rested hers on his shoulder. Stephanie squashed into Barbara’s other side. Tim trailed after her. Comfortingly, he placed one hand on Steph, the other on Barbara’s back. Jason copied, one hand on Babs, the other on Cassandra. Damian squeezed in next to Dick, who hugged his younger brother. Bruce made no move to join the sibling hug.

Barbara broke. She started to sob, bottled up emotion coming out in a tidal wave. Her knees gave way. Everything blurred tighter behind a curtain of tears. She was pulled into a tighter embrace as she fell. Six pairs of hands rested against her back. Large ones, familiar ones, hugged her. The other fives simply rested on her. One more, larger and stronger, rested on her shoulder. The comfort of family slowly started to calm her. She dried her eyes on the closest she could find, which turned out to be Dick’s shirt. The others, including Bruce, knelt beside her. Jason wiped away her last tear, and Damian crawled into her lap. He had never been very attached to her, but when death is looming things change.

Big thanks to @snapdragon76 for helping with the editing and formatting.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 24

First

Previous

Next

People were starting to settle down as the night stretched on.

Chat felt kind of weird about the sleepover, if he was being honest. He was technically the host, but he hadn’t planned any of the activities. They also hadn’t let him help out at all. Sure, it seemed they were throwing the sleepover for him, but it felt weird to not be involved at all when it was being held in his own room.

(He also wasn’t stupid enough to think that they had decided to do the sleepover for purely innocent reasons. Rena and Ladybug were paying just a little bit too much attention for it to be mere curiosity. He had nothing to hide except for the trash and clothes he’d stuffed in his closet to make his room look cleaner, though, so he was fine with it.)

Still, it was kind of nice.

He looked at the other four.

Carapace was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, his back facing away from everyone as he worked on his bracelets. He was singing random showtunes to himself, but his singing was getting cut off at random due to his giggles at whatever he was doing. Chat tried to peek over his shoulder and Carapace gave an overexaggerated gasp and flung himself across the floor to keep the bracelets out of his sight.

“No peeking!”

“Alright! Alright!” Said Chat, shaking his head exasperatedly even as a smile threatened to make its way across his face.

Carapace narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously for a moment before slowly returning to his spot.

Ladybug was apparently only half awake, though it was hard to tell if this was the effect of the wine or the lack of coffee. Carapace had given her his hoodie when he’d seen her shivering and now she was swamped in the fabric. This didn’t seem to bother her, though, as she barely swayed in time with his singing.

Rena had finished all her bracelets for everyone already, opting to just make braids of each of their costume colors. Now she was weaving thread into Chloe’s hair.

Chloe was putting the finishing touches on her fifth bracelet. They were all the same, alternating black and yellow threads. Still, it took a while to make all the knots necessary for hers.

He looked down at the friendship bracelet attempts in his hands and bit his lip. The strings he’d chosen were knotted and bent awkwardly and, really, it was beyond repair --.

He gave up, tossing down the attempts and grabbing new strings. He started just spelling out everyone’s hero names on strings that were the colors of everyone’s eyes.

“Done,” he said, his ears burning with shame. He didn’t know anything about friendship bracelets or friendships and general and if it wasn’t clear to everyone before they’d definitely have figured it out now --.

“Wow. Amazing job, Chat. You’re a master craftsman,” said Chloe, sarcasm dripping from every letter she spoke.

“You… you don’t have to wear it.”

Chloe scoffed. “Shut up. I’m never taking it off.”

“Oh… but you don’t have to, really --.”

“I’m. Wearing. It. Screw. Off.”

“... okay,” he said, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

He gave everyone else theirs and, though he noticed they were all putting them on their ankles where they’d be harder for people to see, he couldn’t help but be happy that they were accepting them at all.

Carapace held up his five completed bracelets with a bright smile. “Tada!”

He walked around and started tying them to everyone’s wrists.

Chat saw both of the bugs look confused as they read over the block letters on theirs, Rena gave a short puff of laughter when she saw hers, and then he finally got to see his...

FURRY.

He rolled his eyes at Carapace but let him tie the bracelet to his ankle.

