#it’s been hard with having a light sensitivity that gives a headache right behind my eyes

[inspiredrawaw]

I got to draw today :]

[4dtk]

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

[volterran-wine]

Lightning in a bottle || Marcus x F!S/O

“You're like lightning in a bottle I can't let you go now that I got it And all I need is to be struck”  ― Electric Love // Børns

This imagine is based on a request I got a while back. Dear anon who’s “On a Marcus Kick”, this one is for you. Usually I would include the request in my post, but your lovely and detailed message was very long. I hope there are no hard feelings there.

Summary: Strong and silent Marcus had been alone for a long time. When another chance at love appears he grasps on to it without a second thought. His mate turns out to be quite a unique individual, gaining interest from more than just Marcus. However will the king respond? 

Wordcount: 2119 words

!Warnings! Canon typical violence: Vampires getting ripped to pieces. Explicit NSFW content in the last portion of the imagine. Just stop reading at the last line break and you're good if you want to avoid that. 

It had been decades since the palazzo had been this full of life. Some would even say it had been centuries. For a king had gained the opportunity to solidify a new mate bond that could last for an eternity. One February morning Marcus found his second chance at a mate, a visiting nomad that had made her pilgrimage to Volterra twenty-five years after her transformation. In the very beginning they had truly been an odd pair. For the kings mate was quite the character, being gifted with the power over electricity and a personality to match. They're unending energy and zest for life was helping the king come out of the carefully constructed shell he had placed around himself.

His brothers had both been shocked and elated that he had found a new mate. Aro had been quite interested in their gift as he usually was, though he was growing quite fond of her. She had truly enriched Marcus’ life, and for that he was grateful. It had become a regular occurrence that they spent a lot of time with the kings in the throne room. Much to both annoyance and joy for its regular occupants. 

If Caius was capable of it, he would have a tremendous headache. Marcus’ new mate was rambunctious at her best, and a living nightmare at her worst. But even he could not deny that they were... somewhat charming. But not right this moment. 

“Marcus, please get your mate...” Caius all but pleaded.

“Dearheart, let’s not vex Caius more than necessary?” Marcus hummed, appearing behind his mate and drawing her into his chest gently. Her eyes were still trained at his brother, who were now giving them both an exasperated look. “Fine, ... but only because you asked so nicely” she chuckled, holding up her hand and letting electricity weave between her fingers; gift sending soft sparks towards the fair-haired king who simply scoffed.

Marcus pulled her further back, turning her around in his embrace. Leaning down he peppered her face with light kisses until she began to laugh. The sound was like the sweetest sonata to his ears. But sadly he had to pull away, grabbing their hand and leaving a kiss on the back of it. “We have sensitive trials to attend to, why don’t you go to the garden and I will be with you soon.” He gave them one last kiss goodbye before turning them around, ushering them towards the doors.

“Very well, but please don’t keep my mate occupied for long... or else” It was very much an empty threat. She was quite fond of both Aro and Caius, no matter how much the latter liked to argue with her like an older brother would. With a flourish did she make her way towards the grand doors, electricity sparking around her. Giving the kings a cheeky smile before closing the doors.

It was quiet once more. 

“Θα είναι το τέλος μου” Caius bit out as he crossed his legs, resting his head on his closed fist. Aro was about to chastise him, there was no need to speak poorly of their brothers second chance at eternal happiness. 

A great laugh boomed from Marcus, almost startling his brothers as they turned to stare at him. “Ο μεγάλος Κάιους, συναντά το τέλος του εξαιτίας ενός βαμπίρ πενήντα ετών;” Leaning forward in his throne, he locked eyes with his brother and raised a brow. “Αστειεύεσαι” Aro turned towards his older brother as well, pure mirth danced in his eyes. “I must agree with Marcus, It would be quite unbecoming for you to yield for your brothers mate in such a manner.” 

Silently the middle brother closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his throne. Quiet murmurs of amusement from his companions filled his ears, it would be a long day.

The poppies were exceptionally beautiful this time of the year, spring had come again and the vibrancy of the garden was a sight to behold. She wandered past the many flowerbeds aimlessly until she found herself in the small courtyard in the very heart of the garden. A soft rustle alerted her to someone’s presence right behind her. For a split second she hoped it was Marcus, but the scent wasn’t his.

“They way you regard the kings is a disgrace” Gustav; that was his name. A transitionary guard that had been with them for the last one hundred and fifty years. She had heard rumours from the others guards, he was not fond of her.  His own prejudices clouding all semblance of reason. There was something in his body language that was highly unnerving, her eyes darted around the garden. Where they truly alone? a bit away from them she caught sight of Heidi who seemed to have overheard the guards words. With a gentle dip of her head she rushed off into the palazzo. She would get help.  

“Who are you to speak to me in such a manner? If the kings had an issue with me they would have told me so.” She felt anger begin to stir inside of her. Who did he think he was? 

“Perhaps they do not because you warm Marcus’ bed well enough.” The look on his face made her see red. “... Perhaps his bed isn’t the only one you frequent?” the implication was abhorrent. 

On pure instinct did she reach out and let electricity flow through her and into Gustav. Eyes turned pitch black as he recovered from the small shock, she had not been able to put enough power into it due to the sheer shock at his behaviour. He grabbed on to her forearm tightly, squeezing it with such force she was surprised cracks had not begun to form along her marble skin. Those onyx depths raked up and down her body, lingering in places they certainly should not. A queasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Gustav wanted something... something he would never have. Where was Heidi?

“Are you certain Marcus is enough for you?”

“You are nothing compared to Marcus.” He looked as if he had an answer prepared and surely would have told her, if only they had not been interrupted. 

The sound of a door being ripped off its hinges distracted Gustav away from the newest Volturi member. As his grip lessened she was able to tear herself away from him and stepped back. At the entrance to the garden stood Marcus, and if looks could kill; Gustav would have already been a pile of ash. The kings eyes scanned the entirety of the garden, once his gaze landed on the two of them his eyes narrowed; pitch black. He began walking towards them at a brisk pace. 

Behind Marcus’ intimidating figure she surprisingly could see Caius, whom looked just as agitated as his brother. The aura that surrounded her mate was one she had never seen before. If Caius was the unnerving calm before the storm, Marcus was the violent thrashing that followed it. 

The fair-haired king made a move to step forward, but halted as Marcus raised an arm sharply. Turning his head to fix his brother with a look as quiet words were exchanged between them. She was unable to make out Marcus’ expression from where she stood, but it must have been quite grave. For a brief second a look of shock flashed across Caius’ face, before once again turning back to that cold mask he was infamous for. “He’s all yours brother.” was all that needed to be said as he stepped to the side and onto a balcony nearby. Leaning on the railing and leering down at what was about to transpire below. 

As Marcus neared Gustav began backing away, almost tripping over his own feet. He had not been with the guard for long, and this was a side of Marcus he had never seen. There had been whispers of what the solemn king had been like, he had thought them exaggerations. A web of lies and illusions spun by Aro so that all kings would be feared equally. 

“Master Marcus-” his voice trembled, desperate.

“You insult my queen, and then dare to touch her in such a manner... you must truly wish for death.” The few who were gathered in the courtyard was witnessing something truly extraordinary. The return of a king that had been dormant for a very long time.

Marcus’ livid expression was the last thing the transitionary guard saw before his immortal existence came to an excruciating end. 

“Caius, Ο πολεμιστής μου. Whatever has you in such a good mood?” said man turned to see his darling wife. Athenodora made her way towards her husband at a languid pace. Stepping into his side in an embrace when she was close enough, Caius leaned over to place a kiss against her temple. His attention was brought back to the marvellous show in front of him, a glint in his eyes. “Someone insulted and then proceeded to proposition Marcus’ mate.” unadulterated glee was evident in his voice as he gestured with his head at what was taking place below the balcony. 

Marcus had the guard in pieces within seconds, filtered sunlight from the trees made his torn-off limbs reflect a gentle prism around the small courtyard. His mate stood a couple of steps back, watching in wonder as her beloved turned to face her once more. Their lips were captured in an intense kiss before being hoisted into Marcus’ arms, the king rushing his mate off further into the garden. Despite the agitation a satisfied smile graced the oldest kings features.  

“... I’m glad to have my older brother back.” Caius’ tone was somber yet wistful, getting lost in memories of days of old. 

Demetri and Felix arrived on the scene soon enough, both taking in the sight before them with amusement. Their attention were brought to one of their kings and his queen on the balcony, silently asking for orders. All they needed as a response was a firm shake of Caius’ head, a lighter flickered in Demetri’s hand. Purple smoke soon enough billowed up from the garden, gently blocking out the sun. The sickly sweet scent of venom filled the air. 

Athenodora sneered in disgust, you never disrespected a king’s mate. 

Deeper into the garden breathless sighs could be heard from a vine covered alcove, shielding the two lovers for the time being. Marcus had pushed his mate up against the stone and hoisted her legs around his waist, engaged in a passionate kiss. As he pulled back he looked deeply into her eyes, reaching up to cradle her cheek with his hand. When Heidi had come barreling into the throne room he had immediately thought the worst. And when him and Caius got to the garden... if he had had blood in him it would have been boiling.

His dear mate seemed to come to their senses from the kiss, her full lips pulled into a smirk.“Think they’ll be able to reassemble that poor guard-” no more words had the chance to leave her mouth, a loud gasp rang out instead as Marcus turned his attention to their throat. “Maybe he- “ A tearing sound cut through their little hiding spot, exposing her lower body to her mate. Without further ado did the king sheathe himself inside his mate, her hands scrambling to pull him closer by the shoulders.

He looked hungry, never had he looked at her like that. She had heard stories of a Marcus that she had yet the pleasure of knowing, a king that once had been as equally feared as Caius on the battlefield. That was the man who held her in his arms right now. Whom was inside of her.

“Frankly my dear, I do not give a damn.” leaning in he gave a strong bite to their neck. Surely leaving marks that would have to heal over time.

“I-” A hard thrust rocked them both, Marcus pressed her harder into the stone as it began to crack.“I think I need to get you jealous and protective more often.” the cheekiness in her tone would cost her dearly. No more words would leave her lips that afternoon, for Marcus captured them in a searing kiss. The action successfully shutting her up. His mate was vexing, loud and a handful. True lightning in a bottle. But he would not have her any other way, for she had brought him out of his own self isolation. 

He would make sure that the whole world knew, that the oldest king in Volterra was stone no longer, for lighting had cracked his cold shell.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Θα είναι το τέλος μου: She will be the end of me, Ο μεγάλος Κάιους, συναντά το τέλος του εξαιτίας ενός βαμπίρ πενήντα ετών;: The great Caius, meets his end because of a fifty year old vampire? Αστειεύεσαι: You jest. Ο πολεμιστής μου. : My warrior

In closing: This was quite fun to write. I feel like I was able to depict some brotherly interactions between the kings, especially Caius and Marcus. It is my firm headcanon that they would have been quite close back in the day when they were tearing through battlefields together (Another reason for why Caius is quite torn up about having to help Aro cover up Didyme’s murder). This also helped me show how both Marcus and Caius are both quite terrifying but in different ways. 

[nevertheless-moving]

Could you talk more about your gumbo jar jar au or the frog one? 🐸

hm on close review the frog promise draft is a now redundant drabble from this au. Here it is in its entirety:

“I will never join you,” Luke said with a sneer of disgust.

Palpatine, as well as the nearby politicians, Jedi masters, and reporters were taken aback. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Master Jedi,” the Senator said incredulously. “Do you mean to tell me that you consider yourself separate from the Republic? I know the Jedi Council had disavowed recognizing you but I never could have imagined...” he trailed off, leaving the crowd to murmur in alarm.

“I mean I will never join the Sith,” the rogue master replied calmly. “I imagine you’re responsible for the traces of the dark side I felt amongst the trade federation leaders.”

“The Sith...I see.” Palpatine took a step back, deliberately reassuring tone and alarmed expression clearly indicated that he suspected the man before him of insanity. “It’s been a very long day and you clearly intended to do good by my humble home world. Perhaps your fellow Jedi can take you to the healers so you can-”

“Why are you working alongside a Sith Lord?” Luke cut off the Senator and addressed Grandmaster Yoda directly. 

“A Sith Lord, you say?” Master Yoda replied. “A most serious allegation, this is.”

Basically, Luke derails the Naboo Crisis by absolutely annihilating the trade federation army, only realizing after the fact when and where he is. This means that Padme turns right around from Tatooine and never voices her vote of no-confidence. Now, Palpatine probably had contingency plans in place, but the public accusation by a Jedi of being responsible for the crisis in the first place, despite absolutely no evidence, hurts his image enough that he’s not going to win a vote, because people will think it’s a power grab. 

And it’s funny cause it’s true but Luke only barely knows that! He’s just accusing Palpatine of being behind the first evil thing he sees and he fuckin happens to be right!!!

Anyway Luke doesn’t focus on Palpatine; there are like 10,000 other Jedi around. He commits himself first and foremost to completing his training with Master Yoda because sometime Yoda just dies and fades into thin air so, you know! He’s not going to procrastinate on that again!

He goes before the council and humbly asks to be taken on Yoda’s student (this is right before Qui-Gon can ask about Anakin- literally, Anakin and Qui-Gon are in the waiting room). He gives several extremely vague banthashit explanations of who he is ‘I’m a follower of the Force,’ where he comes from ‘the Force sent me,’ and why they should train him when he’s way too old ‘the Force willed it.’ Yoda is somewhat impressed because those are some real unhelpfully wise answers and- here’s the kicker- Luke actually believes them! 

He is really committed to being a Jedi! Is 110% all about being a luminous being! This is several years after return of the Jedi and Luke has pretty much just been hanging out in force temples meditating with ghosts so he has quintessential Jedi vibes, he just knows jackshit about anything!

What really clinches it for Yoda is the fact that his robe pocket starts squirming and he pulls out a live Nabooian Salt Frog. And hands it to Yoda like, “These are one of your favorites right? :) I saw it and I thought of you :)”

Now Yoda- let’s step back a second. Yoda is old. Yoda, in his youth, was a bit more feral. He’s a top level predator and the order has always celebrated diversity and being true to your origins! He’s hunted with Tortugans on Shili! He’s unhinged his jaw with Besalisks on Ojom! 

But as the Republic’s boundaries caved in on themselves, he was more and more put into contact with Core senators who tend to be unnerved by more, ah, carnivorous tendencies. And the more he was put into high level positions by virtue of being really frickin old, the more restrained he became in his public behavior. 

Decades passed and younglings who only ever knew his more ‘harmless-prank’ feral tendencies were increasingly shocked and scared to see him occasionally unhinge his jaw to eat a scrocodile whole. Some of the prey-origin younglings from that field trip actually avoided him for the rest of the their lives.

So. Yoda is still a carnivore- but- in private. With his padawans and his closest peers. But his closest peers age and die and his padawans get younger and smaller as the decades pass. He took on two herbivorous padawans in a row and as a result restrained himself from openly hunting with another soul for around for 50 years.

And then there’s Dooku. ‘Ah a human,’ he thinks. ‘They hunt sometimes. Well. They’re omnivores at least.’

And Dooku is- and I’m not saying this to shame Dooku- but he’s prissy. He likes...neatness. He’s not afraid of violence but force forbid it’s untidy. So when Yoda, excited to get his ambush predation on, takes 14 year old Dooku who’s barely ever left the sterile confines of Coruscant on a trip to a swamp world- yeaaahh it doesn’t go well. Dooku- he doesn’t mean to, honestly. How would he even know that Yoda might be sensitive about things? He’s Yoda. 

But Dooku sobbing openly and puking a little in a bush and running away from Yoda because his Master is terrifying and gross. It... kind of puts the nail in the coffin for Yoda being open about that side of himself. He doesn’t really have it in him to try again. People’s view of him is too fixed, they can’t handle him also being a flesh creature so he focuses on the luminous side of him which is and always was, genuinely, more important than him.

And that’s been the last 100 years or so. The thrill of a live kill is just a little piece of himself that he meditates away and that’s ok. He has the force. He has the order. He’s old anyway, a real hunt would probably hurt his joints. 

And then in comes Luke, radiating Light and earnestness and Jedi serenity while also holding out a very tasty looking live frog. And Yoda realizes Dooku’s not around, he’s surrounded by a council he trusts and respects and likes, none of whom are 14 year olds, all of whom have seen the galaxy and seen worse. He is almost seizing the moment but there’s a little part of him that shriveled up when Dooku cried that’s having a hard time accepting this.

“Want it for yourself, you do not?” Yoda cackles, playing off the offer.

Luke smiles sheepishly and pulls out another live frog. “I was saving it for later. Forgive me Master, your senses are keen as ever I see.”

And Yoda...it’s not about the bribe, really, so much as the symbolism, and it’s not about the flattery either, but darn is the kid really pulling out the stops to make himself likable. And he is a kid, to Yoda anyway. Everyone is these days. What does he care about numbers when there’s a boy smiling like his third padawan, an adorable Rodian who took great delight in their more amphibious and wild missions?

Yoda snatches one of the frogs and slowly raises it in a parody of a toast. Luke does the same. The rest of the council quietly watches in various shades of bewilderment and bemusement.

They’re not actually going to eat that right? Mace thinks. Ugh I hate frogs the skin is so slimy. Shaak Ti thinks. I cannot believe they’re not even offering me one. Yaddle thinks.

And Yoda bites the head off the frog in a quick snap of his jaws, the rest following rapidly. Luke does the same- a slight assist from the force helping his less specialized mandible tear through skin and bone in a well practiced move. He chews slower, but finishes the frog soon enough, the rest of the council looking on with deep uncertainty and a tiny bit of hunger, but no actual fear. They’re Jedi Masters; they’ve eaten everywhere, it’s just a little weird for a human to be eating a live animal and Yoda as far as anyone knew only ate stew and also they were in the middle of a council meeting.

Yoda belches and Luke smiles genially.

“Take you on as my padawan learner, I will. Much to learn you have, much to teach you, I do.”

Luke beams. The council looks on in shock. 

“Master Yoda,” Mace Windu says hesitantly, “He’s clearly in his late 20s, at the earliest. If this is about the... frog thing-”

“Was a pleasant surprise, the frog. The reason for my decision, it is not. Had some training already, he has. Know each other before this day, we do. Taking over for a Master passed into the force, I am merely. Our custom, this is.”

Luke bows lowly and an initiate is summoned to escort him to the quartermasters and then the long-empty padawan suite next to Yoda’s chambers. 

Qui-Gon and Anakin are brought in and. Well. It’s a little hard for them to simply reject the boy after Yoda just pulled that stunt. He’s sent to the initiates dorm, eventually. Mace Windu has a headache from the shatterpoints blinking in and out of existence. Shaak Ti is delighted to discuss a hunting trip with Master Yoda and his new padawan learner Luke Svader. 

The force dances.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: threesome, nipple play, riding, unprotected sex, dom!taehyung, sub!?, restraints, blindfold, degradation, praise

A/N: it's my first time writing tgm smut in so long i hope it's okay ;;;-;

DAY TWENTY-SIX

Unable to fall deeply into sleep, when you wake fitfully at half past six in the morning, you decide to give up on it entirely.

A bath wakes you up slowly and gently, in no rush to clean yourself with a soapy loofah, the sweet smell of orange blossom lifting your mood just slightly. No matter how hard you scrub at your skin, Jin’s touch lingers beneath the surface like a tattoo, the reminder that you’d willingly chosen to cut him off from you that elimination day, and that your decision was keeping him from you.

The previous night, you’d spent hours with a hand cradling your cheek, trying to work out what the kiss even meant. A farewell, a consolation prize, a promise for patience? Either way, it just felt cruel to you. You rub harder, covering yourself in the foamed soap and watching it dissolve into the water.