“What’s a ‘buggie’?” Said Chloe in a voice that said she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

“It’s a furry, but for bugs.”

“... how do you know that?” Asked Ladybug, sinking back into Carapace’s/her hoodie with a yawn.

“A few years back I joked that I was a furry and someone told me I was technically a ‘scaley’. Obviously, I had to know if everyone else was a furry after that or something else.”

Rena snickered. “Likely story.”

“It’s true!”

“Hm. Sure. Chloe, I’m done with you. Ladybug --.”

“I have an important meeting for work tomorrow, sorry.”

“Fine. Chat, c’mere.”

He hesitated before he made his way over and allowed her to start messing with his hair obediently.

Chloe shuffled over to Ladybug. There was a beat before Ladybug lifted the bottom of the hoodie and allowed Chloe to climb inside.

Carapace groaned. “Why are you stretching out my hoodie?”

Ladybug smiled and brought a hand up to stretch the neck so Chloe could pop her head out the top. “Forgot it was yours, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Guess I won’t fix this, then.”

“Wait -- Ladybug -- listen -- I didn’t mean it --.”

Ladybug and Chloe laid back and stuck their tongues out at him in unison. Carapace glared halfheartedly at them for a little while before walking over and laying on top of them.

“Ughhhh get off you’re heavy,” complained Ladybug. “You’re going to crush me.”

“Good. I’m squashing two annoying bugs.”

“Renaaaaa,” tried Chloe.

“Can’t help right now, I’m doing Chat’s hair.”

“Rena,” tried Carapace.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Rena gently tugged Chat over so she could help Carapace smother the two and still add colors to his hair.

“Nooooooo…”

“Chat help,” Ladybug squeaked, reaching out a hand in an attempt to pull him closer for help.

He considered the hand for a minute before pointedly looking away, a smile pulling at his lips.

Ladybug mumbled a curse and resigned herself to the fate of being crushed under three of her housemates.

Rena eventually finished with his hair and she took a picture to show him the results. He’d always wanted to do stuff with his hair, and since his haircolor was so light it wouldn’t have been hard, but his dad had never allowed it…

He smiled brightly and sent it to himself.

Rena shielded her eyes and he looked up at her, his smile dropping into a confused frown.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re, like… sunshine incarnate. Can’t look at you dead on, it’s too bright.”

“Right? He could give Adrien Agreste a run for his money,” joked Carapace.

He wasn’t sure if he was blushing because his housemates thought of him like that or because his civilian identity was apparently that popular. Still, he brought a hand up to cover his mouth as a new smile stretched across his face.

Rena slipped off of the pile of miraculous holders easily and took a seat about a meter away with her phone, leaning back in a pile of pillows. “Carapace, Ladybug, both of you should get to sleep. You both have stuff in the morning.”

“But --,” tried Carapace.

“I WILL knock you out if I have to. And there’s no coffee to keep you awake.”

The two groaned quietly and Carapace fell beside the two bugs. Instead of leaving, though, he just grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around the three of them.

Chloe scoffed and started shifting around in the blanket/hoodie prison she was currently trapped in. “Hey, let me out, I’m not tired yet.”

Ladybug and Carapace wrapped an arm around her and held her still before she could get up. “We have to sleep, you have to sleep.”

“I don’t --.”

“Pillows don’t talk,” said Ladybug, nuzzling her face into Chloe’s neck with a yawn.

Chloe didn’t look particularly happy about it, but she did quiet herself.

Carapace reached his free hand towards Chat without looking over and he stared at it before taking it. He was pulled down to join the cuddle pile so fast that they knocked heads. There was a mumbled ‘ow’ and a hiss of pain, but otherwise it was hard to tell that it had happened.

Rena tossed a pillow at the lightswitch, which was… odd, but it did turn off the lights, so… yay?

He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Carapace’s stomach. He could hear the others’ steady breathing as they drifted off one by one.

But, for once, Chat wasn’t finding it easy to sleep.

Some things are easy to ignore.

For example, Chat could, for the most part, ignore the knowledge that he was likely the only person in the house who was genuinely interested in being friends. Everyone else was perfectly happy being friendly (because who wants to fight people in their own house?), but that’s not nearly the same thing.

But, since Chat was starved for affection, he opted to ignore what he knew to be the truth. Did it really matter if Carapace was only allowing him to hang off of him for the sake of preventing a strong akuma if he was getting the physical touch he hadn’t received since his mother had died? Did it really matter if Ladybug was only playing nicer for the sake of convenience if it meant he could get compliments from her instead of insults?

Kinda. But he was willing to push those thoughts aside.

And, while he wanted to ignore this problem too, he really shouldn’t. Their safety was much too important for that.

There should be very few people that knew where they were. There were the people who Chloe had hired to help her move in, Master Fu, each other...

But that didn’t explain why Chat’s room was left untouched.

The only thing that made sense for that was his dad… He tried to brush the thought aside like he had been doing for the entire night, but it was far more difficult when the others were asleep and weren’t serving as a distraction.

Would his dad sell him out? Sure, their relationship wasn’t near ‘close’, but that didn’t mean that his father hated him, right? His dad had known for a while, though, almost since the beginning. Why would he sell out now? The information was slightly more valuable now that they were living together, yes, but was that enough to make him betray his son for a super terrorist?

Worse yet, could his father be Hawkmoth? He didn’t think so, because his father had been akumatized multiple times, but there was nothing saying Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize himself. Then again, he’d been pretty interested in Chat’s ring when he realized who he was… or was that just innocent curiosity? He also lived in the center of the area that Ladybug had mentioned she’d traced the akumas to, but so did every rich person --.

Carapace pulled him closer, his hand sliding up his back to work at a knot in his back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Chat teased, even as he pressed his face against his shoulder.

“You’re too tense.”

He let himself relax a bit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault you’re the worst pillow ever.”

“Even worse than Chloe?”

“Somehow,” said Carapace, and Chat could almost hear the smile in his voice.

And, because it’s really hard to have bad thoughts when you’re cuddling a friend and getting a massage, Chat fell asleep in minutes.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic

[kinder-writes-surprises]

To Your Throat

hey y’all with knife kinks and shit, come get y’all juice. Reader’s a gal in this ‘cause uh... girls are hot idk. 

-Mod Pasta 🍜 🍝

Word Count: 2675

Warnings: Knife play, blood play, blood, dominance, rough sex

Loving someone with so much pent up pain, hatred, and regret was difficult: You weren’t going to act like it was an easy task. It was admittedly probably your most toxic, abusive, and satisfying relationship. For every harsh word was covered with a kiss, the heat of his flames could never match his passion, and his lust was beyond even that.

For one of the most wanted murderers, he was quite the lovebug. He actually enjoyed being around you, evidenced by your relationship that has lasted many years. Now that he joined the Villains on the Run club, however, alone time has come sparingly; Therefor, whenever he visited, sex came first. His pent up frustrations were gladly (on both ends) taken out fucking you senseless. However, sometimes you felt like you wanted more. Doggy style could only get so rough, you wanted something dangerous...

And after a bit of research, you knew what you wanted: However, convincing Touya to get a knife anywhere near you would be a tight bargain. He once filleted a man who grabbed your arm at a rave, and he made a point to keep you as far from danger as possible. That being said, he’s a walking danger, so your lips curled into a smile. Tomorrow might just be more fun than usual.

Upon the knock at your door, you felt butterflies in your stomach that you thought had been squashed a while ago. You rushed to it, a flushed smile upon your face as streetlamp light flooded in around a hooded figure. You grabbed his wrist, pulling the white haired man inside: How courteous, he showered before coming to see you.

“Someone’s happy to see - Woah-” His eyes widened as you pulled him in, closing the door behind him. He smiled with a short chuckle as you bolted past him to your kitchen. He followed, interested in your shenanigan's, “(F/N), what’re you up t - Oh shit-!”