By the time you dry yourself, well over an hour has passed, and the pangs of hunger start to flare off inside your stomach. You dress quickly, thoughtlessly, and sneak out of your door to the complete silence of the second storey. Nobody else seems to be awake yet, so you take your chance to go down and start on some breakfast.

The selection is relatively bleak to your lazy body, unwilling to make anything that requires the kind of effort the two eldest men tended to give for a meal. In the end, you tug some leftover curry from the back of the fridge, giving it a stir and setting it to heat up in the microwave.

The rhythmic whir and countdown combined with your lack of sleep is enough to have you feeling weak, slumping on the counter top. You rest your heavy head for a moment, pillowing it with your arm, and watch the dish turn around and around and…

“-matter, we’ll just wait and find out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust hyung. It’ll be fine. Can you pass me the- no, just beside it, the soy sauce- thank you. Should be ready soon.”

“Mhm, smells good.”

Adjusting to your sloped return to consciousness, it is the inviting smell that greets you after your hearing. A deep, meaty aroma is lifted with spices, making your mouth water.

The moment you shift, a sharp pain runs down your spine, settling at the back of your neck. You grunt, eyes squeezing shut at the ache.

“There she is. Must’ve been tired, poor thing.” The first one grows louder, sounding close to you as fingers reach out to tap your shoulder. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let’s get you something to eat.”

You groan again, lifting your heavy body up enough to prop your elbows on the table and press your hands against your eyes, willing coherence to sink back in. “Morning,” you croak, though by the way you feel, it could very well be evening.

The figure behind you - Yoongi, by his smooth rumbling voice - moves back around into the kitchen, and your ears perk up with the clink of bowls on the countertop. Blinking blearily, you yawn and focus in on the second person.

Jungkook is lifting a heavy saucepan and carefully pouring a stew into three bowls, the pink of his tongue trapped between his lips. “‘S that enough?” he questions, biceps flexing beneath his shirt as he hovers with the pan.

Yoongi nods once, fiddling in the drawer for spoons and chopsticks, and quickly hands you a set with your bowl, steaming lightly.

You smile gratefully, reaching out to feel the heat radiating off the ceramic. “Thanks, Yoongi.” The last of your sleep fades away, and you gasp suddenly, shooting up ramrod straight. “Wait - Yoongi, Jungkook! You’re back!”

“Keen eye,” Yoongi drawls sarcastically, but a fond smile plays on his lips nonetheless as he blows on a spoonful of broth. “Dad checked out of the hospital around 5. He’s doing really well.”

“Oh, Yoongi, I’m so glad,” you gush, relief filling your system.

Yoongi, however, seems to grow somber, eyebrows drawing together. “It wasn’t all good news, though.”

You freeze. “What? What happened?”

Like the news pains him, Yoongi grimaces. Jungkook, too, looks absolutely crestfallen. In unison, they open their mouths with matching frowns.

“The restaurant sold out of lamb skewers.”

“I didn’t see a single gho- Oh, yeah, the lamb skewers,” Jungkook tacks on, deflating. “But we stopped by a market on the way home to buy some lamb so we could make our own.”

“We?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “I didn’t see any ‘we’ when you refused to chop vegetables just now.”

Jungkook makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. “I just suffered a paranormal experience, hyung, I was too shaky to handle a knife.”

“You just said you didn’t see any ghosts.”

The youngest huffs. “I felt them.”

Your head darts back and forth, lamb stew forgotten as you watch the playful rally between the two men. Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, raising a single brow. “What; was there a poltergeist petting zoo on the fourth floor I wasn’t told about?”

“Their presence, hyung. I felt their presence. Taehyung even said he could feel a chilling aura coming through the phone and into his body, but he thinks it could’ve just been Jimin’s feet.”

Yoongi presses a few fingers to his temples like he’s getting a headache. “You mean to tell me I had to get my sickly father to pretend you were his son all for you to stay the night, and the only thing that happened was Taehyung getting possessed by the ghost of Jimin’s feet?”

Jungkook blinks once. “There was a vending machine that gave out free lollipops,” he offers.

“A vending…” Yoongi sighs, eyes slipping closed. “Jungkook, I think that’s for patients who get low blood sugar. For emergencies.”

“Oh.” Jungkook considers this for a moment. “I took five of them.”

“Of course you did. Alright, eat up, please. It’s getting cold.”

You quickly thank Yoongi for the meal with a bemused smile, chest feeling light at having the two back in your company, and Yoongi in a visibly better mood than the past two times you’d seen him. The three of you fall into an easy silence for a few moments, but it doesn’t last long as the others in the house begin to wake.

Namjoon is first down, getting over his initial surprise quickly and rapid-firing countless questions to Yoongi about his father, ensuring he truly was alright. Taehyung and Jimin are next, the former just about barrelling into Jungkook and Yoongi, tugging them into a bear hug as Jimin watches fondly from behind. When a bleary-eyed Hoseok comes down, he notices the breakfast before the company, letting out a relieved groan at a mouthful of broth and promptly choking on it as he processes the presence of Jungkook and Yoongi.

Finally, it’s Jin that takes the longest to wake, and when he turns the corner and spots them, his only response is a wordless sigh, and a silent hug. Despite that, his emotions radiate off him in waves, and you don’t doubt there are unsaid words shared between him and Yoongi. To your surprise, he breaks away after a moment and pulls Jungkook into a tight albeit brief embrace as well, patting him on the back with a quiet murmur you don’t catch.

It feels right, comfortable and calming to have all eight of you back in the Villa together. The short absence feels so much more extended when you’re used to the same company twenty-four hours a day, and having them all back in your immediate vicinity again feels like a hit of some intense high. The relief rushes through your system, and you catch yourself unconsciously counting heads over and over.

“So I guess we just sit here?” Hoseok asks at one point, interrupting the blanket of quiet that had descended over you as you ate. “Do you think we should text Sejin and tell him to come debrief us or what? It feels like we’re in limbo.”

“No need.” A new voice resonates from behind you, Sejin himself walking through the doorway.

Taehyung narrows his eyes to the point of almost closing them, glaring first at the producer and then at the dormant cameras in the top corners of the room.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t rolling just yet. I’ve just been waiting a while for you all to get sorted. I figured you deserved to at least eat first, Yoongi, Jungkook.”

“Well, we’ve eaten,” Yoongi confirms, oddly stiff, an unreadable expression darkening his features. “I guess that means it’s showtime again.”

Jungkook looks up at him from his hunched posture leaning on the countertop. “I bet a lot of them missed you, hyung. The viewers. They seemed really worried on Twitter.”

Yoongi blinks, shifting. “Missed-? I- I suppose it was sudden. We should probably get this thing up and running again so they aren’t concerned.”

As Sejin nods in confirmation and pulls out his phone to relay the message, you nearly miss the quirk at Jungkook’s lips at changing Yoongi’s attitude so easily. The two of them seem at ease with each other like nothing you’ve seen before. No doubt due to the time they’d spent together last night, and it warms your heart to see them standing so closely.

“Come on, then,” Sejin announces, belatedly lifting his gaze and putting his phone back away, the cameras installed around the room blinking back to life with their steady red blip. “Let’s move to the couches again.”

“Just like the good old days,” Jungkook sighs dreamily.

Jin raises a brow, taking a seat in the center of the middle couch, the two youngest jumping in on either side of him like toddlers ready for a bedtime story. You do your best to ignore him, still feeling sensitive from the night before. “You mean ‘just like four days ago?’”

From his left side, Taehyung huffs lightly, though makes no effort to distance himself at all from the eldest. “Time is a social construct.”

“Can we make a start?” Sejin questions, perched on the corner of the coffee table with his hands on this thighs. “I doubt the viewers are here to listen to you bicker.”

“Right you are,” Taehyung notes, nodding sagely, “they’re here for the good stuff.” He shares a glance with Jungkook, and in unison the two of them place their hands side-by-side directly on top of Jin’s crotch, glancing up at the cameras expectantly.

Jin clicks his tongue like his dick being used as a prop is little more than a mild inconvenience, making no move to push their hands away.

They do, however, when Sejin flattens a stare at the two of them. The youngest properly chastened, the producer finally looks around at all of you as a group. “For the sake of continuity and coherence, we’re picking up where we last left off: Limited Edition week. Yoongi, you’re the only one to already have completed your prompt-” the man puffs his chest at this, sharp eyes darting to you as Sejin speaks, “-so you’re done for the week. Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin, I’m afraid you’re left with very little time to complete yours. Because of this, you’re no longer required to wait for a text message to start your scenes, and I’m also postponing the Fan Favourite vote until Monday morning to give you some additional time. We’ll unfortunately have to merge it with the elimination meeting. Today is already Friday, so do the best you can.”

“We won’t let you down,” Jungkook promises fiercely, conspicuously glancing down at Jin’s lap as if he’s about to use it for emphasis again.

Sejin sighs, shifting back, continuing on as if he didn’t hear the strangely passionate pact. “If anyone has forgotten their prompt, don’t hesitate to ask, otherwise the show is back on as per usual. Producer Kang is coming in at midday to set up the confessional booth again, so from this afternoon onwards, feel free to use it again to share your thoughts. I’m sure the viewers will have their fair share of questions for you as well. Understood?”

Most of you nod, content with the update. You try and fight the sickly flutter of anxiety in your chest that creeps up at the reminder of elimination, focusing instead on the side of you that’s relieved to have this level of normalcy back, and secretly pleased to have your cards filled up for the next few days. It feels like it’s been longer than it has, and you shift in your seat wondering who will approach you first out of the four men yet to fill their prompt.

Perhaps it won’t be Jungkook; he pushes himself off Jin and tiptoes to Sejin’s retreating figure, asking for a reminder on his prompt with shy pink cheeks. The producer lets out a weak laugh of bemusement and guides him out of the front door to escort him to the producing van outside.

The others seem to know what they’re doing, and you spy Namjoon and Hoseok with heads ducked together, Hoseok grinning at something Namjoon’s saying. The two have been growing closer lately, almost out of nowhere, and you’re curious if they’ll stick as two peas in a pod when it comes to the game, too.

The four of you that remain chill for a bit, making lazy conversation on how strange it feels being back on the clock again. It’s nice, being able to enjoy the time relatively care-free. Despite the overall weirdness of the competition in context to real life, it’s become a comfortable familiarity, and you welcome it back.

You could happily spend the whole morning there, were it not for the sharp bolt of pain that rushes up your spine when you turn to listen to something Jimin has to say.

Gasping, hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck instinctively, you squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation. From beside you, it takes no time for Jimin’s hands to find you, gently settling on your back and arm as he asks you if you’re okay.

“I fell asleep on the counter this morning,” you admit, trying not to move your head at all as you speak, “I think it messed up my neck.”

As your eyes untense and open again, you see Jimin’s rounded in concern, first at you and then glancing over at Tae in sober worry. His teeth are running over his lower lip over and over, a habit that he does in moments of stress and helplessness, and through the ache you can’t help but feel warm at his reaction.

“When does it hurt most?” you hear Taehyung ask, and it’s habit that makes you turn your head to face him.

“Fuck,” you curse thickly, shoulders hunching up against the tight feeling, “just when I turn it. Feels like a tug that shouldn’t be there.”

Yoongi and Jin are silent, and from your new angle of vision, you can see their apt focus on you, Yoongi going so far as to be shuffled half off  his couch, ready to jump up and give medical aid.

“It’s probably a crick in your neck,” Taehyung asks, and you spot his mop of browl curls fill your vision as he crouches in front of you and looks back over his shoulder. “Right, hyung?”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Sounds like it. I can get a heat pack?”

“I have some upstairs,” Taehyung answers, “I think a massage would help a lot. Y/n, do you think you can make it upstairs?”

You take a moment to consider this, and gently shift your head around with small motions. Up and down seems to be fine, and left and right hurt the more you turn. “I think it’ll be okay,” you decide, “I didn’t really notice it that much until just now.”

“Okay.” Taehyung presses his lips together and stands up again, holding out his hand to you. Slowly, with several check-ins, he guides you upstairs and into his bedroom, assisting you in sitting down on the bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows. You leave Jin and Yoongi downstairs, but Jimin insists on following, his hand warm against the small of your back the whole way up.

Feeling a little embarrassed at the fuss they’re making, you nonetheless soak up the chance to be at the center of their attention, Jimin linking your fingers together from the side of the bed as Taehyung rushes around, grabbing a single-use heat pack and some massage oils.

“You’ll need to turn around so your back is facing me,” Taehyung instructs, getting on the bed behind you. It’s a little awkward shifting around with three of you on the bed, and you unable to really move as freely as you’d like, but after a moment Jimin has replaced your original spot against the headboard, your knees bumping his as you sit cross-legged with Taehyung behind you. “Okay, that’s good. Just relax.”

Your shirt has a relatively low, round neck, and even though it’s not quite loose enough to push past your shoulders, Tae doesn’t want to make you take it off and risk hurting yourself further, so he just makes do, warming some oil between his fingers.

The soothing smell of lavender fills the air, and your shoulders go lax as Taehyung slips gently presses down on them with his still-dry knuckles, thumbs sliding up to hold your neck steady. As he pushes the hem down as much as he can and begins to slide his fingertips over your skin to spread the aromatic oil, you fight the urge to let your head loll back. It’s been a long time since Taehyung gave you a massage, and though you have no doubt he’d do it anytime in a heartbeat if you asked, you always felt strange approaching it. A crick in the neck was not ideal, but certainly a nice excuse to have his hands on you again.

In front of you, Jimin watches you carefully for any sight of pain. While a month ago you may have been intimidated or even put off by his intense stare, you know he’s there to make sure you’re alright, and you’ve seen him vulnerable enough to feel okay sharing this with him.

It is still a little awkward, however, and as Taehyung lets his fingers dip as low as they can between your shoulder blades, you send Jimin a crooked smile. “Do you want some popcorn?”

He scoffs warmly with a shake of his head. “If I’m bothering you…?”

You almost shake your head, sucking in a sharp breath through your nose as you fight the automatic urge. “No, you’re fine. I just don’t think me getting my neck fixed is very-” Your voice is abruptly cut off by a staccato groan punched out of you by Taehyung pressing his thumbs right into the knots on either side of the base of your neck. He crawls them up carefully but confidently, beginning to smooth out the tension, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering shut. “Very entertaining,” you finish, breathier than when you started.

“That’s where I’d have to disagree,” Jimin responds in a buttery whisper. With eyes closed, you don’t see him move, and are caught off guard by the tickle of sensation that arises on the sensitive skin of your inner ankle as he slowly sweeps a single fingertip in lazy circles around the bump of the bone. The touch isn’t particularly sexy in its location, but nevertheless feels dizzingly intimate with the knowledge of whose finger it is roaming the fine details of your body.

“I see how it is,” you manage to respond, but the fight is drained from you from both ends; Jimin at your ankles, Taehyung at the nape of your neck. Taehyung’s touch is distinctly heavier and more decisive than Jimin’s, and it becomes harder to resist lying back against him as he works at the sore muscles of your neck.

“My clients aren’t normally so chatty with someone that isn’t me,” Taehyung remarks from behind you, lightly flicking the side of your neck in playful complaint.

“Client?” you question with a pout he can’t see but can definitely hear. “Are we not even lovers, Tae?”

He hums, so low in his chest that it’s a soft growl, and his hands converge on your sternum, face coming forward to press at the side of your cheek as he hugs you from behind. Your heart rate picks up at the proximity; his lips so close to yours, but impossible to reach from the angle. “You know I can’t touch you like a lover should. Not now.”

“Would it be so bad?” you wonder aloud, even as you recall the rule that would get him kicked out should he touch you intimately. The rule wasn’t so harsh were it you to touch him, however. “I could.”

His breath comes out in a rush that tingles your jaw. “Don’t tempt me,” he warns, sitting back upright and pressing the sides of your neck to straighten you up again, “you’re injured.”

“I’m injured?” you retort, “I thought you were meant to be fixing me. You mustn’t be doing a very good job.”

This time, the sound that leaves him most certainly is a growl. His fingers dig into the dips in your upper spine with a ferocity that while measured is distinctly more authoritative. You feel manhandled into wellness, the pain malleable and easily manipulated by his touch. Your body is heavy, barely able to hold itself up, but inside you feel lighter than air, so thrilled to be at the receiving end of Taehyung’s dominance after such a long time under Jimin’s strong hand.

As if following your thoughts, Taehyung mutters out a low, “hyung?” Jimin hums in response, his fingers circling your ankle and letting the lax weight of his arm pin you to the mattress. “I want to touch her so bad.”

You let out an unfiltered moan as you hear Taehyung talk about you to the man on your other side as if you’re not even there, though his fingers never stop for a second, leaching away every last ounce of pain.

“You can’t,” Jimin replies simply.

“But you can,” Taehyung fires back. “Do you trust me?”

Your eyes open wide as you hear the hidden meaning behind his words. Jimin seems to recognise it, too, as he looks past you with lips parted in surprise. It takes him a moment, but he eventually does respond. “I trust you.”

“Get the blindfold.”

It’s clear Jimin is hesitant about letting Taehyung take control. Not the kind of resistance you’d expect he’d give someone else trying to dom him, but simply the delay of uncertainty, of inexperience. He gets up on his knees after a moment to reach into the bedside stand’s drawer, pulling out a soft black sleeping mask.

Taehyung’s hands finally slow, fingertips slipping just under the hem, fiddling with your bra straps. “Put it on, hyung.”

“Tae,” Jimin breathes, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but he goes along, slipping it over his head and adjusting it, lips pursed. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a harsh swallow, his toes curling and staying tucked.

“How’s your neck?” Taehyung asks you, and in your daze at seeing Jimin gingerly submit, it takes you a second to even realise he’s addressing you. You quickly assure him it’s fine, and feel your heart race as he takes his hands off you and backs away, pulling you backwards as he does. “Lie down for us,” he commands softly.

Your breathing is elevated, and you can’t seem to calm it as you watch Taehyung in your peripheral pull up a chair to the side of the bed. His knuckles are white as he clutches the arms, but his face is darkly focused.

“You can’t fuck her with all those clothes on, hyung,” Taehyung states simply, and you can see the way Jimin’s brows lift above the blindfold.

Obediently, Jimin moves towards you, but with his vision obscured he pats around to find you, fingers running blindly up your side to seek out the lower hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. There’s something strangely exciting about Jimin being the one to disrobe you, when only Taehyung will see your naked body, and the clumsy way the older man fiddles with the zip on your jeans before slipping them off makes it feel like he’s touching you for the first time.

It takes him no time at all to unhook your bra once he finds the hinge, and soon enough your panties, the only scrap of fabric left on your body, are being tugged down your legs impatiently. Once they’re gone, however, Jimin’s hands hover uncertainly over you, awaiting further instruction.

Taehyung grins, though Jimin won’t see it, and wets his lips. “So you can be a good boy, hm? Who would’ve thought the big bad wolf was just a little puppy?”

Jimin swallows, nostrils flaring as he struggles with his own submission. He offers no answer, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, sitting forward in the chair.

“Are you hard, Jimin?” The blue-haired man grits his teeth at the intentional lack of honorifics, but confirms reluctantly that he is. “Show us.”

After opening and closing his mouth, Jimin swallows hard again and his fingers pat against his waistband until he reaches the button, undoing it and dipping a hand in to release his cock. True to his word, he’s hard, the tip glossed with precum and angry red.

A wave of arousal rushes through you so strong that you clench around nothing, wanting nothing more than to push him back and take what you need yourself. But it’s fascinating seeing him like this, and you don’t want to even speak, too scared to break the spell Taehyung has somehow constructed.

The younger man just lets out a flat noise as if unimpressed. Jimin’s dick twitches as his cheeks heat in shame. “Tae,” he breathes, fingers digging into the tensed flesh of his still-clothed thighs.