You had grabbed a fairly dull kitchen knife and placed it on your counter in preparation of his arrival. You put it into your hands, carefully holding it out and walking back to him. Upon seeing you holding it out like a gift, he stood with wide, confused eyes, “I had an idea-”

“I see that,” He whistled lowly, grabbing the hilt and taking the knife from you with raised eyebrows. As if you didn’t already know he was an expert, he twirled it once in his hands before shoving it into his pocket, “Did you need me to cut some vegetables?”

“I-Uh-” It was now that you stuttered, turning a bit red and grinning, abashed. You put your hands down, awkwardly drawing your words out, “Well, you see, I kinda like... I had this idea-”

“I heard the first time,” You huffed at his interruption, and he just grinned like a bitch and crossed his arms, pushing past you to find what he could scarf down in the kitchen.

“Well, we’re always so uh... rough, in bed, right?” He nodding with a hum, grabbing an apple and opening your fridge while taking a bite from it, “Knives are rough, right?”

The apple hit the floor, and the blue eyes of a slightly flustered, slightly worried, and now fairly horny man met your own slowly. He held a block of cheese in one hand, and upon making eye contact, he quickly grabbed the apple, rubbing it off on his shirt and taking another very large bite from it, “Yeah, they are, but I’m not stabbing you (F/N).”

“No no no! Like, just hold it to my neck or something!” You exclaimed with a small laugh, and he bared his teeth in the most confused, awkward smile you’ve seen on him in a long time.

“I didn’t take you for the knife-play type,” He clicked his tongue, placing the cheese on your counter and cutting a couple slices off, popping them into his mouth for an apple-cheese combo.

“Well, uh, I just want um, more roughness, and you’re already great at that, so-” Your cheeks continued to darken, and you knew he was playing some game by not taking you right then and there. This walking sack of horny shit would be on you in a second usually, but now? He was up to something.

“Thanks,” He nodded, giving you a cheeky eyebrow raise.

“Does this mean you’ve done this before?” You became more intrigued: he was never that open about his past, never told you his last name, and it took you two years to learn that Dabi wasn’t even his first name.

“Of course I have, I’ve done a lot worse,” He then grabbed the blade of the knife aiming the hilt at you, “To understand what you’re getting into, try and hold it onto me. Go on,” He shoved it toward you, and you scrambled forward, grabbing the knife and looking down at it.

“Right, uh,” You swallowed hard as he casually ate apples and cheese. You looked up at him, and he didn’t even give you the pleasure of his mental presence. You scoffed, stomping around the island and holding the knife to his throat, “Hey, at least p-”

“Too slow,” He immediately knocked the knife out of your hand, grabbed it, and switched positions. He shoved you forward into the fridge, knocking the wind out of you. The knife was pressed firmly against your upper throat, and you shouted, hands flying to his chest.

“T-Touya!” You exclaimed, subconsciously pressing your legs tightly together. Yes, this is what you wanted. As if a light switch went off in his head, he pulled away from you, turning the blade of the knife away and pressing his lips together with a sigh.

“I won’t hurt you,” His mouth twitched, “I’m sorry for scaring-” Upon seeing your wide pupils and obviously flushed, aroused body, he paused, and his own cheeks darkened.

“No, that’s what I want, but only uh... if you want it,” Your arms dropped next to your sides, and you rubbed your neck where the knife had been, feeling the indentation and looking at the cheese behind him, “If you want dinner, let me-”

“Dinner after sex,” He stated, grabbing the cheese and nodding as you got out of his way. He put it away, then grabbed your wrist not unlike you had done to him, “Now.”

“Now? Oh, now, yeah!” You nodded, happily letting him guide you to the bedroom. Upon entering, he turned the light on, unlike his usual affinity for the darkness that hid his scars. You imagined he needed to see what he was doing with the knife, of course.

He placed the knife on the night stand, then paused, a smile growing on his lips. You recognized that look as the one he gave right before roasting a man alive, or when he was about to turn and throw you onto the bed. You received the latter, your back against the sheets in less than a second. He was on top of you, his usual cape that covered you both like a tent was replaced by a hoodie that he was removing now. You quickly did the same with your shirt, and he began undoing his belt. You felt a rush of excitement, pulling your pyjama pants down. Before you could get any undergarments off, however, he grabbed them and seared them off.