“It would benefit you to give my name more respect than that. I’m not your boyfriend now, not your pet. I’m your boss. I say what you can and cannot do. So what do you say to me?”

Jimin’s lips are parted, a pretty pink that trembles if you look closely enough. He stays silent for a moment, thinking it through. “Mister Kim,” he says, going so far as to duck his head shallowly in an imitation of a bow.

A dark smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips. “I like that,” he decides, “good boy. Why don’t you touch our girl, then? She’s arching so nicely for you, Jimin, I think she wants to feel you on her pretty little tits.”

Your eyes couldn’t be wider if you tried, fingers twisted harshly in the bedsheets on either side of you. It’s true, your back hitching off the mattress in need. Truth be told, you’re shivering in the desire to feel him anywhere, but the thought of him flicking at your sensitive nipples has you letting out a shaky whimper.

It’s not Jimin’s hands that greet you, however. Instead, he uses them to catch his fall when he hangs forward, face burying in the soft skin close to your right hip. You can feel the hard tip of his nose, the tickle of his eyelashes, and the plush warmth of his lips.

You tremble beneath him at the way his breath heats your naked skin in pants. Jimin navigates higher with his nose, running it over you, lips dragging against you just enough for you to catch scrapes of his bottom teeth occasionally as he works from left to right, seeking out the swell of your breasts.

It’s not long before he crawls high enough, but it feels like an eternity of absence has been broken when it’s not his fingers but his hot, wet mouth that closes over your nipple, sucking it in like a man starved.

You gasp at the sudden bloom of sensation, a moan getting clogged in your throat. Once Jimin reaches you, you can feel the confidence of his usual dom persona return in the intense way he laps and nipples at the stiffening peak, but the hastened breaths that have his chest heaving above you are entirely due to Taehyung’s invisible grasp on the both of you.

It’s not until Jimin fastens his teeth around your nipple and tugs once, harsh enough to make you keen and grab at his shoulders, that he moves to the other side, repeating the previous treatment with twice the hunger and desperation as before.

“Mm, atta boy,” Taehyung praises in a borderline sarcastic drawl. Jimin huffs through his noise noisily against you as he places sloppy kisses on the pebbled skin around your nipple, and your eyes roll back at the overwhelming situation you’ve found yourself in. There’s something unbelievably obscene about being at the whim of Jimin touch but Taehyung’s command, of hearing and seeing and feeling Jimin be just as affected by Tae as you are.

Jimin’s still mostly dressed, but you can feel the heat radiating from his unsheathed cock as it presses against your leg, and you will Taehyung to demand Jimin fuck you, feeling out of your mind with need.

“You want to taste her somewhere else, don’t you?” Taehyung asks after a few moments of ecstasy. Jimin groans lowly against you, and you feel his hair tickle your breast as he nods. Taehyung’s voice hardens. “That’s a shame. On your back, Jimin. Clothes off.”

You and Jimin whine in unison as you’re parted again, but the latter wastes no time in undressing, throwing his shirt, pants and underwear away blindly, almost hitting Taehyung with them.

Taehyung lets out a cheeky smile as he ducks out of the way, before steeling his expression again and standing up to join you at the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as Jimin lies down beside you, head propped up on the pillows.

Making him wait in silence and darkness for a moment long enough to make Jimin hold back another whine with a bit lip, Taehyung suddenly reaches out and rakes his nails up Jimin’s chest from his lower stomach to his collarbones, flicking his nipples on the way.

Jimin hisses and almost comes clean off the mattress, arms flying down, but Taehyung catches him at the wrists and tugs his arms up with a roughness that takes Jimin by surprise, leaving him pinned open with reddening lines across his torso.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrashing back and forth once in frustration. He looks overwhelmed already, though you’re beginning to suspect this is his first time subbing, at least in many years. “T- Mister Kim, Mister Kim, please.”

“Y/n’s going to take what she wants now, Jimin,” Taehyung instructs gruffly, sending you an expectant gaze for you to get up, “and you’re going to give it all to her. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” Jimin repeats brokenly, fingers curling in the open air as Taehyung holds his wrists up.

Heart racing violently in your chest, you find yourself straddling Jimin with barely-restrained excitement. His cock is lying against his lower abdomen, leaking steadily, and the moment you reach out and take it in your hand he lets out a low, keening sob, thighs lifting as if to curl in on himself.

“Colour, Jimin,” Taehyung demands, loosening his hold on the man’s wrists briefly.

Jimin lets out a frustrated whine, foot stomping against the mattress. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon, even with your hand still on him, and it almost seems like he’s about to end the scene with the pained look on his face. “Dammit, green. Fuck.”

Taehyung pauses for a moment, but suddenly a booming laugh is leaving him as he stares down at the figure on the bed below him, with restrained arms hanging uselessly in the air. “Oh, you dirty fucking boy,” he gushes, bending down to nip at the already-swollen flesh of Jimin’s lips, making the older boy whimper, “you love this, don’t you?”

Shaking his head, Jimin can’t hide the way blood rushes to his cheeks, tinging his face and neck pink as his cock pulses in your grip. It encourages you to move again, and you lean down to spit on it, hearing him hiccup wetly at the feeling of it before you’re jerking him off steadily to spread the slick around.

As much as he tries, Jimin can only hold back the sounds of pleasure for so long, and by the time you’re straddling him, lining him up at your entrance, his chest is heaving and every breath out is tinged in a moan. He all but trembles in anticipation as his tip bumps against you, and you suck in a single slow breath to prepare yourself before you’re sitting on his cock, feeling it part your walls deep inside.

Jimin shudders, and his arms, still in Taehyung’s grip, tug towards his own face to cover it, fingers curling into claws at the flood of sensation.

“Is it good?” Taehyung asks rhetorically, allowing Jimin to pull his hands over his face before cruelly spreading them wide again, leaning down until their noses touch, voice dipping to a gruff whisper, thick with arousal. “You don’t get to hide from us.”

You’re propping yourself up with one hand on Jimin’s heated chest and another on the mattress, letting yourself adjust to the intrusion, and you see the way his lips tremble every time you clench around him.

Though it hasn’t really been that long, you feel the stretch more than usual, especially without the foreplay involving any fingering. But, if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

There’s something so divine about rocking your hips against him and having his cock open you up through your own movements. You control the pace despite the whines and weak growls of complaint, and you take your time with it. While Jimin might prefer more friction, more motion, you’re enjoying the deep grind, his pelvis pressed to your clit every time you lean forward.

You look up from him, at Taehyung holding him down for you. His hair is messy, but no more than before, and he’s still fully dressed. His eyes are dark with lust and glimmering with excitement, and once he feels your gaze he looks up at you sharply. Your heart jumps, and you squeeze unintentionally around Jimin, making him groan.

Still looking at Taehyung, however, at his sculpted lips, strong gaze and hooded lids, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to lean forward and kiss him. It’s like a string is tied between the two of you, being cranked tighter and tighter. It would be so easy just to give in and-

“Don’t be mean, Y/n. Jimin is being good for us.” Taehyung grins at you, teeth glinting. “Make him come.”

Jimin’s chest hitches, and his hips rock shallowly up at you, unable to get the momentum to do much more. Still, it causes him to drag against your walls, and the pleasure shoots up your core at the feeling. Inspired by both your own pleasure and the need to please the two men with you, you steel your thighs and begin to ride Jimin in earnest.

It’s harder than you expect to keep a rhythm up. Every time you get a good downstroke that reaches your g-spot, it makes your legs tremble, and before long your thighs begin to ache. Nonetheless, you’re determined as you watch Jimin’s blindfolded face contort in pleasure, and you shift your position and bounce harder.

In the back of your mind, you hear Taehyung praise you, but you barely spare him a glance, chest lowering so that you can put all your energy into the tight motion of your hips. Your fingers dig into Jimin’s shoulder, and his muscles tense beneath them as he tries to reach out for you.

Every time he’s reminded of the grip Taehyung has on his arms, Jimin thrashes just a little beneath you, but his cock just keeps on getting stiffer inside you, and as you suck in harsh lungfuls of air, you know he’s getting close.

The sounds that leave his parted lips are nothing short of pornographic, losing all sense of shame or hesitation as he approaches that peak.

You fight off your own orgasm, tightening around Jimin as you try and hold back and distract yourself with him. You’re losing stamina quickly, the rhythm falling apart into unsteady jerks and bounces.

Taehyung watches you carefully, before bending down again and biting right into the plush flesh of Jimin’s cheek, addressing him only after he soothes the blooming red with his tongue. “Why don’t you return the favour and fuck her a little, my good boy?”

Jimin sobs, and his abs tighten as he attempts to get up, but Taehyung just tuts, instructing him to do it right where he is. Clearly too far gone to protest, you feel Jimin prop his feet up against the mattress with a shaky sniff. That’s your only warning before he makes full use of his core strength to piston his hips up into you with toe-curling speed, purely seeking out his own end.

You cry out, knees buckling at the first thrust, and your chin hits his shoulder awkwardly, almost biting your own tongue. Clutching at his arms, you attempt to hold yourself up enough not to bear your dead weight on him, and go along for the ride.

Even from his unwieldy position, Jimin manages far better than you did, and his his moans quickly raise in pitch and shorten in length, until he’s whimpering in desperate yips, thrusting up into you with such ferocity that your teeth chatter.

He’s deep inside you, deeper than he’s been before, and your eyes begin to well at your own impending orgasm.

Closer than you, however, Jimin freezes for a split second before he’s shuddering violently and spurting inside you. Taehyung holds onto him for a moment longer before he releases his wrists, and suddenly you’re being caged in by Jimin, his arms holding you flush against his heated torso as he grinds his cum into you, still blindfolded and barely able to catch a breath.

It’s this rocking motion that tips you over the edge, your clit gaining enough friction to break the dam, and you sob hard as the pleasure wracks through you. There isn’t a single inch of space between you and Jimin, and just as you think you’re in pure ecstasy, you feel Taehyung’s hand tangle in your hair, stroking it as his lips brush the shell of your ear with praises intended for the two of you.

Your face is wet and your body is trembling uncontrollably as you let your climax run through you, and when it fades you feel hollowed out, boneless.

Jimin is clearly the same, because he quite contentedly lets you lie atop him, panting just as hard as you are. His eyes remain closed long after Taehyung slips the blindfold off, pressing kisses to Jimin’s eyelids and the flush on his cheeks.

After a sweet eternity, you gather enough energy to roll off Jimin and sit up, separating yourself from him. He sighs out weakly, and you’re shocked to see just how drained he seems. For a moment, your heart stutters, but as you reach out and grab his hand, matching Taehyung who has his other one sandwiched between his, a drunken smile stretches across Jimin’s face.

“What the fuck?” he asks breathily, chuckling slightly despite his exhaustion. A single eye cracks open, looks up at the two of you with a warm gaze, before slipping shut again. “Oh my god, I can’t believe… I can’t believe that.”

“Can’t believe you liked it?” Taehyung questions, and even after the scene you hear a tinge of nervousness in his tone.

“God, Tae, I think I get it now,” Jimin gushes, voice lowering into a sleepy slur, “it’s- that was fun.”

Taehyung beams, squeezing Jimin’s hand fondly.

Jimin sighs in bliss. “And next time I’m going to edge you so much you cry, Mister Kim.”

The smile drops off Taehyung’s face in an instant. “Hey! That’s not fair. I let you come.”

Whatever protest Jimin would normally fire back is dissolved in his post-orgasm bliss. Instead, he just hums sweetly, entirely unbothered by the sticky mess his lower torso has become.

“Come on,” you jibe softly, feeling your own skin growing tacky, “let’s get you in the shower.”

Jimin groans at the thought of standing up, but Taehyung is having none of it, digging his hands under Jimin’s back to lever him up like a crowbar. “Yeah, we’re not gonna stop taking care of you just because you busted a nut, asshole. Get up and let me clean your dick like the good dom I am.”

Though Jimin huffs all the way to the shower, as the two of you clean him up, dry him off and dress him in a pair of Taehyung’s sweats and a baggy shirt, his eyes never stop gleaming for a second, not-so-secretly enjoying every minute of it.

The three of you spend an hour or so post-shower chilling in Taehyung’s room before hunger overcomes you one at a time. You’ve certainly missed lunch, but there is plenty still left in the fridge, and Jimin takes on the duty of reheating it as a silent thank you for the scene.

He’s quieter than usual, and you know it has to do with the intensity of it, at least for him. It was a big deal, actually submitting to another, and both you and Taehyung keep a close eye on him, filling the silence between the two of you so he doesn’t feel the need to exert himself, but keeping him close nonetheless.

At one point, Jimin goes upstairs to take a nap, insisting he’s fine on his own, and Namjoon and Hoseok return inside from where they’d been having a picnic of sorts (or perhaps fucking on the lawn, though they refuse to deny nor confirm your teasing accusation). The four of you put on a random reality show you’d been meaning to watch, and it isn’t long before Jungkook is joining you too, piling on the couch between the two subtle lovebirds. When Jin comes down, he half-watches from the kitchen, preparing some side dishes for dinner, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Your mind doesn’t linger on the thought for long, getting distracted by the dating show that somehow is just as ridiculous as the one you’re on, and you let the time slip by as you watch episode after episode. It’s nice to rest up, aching a little bit in a new place than before, but satisfied.

When Yoongi comes down, you’re so caught up watching television that you don’t even see him. It’s not until he cuts into your line of sight and holds out a decisive hand that you blink into focus and notice his presence.

“Y/n. A minute.”

You stare at him for another minute, brain not catching up. Yoongi huffs and bends down, grabbing onto your hand and tugging you up off the couch.

The others stare at you in bewilderment, and you return the confused gaze over your shoulder as he tug you out of the room.

Stumbling through the hallway, you furrow your eyebrows as he leads you up the stairs, almost frantic in his pace.

Arriving at your own door, he throws it open and pulls you inside and shuts it behind you. Your brain catches up, and you let out an uncertain laugh. “Yoongi, you already did your prompt, you don’t have to-”

You’re cut off by a pair of lips on yours.

Yoongi’s body knocks you back and pins you firmly to the door as his mouth slants against yours. Both hands cupping your face, he kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, tongue darting out slightly to flick at your lips.

You let out a surprised moan that gets entirely swallowed by him, knees weak and held up only by his hold. Frantic, hurried, his kisses convey a thousand praises, and your mind whirls with the sudden passion.

This close, you can smell the musk of his cologne. It dizzies you, and you feel as if his hands on your cheeks and his lips on yours are the only thing anchoring you to the world. They move against you, exploring your mouth with a desperate sweetness. You can’t wrap your head around it, can’t catch up, and so you let yourself drown in it instead, clasping at the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt to hold yourself steady.

When you finally part, he rips himself away with dazed eyes, pupils blown with desire. “Y/n,” he breathes, staring at you in wonder as if for the first time. He steps back again, after a moment, touching his swollen lips with a disbelieving smile. “I really tried, you know.”

You frown in confusion, stepping forward to get closer again. “Tried what? Yoongi, I don’t understand.”

“I tried not to fall in love with you like the rest.”

You have no words, mouth hanging open. Before you can think of anything to say, he’s moving past you and letting himself out of your room, the door half-ajar as his footsteps recede into silence.

You stay up in your room for what must be hours, replaying his words over and over in your head, lips tingling.

You miss dinner that way, too occupied in your own thoughts to even notice the knock at your door. Even as the sky darkens outside your window, you feel too wired to sleep, running through every single interaction you’ve ever had with Yoongi. Reading them in every possible way you could.

Working out if you would be telling the truth to say it back.

Your mind runs in circles, unable to land on a single answer, on a single perspective or truth or belief.

Late into the night, and further to the early hours of the morning, you force yourself to think about every other member in the house, too. About how they treat you, how kind they are to you, the way they look at you.

About the way your heart races when you’re around them, even as they comfort you with their presence alone.

You manage to fall asleep shortly before sunrise, eyes aching and body exhausted, every line of thinking and internal interrogation whittled down to a single two words.

I’m fucked.

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

[miridiums-writing]

Barbarian Bakugou x Plus-sized!Villager!Reader

Summary ; reader loves in village that is ravaged by bararians, bakugou catches them and finds out they are mates

Warnings ; violence, there is implied sexual assault but it never happens kinda like a passing thought. I never actually state gender though reader does wear a dress, so if your someone who doesn’t like wearing dresses then you might have trouble fitting into the narrative. REMEMBER ANYONE CAN WEAR A DRESS, I WILL HYPE YOU UP. They eat in it, also they eat meat so if you’re vegetarian or anything of the sort you probably won’t relate, Bakugou yes he is a warning, swearing it is Bakugou after all.

AUTHORS NOTE ; ill have part 2 out hopefully in a few days, ill link both the petite reader version and the plus-sized reader to each other so whichever suits you better you can read.

Tag list : @squishytenya

Petite!reader version part 1

The village was alight, red ran rampant through the streets, the screams of young and old mixing to create a noise that would give anyone a headache. You were running as fast as you could, no shoes on, trying to pick up your skirts as you ran. You had been woken by a scream and hadn’t thought to put on shoes before you ran to escape the sea of arrows shot at your home. People dragged younger ones through the wreckage, others cried, others shouting for loved ones. Nobody seemed to be left unscathed.

Your feet were in tatters at this point, having ran through rocks and glass to get here. Your only motivation that got you this far, even with the pain you were in, was the orphanage at the top on town. On a slight hill further away from the village, secluded in a way. You hoped against hope the children were ok. You dodged through fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You had to make it. You had to keep them safe. Though in your blind panic you didn’t notice the figure stealthily following after you.

You were running up the hill now, twigs that littered the woods floor poking into your poor feet, causing you to slow slightly, but your determination kept you from walking. Just as the orphanage came into sight arms wrapped around your waist. You kicked in attempt to get away, hoping against hope you could escape, get to them. Those kids did nothing to deserve the pain. Your attempts did nothing but tire you more, your hope of escape starting to slip from your grasp. “Stay still dammit” a gruff voice stated. He moved you both back, further into the woods, blocking your view of the orphanage and kept you still.

“Oi Kirishima! Keep those idiots away from the orphanage” He called out further into the woods, not second later a muscular man with spiky hair and even spikier teeth seemed to appear in an instant and disappear just as quickly. With the disappearance of the other man he moved you so you could finally see his face, though his grip on you never loosened. If you were honest with yourself, he was rather pretty. Hard red eyes stared into yours and seemed to judge your appearance as you gaped at him. His blonde locks spiked out, much more naturally than the other mans, he had a defined jawline, and a look that screamed danger. In your curiosity you failed to notice how odd this whole situation was. Here you were being held down by an intimidation and rather frightening man, but you felt no fear towards him.

“Found you” he said, looking at you with a smirk as his face moved closer to yours. Just as you thought he was going to kiss you his face moved lower to your neck and started to pepper kisses and nips into the sensitive skin. You tensed in his hold, not sure what he was about to do, and scared for the outcome that seemed inevitable. Just then he roughly bit into your neck, causing you to shriek at the vast difference from what he was doing before and the pain that started to thump against your neck like a drum. When he was satisfied, he started to lick at your neck, no doubt cleaning up the blood. “There, now that’s sorted time to clean you up and get moving” He tightly grabbed a hold of your hand, pulling you close to his body. “If you try and run you wouldn’t like to know the fate of those kids you so wish to protect so behave.” You didn’t want to know what he could to, so you allowed him to pull you away from the orphanage.