“Touya!” You gasped in offense, grabbing his arm. He slapped your hand away, grabbing your jaw with little care and pulling you up into a heated kiss.

“I’ll buy you new ones, shut up,” He growled, and you felt the cold metal of his stitches contrast with the heat of his body. His hands went to your hips, and he lowered himself down to your heat, “Fuck, now you got me riled up.”

“As if you weren’t already,” You teased with a laugh, then a small whimper when his long tongue dragged up your vagina.

“I was before you wanted the knife,” He brought your clit between his teeth, his hot, long fingers finding their way inside of you. His usually disgusted other people, but the joints in his fingers always pressed against the right places to drive you mad. He sucked, pulling a shout from you, “Now you’ve really got me high on you.”

“Oh shut up Shakespeare,” You couldn’t bring yourself to laugh, however: his poetic way with words always made your heart flutter.

He did shut up, however, diving into you and bringing more screams of pleasure that you had to muffle with your hand, gripping the bedsheets under you as he pulled sweet moans from you. Soon enough you were falling around his tongue and fingers, the man knowing all the stops to pull you apart like taffy. You whimpered, panting and huffing. He wasn’t satisfied enough, however, and you started to get up as he pulled his boxers off.

“L-Let me make that up t-t-oh-!” You exclaimed when you suddenly felt sharp, cold metal against your sternum. You looked down to see the tip of your kitchen knife pressed in between your breasts, and you looked back up to Touya with wide eyes, “Oh-”

“Down, now,” He snapped, and you fell back, eyes wider than the full moon. He fell back with you, climbing back on top as you parted your legs for him. He slowly lowered his face to you, bringing the knife up to your chin, “Get a condom.”

“Yes,” You couldn’t nod, so you reached without looking to your bedside dresser and opened it, pulling the box out and then one packet out, throwing the box on the ground.

“Take it out,” He continued, a spark in his eyes that you could tell was turning into a raging fire. You did as you were told, that same fire catching within you, “Put it on.”

“Yes,” You whispered, reaching down to his erection. He was hard as stone at this point, turned on by the situation at hand.

“Yes what?” He growled, his smile turning into a devious, evil grin that sent pleasant shivers down your back.

“Yes sir,” You took a sharp breath, and with his free hand, he aligned at your entrance, pushing in. You breathed out in relief, closing your eyes.

“Don’t relax,” The knife was suddenly at your throat, pressing in as he pressed deeper, “This might be dull, but I don’t need a knife to end your life,” He started a rhythm that quickly picked up speed. You gasped, your whines growing louder into moans.

“Please,” You begged, “Touya,” He grit his teeth, and you were confused for a second before you felt his hand on your throat. You yelped in surprise, but having handed your safety to this man many times, you trusted him. He pressed against your jugular vein, cutting blood off to your head. You could feel the hilt of the knife in his hand, and your whimpering gasps could barley express how much pleasure surged through you.

He was fucking you at a rough pace, and once you started to see black spots, you grabbed his arm. He loosened his grip, and you gasped for breath, endorphins surging through you, “Fuck, Touya,” You moaned his name at a pitch you hadn’t expected, and he grunted, lowered himself down as his nails dug into your hips so he could get deeper.

“Say my name again,” He groaned, breathing heavily. You did as you were told, and you felt his teeth in your skin, biting deep, deeper than usual. He was finally starting to catch on that you enjoyed the thrill, the danger, and possibly even a bit of pain. You gasped, grabbing his shoulders and sinking your own nails in.

“Please,” Slipped out again, and he pulled back, licking his lips. His eyes, burning the same colour as his flames, bore into your own in a silent question. What do you want me to do to you?

Your eyes went to the knife in his hand, and he cocked an eyebrow, then swallowed hard. His pace slowed down, and you start to think you might have crossed a line. Before you could ask, however, a focused look dawned his face, and you felt his thrusts become methodical and deep as he brought the tip of the knife to your chest. When it first grazed your skin, you were surprised by how much a little cut could hurt.