He pulled you both down the hill and towards the town, he hadn’t told you his name and didn’t seem in the mood for light conversation, so you stayed quiet, not wanting to anger the man further than he already seemed to be. When you both got back to the village it was silent. A stark difference between the village you had left behind, and it set you on edge. He must have noticed how you had started to shake a little, though he didn’t say anything on it. “Hide you face into my back, quickly” he said, his voice slightly softer than earlier, though it didn’t stop the unease. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, he gave you a glare that made you close it instantly. You ducked your head down into his back behind him and tried to ignore the strares, questions swarming your mind. “right let’s move out” he shouted, his voice seeming even more loud now you were against his back, making you cringe slightly. With one hand now taking your weight he hoisted onto a horse, repositioning you in front of him to lean against his chest. “Get some sleep, its gonna be a long ride teddy bear”

When you woke you were still in his arms, though you were now wrapped up in a fur coat, keeping you warm from the wind. If you didn’t think about the fact he basically kidnapped you it could almost be sweet. He had positioned you in a way that meant the brunt of the wind was hitting against the fur coat, keeping you toasty warm. He was looking ahead, no doubt keeping control of the horse, though you did notice how he would glance down at you. Due to your position you couldn’t really see anything, giving in to the temptation of going back to sleep for now, who knew when you would be able to sleep again, you let your eyes closed and allowed yourself to relax, your head snuggling into his warm chest.

Your eyes fluttered open at a loud shout, startling you from the fragile sleep you had managed to get. “We’re almost there” He claimed, glancing down at your sleepy form curled into him. Cute. The thought was a fleeting one, but it made him freeze up slightly, he hoped you didn’t notice. This mate stuff was making him soft. The horse abruptly came to a stop and the man carefully gave you his hand to help you jump down. You noticed almost immediately this was much gentler than he had been previously, and honestly threw you for a loop. On one hand this was much nicer treatment than previously, even if he hadn’t been particularly bad, on the other hand what does this entail, does he want something in return? The man pulled you inside what looked like a large tent and pointed towards the bed to sit down, it was covered with fur blankets and looked rather nice and warm to cuddle up in.

“Look here’s the deal,” he said, sitting down on the floor before you, making your face in line with his. “You’re my mate, kinda like a soulmate, I guess. It’s a feeling. My name’s Bakugou Katsuki by the way. Call my Katsuki though, it’ll just piss me off if you call me anything else. Just, listen to what I say. Ill go get you some food, you look like you need it.” As Katsuki walks away you could hear him mutter under his breath “Skinny as anything” When he had officially left, and you decided he was far enough away you started to look around. The tent was rather spacious, but not to the point it was cold. If anything, it was so warm in here. Like an invisible fire was somewhere in the room keeping it warm. The tent itself smelled like wood pine and honeysuckle, and a hint of caramel, it felt more homely than your old village ever did. You knew you had to think through what he had told you, but you didn’t want to even think about it. Taken away from your home after it having been destroyed by them and he tells you you’re his soulmate and you need to listen him.

When Katsuki got back you were cocooned in the blankets, sure the room was warm, but as the night air drew in the rooms temperature seemed to drop drastically, so you had taken it upon yourself to collect all the blankets and pile them onto of yourself. Katsuki stood at the entrance dumbfounded at the sight, as in comparison he stood tall in his trousers and fur coat, with his necklace and earrings to adorn the look. He wasn’t used to feeling cold. He would need to thank his parents later for getting on at him to make sure he had enough blankets for his mate when it got cold. He placed the food down on the table and started picking apart the blankets until he revealed you, cuddling into yourself. “Look, I know its cold but you gotta eat, come on” He allows you to get yourself up, though you take one of the smaller blankets with you to combat the cold.

The meal itself wasn’t anything special. A meat of some kind with potatoes and asparagus. You were so hungry you ate it without question, too hungry to care. He watched you from the other side of the table, it made you slightly self-conscious but brushed it off as his thing, he had a habit of watching you. When you finished you made sure to tidy up your area as best as you could, not wanting to seem impolite. This made Katsuki scoff at you, your insecurity coming back quickly.

“Bed time” was all he said, even though you had been sleeping most of the day, the thought of curling up into the blanket seemed heavenly. As you climbed into the bed, securing yourself under the furs Katsuki came in behind you. He simply brought your body to his, circling his body around yours in a protective manner. With him so close to you, you found it hard to fall asleep. Though Katsuki seemed to find it easy, simply snuggling his face into your neck and falling asleep. You decided to go through your options. Option one, stay still and go to sleep unknowing to what could happen tomorrow, though by his current attitude and behaviour you now highly doubted it being too dangerous, or option two, somehow manage to escape his iron grip and run out of the tent, with no knowledge of where you were, how far from home, or what could be outside the tent. The thought of meeting something worse than Katsuki made you shiver and slightly move closer to him. At least you knew what he was capable of, plus you had the added protection that he claimed you as his mate, those usually ended happily. No one wanted to endanger their mate, it went against Barbarian law. Something you vaguely remembered researching when you were young and curious. With those thoughts in mind you allowed yourself to succumb to the warmth Katsuki provided and fall into a broken sleep.

Please reblog if you enjoyed

[binniesthighs]

he lives in my lap | reader x changbin

➛ Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x seo changbin 

➛ Recommended listening: she lives in my lap, outkast

➛ Genre: pwp (smut), fluffy tones, 18+ 

➛ Word count: 3.9k 

✨ Summary/Request Here ✨

Anon: sub!changbin nipple play drabble👁👁

i’m such a sucker for sub bin smh

a/n: thank you for requesting sweet anon! any day, any time i will write sub!changbin! this was such a pleasure to write n’ i hope that ya like it! <3

{see below for nsfw tags!} 

NSFW: dom!reader, sub!changbin, tsundere!bin, slightlybratty!bin, established relationship, use of petnames, body worship (calm tf down ro, we know you love binnies’ bod), *plz pretend to be surprised here too* thigh kink, power dynamics, LOADS of nipple play (m receiving), praising & mild degradation, handjob, lil pet of petplay (bunny), v soft aftercare 

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you caught him sulking, bundled up in his chair with his legs crossed and his eyes dried. its the times like this when you don’t need him to tell you what’s going through his mind. he huffs and spins around just to get a moment to break his stare at the screen. he rubs at his temples where his headache surges, but he’ll never stop to ask for help or to express how tired he really is. 

“what are you working on?” you simply ask as you cross the way behind him and squeeze his shoulders. 

he sighs, and answers, “work.” 

it’s barely an answer, but knowing him, prodding wouldn’t do much else. 

“its getting late,” you pause, contemplating to next part of your phrase, “could you come to bed? i’d....love to have you with me...if you can.” 

his fingers stop their typing, and he pulls off a single padded headphone to listen to you. 

“you know that i’ve got a deadline. can’t.” 

“wouldn’t you like to--” 

“--can’t you just live one night without it?” he barks, swiveling in his seat to face you. 

his eyes, the whites of them pink and his under-eyes bagged, tell you that you can’t take exactly what he means to heart, but still, it doesn’t hurt much less. 

“bin--i just want you to take care of yourself and not overwork. you know that you need your rest to make everything work out right. right?” 

your boyfriend sighs and composes himself, then puts his headphones back on. 

“deadlines are deadlines.” changbin simply replies. “in a couple days it’ll be over.” 

the sound of his clicking at his mouse fills the room back up, and this close you can hear the faint buzz of his music on the other side of his headphones. its as if he wants to create some kind of shell between you and him; he pulls his hood up and balls himself up in his big black hoodie. 

with him, your patience overcomes anything. 

“bin--” you reach for his arm to rub in calming little circles with your thumb, “you’re worrying me.” 

the exhaustion in his voice causes it to crack, “i’m fine.” 

it doesn’t take him much to go up in arms when you pull off his headphones to hold his puffy face in your hands. earnestly you hold his eyes with yours. 

“you’ve worked so much already today. please, come to bed, i know you won’t admit it to yourself, but it’ll be okay if you sleep for just a little while....or, relax at least...” 

changbin huffs out again in his same little annoyed nature. you knew the ins and outs of him well: your words might have gone in one ear and left out the other, but they still would jumble him up on their way out.

“i said that i’m fine,” your boyfriend repeats, “you’re worrying over nothing.” 

it isn’t easy to admit defeat in the moment, but that’s all it is: a moment. he allows you the pause to plant a tiny kiss on his forehead before focusing back on his work. the truth is, you really did want him to join. the bed was always warmer with two anyway. these days, it was even a little hard to fall asleep with him. 

“well,” you throw your hands on your hips, “i’ll just be back here...if you need anything. i can warm up your side for you, kay?” 

for a moment, his fingers stop their clicking, wavering. “okay.” 

he likes it when you wear his shirts and other little things like that. he even thinks that its cute when you steal his socks and they bunch up a little. after living together your clothes have started to all smell the same, but knowing that it’s his has always been enough for you. 

at first, you promise yourself that you’ll stay up as long as he does, but not even you can stay up that late. he turns the lights off for you, leaving only his desk lamp and the blue screen of his desktop. silently you promise him that you’ll stay up as long as you can manage...

“--oh. sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up...” 

your blurry eyesight makes out the time that’s ticked past two hours since you last remember checking. 

“its okay,” your sleepy self returns. you’ve fallen asleep on his side of the bed which you promised to warm up, but he won’t ask you to give it up when you’re half awake. 

“i’ve decided to sleep in late tomorrow.” he hums while reaching for his phone light to turn it off. “you’re right.” 

“i know that i’m right.” 

even in the dark you can feel his little joking smirk. the mattress makes springy sounds under the weight of your two bodies, and somehow your hands find their way into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. there’s nothing like feeling his presence beside you--its a kind of irreplaceable reassurance that you’ve only ever felt in him. 

he’s close enough to feel his tiny breaths in the space between you, and how it tickles your upper lip. sleepy kisses float from your lips to his which he happy returns by pressing into you closer and melding your body with his. you make a point to kiss him slowly and with every ounce of intent that you are able to pour from yourself to him. 

your love unties himself for you just as he does whenever he feels your thumb trace under his jaw slowly or as you hold his face in your hands, tilting him to deepen your exploration of his mouth. you can feel him get looser and looser after being so tightly bound. your hands work at his knots with swift fingers that interweave with his hair, then find their way to traipse up the hem of his clothes. 

he mutters a little sound that could be translated into many pleasurable things, but you don’t need to think too hard to interpret it. 

“binnie...” you coo, gently rolling him to his back to lean over him with your upper body, “you’re doing so well. i can tell how hard that you’re working...there’s no need to hide.” 

he nods, allowing you to paint his cheeks with more little kisses that fall down to his neck, then travel back up to his ear where you nibble softly. in your own mind, its your favorite place to show him your love: he shivers feeling your breath quiver in his ear, then exhales out after feeling the small pull at his skin. 

higher under his shirt your hands tip-toe, then trance the curves of his sides and finally reach the spot where he is most sensitive...your boyfriend gifts you the gorgeous sound of his uncontrollable little whimpers once he feels the pads of your fingers graze over one of his hardened nipples. 

“oh?” you taunt, “already so sensitive?” 

changbin attempts a scoff that comes out airy on his lips, “i mean, yeah...when you do that.” 

your index circles his bud, causing and even more delightful symphony of shaking breaths to exit. 

“...but its so late...” you remind him. its halfway between a genuine reminder and somewhat of a challenge. there’s nothing more that you would want, but the clock tells you otherwise. 

your room is nearly devoid of light save for the way that the crescent moon peeks through the slits of the shades. the silver light illuminates his face in stripes, one of them directly over his eyes which makes them sparkle with the same iridescent shine of stars. 

“do you think that i care?” changbin shies a bit into the puffy pillow that cradles his head. 

from your position above him you can see the way that he pleads wordlessly, and how he just knows that he’s irresistible to you. his gaze softens to shift in that cute little pout. he too knows how to untie you, how to make you fall into him so deeply that you can’t see anything but him. he knows exactly what to say, how to wet his his cushy lip so it glistens just a little when he parts his mouth for you to crave even more than you already do. 

“do you want me to say please?” he adds. 

fuck, he really does know you well. 

your knuckles rub along the fuzzy underside of his sweater, scribbling more circles around his nipples that hardens them painfully even though you’re barely touching him. 

“that is my favorite word,” 

his tone is airy, barely audible when he asks as politely as he can, “please, can you use me how you want?” 

you tut, bowing low over his lips to only let them hover over his own. your lie of a kiss just barely makes contact with him. he whines from the promise of your taste, even wiggling his hips in his agony knowing that he won’t get what he wants quickly. 

“hm, i didn’t really hear you that time...” slowly your hands begin to pull the fabric of is shirt over his head. “say it again for me?” 

“please...?” your boyfriend desperately repeats. 

“and you’ll be a good boy for me? you’ll do what i say?” 

“yes...yes. everything that you say.” 

his hoodie ruffles up his cute dark locks that sprawl all over his face and even cover his eyes. for a moment you think of how his hair had gotten longer than you had noticed. you sweep it aside, holding his eyes while your hand swipes up and down his chest just between his pectorals. 

“and you’ll tell me when you want me to stop?” 

finally you grant him the kiss he’s been waiting for which he drinks up greedily, moaning carefully over your lips. 

“mmhm.” 

you nearly startle him after forgetting to move slowly, finding your own eagerness taking hold of you. changbin’s eyes gleam seeing you on top of him and both of your legs straddling his sides. you slither farther down his body to align yourself correctly, then pause finding your place. 

after, he then startles you by letting out a sudden cry in response to his beloved sensation. both of your hands are busied pinching and tweaking directly at his pink nipples that turn redder from your touch. you toy with the hardened buds while his eyelids flutter--he can’t figure out if he wants to close his eyes to feel it all, or watch you. he decides upon the latter and tries his best focus on your hands spread on his chest. 

its a wondrous indulgence of yours as you watch the way that his muscles fill up your hands and even how his skin pops between your fingers when you squeeze. “my bun,” you sigh in admiration, “i just can’t handle you...” 

your head spins when he echoes, “neither can i...”

it seems fair for you to take off your top too, so you do. your hands survey farther up his chest, then course down his arms which you tuck to rest on each side of his head. 

“you know how it goes.”

he doesn’t even need the reminder. 

“fuck, you’re gonna take all the time you want now, aren’t you?” 

your boyfriend regains a bit of his composure to snark with that little unfair smirk of his. 

“would you rather me not do this for you at all...bun?” 

he rolls his eyes, impatient and annoyed for barely a second. he’s quieted the moment that he feels your lips float over his skin. you can feel the way that his breaths are thrown out from his lungs once you press even harder. his hips squirm and he turns into a puddle of half-choked winces that turn high pitched and needy the closer that you get to the sensitive areas of his chest. your tongue twists around it, only teasing at first and never allowing him to feel the full heat of your mouth. your left hand swipes up his side and settles right over his other bud which you toy with between your index and middle finger. you pull, then delight in the way that you can even feel his moans start deep from his core then come ripping out carelessly. 

at last you grant him the wet of your mouth when you tense your lips to pull too. you know that he likes it when you use your teeth too, but you never start with the most exciting part. 

his arms twitch like they usually do where they lay on both sides of his head. your boyfriend interlocks his fingers behind his head to pull and hold them there until his knuckles turn white. he would touch you, but you don’t like getting that distracted. you don’t need it anyway to heighten the way that unraveling him already pools heat between your legs and sends you grinding over his midsection. 

you use a combination of gentle kisses contrasted with the pull of your fingers and eventually the bite of your teeth to get him properly gasping out as if he cannot breathe. your name finds its way twisted into some of his moans too; it sounds so perfect, so right said that way: airy, wavering, shaking after he bites it into his lip too. 

you stop to admire him, now using your thumbs to tease at the way his reddened nipples now look painfully aroused and even glimmer with the sheen of your saliva upon them. changbin is flushed out all across his cheeks and even over his nose bridge. the rouge spreads down to his neck where the veins there quiver with each of his senseless gasps for air. he jerks from the careful feeling of the pad of your thumb compared to how viciously you had tugged at him before. you grind down your hips into his hard-on between your legs and into your own heat which craves him just as much. 

“good?” 

he nods, and chuckles out after reveling under your view. 

you free his hands from their place behind his head, then you immediately find yourself wrapped up so tightly in his arms that you let out a tiny squeak. his thick arms that stretch with the strings of muscles always remind you that the power you have over him, he holds over you just the same. he brings your lips back to his to kiss thanks into your mouth that’s become raw from your musings. 

“i’m not done yet.” you sneer directly into him. 

“i had a feeling.” 

your love knows how to sit and look pretty for you. how to keep his hands to himself and wait just enough for you to make a proper mess of him. even though you don’t see it, he’s infatuated watching you twist over him to the bed table and pick up the cup of water that holds partially melted ice. the sound of the cubes chime against the glass and burns your hand with the cold once you choose the largest of the lot. 

changbin looks at you fearful at first still consumed by your heat which lingers all over his body. you test out the sensation by spreading out your opposite hand first which is wet from the condensation from the glass. 

“ah!” he winces out. 

“too cold?” 

“n-no...” somethings shift in the way that he holds your gaze and the ice quickly melting in your hand. “i-i want it...” 

“you sure?” 

“please don’t make me wait again...” 

the cold from the cube starts to make your fingertips turn numb, but its of no conscious to you when he holds every bit of your attention while you wait for his visceral response. 

he yelps, nearly almost screaming from the mixture of cold and hot that swirls around his body. he grinds his teeth into a groan next to steady himself feeling the tenderness of his nipples next to the freezing cold. you can’t help but stifle a greedy laugh at how downright confused he seems at the two sensations of arousal and biting pain that made him feel even more lightheaded. 

you love the sight of the whites of his eyes when he reaches a kind of euphoria that only you can give him. 

“oooooh god.” he laughs along with you at how preposterously unreal it feels. the little smile that anchors on his mouth is unbelievably cute, and you can’t help but want to feel it on your own. 

you trace circles around and around his buds until they harden just as they had done under your tongue. he shivers too; either from the cold, or from the overload of his senses--it travels from the tip of his head, through his hips and down to his toes. 

“aw, my bun likes this...doesn’t he?” 

“mmm.” 

the ice only lasts a few moments on his chest and between your fingers. after, his chest is left shimmering from the new substance that looks like liquid crystal all over him and where it drips down to the comforter in droplets. 

you shift your attention lower down his stomach where you stop right above his bellybutton to let both of your hands hook under his sweats. you look up for approval, which he eagerly gives with the hastily phrase repeated, “do it, do it.” 

his clothes it the floor in a puddle, and your boyfriend is left bare for you to take in. you indulge in every single part of him that you’ve explored time and time again, but each time it feels renewed. your hands eat up his thighs with covetous squeezes until the crescent-moon shape of your nails decorates him nearly everywhere. they slide up higher, finding the place where his curved and rosy cock bobs waiting for your touch. 

“poor bunny....does it ache when i don’t touch your cute little cock?” you trace a finger up his shaft which causes his body to violently jerk in response. the truth of the matter is, he’s anything but little. 

even when your words turn venomous back on him, he still drinks it up as if it is nectar. 

a wicked chuckle passes by your lips remembering what he had said to you a couple hours before. “can’t you just live one night without it?” 

“n-no--” he stammers, “i-i’m sorry that i said--” 

you silence him with a finger to his lips. “sit up.” 

he does so, trying to gauge what you’re planning to do next. the mystery of it all enthralls him to the point of working his cock up with pearly pre-cum that drips down his length. changbin waits as you reposition yourself behind him, just so he sits flush against your torso and between your legs. 

at first, you trial you hands up and down his thighs to create a show for him. your fingertips tickle him gently where his leg hair grows thin and soft. you then move to massage into his inner thighs and the more intimate erogenous areas there that you claw at. 

“hm. maybe i’ll let you get what you want if you say--” 

your boyfriend’s hands bury themselves into the sheets to grab at anything to provide balance. “--please! please...i’ll say it however many times it takes...” 

you tsk, then nibble into the peachy cartilage of his earlobe. “mm, that’s enough. i’m feeling generous...” 

you wet a stripe of your saliva up your palm and guide it to his length where you give him one good squeeze that is more than enough to send his toes curling. he whimpers out feeling the lack of contact afterward, realizing that one squeeze was all that you were planning. instead, shift your motions toward his tip and his seeping slit. the tip of your index draws rings around it which elicits agonizingly gruff growls from his throat that you’ve only ever heard a couple times before. 

“please, please, please....” he chants. 

you do love the way it sounds. 

his moans become even louder once he feels the tension from your grasp where it returns to his shaft and pumps. in a way, the whole image is just perfect for the both of you: as you peer over his shoulder you can’t even but help feel turned on by the sight of your own hand and how it twists around the throbbing veins that imprint his cock. with your non-dominant hand you continue traversing the squishy and fleshy bits of his thigh. 

your boyfriend laughs out his growing self-indulgence while you work your hand up and down, then experiment with testing him with the ways that you can squeeze harder then softer. changbin throws his head back into your shoulder lazily once he starts to feel his senses slow and intensify the closer that he gets to his release. he shudders against you too, and tightens his body too as he edges himself even closer.

after the distraction that you’ve crafted tugging him up and down and how the twist of your wrist feels like heaven, he jumps still feeling your free hand find its way back up his chest one last time roll his nipple between your fingers. the combination of the two sends him spilling right over the edge and overflowing with a rambling of curses and half-attempted moans coupled with the release of his seed cascading down the back of your hand. 

nearly all of your boyfriend’s weight falls upon you and you giggle trying to deal with your previously cold and stubborn lover reduced to nearly nothing but a limp and euphoric mess in your arms. 

“you okay?” you ask him, peppering tiny kisses into his neck. 

“give me...a minute.” he laughs out too. “i’m just...really...exhausted. but--in a really, really good way.” 

“time to get some rest then?” 

changbin nods, and gives you back as many kisses he can with his neck titled at this somewhat awkward angle. 

“stay right here, hm?” 

you cradle him back to slide out from behind him and work at cleaning yourself off, and them him--he loves obliging if it means that he gets to be pampered with clean clothes and your little massage to his shoulders to get his tensed body relax even more. the blankets get exchanged for new ones and you find him telling you not to put your shirt back on. 

changbin flushes, explaining, “i just like being close like this with you. everyday. any day. i can’t live without it either.” 

you can’t exactly tell who is “holding” who, but it all just feels so peaceful and intimate you almost forgot that you were supposed to be sleeping until the day breaks behind your boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“thank you,” changbin sighs, “thank you for taking care of me.” 

“now start taking care of yourself.” you tease, “don’t overwork yourself, got it?” 

your boyfriend sleepily hums, and tows you right back into his chest. “don’t worry, i have a feeling that i’ll be sleeping in pretty late.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim 

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 1]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

A/N: here’s the first official chapter! thank you so much for the support this series as already gotten. chapters will be posted every Saturday! enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. fluffy flashbacks. this isn’t even the worst of it mwhaha. paragraphed italics = flashback

                                            [10 YEARS LATER] 

The sky was as blue as his eyes. Not as dark and cloudy, but gave the same feeling of hope, peacefulness, and comfort. You could picture them vividly in your mind, even the small crinkle at the edges and the kindness they held, a warmness that matched your current aurora.  

The two of you sat in the gardens for what felt like hours, deep in meditation. Your force signatures quickly became entangled with one another, your bond radiating around you, creating almost a shield bubble between the rest of the world and the two who sat inside. 

Obi-Wan was the first to open his eyes, having never been one to sit still for long periods of time. He’s improved since he was a youngling, but still had a long way to go. 

You, on the other hand, looked completely invested in your meditation. Your face was relaxed, although every now and then your eyebrows would furrow as you tried to maintain concentration. It was hard when a certain other was very distracting, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“I can feel you staring,” you said, eyes still closed. Obi-Wan was thankful for that fact because it means you wouldn’t see him blush in embarrassment from getting caught. 

“I can feel you blushing, too.” This time, you opened your eyes and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t last long.” Anytime the two of you tried to meditate together, it would always end with Obi-Wan getting bored and asking to duel instead. 

He quickly hid his face, pulling the hood of his robe over his head. “I’m not blushing, that’s childish.” 

You giggled, leaning forward to lift the front of his hood. “Obi-Wan, you are the most childish person I know.” 

The young man was about to protest before you hushed, eyes already closed once more as you returned to your deep state of awareness. 

You opened your eyes and sighed, long and deep. 

Standing up from the cold floor of your room, you looked out the window and gazed at the cloudy sky of Gyfill. The air felt chilly from the lack of life-forms in the area. After your first week on the planet, you decided it was a safer idea to seek shelter away from town. Considering your mission was to spy on the local Separatist groups, keeping a low profile was essential. 

Today was different, however. The same cold and dull atmosphere were present, but the future is what held the divergent. For today, was the day you were finally to return home. 

Home. The word itself felt familiar but distant. As a Jedi, you trained to hold little sentimental value. Attachments were forbidden, a path to the dark side. They provoked fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. 

Once your bag of belongings was packed, you made your way to the marked location someone from the Jedi council sent earlier that morning. Mentally, you were not prepared to see everyone again. After being isolated for years and having limited contact with any life form outside of business, the many faces from your time at the Temple became slightly blurry. Except for his. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was on his way to the Archives when he bumped into Ahsoka Tano. 

“Oh, Master Kenobi! Perfect, I was about to go look for you.” 

“Ahsoka,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?” 

“Who’s Y/n Y/l/n?” 

Obi-Wan froze. The sound of that name echoed in his mind, paired with memories that he had locked away in the back of his mind. “Well...that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” was all he could manage to say, still trying to process all the past recollections that suddenly surfaced. 

“So, you know them?” 

“Uh, yes I suppose so. We were...close as younglings and trained together as Padawans. They were...the most skilled Jedi I ever had the pleasure of knowing, almost as good as Master Yoda.” 

“If they’re so great, how come I never heard of them before?” Ahsoka tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip in classic ‘Ashoka manner’, 

“They were sent away on an important mission years ago as far as I know. Er, why do you ask? And how did you come to know of that name?” 

“Oh right. Anakin said the Chancellor told him that Master Y/l/n was returning today. He told me to ask you about it.” 

Once again, Obi-Wan’s world paused. 

He stood across from you, trying to maintain a neutral expression as he watched you load your bags onto the ship. However, you knew him better than that. 

You walked up to the young boy and he took in your appearance. Gone was the braid that draped over your shoulder. Gone were the long robes you liked to hide in, in their place was a heavy jacket that looked like it was built to keep out the cold. Perhaps you were going to Hoth? 

“Obi, you know I can’t tell you where I’m going. Master Windu was strict about his instructions,” You sighed, sensing your friend trying to deduce as much as he could. Your Master was very clear when he told you how classified the mission was. No one can know, especially Obi-Wan. 

“Can you at least say how long you’ll be gone?” He practically begged, wanting something, anything he could get to keep his hope alive. Hope that you'll return soon. Hope that you weren’t truly leaving him. 

You looked away, staring at the towers and passing hover-vehicles that littered the planet you’ve grown up on. “I don’t know.” 

Everything had happened so suddenly. You were called into the council room that day to hear the news every Padawan dreams of. When Master Windu said you were ready for the trials, the first thing you went to do was tell Obi-Wan. The two of you celebrated that night in the gardens, a moment you would treasure for the rest of your life. Soon after you gained the title of Jedi Knight, you were once again called into the Jedi Council room to be debriefed on your first mission as a proper Jedi. You didn’t want to mess this up. You couldn’t. 

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pull you into a hug and never let you go, instead opting to hold your shoulders and give you his signature charming smile. “Be safe, darling.” 

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You held his wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and pressed a hesitant kiss to them before pushing them to his side. “May the force be with you.” 

There was no pet name at the end, no ‘my friend’ or even his own name. It was a sentence that was meant to bring comfort, but the way you phrased it, the edge in your voice, made Obi-Wan feel everything but comforted. 

He didn’t get the luxury of responding, for all he did was blink and suddenly you were on the ship, taking off into the clear blue sky. 

You gazed at the clouds passing by as the ship flew into Coruscant’s atmosphere. The bright light and sunny day was a harsh change from the grey sky that fell over Gyfill. The energy emitting off of all the life-forms gave you a headache. You felt the Force all around you, swirling in the air and penetrating your soul. It was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for over a decade. 

You flinched at the light as the door opened, suddenly feeling like a hermit crawling out of its shell. Slowly walking out of the ship, you pulled the cloak hood over your head, inhaling the strange but familiar scent of the Jedi Temple. You were still wearing your Gyfill civilian attire, the wool fabric made the Coruscant heat much more intense causing a few beads of sweat to form on your forehead. Or was it just the nerves of seeing all the people you left behind? 

Master Windu stood at the end of the drop door, a smile on his face at the sight of his former Padawan. It was an occasion that called for a little joy, a moment to celebrate outside the war that raged through the galaxy. 

You descended down the ramp, taking in a sharp breath at the feeling of another force sensitive. “Master Windu”. You bowed your head and he did the same to you. 

“Master Y/l/n, it’s great to see you in person rather than as a hologram.” 

You both chuckled lightly. “The feeling is mutual, Master. It’s...it’s good to be back.” Your eyes wandered over the people that roamed about. Jedi Masters walked with their Padawans at their side. Distant memories resonated within you. Some time ago that was once you and your Master, the man who stands before you know who has grown significantly older. Then again, so have I, you thought to yourself. 

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one registering your growth. Obi-Wan stood behind a pillar, glancing over the hanger in search of a familiar face. He was aware it would not be the same face he knew as a young boy, but he certainly was not prepared for what he saw. 

You look older, which was the obvious and expected observation. He noted how you wrapped yourself in your cloak, similar to how you would in your youth. You stood tall in front of Master Windu, another trait you had kept since your days as a Padawan. He remembered how you would always act mature in the presence of Masters, something he never really understood until becoming a Jedi Knight. The need for approval by the superiors was a constant.

It wasn’t just your appearance that had changed either. He could feel it in the Force. There was a shift in it when you had landed that made an excited yet nervous chill run down his spine. You were stronger and held more control in your signature. 

Before, he remembers being able to feel it from across the Temple. Now, it was barely there. He remembers feeling your bond drift farther as he watched you leave, and how it had dimmed over the years you were gone. He remembers the pain that tortured him every night as he laid awake in bed, trying to reach out across the stars but only being met with the vast emptiness of space. There was something in him that broke the first time he slept without having a tendril of your force signature connected with his. He felt cold, resorting to sleeping in his Master’s quarters in an attempt to ease the loneliness. 

Overall, it would appear that nothing about you had changed, and yet it seemed everything was different. Almost everything. 

His eyes were just as blue as the last time you saw them. They looked tired, haunted by the ongoing war but still filled with determination. Classic Obi-Wan. 

You quickly broke eye contact the moment it was made, but that one second was more than enough for Obi-Wan to get lost in the familiar colour. His favourite colour in fact, not that he would ever admit you had any part in the decision. 

“Master Obi-Wan?” 

He jumped at the sound of a voice and suddenly became aware of the presence right next to him, that presence belonging to none other than Master Yoda. 

“Master Yoda! I er I was just...uh...looking...for Anakin! Yes, uh have you seen him around by any chance?” Obi-Wan quickly tried to cover his stutter, feeling embarrassed about getting caught gazing from afar. Not that Master Yoda would know he was looking at you...right?

“I see,” the little green creature smirked in amusement. “Whatever it is, wait it can. Council meeting about to begin there is.” 

Obi-Wan furrowed his eyes. Typically he was able to keep a good track of the meetings, but this was news to him. “What’s it about?” 

“Master Y/l/n.”  

“Hmm?” You hummed absentmindedly.  

“Are you listening?” Master Windu raised an eyebrow.

“Oh uh, my apologies Master. I’m just...readjusting.” You tried to focus your attention on what Master Windu was saying, but the recognition of his presence made it difficult. For years, you tried to forget about him. You ignored the empty feeling in your stomach at night, the thoughts and memories that plagued your dreams. After some time, they eventually began to fade but never forgotten. It was for the best. 

Master Windu crossed his arms. “There will be plenty of time for that after your debrief of the mission. Master Yoda and the rest of the council await.”

Oh, Force, not the council. 

You would never dare to admit or even show it, but the council and being in the council room had always intimidated you. How could it not? You had to stand in the center of all the best Jedi of that era while they stare at you, judging you, sitting high and mighty in those stupid chairs.  

“This way, my old Padawan.” 

You followed Master Windu through the large halls of the Jedi Temple. You masked the nervousness that was no doubt radiating from your force signature. A multitude of thoughts ran through your mind, good and bad. Worst case scenario, you had done something so wrong that you were about to be kicked out of the Jedi Order. Nothing came to mind when you tried to think of any offence you had committed in the recent weeks since you earned the title of Jedi Knight. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the large council room doors opening, the creaking of the hinges made you cringe slightly.  

The room was ominously lit, the only light source being the setting sun shining through the glass windowed walls. Master Yoda sat in his seat. All the other chairs were empty. 

Master Windu took his seat as you stood before the two of them. He could see the questions rise from your confused facial expression. “Everything we discuss in this room stays between us, young Jedi.” 

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. “Master Windu, Master Yoda. What is this about? Have I done something wrong?” 

The two men looked at each other and shared an unreadable expression before turning back to you. Master Yoda was the first to speak. “Sending you on a mission we are. To Gyfill you will go.” 

Whatever anxieties that you held before were washed away with this information. You contain your excitement, but the sudden mood shift was still noticeable. “Who am I going with? When do we leave? What’s the mission for?” It was rare that a Jedi would be sent on a mission alone, typically you were partnered up for safety measures. Obi-Wan’s face flashed in your mind, and although it was unlikely, a small part of you hoped he would be going with you. 

“This mission only requires one Jedi. There’s a Separaist organization on the planet and we’re sending you to gain intel and report back to us. No one outside of this room can be aware of this information. You leave within the week. Understood?” 

You frowned, “Forgive me Master, but why can’t anyone know?” The idea of having to leave your home seemingly without a trace made you iffy. Obi-Wan once again appeared in your mind. 

Master Windu and Yoda exchanged a look before Windu responded almost hesitantly. “We have reason to believe someone in the Order is a traitor, and the number of people who are trustworthy is very limited.” 

“You mean someone has betrayed us?” You asked in shock. How could anyone do such a thing? And a Jedi nonetheless. 

“Time to answer your questions, there will be, young one. Prepare for your first mission now, you must.” Master Yoda said. “Prepare to say goodbye you should.” 

It was as IF he could read your mind, which he probably could. You dreaded the idea of saying goodbye, especially when it was clear that there was no guarantee of your return date. How would you explain to your friends that you won’t be around anymore? What will Obi-Wan think? 

“That is another subject that needs to be discussed.” 

————————————————————————————

what else needs to be discussed? who’s the traitor? how will obi-wan and y/n get on after all this time? lemme know what you think!!

taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @dwarfplanet69 @katsukink @blondekel77 @generousrunawaydonut @fandomtrashwhore @fortheloveofaqueenfan @mrskenobi19 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @hotleaf-juice

[minshookie]

LATE NIGHT HOOKUP

| JIN |

College AU, upperclassman!jin x underclassman!reader, fuckboy!jin, Smut!!, descriptive smut. 18+ minors pls DNI, “cheating”, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), squirting, dubcon, forced orgasm. [[unedited]]

[Jin • Yoongi • Hoseok • Joon • Jimin • Taehyung • Jungkook ]

Peaceful was an understatement, almost alone in the campus library late in the hours of the night. You head rests against the wooden table as you closely read the Intriguing tale.

“Is the bookworm ready to go home?” His large hand rested on your shoulder giving you a startle. “Oh Jin!” You closed your novel placing it in your tote before rising from your seat.

He captured you in a protective hug, warmly pecking your neck causing you to blush at his subtle PDA.

“Thank you so much for coming, I’m sorry to bother you but I really needed to study.” He released looking into your gaze, “you could never bother me, a novel for studying...what are you reading now?”

You reached into your bag, pulling the timeless tale, “Ah the Catcher In The Rye, you understand this Doll?” Jin was a bit older than you, he acted superior treated you inferior but you know he means well. “Yeah, Jinnie, I’ve read it before.”

Tucking the book away in your tote, Jin seizes the opportunity to grasp your free hand, “hungry?” He began to lead you out of the silent reading space, in all honesty you were tired. “Depends on what you’re offering.” You squeezed his hand flirtatiously.

He held open the door leading you to his usual parking spot. “I was cooking when you texted, it should still be warm if you’d like to come over.” He opened the car door granting you access. His car smelt familiar, strongly of his cologne.

Settling in your seat he buckled you in, “oh?...to your place?” The dorms weren’t too welcoming of guest, and since it was your first year, you had to live on campus. So whenever you and Jin found solitude it was either in his car, or at a hotel where he’d pull some strings.

And where there was solitude, there was intimacy and though you were tired...you could go for a little fun.

So it’s not that you didn’t want to go to Jin’s supposedly large apartment, it’s just that you’ve never been Is all. The new territory made you nervous.

“Yeah, if you’d like.” He pulled from the lonely parking lot, “you cold cutie?” His eyes never let the road as he closed your vent, you tossed the idea of the late night dinner date in your head.

“I’m gonna need to know your answer before I get out of here.” He looked over to you briefly. Sighing you answered “Yeah Jin, I’ll go I am pretty hungry.” He smiled reaching to grip your knee. “That’s my girl, you’ll love it.” He gave you a squeeze.

You reclined your seat, the smooth ride almost lulling to sleep. “So...boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He awkwardly asked tapping his fingers on the wheel waiting at the light. “Hm no...you?”

He laughed rubbing his bottom lip. Jin in total has at least four ‘relationships’ including you, he was the campus player but he was wise enough to charm all of his rendezvous into silence and compliance.

“Mm a few, but you’re the best.....I mean that y/n.” He leaned over the counter pecking your warm cheek, “I really do baby.”

The car ride was short, full of sensual touches at red lights, dirty talk and flirtatious comments that made your stomach flutter. His hand momentarily rested between your legs, teasing your under your skirt. Only a preview of what was to come.

Pulling into the parking area, he looked over at your figure, “I have a secret.” You pulled your tote over your shoulder, “yeah Jinnie?” You yawned. “I didn’t cook...but I do want you to see my apartment.” He smiled warmly pulling his key and leaving it in his pocket.

You had no clue where you were, Jin was your only ride so of course you had no choice but to comply. “Well...you didn’t have to lie.” You yawned stepping from the low car, “mm I got nervous, not too appealing if I say ‘I don’t wanna pay for Hilton, let’s fuck at my place.’ ”

He followed behind locking the doors, catching up he pushed his palm along the small of your back. “Ah so that’s why I’m here.” He snickers, nudging your hair with his nose as he walked beside you. “Don’t act oblivious...it’s not your thing.” Oh how romantic he could be.

He walked you proudly through the glittering building, giving a rushed tour that you didn’t care much for. He pulled you into the spacious elevator, the way he cradled you against frame you knew what was next. He gripped your chin pulling you to one of his signature rough lip locks.

Not even making it to his apartment you lips became bruised and slightly swollen, lost in the moment your eyes remained closed as he pulled back. “To my apartment first, alright?” He chuckled in your flustered face. Nodding you let him grip you hand as he pulled you through the hall.

Unlocking his door he pulled you inside, stripping you of your tote hanging it on the wall rack. “Alright here it is, like it? Love it?” He locked the door, awkwardly you stood horny with one thing on your mind. “Dumby, go sit on the couch.” His every order you followed plopping down on the firm couch.

“Those videos you sent me...you show those to other men?” He questioned unbuttoning his tailored shirt, cockily coming close to you. “Be honest.” He let the expensive material fall to the polished floor.