However, with every thrust came a rush of pleasure that lapped the pain away, leaving it seared with pleasure instead. You felt overwhelmed and overstimulated, barely having the energy to twitch and grip the pillow under your head. He bit his lower lip, obviously paying attention to his work on your chest and breasts, but also fucking you in almost a primal, needy way. He wanted to work, but he needed you.

Eventually you came, warning him with a short shout, then long moan as your legs tightened around him. He paused his work of light scratches and nicks, then once you quieted down, continued as if it was a mere distraction. As his thrusts started to get sloppier and he was grunting with even the minimal effort he was exerting, you knew he was close to done: Your own body was fried, and the only reminder of the real world was the barely bleeding marks upon your chest. You doubted they would even permanently scar: that’s how delicate he was.

Finally, once he finished however, he tossed the knife onto your other pillow, grabbing your hips with both hands and suddenly increasing the pace, thrusting into you. You yelped, gasping and grabbing onto the sheets once again as reality flushed back in. You felt a single trickle of blood fall off your side, but the pain from the marks he made merely stung a little: Too much pleasure was coursing through you to care. He finished quickly, and you felt sufficiently used as he flopped next to you, grabbing the knife before and tossing it off the bed, “Fuck.”

“Fuck ind-wait, did you write something?” You looked down at your chest to see what he had been doing. The man snickered, then began to laugh, pulling the condom off.

“I’ll be right back,” He got up, and you heard the bathroom door open once he left the room. You waited patiently, and when he came back with gauze, medical tape, and isopropyl alcohol, you whined with less of a sexy undertone, “Ah ah ah, it’s gotta be cleaned or it’ll get infected.”

“What if I wanna be infected,” You mumbled, and he raised a single eyebrow, pulling his boxers on before sitting next to you and going to work cleaning the marks. It stung so much worse than when he made them, and you hissed in pain.

“Fuck, did I cut too deep? I’m sorry, I-”

“No, no, I liked it, really. I liked all of it,” You nodded quickly, waving your hands around. He pressed his lips together with a small sigh, and you assumed it was more self-disappointment.

“I might have gone a little sadistic, I’m sorry you had to see that side of me,” He muttered, and you felt his personal shame creeping into him, evident in the tone of his voice. You gently put a hand on his own, pausing him for a second to look into his eyes.

“I love all parts of you, Touya,” You smiled, bringing a hesitant one from the usually snarky boy. He could let his guard down with you, he could be himself with you, “Even the ones you might not like.”

“Even my uneven balls?” The laugh that erupted from the both of you was loud enough to rival a train, and the rest of the evening consisted of similar laughter, and banter to follow.

The next couple weeks, however, you had to spend knowing someone’s name was engraved upon your chest. You were marked, owned, and carved in by the symbols for Touya,  燈 矢.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi Moosh! Congrats on 666!! Can I maybe ask for Yamato, GN reader and training together? Reader isn't that strong but does their best for Yamato, who in all his enthusiasm accidentally hurts them? Nothing too serious though and they laugh it off. just some casual fluff and banter~ Thank you so much!

Did this become a comforting Yamato fic? Yes, yes it did.

(Wano spoilers beneath cut!)

So first of all I like to think with Kaido's genetics in him, Yamato has tons ridiculous amounts build up strength, strength that he sometimes has trouble with controlling sometimes when he gets into his usual moodlets of being too excited he accidentally hurts things and people he necessary doesn't want to which in the end leaves him feeling a little bit guilty about it especially when it comes to accidents with his s/o. 

If there's one thing Yamato loves most, it's training. Since he has spent most of his life held up ok Onigashima, with no kids his age to play with or really anything else to do beside go off and reread through Kozuki Oden's old journal it was kind of his only real activity to do. Though of course not that he doesn't mind, he does want to get as strong as Oden after all so when you come to him to ask him to train you, he's completely overjoyed! 