“No...did you?” You were now anxious, your mind was clouded when you sent those drunken videos to Jin. “Never would I share something so beautiful.” He avoided eye contact falling to his knees.

He found himself at your knees, in nothing but socks and dress pants. His large hands caress you chilly knees, granting himself access to what he’d been waiting for.

“Remind me what happened in those videos.” Your breath got lost in your throat, he hid himself under your skirt lapping at you through your fabric panties. “Go on don’t get stage fright.”

You closed your eyes in attempts to recollect the night. “I was out with my f-friends I got really drunk Jinnie!” He’d slipped the thin fabric to the side focusing the tip of his tongue on your hardening nerve. “I-I missed you, I called you and you didn’t pick up.”

He hummed against your moistening core. “Hm you needed me?”

“I needed you, and I wanted to show you- you how much I did.”

You sounded pathetic in those graphic videos, the sound of your pussy, the whimpers and moans you let free. You just didn’t know when to stop you kept pushing orgasm after orgasm, in your drunken state the euphoria felt so good. Too good.

“You showed me alright, you came almost 8 times pet.” He spoke against you licking like a starved dog, you whimpered rubbing his head there wasn’t much to grab as his head was shielded by your skirt.

“I came, a-a-and came-” he inserted his middle finger “until you squirted all over that little phone of yours.” Oh it felt amazing, you’d do almost anything to feel a release like that again.

“Fuck, that video made me so hard, I saw it right when I woke up...made me cum 3 times kitten.” He growled fingering you with skill. “Your voice calling out to me as you spazzed, shaking like a leaf...your eyes rolled, you were crying babe, felt too good?” The combination Jin was gifting to you proved too pleasurable, you were lost in his motions.

He’d stoped talking, opening his jaw giving long licks along your opening. Sucking you with every motion. His thumb applying pressure to your clit rubbing you from side to side.

“Yes it felt amazing.” You gasped revealing him from under the skirt, burring your hands in his locks. Collecting saliva he made a mess of your dribbling cunt. “Cum for me, scream for me again.”

His demands were final, he devoured you slopping over your core his tongue laid out wide.

Mixing his hot saliva with your natural slick, he groaned deeply slurping at your middle the sounds he made only made you closer.

Collecting the mess he’d made with his finger, he fucked you with his curling middle and index. “Fuck Jin-fu-ahh!”

Using his free hand he held the fabric of your panties to the side. His head still bobbed as he ravished your cunt like it was his last meal before death. You fingers pulled his dark hair painfully, a moaning mess your stop muscles tightened and released telling you of your creeping orgasm.

Jin always put passion into gaining your orgasm, he grunted with his lustful actions. Focusing his slick plump lips on your clit sucking and lapping at the sensitive area.

The tightening in your stomach caused you Yelp out in pleasure, gushing into his awaiting mouth. “Fuck, you’re gonna give me a headache all that mmm tugging.” He complained cleaning you with his tongue.

He held your shivering wrist, coaxing you to let go of him. “You’ve made a mess of my couch.” He sat back giving you a view of his glistening chin, red cheeks, arousal covered nose.

No shame, he pulled your ruined panties down your legs, removing your shoes undoing your skirt and completely stripping your bottom half. Focusing on your breathing you closed your eyes getting comfortable, your pussy quivering involuntarily.

“But I don’t mind...I’d rather you made more of a mess like your little videos perhaps?”

You sigh feeling his fingers glide over your core.

“Give me your hand Bunny.”

Obliging, your head clouded even more tired than before. He gripped your wrist making you rub yourself, “do it again, make a big mess for me.” He let you go, spreading your legs you toyed with you sore clit delving lower collecting the mess he’d left. To assist the process.

The lazy ovals gave faint pleasure you let your head fall back.

Jin was impatient and you knew it, so you played the lazy game...he caught on. Unbuckling his pants he let them droop

He pulled free his rock hard member, throwing your hand from your area. “You better fucking- fuck.” He plunged himself deeply, his girth familiar yet so foreign. You freed a whimper in response your lower stomach already clinching as he fucked into you.

He pulled you, letting your legs rest on his forearms, your back on the seat of the couch. “Moan for me, tell me how I’m treating your tight little cunt.” He grunts through his teeth, “good so good please!”

He chuckled darkly, “who are you gonna to cum for? Who made you so horny bitch?”

He watched your face contort, pushing his large palm over your lower tummy. “Oh-oh! You Jinnie please not too hard I’ll- mm!” “You’ll what?” He fucked you with no mercy.

“Keep your legs up and open...slut.” “Uh-huh ok.” The results of the last orgasm already found you vulnerable. You had to go, bad.

He railed you, rubbing your clit and applying pressure to your lower abdomen.

You whined and begged, feeling your release closer than you’d like. “Jin, fuck Jinnie wait-” “I said up and fucking open!” He held his head down in search for his high. You could see his muscles tense.

Your eyes rolled shut, no way could you stop the release, he thrusted deeply hitting every spot you needed, the flicking of his thumb along your clit drew it near you back arched from the cushions. “Do it! Let go!”

You screamed, gushing against his lower half, in quick streams of pleasure, whimpering as the flow finished and you clenched around him. Crying out as he continues to fuck into you, only to make you release more liquid arousal mixed with others.

He pulled from you, using what you’d produced to finish on your cardigan. Your eyes half lidded as you struggled to gain stable breathing. “ugh, my cardigan-” “I’ll buy you six cardigans.” He mumbled wiping his member clean on the plush fabric.

His cold demeanor ruined the mood. Why must he act this way after every loving session.

You stretched, giving a comically loud yawn, “my underwear please.” You reached out grabbing for them. “You soaked them.” He disappeared down the hall, “the skirt too!” He informed as you sat up your head pounding slightly.

“Lucky for you...” he came back with a pair of sweats and a pair of panties that definitely weren’t yours.

“I’ll pass, the sweats please.” He tossed them, you pulled them on your knees wobble weakly you swim in the fabric of the sweatpants, they were his. “Your loss, they’re clean I promise!”

You struggle to bend and collect your damp clothes, “c-can I spend the night?”

He sighed dressing himself in a change of clothes. “I’m afraid not...I have a Uhm meeting tomorrow morning.”

It didn’t upset you in a jealous way, it upset you in a betrayal way, it upset you that he’d use you and kick you out.

“With who?” “Do you want me to take you home or are you calling a ride...I’ll pay.”

The headache depended as you leaned against the wall.

“Whatever, just-let’s go.”

What kind of hold did Kim Seokjin have over you, to treat you so shitty and still have you wrapped around his finger and cock at that.

“Don’t pout.” He thumbed your lower lip.

Pulling your chin he pecked your lips, “I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow hm?”

“And after we can come back here....that make you feel better my best girl?”

He chuckled pulling you out of his apartment by the hand.

“No matter what you think, you’re perfect, I just love the way you make me feel I could love you.”

He loves you, that’s the hold he has on you, and he’ll do anything to make you believe It.

[bxllafanficc]

For your entertainment

Summary: Loki decides to loosen up your sore shoulders with a tender massage after a hard days work. Little do you know that the God of Mischief also has something else in the back of his mind. And he let's you know it without hesitation. But if he only was prepared for what you were up to. And if he only would have known that there's a different side to you that you have yet to show. 

Pairing: Loki Layfeyson x reader. 

Warnings: smut, dom!reader, sub!loki, unprotected smut (don't be silly, wrap that willy), praise kink(kind of),

Everything feels so out of place where you’re standing in the shower, desperately attempting at washing off today’s hard marks at work today.

Helping Tony Stark moving the boxes of new recently arrived equipment into his storage room would be a piece of cake, you thought.

That man builds way too many things, it turned out as a mountain of heavy boxes waited at your feet that morning.

You finally got to return home after all that heavy lifting.

But your tense shoulders are making it hard to concentrate on the hot water pouring onto your face and down your features as you’re trying to relax into the warm embrace.

It’s not working. Because the annoying headache creeping its way up the back of your neck and through your scalp is not going away without a fight. You feel like moving and stretching your muscles only seem to add to the already rock hard intensity and you give up, stepping out of the shower with a sigh.

—————

“What’s the deal with that sour pouty frown of yours, (Y/n)?” The familiar voice of the man you hold so close to your heart.

Loki is resting in the couch inside the living room with legs and arms lazily spread and resting against the headrest. The tv is displaying some kind of nature program about polar bears living conditions and traits.

“Stark, again. I offered him my help today in oblivion to his odd shopping sprees once in awhile. My neck is hurting like a bitch!” You make your way to the couch and throw yourself onto it with an arm draped around the God’s torso.

“Language, darling.” You groan loudly and throw your head back to stare at his perfect smile and his kind eyes. A pout forms on your lips and your eyebrows furrow. Though, the endless flow of his alluring eyes draws you in and the hard focus you put into taking in every little colored spot on his irises makes your frown loosen up and go away.

“Damn, you’re pretty.” You mumble and lean into his chin against your forehead. A chuckle is heard from the asgardian and a hand strokes upwards past your shoulder and to the nape of your neck. Searching fingers press down your skin and you leans into the warmth. The hand gently leans your head forward to get a better feel and a light gasp escapes both of you as he presses down.

His out of shock and you out of sudden pain.

“(Y/n), your muscles are so tense. This knot was not caused from just today’s activities. Come on, sit down in front of me.”

He helps you on the way down onto the floor in between his legs until your back is resting on the fabric of the couch. A bear cub on tv tumbles over and pushes his friend off a large ice rock and into the cold water.

“Polar bears? Great choice. Didn’t know you liked ‘em.” You speak up and tilt your head to grin at his features above you. He grunts and turns off the tv with a shrugging motion.

“They’re fluffy and dumb. Who wouldn’t like that?”

He rests one hand on your shoulder and then presses down hard onto the hard spot on your shoulder, causing you to jolt away from his touch with a yelp. A chuckle and a firm arms holds you back down and locks you into a steady grip to make it easier for him to work his wonders.

“Ow, ow ow! Loki what the-“

You start whining and moving around but he quickly interrupts you.

“I’m really sorry, petal. Just keep still and relax your shoulders. Let me know when the pain stops.” His voice is soothing and manages to make you to let go of your stance and lean into his touch. After awhile the pain is gone just like he said and you nod at him. His thumbs starts rubbing circular motions at both sides of your shoulders and the intensity finally gives away and disappears.

The headache is gone and a new stream of energy flows into you.

His hands disappear from your skin for a moment and hot breath and warm lips replaces them instead. Apologetic featherlight kisses turns to vicious nipping and you know exactly where this is going.

“Aren’t you satisfied from this morning’s activities?”

A chuckle and a smirk.

“That was the morning. It’s evening now, darling and you smell absolutely incredible.”

You kind of expected this, giving that the god himself always was the one to take the lead. To make you squirm and moan under him every time you came together.

You however, wanted to switch things up a bit; see his reaction and what it would bring.

So you turned around to face him and got up,breaking away from his touch. Your hand made its way to his chest and pushed him down onto the rest of the couch with determined force. Confused eyes met yours as you got on top, straddling him with a hand behind his head to yank at his hair; a sign to stay still.

The new situation you put him through caused his body to react in the opposite way but you quickly silenced the objections by pressing your lips to his rambling ones.

A slight tug on his bottom lip made him get the hint and hands found their place on your thighs, grasping for something to hold. Eager lips press against each other as the heat from your bodies gets to the better of you. Your teeth clash together and you break away to catch some air.

“Sure.. but this time, I want that silver younger of yours work in other ways than down my body. Since your hands already showed off what they can do tonight, lets do a check up on your vocals as well. Does that sound alright for you, pretty boy?”

Glazed eyes meet yours and distressed hips buck upwards with sloppy movements. His panting only seems to get rougher as you respond to his needs, palming his growing erection through the fabric of his pants. Given that you just came out of the shower, the towel covering you just moments ago seem to have loosened up around your body somehow

He leans into you for more friction and reaches for your neck. But you back away and tug at his hair once again.

“Use your words, Loki.”

The sensation of his hair being pulled and the demanding tone in your voice seem to get his mind into the right place, cause a moan of pleasure hits you in response and his eyes are suddenly glued on you. Needy and crowded with lust.

“Y..yes! That’s more than alright...!”

How adorable. You didn’t quite expect this much reaction from him; never thought he would be so sensitive and eager for you taking a turn.

“Then you know what to do, doll.” You hum with satisfaction as he rips off his shirt keeping him prisoner from the feeling of lips and teeth leaving their marks on his skin. Your hands move to remove the fabric keeping you apart, tugging pants and boxers to the side with one swift motion. His cock springs free and the hit of the suddenly cool air around him causes Loki to shudder. His hands are grasping away at your hips and nails are digging into you, the pain only adding to your own needing cunt.

“Aren’t you the goodest boy?” Your hand grants some needed warmth as it strokes up and down his cock with slow motion.

“P-pretty sure that’s not a word...” He pants and closes his eyes from the feeling of your hand and mouth on him together. You sigh and take his jaw in a firm but careful grip and lean close to his face.

“Shut up, I’m trying to be sexy.”

“Oh, but petal, aren’t you always?”

You get up on your feet with ease, aligning your entrance to his aching length. A breath hitches in his throat as the wetness of your already dripping folds reaches the tip of his cock.

Clearly, seeing him melt under your touch did wonders for your own satisfaction as well.

“You want this? Want me to take you to the moon and back?”

The beautiful man under you nods without any hesitation tainting his actions and moans a quiet ‘yes, ma’am.’ Into your ear.

A wave of hotness hits right to your cunt at the sound of the new nickname and a low growl grows out of your chest as you push yourself onto him without any setbacks the wetness of your cunt making it easy for you to take all of him.

The sound coming from Loki is a mess of moans choked on half way through their rhythm and his eyes roll to the back of his head as your warmth embraces him entirely.

The sound is like music to you. It feels so right to have him calling out your name and whining for you.

You pick your pace and start moving fast, bouncing on his hard erection as it hits all the right spots inside you. There’s a whole new sensation to it now when you’re in charge, something you can’t seem to get enough of.

And Loki? God, if he isn’t the most beautiful sight you’ve ever witnessed.

How his lips are parted and his breath cut off by each time you come down onto him. How his knees and arms are shaking under your grasp.

You cup his cheeks between your hands which causes him to meet your gaze, not that he hasn’t been watching you with awe the entire time when the intense pleasure didn’t force him to shut his eyes.

His neck arches towards you and begs to be held by your comforting lips. It’s visible how unbearable the feeling is becoming as his breathing becomes more rapid.

You lean in to kiss the God of Mischief but keep it sweet and tender for now. Your main focus is to make Loki see stars.

“(Y/n)... so good to me. Makes me.. doubt if I deserve such a blessing.” His words are slow and hesitant, unsure if speaking is something he’s capable of doing at the moment.

You comb your fingers through his soft hair and leans to his ear.

“Nonsense. You deserve it all. A sign on gratitude for you... My king.”

You were well aware of Loki’s past and his desire for the throne of Asgard, something he had put behind him as now today and buried with his past. But you figured a little something for his pride would fit right about now.

And oh, how you were right.

His body tensed and a groan seeped its way through gritted teeth. You met his eyes once again. This time they’re not only loving and clouded with lust, but also a desire for something. Affirmation, maybe.

“Say that again.”

You speed up your pace even though your legs are starting to go numb. Rest can wait until you’re finished.

“My king.”

That sets off a different kind of side to Loki than the recent events leading up to this. You’re almost surprised to hear the growl coming from him, but only almost.

Then everything comes down all at ones as he bites down into your neck with the intention of cutting out the scream of pleasure as he reaches his climax. Hot seed spills into you and the feeling is so overwhelming of everything coming together at last. You ride out both your highs as your own orgasms hits you and loud grunting and moaning dies down to soft pants and gasps.

You collapse onto him with lazy grasps to hug his frame, your legs trembling under you. Loki collects himself after a moment and proceeds to stroke your head, small attempts to comb your wet strands.

“You’ve revealed another side of yourself today, (Y/n). And I didn’t possibly think that I would be capable of loving someone even more than previous days, as much as I feel for you right now.”

You smile and you both shift positions so that you’re able to both lay on the couch. His strong arms holds you so close and you can still hear his rapidly heart beating in his chest.

“Well, guess I’m full of surprises.”

A moment of silence and just pure bliss; the relaxation you need.

Until Loki once again speaks up with slight hesitation.

“As much as I enjoyed this dominant side of you... I have to ask you something. Something that I didn’t quite understand.”

You hum and trace patterns against his biceps from where you’re nuzzled against his chest.

“Yes?”

...

“What is a ‘moon’?”

[avintagekiss24]

SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble​​ mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”

author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!

The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.

They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.

You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.

The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.

You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.

You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.

Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.

That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.

You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.

The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.

Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.

You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.

“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”

He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”

His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.

“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.

You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”

You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.

“Packing up the car.”

You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.

“Steve is really excited.” He says.

You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.

There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”

You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.

“She’s up.”

You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.

“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.

Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”

“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”

You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”

“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”

That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.

Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.

You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”

“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”

“The blue one?”

“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”

You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.

“Thank you.” You offer gently.

Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.

“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”

“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”

Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”

It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.

You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.

You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.

You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.

“Good?” Bucky asks.

You nod, “Good.”

The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”

“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”

Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.

You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.

You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.

“How many?”

“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”

“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”

They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly.  When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.

Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.

You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.

Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.

You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.

You feel like yourself again.

When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.

Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.

You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.

Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.

“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”

You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.

Defense mechanism.

You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.

What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.

They haven’t.

They won’t.

The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.

“We promise.” Steve adds on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.

The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.

Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.

He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.

It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.

Not anymore.

It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.

You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.

Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.

Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.

Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.

You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.

Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.

Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…

You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.

You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.

He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.

Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.

You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.

Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

[anika-ann]

Attached: Tied to You

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3330+760

Summary: Steve finally got to ask the question and you said yes. But having been sick, you didn’t really have a chance to celebrate… until now.

Warnings: nsfw, 18+ (if you’re a minor, don’t you dare), light bondage, hints of dom/sub, ‘babygirl’, oral (fem receiving), language (always) and you’ll see the rest, I guess  (if you think it needs any other warning, lemme know)

A/N: Me: *Abandons the little she wrote of upcoming plot of this fic to write a damn smut.* Blame @chase-your-dreams-away and the support from the @sweetanon and @annathesillyfriend from a two days ago. Enjoy?

A/N.2: there’s a surprise at the end, sort of a bonus if you will, hence the +760.

Story masterlist

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You were pulled from blissful sleep by a tickly sensation on the crook of your neck, soft and little scratchy.

Your initial startle was soon soothed by a warm touch of lips and you relaxed again, sinking further into the cushions, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you sighed.

Steve’s lips trailed up the side of your neck to your ear, his hand on your belly gently caressing over the fabric of your sleepshirt.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he whispered to your ear, voice husky from sleep still and you couldn’t hope to hold the mewl that slipped past your lips at his tone. The warmth of the comforter mingled with the one Steve’s body was radiating; and the one swirling deep in your belly. That was how far that voice affected you. “How ya’ feelin?”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, nestling further into his embrace and he didn’t hesitate to pull you closer to his chest.

It gave you a perfect opportunity to feel a lot more than Steve’s body heat and your smile widened lazily at the morning occurrence.

“Words,” he muttered, daring fingers slipping under the hem of your top, caressing the bare skin under your navel lovingly.

“Warm. Safe.”

A huff of hot breath tickled your nape when he chuckled at your response. There was something delicious about that sound, something darker than pure amusement. Deft fingers travelled up your front, teasing the underside of your breast and your breath hitched.

“Wouldn’t count on the latter, babygirl,” Steve warned you lowly, unsubtly rutting against you from behind, causing the warmth in your core grown in intensity. “And I meant health-wise.”