Most times Yamato doesn't know his own strength, to him the lightest of touches to someone of average height (and a little bigger) can come down full force and knock them into the nearest wall, or hell there was that one time he sent Sasaki all the way across the island and they had to get a rescue boat to go get him near the mainland of Wano and his father didn't stop yelling at him for weeks because of it (not because of Sasaki's injuries but because as when he was flying where he landed just so happened to be the Yonko's next shipment of Sake...which made him go into dragon god pissy mode on the coast of the mainland)

So Yamato has to keep his strength in check in at all times but with you around he has to make extra triple hard not to use more force that the absolutely bare necessity when it comes to handling you, which over time the son of the Yonko has become quite positive that he does a good job in doing, and that's why he thinks himself capable to train with you. 

Since it's just training and you're just not all that experience with close corters, he doesn't use his trusty kanabo just setting it aside to the nearest pillar, still in grabbing distance just in case the two of you get interrupted by his father's 'company' and instead the two of you just use wooden practice swords. The swords are very clunky in Yamato's hands, too small for him if he really wanted he could easily break the thing into splinters with nothing but a simple flex of his fist if he really wanted to, but he doesn't want that he's training you after all. So he has to hold the wooden blade with the lightest but steadiest of grips so it doesn't fling out of his hand with the first clash. 

Once he goes into battle stance he watches as you look him up and down and try to mimic his stance but you're doing it more lopsided and too crouched down, he can't help but to squeal with laughter at how ridiculous you look, making you frown and demanding to know what's so funny (which only makes him laugh more) After a quick apology and quick kiss to the cheek saying;

"I can't help it when you look that adorable!"

This earning a harsh heat to build up on your face.

Yamato helps fix your stance to be just like how he was standing previously, giving up spine chilling instructions as he bends down to meet the height of your ear. 

When your boyfriend steps back in front of you with a wide smile on his face with a - 

"You catch all that, (Name)?" You can't help the uncontrollable thumping of your heart as you instantly nod your head along. 

"Uh huh." 

"Great! Let's do this!" 

You were not ready to do this - all the information he said had just zonked right into one ear and out of the other, with him being so close like that it was almost hard to breathe with his large hands moving your limbs around like a mannequin doll and his sweet voice tingling in your ear you couldn't help but feel all given information immediately just melt away. 

Wing it! Just wing it (Name)!

As the large man quickly got back into his battle stance, you felt your joints begin to freeze up absolutely determined to keep yourself in the pose he put you in. 

"Three," He counts. 

It can't be that hard right? Just copy how you've seen the other's fight- it's fine. 

"Two," 

It's basically just a giant glorified stick anyway, if you get hit it's not like you're going to die or anything relax. 

"One," 

And besides it's Yamato, he-

"Go!" 

Before the word is even registered to you the Yonko's son dashes at your sword in hand and already down low in preparation to just swing. Your mind rushes for some sort of reaction you rotate your wooden blade to block but when your lover clashes into you with a quick rough and hard strike that cuts the wood in your hands in half, the mer force itself sending a mighty shock and sending you rocketing onto the ground, your body sliding across the wooden flooring. 

Yamato's whole world slows in that moment, seeing your body just ragdoll on the floor like that makes him immediately drop his weapon and he springs over to you, gently cradling your head and his copper eyes darting around for any faintest hint of blood.

"(Name)?! (Name)!! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I shouldn't - shouldn't -" 

He knew better. He thought he was being gentle enough but he knew better! This was a terrible idea he shouldn't have went through with it he should have agreed he knew the risks and look the immediate first thing that happens he hurts- 

Your sudden laughter cuts his thoughts short, he looks down at you to see you shifting around to feel at your head. 

"I know I said that I can take you hits but do you have to treat me like a damn baseball, Yama?" 

He immediately pulls you into a hug before flinching and pulling back lightly to see if you're absolutely okay before going in to hug you more gently. 

"I'm sorry," his voice is muffled by your hair. "-I got too excited to finally train with you because I've never really gotten to train with anyone other than my father and-and I thought about Oden and what I strong warrior he was and how pretty, fun, and exciting you are and how- and I just-" 

"Hey, hey, hey, Yamato it's fine. I'm fine." Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, making his verge of tear blurred eyes look at you. 