You weren’t sure if the choked sound that escaped your lips was due to the cheeky flicker of Steve’s forefinger against your nipple or-

“Too early for big words.“

He stroked the peak firmly the time, causing it to perk up, sending a pleasant jolt to your spine.“Babygirl…”

Quick assessment had you decide that you actually felt… okay. Headache gone completely. You didn’t feel like you were about to sneeze in five seconds… and in ten seconds… and your nose wasn’t running. God bless.

If anything, you were feeling a bit too warm, but you didn’t think it was to be blamed on fever unless the fever was called Steve.

“Fine. I can breathe,” you informed him breathlessly, ironically enough. “Want something, Stevie?”

Rather than replying, he gently squeezed your nipple, his other hand sneaking between your hip and the mattress to toy with the waistband of your shorts. His beard moved to the tricky spot on your neck, sending a shudder through your body, blood in your veins set aflame.

It had been too long. First Steve was sick and then he got you sick—

Hands moving, one went to lavish your other breast with attention as the other slid under your shorts to your thigh, caressing the sensitive skin on its inside, painfully close to your centre, which was already growing slick.

Several days too long…

“Want you,” Steve murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder, hard evidence of his words rutting against the globes of your ass. “So much… saw you…”

You tried to roll over, confused at his remark, but he gripped your thigh tight, preventing your from moving.

“Saw me?” you whispered then, rocking your hips to create some friction for him since he was all hands on you while your options were limited.

“Uh-huh… cute white set, all lace, almost see-through,” he continued, one finger reaching your clothed pussy to tap the slit. You could feel him smile against your shoulder when he touched the damp fabric and your thighs jerked in response.

You weren’t ashamed… oh no. You could feel the air crackle with arousal, easily tuned to Steve’s mood. And you were rather horny, who were you kidding, but also intrigued. Was he… sharing a dream of his with you?

“…oh?”  you sighed, chasing after the finger that went back to its original position, leaving you wanting more. Smug bastard.

“Had such a pretty garter for me too, right here.” He caressed the offending spot, the visual making you gulp; you knew how much he indulged in garters, alright. “Let me pull it down with my teeth once it was over… not in front of everyone, only once the guests left…”

Through the rising fog of arousal, you blinked your eyes open, realization dawning at you.

Oh. White set. Garter and teeth. Guests. Oh.

He dreamed of- your left thumb automatically touched your ring finger, reaching the warm metal band there. Your engagement ring. Steve dreamed about your wedding – or maybe rather about what came after.

Hands wandering again, he pushed your top up, his mouth, so pleasantly warm, accompanied by the well-loved feeling of his beard on your skin travelled down your spine, and as if on instinct, your back arched to give him better access.

An approving hum vibrated against your lower back, quick fingers tugging down your shorts and you went to kicked them as carefully as you could, Steve’s hands already busy once more, on your lower cheeks, on your thighs.

You swore you must have had a fever again, or maybe he did; his touch burned as he toyed with the thin string of your panties, kicking the already messed up comforter away completely.

“Wouldn’t lemme strip it in front of them,” Steve muttered, and you yelped silently when he unexpectedly rolled you to your back, pressing a kiss to your hip. “No, too shy, my pretty girl, sweet girl…”

You choked on your breath as he nosed at your weeping core, looking up to your face with half-lidded eyes. Jesus, who gave him the right to look so utterly irresistible so early in the morning? Eyes dark with lust, hair mussed in a perfect case of bed-hair--- and when did he lose the t-shirt?

Your hands finally came to life, reaching for his dark blond strands. His beard prickled against your most sensitive places as he kissed you over the fabric and blew cold air there right after.

You jolted at the bed, blood hushing in your ears. Christ. Such a cheeky shit. Sweet talker. Dirty talker.

“Steve,” you whined and tugged at his hair, a minute from begging him to do more. Ignorant to your unspoken plea, he grabbed your hips to keep you still, pressing another kiss where you needed him most – but with no clothes between you.

“But fuck, the things you let me do to you when we were alone…” he continued as if you didn’t say a word.

You knew it was a trap; it was obvious that he was baiting you. He was about to drive you mad, tuning the dirty talk up—and fuck, you were weak for his dirty talk, he knew that. Yet you still asked.

“What—what did I let you-do-“ you stuttered when he shifted and laid his forearm on your lower belly, using his free hand to push the panties aside and gave a kitten lick to your clit, causing your pussy to clench on nothing, sending a jolt hot want through your whole body. “Oh god-“

“Whatever I wanted, babygirl. Said yes to being mine… completely,” he said before delivering a few more tiny licks, making you squirm and uselessly tug at his hair some more.

Could you fight harder? Probably.

Did you want to? Really want to? Oh no. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were together long enough to know he was going to have you seeing stars before you could say ‘Professor Rogers’.

“Been so pretty and helpless and mine for taking…”

Oh. Oh, you were going there.

“Yes,” you breathed out before you could even think of it. Steve’s forearm dug into your hips at your swift consent, hungry eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah, babygirl? You’ll let me tie you up a bit? Have that hand with that pretty shiny ring where I can see it the whole time?”

You nodded feverishly, rewarded by his tongue running a solid strip up your slit and a self-satisfied grin radiating excitement. Oh you did not miss the flash in his eyes. He was gonna have you begging for it, you were sure.

But just hinting that a big part of this was his delight at being engaged, celebrating? You would let him tie you up more than a bit.

The warmth of his body disappeared for less than a minute as he was back in a record time, a tie in his hand.

“Kinky,” you noted with a considerably less cheek and more desire than you were willing to admit to anyone beside Steve. His eyebrows shot up in challenge, smirk curling his lips.

“I thought that was given. Be a good girl, take off that shirt and put your wrists together for me.”

And you did. The knot he tied was firm, but not painful; you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your face to check. He was sweet like that. Kinky, but very sweet, still your Steve. Your fiancé.

“Good girl,” he praised and you nearly came on spot when he kissed you, shamelessly and dirty, firm grip on your jaw, tongue exploring and giving you a taste of yourself. His teeth grazed your lower lip then, pulling at it a bit and you honestly thought you were gonna combust. “So pretty, so giving. Gonna make you feel good... future Mrs.Rogers.”

Alright, alright, that gave you an unfair thrill to hear him say it.

“Gonna eat you up, babygirl.”  

You gulped as he flashed you another sinful smile, cheekily kissed your nose and your ring finger and proceeded to begin the sweetest torture you could imagine.

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You forgot how to breathe.

All you had the capacity to do was to whimper a pathetic please, barely audible as it drowned in the faint buzzing you felt in in the marrow of your bones, driving you crazy with need. All you could think of was the vibrations tickling your core, feeding the searing heat in your abdomen, mercilessly pushing you towards your third peak.

First, Steve had you fall apart on his tongue alone.

Second, those skilful fingers played you like he was a musician and you were his favourite instrument.

And then he was gone and you thought he was gonna finally strip completely and fuck you into the mattress, but no. He came back with a toy which you basically forgot you had, because, well, you had the real thing and Steve asked to bring the item to your activities very rarely.

The setting was on low, so torturously low and driving you mad as Steve only dragged it up and down your sli,t barely nudging your opening, but so so sweetly, encouragements and praises whispered in your ears, sloppy kisses dropped to various parts of your body… how could you say no? You might have had a safeword, but why would you use it when Steve was taking such a good care of you?

“Look at me babygirl. Let me see you, one more time,” Steve’s voice seemed to reach your ears from immense distance. Yet, you obeyed, eyelids heavy. Steve’s eyes welcomed you, shining with satisfaction as he watched you tremble on the verge of another orgasm. “So pretty for me. Give it to me.”

You weren’t in control of your own body anymore. You felt the vibration turn up a notch and the toy moving to your clit and you were a goner, eyes falling shut again in bliss – you would swear your vision turned white for several moments, Steve’s mouth swallowing your moans as his body covered yours, removing the device.

You reciprocated the kiss weakly, hips bucking against Steve’s, vaguely aware of his hard, which must have been painful at that point – but at least he was finally naked too. Your hands felt like made of lead as he reached to release them. They landed on his arms on instinct, shaking a bit as you frantically tried to map Steve’s marvellous body, having been missing the opportunity for what felt like forever.

He grunted to your mouth when you stroked his cock, gently swatting your hand away, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, nibbling on your lower lip, on your jaw. “So pretty for me when you lost it, wish I’ve recorded it. You feelin’ okay, babygirl?”

It felt so surreal to have him talk like that and being turned on just as you came down from the out-of-body experience he gifted you. Even more surreal was his question – as if you could not be.

“So okay, Stevie. You have no idea,” you managed to whisper, fingers slipping into his hair to pull him for another kiss. He gave in, greedily taking all you had to offer, hand kneading your breast, brushing an awfully sensitive nipple.

“Can you still take me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flew open, staring at him at shock. Was he—was he suggesting that after all that, you were gonna leave him aching? Well, not necessarily, there were other ways, but—Jesus, you loved this man. So filthy and yet so sweet. Did you make him up? Was this some ever-lasting dream?

Then again, he kinda had a point when you thought about it.

“Yes. Yes, Jesus, Steve. I’m just not sure I can--eh, you know. Three’s a lot already,” you admitted, slightly ashamed as you stared into his eyes, the blue of his irises practically swallowed by his dilated pupils. You didn’t think you ever came more than three times. Not that anyone ever tried to make you. “But I want you inside me.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you, babygirl.”

Tired smile spreading on your lips at his lingering hesitation, you cradled his face, looking him straight in the eye.

“I trusted you so far-“

“And it means a lot to me-“

“I love you,” you continued, but he interrupted you again, the sweet dork.

“I love you too, so much.“

Oh, the feeling was mutual. But that was not the point at the moment, as sweet as the sentiment was.

“But if you don’t use my cunt to get off right now, I’m gonna-“

The choked sound erupting from his throat was quickly followed by his large hand grabbing your jaw and shutting you up with a brutal kiss, punching the air straight out of your lungs. Somehow, you still found room to grin into it; that was what he got for dating a woman who wrote porn about him before they were even introduced.

“Mouthy. Such a bad girl,” he growled against your neck, the swollen head of his cock coating in the generous amount of slick between your legs.

“Am I? Thought I was being a good girl for my future husband… willing, ready for tak-“

He pushed into you in one swift movement and the teasing died in your throat, mouth forming a breathless ‘o’. No matter how many times you were together, he always filled you up so good. And now, not dragging it out and stretching your sensitive walls all at once—yeah, you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Steve too panted above you, getting used to the sensation as he finally slid home and bottomed out.

He recovered quickly; and he didn’t bother with words anymore, his appreciation reduced to grunts and moans as drove into you. His hands slipped under your ass and he angled your hips to his liking, giving a few slow, deliberately deep thrusts. Much to your surprise, you felt the coil in your belly forming again as his tip kissed your cervix.

And then his hands disappeared, from under your body, finding your wrists and pinning them next to your head, making you gap —and he took you. Hard and fast, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, his pubic bone hitting your clit as he pistoned into you, causing your body to climb towards your fourth high in a speed of light. His eyes bore into yours and had you had the capacity to think beyond the drag of his thick length along your walls, you’d be touched at the way his eyes flickered to your left hand occasionally.

It hit you without warning; a faint flutter in your core, barely there, but you felt in all the way to your fingertips as you squeezed him, a breathless Steve falling from your lips.

“Fuck-- FUCK, baby--- you’re-“ he choked out incoherently, fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists as you milked his cock. And then he was gone, leaving you feeling unfairly empty.

Like a rag doll, still stunned that he actually made you come four times and made your bones feel like turned into jello, he flipped you over to your belly and grabbed your hips, driving home once more, setting a downright punishing pace, going faster than before even if you had thought it wasn’t possible.

The last few thrusts were bordering on painful, your body entirely spent and not able to accommodate him anymore, but the sting was soon soothed by the sensation of his cum painting your walls, a guttural sound of pleasure escaping him. You eased your grip on the sheets, breathless as he drove into you slowly, dragging out his orgasm.

His left hand found yours, fingers interlacing. It was when you realized there were a few tears rolling down your cheeks, but you weren’t hurting – except for in your chest, huge amount of affection for this dirty loveable man swelling near your heart.

He stayed inside you as he softened and he fell to his forearms, sticky and warm mass covering you like a blanket, wet kiss landing on your shoulder. You turned your head to side with a goofy smile, searching his lips and he complied, kissing you gently, all heat gone.

The kiss tasted of salt of your sweat, but you couldn’t care less, actually giggling when you realized what just happened – and the fact you had troubles catching your breath seemed like the most amusing thing in the world to you at the moment.

“What’s funny?” Steve muttered as he nuzzled to your neck, fingers squeezing yours.

You rested your head on one cheek so he could see you grinning. “Nothing. I just really love you, Professor Rogers.”

He groaned, feeling that his cock most definitely twitched at the addressing. “Don’t start, babygirl.”

You giggled again, endorphins overflooding your system. You were just… truly happy. Euphoric. In the arms of a man whom you loved with your whole heart (and body) and you were about to marry him. And he just made you come four times. What was not to love?

You winced when he slipped out, which drew a quick and honest sorry from him and earned you a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just-“

“Nope, you stay,” you pleaded and made weak grabby hand on him despite the sensation of his seed leaking out of you. You were due to changing the sheets anyway, what more harm could it do? “We both need to clean up. Might as well get the post-orgasmic cuddles before we do.”

Steve chuckled, falling back into bed, pulling you close, chest to chest.

“Is that even a thing?” he teased you.

“You tell me. You were the one who was dropping words like health-wise at like… what is the time anyway?”

“Who cares, it’s Sunday,” Steve muttered, hand sneaking between your intertwined bodies, dipping two fingers into the fluid on your inner thigh, mindful of being gentle when he dragged it up and pushed it back into your pussy, causing your breath to hitch.

So fucking filthy he was, your future husband.

“Kinky,” you remarked half-heartedly, nuzzling into his chest, feeling his grin in your hair.

“You love it.”

You hummed in agreement, kissing his collarbone.  “I love you. Which is why I said yes.”

He reached for your jaw to angle your head and catch your lips in a kiss, loving and nothing like the ones he was stealing from you just moments ago. He was grinning like a loon, genuine joy all over his face.

“That you did, babygirl. That you did.”

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When you finally emerged from the bed, your stomach was growling, everything was aching – not like flu-aching, a pleasant ache –, you were sticky, but entirely content until a terrible realization hit you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, planting your ass back on the bed.

Steve shot you a look of concern – and amusement – and went to crouch in front of you, his hands engulfing yours. He didn’t forget to indulgingly caress the ring in the process.

“What’s wrong? What hurts, sweetheart?”

“My brain.”

“Your brain?” he chuckled curiously and you couldn’t but pout at him. But on the inside, you were barely holding back laughter too, at the ridiculous scene; since you had both headed to the bathroom to clean up, you were still completely naked and you imagined it must have looked like Steve was Adam about to propose to Eve.

“Yes! I go back to school tomorrow? I haven’t told anyone besides Penny!”

“I mean, Bucky knows,” Steve offered with a shrug. “Sam does too… maybe he told Tony?”

Your eyebrow shot up.

“Oh, so all staff knows? Dandy. But I didn’t even tell my parents yet…” you whispered, actually troubled. You had no intention whatsoever to tell you father just so he could call a to-be married whore or something, but maybe he did deserve to know. Your mum certainly did. “Well, my mum at least.”

You expected a cheeky comment. Maybe a comforting touch. But Steve just stared at your collarbone and… blushed, the tips of his ears turning red. You frowned.

“Steve?”

He shifted nervously, gaze flickering to yours before he bit the inside of his cheek. What was going on in his head?

“Eh, I, look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” It’s like pulling teeth, for god’s sake. “She… uhm, she kinda already knows.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you blurted out and chuckled, because… what? No, she didn’t. How would she- “…Steve?”

There was no denying the intense crimson colour in his cheeks. But at least he looked you in the eye like a man and made a confession.

“I told her. Texted her the same day you said yes, because… eh, she kinda knew I was gonna propose since we met in November, because apparently, I am that obvious, but when she told me I am, she also gave me her blessing, so… yeah. That.“

With every word, your jaw was falling lower and lower, your heartbeat picking up pace. What the hell was he talking about?!

“Whoa, whoa- my mum knew you were gonna propose? And she—oh. Oh. That’s… okay, I think?” you said, uncertainty lacing your voice. It was a lot to process, but… you guessed it wasn’t anything bad.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back, I’m sure you wanted to tell her yourself, but I was just so happy and-“

“Hold on a second!” you blurted out, horrified when everything finally clicked. “So my mum knows we’re engaged for days,” you emphasized, feeling all blood draining from your face. The glare you shot Steve could kill; at least he had the decency to look guilty and wordlessly begged for forgiveness. Damn his puppy eyes! “So she knows I kept it from her for DAYS!”

“I guess?” Steve hummed innocently, slowly rising to his feet and withdrawing as he saw the flames in your eyes.

And oh, he knew why. You grabbed a pillow and hit his bare thigh with it, somehow all furious, horrified, utterly amused and content at the fact that your mum already knew and approved and she really liked Steve and--- but still!

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, you little SHIT! She’s never gonna let me live this down!”

“Sorry, babygirl!” Steve just threw over his shoulder as he ran to the bathroom, you fast on his heels. You managed to catch up before he closed the door.

“You better spoil me with a bubble bath, professor Rogers, otherwise the little friend you used to get me off for the third time will replace you for foreseeable future!”

Steve gasped, pretending to be deeply offended. “You don’t mean that!”

“Oh, I do. Try me.”

A slow devilish grin spread on his face and he stalked to you, bending to whisper in your ear, already making you feel hot all over again, helpless against his stupid charms.

“Aw, babygirl… I’d like to see you try. In fact…” he muttered as he dropped a kiss to your temple, to your cheek, to your jaw, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip and up your waist, squeezing as you could just stand there and take it, focusing to breathe. “I’d be right there to watch.”

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Words Whispered in the Dark* (next in timeline) 

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

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…can engagement ring be considered a kink? Should I like… tag that?😄

If you went to read this knowing me for a while and didn’t expect it to have at least a little bit of fluff in it, you should know better by now 😘

Please, if you have something really harsh to say, don’t. You have no idea how much I was pep-talking myself into posting this rather than hiding it forever, because I feel like I need a bath in holy water every time I write/post smut. Though I’m kinda proud of the last lines of bonus 😄

Thank you for reading 💗

[dwaynepride]

how was i to know?

summary: reader has a weird dream about gibbs.

have you ever done anything for the ‘ya know what kind of wood this is’ Gibbs dream that both Quinn and Palmer had?

words: 1700

warnings: slight nsfw

tags: @fairytale07​ @jrenn10​ @f4nboi​ @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove​ @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05​ @consultingdoctorwholock​ @kittenlittle24​ @24601error-prisonernotfound @andreasworlsboring101​ @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @pageofultron​ @stanathanxoox​

a/n: it’s been a while since i’ve posted. this isn’t beta-read so ignore the typos. be free, my thots.

Your eyes just weren’t focusing anymore.

It’s been hours (don’t ask how many) since you’ve sat down at your desk to read over case files. The bane of a federal agent - chained to their desk and forced to go over every scrap of evidence and testimonies to find anything useful and it’s the burden placed squarely on your shoulders for today.

Usually, you have tricks to help when the words start blending together. Getting some coffee, going for a walk, visiting Abby because she’s the physical embodiment of caffeine and normally wakes you up.

But nothing helped. And the words kept swimming over the screen.

You’re not learning anything new from sitting here. But with the team hitting a roadblock in the case, what else is there to do? 

Again, you start reading the paragraph that you’ve been trudging through for the past twenty minutes. But this time, as your focus wavers, it’s not because of the headache or the tension in your eyes. The sudden presence on your right is what stops your reading. It’s warm. All-encompassing. Brings over the soft smell of sawdust and aftershave and as soothing at the presence is, it’s a shock to you.