"I'm fine. I promise it's just a bump. Besides I've been through worse than falling on the floor, this is nothing but barely a bruise." You begin to get yourself up with your lover's help to your feet, his hands never leaving your back. You smirk to yourself as you point to the remains of your training sword. 

"Although I wouldn't say the same about that though." 

When you turn around you see Yamato's frown deepens and his gaze meeting sadly at the floor, once again you have to tell him that's it's okay and this took most of the hit away, which get him to cheer up a little bit but not long enough to plop himself cross legged on the floor and entangle his fingers through his long white hair, you slowly come back down to sit next to him. 

"I really thought I'd had control of my strength around you - I thought that everything was under control and I wouldn't be able to hurt you that I could hold your hand without fear of crushing it or cuddling and hugging you without fear of squashing you to death but I don't - this proves that I-" Your hand clasps with his. 

"You're fine, I'm fine. We're both fine. Look, you're not hurting me now are you?" You hold up your entwined hands, which after a long pause Yamato gives the gentlest of squeezes. 

"Yeah, but-" 

"No buts, you do have this under control. And if we can't directly train sword to sword together that's fine! Yes sword skills are useful especially in the New World but, Yamato, that's not the main reason I wanted to train with you - I love you and I just want to spend time with you, doing the things you enjoy doing!" 

Copper eyes widened in shock as he meets your gentle gaze, he looks down for a second as if pondering something before looking back up at you with the smallest gape of his mouth, speechless, as the one not twine with yours hesitantly reach up to cup the side of your cheek but with a flinch he immediately attempts to pull his hand back, only for you to catch it and place his warmth to the side of your face, his thumb slowly grazing your bottom lip. Ever so slowly his lips flush against yours, quite awkward with the movement but one your hands leave to wrap around his neck you pull him closer he starts quickly catching up with what to do with his tongue. 

When you pull back is all the sadness is lost, with instead those wide pupil blown eyes and white that slowly cascades to a deep neon that frames his face and falls over his shoulder, his lips now plump and kissed does his expression show nothing but pure loving infatuation. 

Which with one look, it all becomes clear how bad this man has it for you. His head tilts as he eyes dart your face, as if he were taking your image if were for the very last time. Finally a small smile appears over his lips as he bumps his forehead to yours.

"I love you too, (Name)." He closes his eyes before breathing through his nose. "Though I am a little sad that I can't train with you, I was looking so forward to it all this week but - I guess that excitement was the exact problem." You peck a quick kiss to his lips before letting your fingers play with his hair. 

"We'll work on it, alright? You've already come to practice with being as gentle as you are right now I'm sure we can also practice that in a train sense. I promise you're not going to hurt me." At first there's a look of subtle doubt in his eyes when he looks into yours but he pushes it back with a nod. 

"How about this? For now let's just focus on positioning - like this!" 

You stand back to your feet, grabbing Yamato's forgotten wooden sword off from the floor, trying your best to mimic his stance from previous, the Yonko's son watches how you stand before bursting into laughter. Your eyebrow twitches before yet again demanding to know what's so damn funny. Your lover stands to his full height towering over you to gently move your limbs around to where you're in proper placement. 

"Oh nothing, just that you look like my father when's he's doing his drunk impression of Charlotte Linlin begging for her 'child support.'" 

Okay that got a giggle out of you.

For the rest of the day the two of you practiced your stances together, once you were comfortable with that you took the next step to attacking stances and even though with him being so close and talking into your ear and moving your limbs around like a doll you forced yourself not to get lost in the inner screaming of your heart telling you just to continue kissing the man until the world's end you listened to his teaching words. 

From how he currently spoke, his tone sounded nothing like how it did previously if you just so happened to walk in now you wouldn't even ever be able to tell he was on the verge of tears a mer hour before. He just looks...so happy. With that handsome smile on that handsome face, you look back at him as he happily blabbers on about some techniques that Oden described in his journal, do you can't help but to smile with glee like an idiot around him. He's just so excited and happy and it's so contagious and it's a feeling that you never want to go away. 

And you're sure of one look of how bad it all looks for you of how bad you have it for the man, something you also to never go away. 

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