Because you could have sworn you were alone in the bullpen - staying behind while the others went off to find new leads.

Your eyes move off the computer screen, meaning to glance over to the presence. But you never see their face because they’re suddenly leaning in. Hovering over your shoulder, shrouding you from the harsh office lights, and you reckon if you take in a big enough breath, you’d be able to feel the warm presence pressing against your shoulder.

Their face was a mystery, and yet, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you - hard, steely, freezing you in your chair.

And without warning, a hand comes to rest on the surface of your desk, next to the keyboard. A worn, scarred hand that you recognize with a jolt. The named of its owner lies on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out - like a secret you’ve sworn to keep.

His fingers curl a bit, knocking lightly against the top of your desk. The sound could’ve easily been mistaken as the pounding of your heart, if one listened close enough.

“You know what kinda wood that is?”

The voice mumbled against your ear is low and deep. Sounding like a bass drum and its sound reverberates through your body and you’re pretty sure it’s the reason why your hands are suddenly a little shaky. 

“W-wood?” You manage to echo back. A single word, hoping for clarification because your brain is moving at a snail’s pace. You’re simply too preoccupied on the warm, wet breathing that wafts over your neck.

His fingers start tapping against the desk in some unknown rhythm. And your eyes watch them move, entranced, and you keep telling yourself to look away and focus on something else but it’s much too easy to just keep staring. “Yeah. You outta know.” His voice is closer. More hushed. And that’s because his lips are right against the shell of your ear and his breath is blazing hot.

And through it all, you can catch the faint scent of bitter coffee and it only makes your skin tingle even more.

You suppress a shudder, if only to deny him the satisfaction of feeling it.

His presence somehow keeps growing larger - more encompassing, like a storm cloud rolling over the city. The words on the monitor; they don’t exist. There’s no more Naval Yard or team of federal agents or a whole case to solve. 

It’s just you, him, and the hard, cold press of the wooden desk keeping you here. 

Finally, you turn your head towards him. Words form on the edge of your tongue - stern words of annulment and to tell him you’re too busy for his games.

But then you meet his eyes. Head on - and they give you pause. Frozen in place, as if the icy blues really could chill you to the bone. So close, you could catch faint flecks of gray and gold floating around in the ocean of light blue and this time, it’s impossible to push down the shudder.

Now, his breath wafts over your lips slowly in his careful exhale, sounding almost disappointed and you’re shocked at how much that thought troubles you.

“Want to get a closer look?” He mumbles, eyes falling blatantly to your lips before coming back to meet your gaze.

A closer look? Damn him. 

This must be some kind of sick game for him - to see how far he can push you before you bend to him. He knows the implications of his question. You’ll start imagining yourself bent over the desk, looking closely to study the wood and its rings and texture. Everything he wants you to look for. Your mind will wonder, and suddenly, the image of him fucking you, hard and purposeful, over the desk pops up and you’ll never be able to get it out of your head.

And it works like a god damn charm.

His head tilts to the side, eyes softening to look amused. Probably because he notices you’re panting lighting and can feel it against his lips. “I can show you, if you want,” he murmurs. Still acting innocent. Still keeping with this game.

You breathe in because your head starts getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but that proves a fatal mistake. 

Because the air itself smells like him - like coffee and smoke and old cologne and it goes straight between your thighs and you find yourself craving the feel of his scarred, worn-out hands on your skin. “Gibbs…”

His name comes out weak, like a shiver. And when he hums in response to it, you can nearly feel the vibration through the air and pulsing against your body. And slowly, carefully, his hand comes up to touch your shoulder. The first real, raw physical contact and you wait for it with baited breath. Suddenly craving it more than the air itself.

As it connects, you expect a soft sort of seering feel. Like a branding iron. Instead, it’s a hard and sudden shove that seems to rock the entire world.

It’s so hard, your eyes snap open instantly, sucking in a gasp of air like you’d just been held underwater. Those cold blue eyes that had so easily frozen you solid were gone, replaced with the familiar scene of the office doused in the light of a sunset. 

The stifling presence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs was also gone - in a way, you were grateful for the freedom. It was much easier to breathe now, that’s for certain. But the second thing you notice upon sitting up in your chair isn’t as appreciated.

Your body is humming. Heart pounding a million miles a second. And your skin...it’s almost painfully sensitive. So much so, even your clothes rubbing against it is almost too much to bear. For a moment, you can still feel Gibbs and his warm breath and the remains of his touch. 

But the worst realization is the deep throb between your legs. Aching and pulsing for something - or someone - that will never come. Your thighs shift together, hoping to ease the feel but the friction only seems to make it worse.

“You fell asleep.”

That’s his voice. 

Your head whips up to find Gibbs standing by your desk - watching you, his eyebrows pinched together and standing in nearly the same exact spot as in your dream and it’s a shock that you even realize that.

Immediately, you let your gaze fall - everything is throbbing just a little too much to meet his eyes. “And you were making some noises,” he continues. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately. Too quick, you realize. Gibbs may not believe the dream was simply nothing, and it’s proven when he takes a small step closer to you. His shoes nearly nudge against yours, and you can’t stop yourself from tucking your feet under the chair away from him. 

His eyes are still on you. It takes an enormous amount of effort to keep your breathing steady and to stop the light shake of your hands to even pretend everything was normal. “You sure?” He asks. And this time, his tone is different. Just slightly - it wouldn’t even had been noticeable if dream-Gibbs hadn’t spoken so softly right in your fucking ear.

You need to get a fucking grip.

It was just a dream. A vivid, extremely hot dream. But a dream nonetheless. Not real.

“Very sure,” you reply, forcing your tone to sound more confident that you feel. It’s still impossible to meet his eyes - you know they’d be every bit as frosty blue and cool as in your dream, so you just spin your chair to face the desk. “You just woke me up from an intense dream.”

Gibbs hums a bit at the explanation. “Gonna tell me about it?”

“Definitely not.”

Out the corner of your eye, Gibbs just shrugs before turning back to his own desk and sitting down. Now that his whole focus isn’t on you, the rest of the world start to filter back in. The golden light of a setting sun coming in through the windows. The ambience of the office, winding down from a long day. Gibbs sipping his coffee. 

It gets easier to slow your beating heart. To ignore the slow, steady throb between your thighs. 

And carefully, you glance up across the bullpen to Gibbs. His eyes are on the monitor, paying you no attention.

“Gibbs.” That is, until you say his name carefully. Like an experiment. 

And when the shock of his eyes hits you once again, it’s nearly as powerful and earth-shaking as it was in the dream. But this time, you hold his gaze. Because there’s something you need to know before you can put this dream behind you and get back to work.

Your hand comes up, knuckles rapping lightly against the wooden surface of the desk. It sounds louder than it should. 

“Do you know what kind of wood this is?”

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: Bonus

Part 4 here<-

After many tears and tissue boxes, all members of team RWBY had finally stopped crying. Blake was the best off with her eyes a little red while Ruby was the complete opposite. The girl’s face was still rather red and her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t even completely stopped sniffling yet; much like tear marked partner. Yang on the other hand rested her head on the table. She had cried hard enough to giver herself a minor headache. She was completely drained.

Yang:Ugh, this blows! I thought this was gonna be a fun learning experience.

Blake:We definitely learned. It just so happens we had to poke at some.... extremely sensitive topics.

Weiss:I’m all for looking inward and self reflection but I’ve had my fill.

Ruby:Same. Should’ve kept the summary light.

Yang:No, I’m glad you got that off your chest. We just need a way to lighten the mood.

Blake:.....I kicked Weiss’s butt in a tournament.

RWY:......What?

Blake:During the time spent training for Salem, another tournament was held between the schools. It had team matches and singles. I kicked Weiss’s butt in my fourth round. It was a good day.

Weiss:How is that lightening mood!?

Blake:Listen, it was a big deal! I never thought I was gonna win the whole tournament but I really wanted to beat you. I love you but your head gets a little big when you’re on a roll for too long; plus I just really didn’t want to lose. I always felt a bit of rivalry between us.

Yang:Hehe, is that you’re way of saying “It would look bad to lose to a Schnee?”

Blake:Well it would!

Ruby:Hehehe.

Yang:Wait, does that mean we went back to school?

Blake:Yeah. It was pretty comforting. There was definitely a lot left to learn.

Yang:Weird. School kinda faded into the background.

Ruby:I went back to school. We all did actually. It was fast tracked by roughly a year but it was fun. We all got to pose in caps and gowns.

Weiss:Damn! I should’ve went back just for that. Unfortunately I was busy making rent and learning how to properly preheat a oven.

Yang:It’s like two buttons.

Weiss:Gas stove, and six years out of date.

Yang:Awww, you had to learn the hard way. I’m surprised and thankful you never left the gas on.

Weiss:There’s an alarm for that. Also I’m not irresponsible! Anyways, I mentioned similar tournaments earlier. I didn’t participate much but enough old videos of me in them were enough for to really light a fire under my kids. For awhile I was a bit concerned that they were just following a trend but they really love it. They used to always go around playing like knights when they were tiny.

Ruby:Carmine was a little different. She definitely always tried doing things I could but nothing got the girl jumping like seeing Yang’s horses or new ballet shoes. There wasn’t a morning when I didn’t hear a vase fall over or seeing her spin like a top. Carmine still hums some old routines when she isn’t paying attention.

Yang:Not too many memories of Yujin when she was pint size. But I do remember that wild child always loved using my bandannas for everything! Napkins, capes, ropes; anything but an actual bandanna. I used to get a bit upset with the napkin one but she’d always look at me with her big eyes and crazy hair. I never stayed mad.

Weiss:Softie.

Yang:She was like a pudgy puff ball! Fat cheeks and wholesome smiles. Ah! So adorable!

Weiss:I used to always have at least one of my kids on my hip when I was out and about. I think the media has a magazine amount of pictures of me at the park kissing my babies. Summer liked tummy rubs. She’d never go to sleep without one. Some nights I’d sing too but start to doze off so Jaune would have to take over.

Yang:*smiles* Speaking of Jaune.....

Ruby:No.

Yang:You don’t even know what I was-

Ruby:Were you about to suggest we compare our Jaune’s in the bedroom?

Yang:*red*......Well not just the bedroom! What’s the harm!? I just wanna know if he’s consistent across the board. No need to get detailed.

Weiss:You really never change no matter the world.

Yang:Can’t change greatness. It shows in any form!

Blake:He’s pretty compliant and accommodating. The benefits of being his first when I had prior knowledge I suppose.

Ruby:Don’t answer!

Blake:Why not? I’m comfortable with it.

Yang:Don’t listen to those two Blake. They’re just a bit more embarrassed since Jaune has literally been their one and only.

Blake:Huh, I never thought about it like that. Jaune would’ve been the first person you two opened up to on such a level; especially Weiss.

Yang:That’s still hilarious. All the protesting and somehow you found yourself stripping for the guy.

Weiss:Shut up! I already know! It was....I.... *blushing* emotions ran really high.

Ruby:An entire mental rollercoaster of thoughts and firsts happening all at once. Anxiety was high.

Yang:Heh, so you could say that Jaune Arc-

RW:Got through our walls. Hardy har har.

Yang:Shit, I am the same in every universe. Well I don’t have any reservations about it! *grinning* He makes me feel special every time!

Blake:Bottom.

Yang:I’m ignoring you.🎶

Ruby:Hehe, sounds about right. He...might make me feel a bit special as well.

Blake:Switch.

Ruby:How can you just guess off of that!?

Blake:It’s a gift.

Weiss:......

Blake:*smiling*

Weiss:Leave me alone.

Blake:I don’t know what has you embarrassed. You told us you’ve slept with everyone here except Ruby! I knew you were repressed but geez.

Weiss:For your information it wasn’t my idea! It was yours!

Blake:Not surprising. Let’s switch the topic. How is this other child of mine? Can’t picture me having a daughter.

Weiss:Veronica is very sensitive. Even if she tries to act like she isn’t. One time when she was tiny, a soccer ball hit her straight in the face and she sprung up saying “I’m fine!” Then you took her behind the bleachers to patch her up; tears all on her face. It both breaks my heart and very adorable to see her act fine while her ears are folded back.

Ruby:Your other son Kovu was a bit of cry baby. Partly my fault. Carmine kept beating him up and making fun of him.

Blake:What!?

Yang:Ha! Wait, that’s my kid too. How the heck!? Are you telling me you raised the rowdy child and I got the baby?

Ruby:Yang you’re a baby. I’m like twice as rowdy compared to you. A nevermore got worked day one at school.

Weiss:She has a point. You cry the most out of any of us.

Yang:Wha- that not- how....shut up! *pouts* I’m not that touchy.

Ruby:Kovu is a sweetie and not a cry baby. Carmine is just a little mean when she tries to care about others. She beat him up in an attempt to make Kovu give up dreaming about being a huntsman. That way he wouldn’t be in such a dangerous job. Reasonable logic but you know, a little over the top. Almost broke his arm. Boy did I chew her out. All it did was make him want to try harder.

Yang:Fantastic. I shouldn’t expect less from my own blood. I bet Yujin would like him. Which reminds me, anybody have kids in relationships?

RWB:We’re working on it.

The three women paused briefly before laughing at their meddling. Yang could only admire and fear her friends.

Yang:Should I be scared for your children?

Blake:Lucas needs someone to break up the routine in his life. I’m not saying he has to date her, but it would put a smile on my face.

Ruby:Carmine takes after me, not really thinking about stuff like relationships much. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t at all. Carmine tries her best to not act like she’s a teenaged girl with teenage wishes. But everyone sees right through it. I’m fine with her not being in one but I would like if she acknowledged that it’s okay to just....ugh, be normal! Why can nobody have normal knees in my life!?

Weiss:Nick likes Valerie who tries to deny she likes him by liking Summer, who doesn’t like her; while Veronica crushes on Nick who obviously has conflicting feelings.

RBY.....

Yang:Why is it always complicated with you?

Weiss:How is this my fau- okay it is a little bit.

Blake:Where do you stand?

Weiss:I think Valerie would be lovely for him.

Yang:What’s wrong with my baby girl!?

Blake:Yeah!?

Weiss:One, not yours. Two, have you met who I’m married to? Can’t really say he’s wasting his efforts. Though I wouldn’t be upset with Veronica. I think those two might be good for each other.

Blake:Any other bombshells people got?

Ruby:......

Ruby:Ilia is happily married.*sips coffee*

Blake:Oh that’s wonderful! I’m glad she found a loving wi-

Ruby:*smirks* To Sun.

Blake:....*stands up* I need, champagne!

A bottle of champagne poofs into existence with several glasses. Blake immediately pours everyone a glass before raising hers into the sky.

Blake:Ruby Rose, today you’ve erased guilt upon my conscious. I’m happy there’s one world where it seems all of my good exes get over me.

Ruby:Are the Ilia and Sun where you’re from miserable like Yang!?

Blake:No, but they kinda fumble in actually going for relationships. It just always makes me feel a little bad.

Yang:You can technically count two worlds. I’m fine, Ilia is dating a pretty secretary, and your one evil ex is now raising a morally good family.

Blake:You’re right! This calls for a double toast! To alternate universes! *puts glass down*

Weiss:Haha, aren’t you gonna drink it!?

Blake:No I’m still recovering; but how could I pass up the opportunity!? Man I wish I could attend that wedding! I don’t know if I’d be a bridesmaid or the best man!

Yang:You’re just gonna steal Neptune’s thunder like that?

Blake:Hey, Sun and I have taken bullets for each other and stab wounds. I think I deserve to be a little greedy and say I ride or die for that man just a little harder than Neptune.

Ruby:Geeeeeez Blake! Haha, I didn’t even tell you about the baby.

Blake:*visble excitement* Excuse me!?

RWY:*raises glass* Cheers.

Blake:CHEERS! What’s he like!?

xxxxx

Aero:AAAACHOOOO!

Carmine:Eugh! Cover your mouth! I don’t need to get sick.

Aero:Damn! What happened to uh I don’t know, “bless you!?”

Carmine:*pulls out tissues* Happy?

Aero:Where...why are those in you book bag?

Carmine:It’s flu season.

Aero:....I can’t tell if you’re the coolest person around or just a second mother.

Carmine:I can be both. My mom is arguably both but don’t tell her that. It’ll make her month and she’ll hug me too tight.

Aero:Bitch, you love hugs. Stop being difficult.

Carmine:Mmmm nah.

Aero:I feel bad for your mom.

Carmine:I feel bad for yours.

Aero:Hop off. You’re so childish.

Carmine:And yet you love me.

Aero:*red* In your dreams!

Carmine:It would make your day if I dreamed about you,wouldn’t it?

Aero:I hope you dream of spiders.

Carmine:We do not joke about that! *grabs him* Aero I will beat you up if I dream of them tonight! That’s just mean!

Aero:Stop crying ya baby. I could’ve said they were- ow!

Sun:*hitting him* Shut up and just kiss something! We’re trying to watch a game.

Aero and Carmine:We don’t like each other!

Jaune:With all do respect, that’s a lie. But please by all means Aero, continue not touching my daughter if you know what’s best for you. I don’t wanna have to fight you and your parents right afterwards.

Sun:Ilia would kill you.

Jaune:Yeah! That’s why I don’t want the fight! Much like Ruby, she’s short and terrifying. Her size holds the rage.

Ilia:*peeks in* Who’s talking shit?

JASC:Nobody, we love you!

Ilia:.....Got my eyes on you four. *holds Garnet up* and this one; the most well behaved in this bunch even with no nap.

Garnet:*fussy grumbling* I’m a ball of rage!

Ilia:You wanna nap?

Garnet:Yes!!!

Ilia:See, behaved. *walks away* don’t make me come back out here.

Carmine:....So do you like me because your mother is also imposing?

Aero:This is it, my evil origin story. It begins today.

xxxxx

Ruby:I admire his patience.

[miridiums-writing]

Barbarian Bakugou x Petite!Villager!Reader

Part 2

Summary ; reader lives in village that is ravaged by bararians, bakugou catches them and finds out they are mates

Warnings ; violence, there is implied sexual assault but it never happens kinda like a passing thought. I never actually state gender though reader does wear a dress, so if your someone who doesn’t like wearing dresses then you might have trouble fitting into the narrative. REMEMBER ANYONE CAN WEAR A DRESS, I WILL HYPE YOU UP. they eat in it, also they eat meat so if you’re vegetarian or anything of the sort you probably won’t relate, Bakugou yes he is a warning.

AUTHORS NOTE ; if you want a part 2 let me know, also if you want a part with a plus sized reader instead of a petite reader let me know. Reading @thetrashywritingwitch gave me inspiration so definitely check them out

Word count : 2k

Barbarian!Bakugou x plus-sized!reader part 1

The village was alight, red ran rampant through the streets, the screams of young and old mixing to create a noise that would give anyone a headache. You were running as fast as you could, no shoes on, trying to pick up your skirts as you ran. You had been woken by a scream and hadn’t thought to put on shoes before you ran to escape the sea of arrows shot at your home. People dragged younger ones through the wreckage, others cried, others shouting for loved ones. Nobody seemed to be left unscathed.

Your feet were in tatters at this point, having ran through rocks and glass to get here. Your only motivation that got you this far, even with the pain you were in, was the orphanage at the top on town. On a slight hill further away from the village, secluded in a way. You hoped against hope the children were ok. You dodged through fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You had to make it. You had to keep them safe. Though in your blind panic you didn’t notice the figure stealthily following after you.

You were running up the hill now, twigs that littered the woods floor poking into your poor feet, causing you to slow slightly, but your determination kept you from walking. Just as the orphanage came into sight arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the ground. You kicked in attempt to get away, hoping against hope you could escape, get to them. Those kids did nothing to deserve the pain. Your attempts did nothing but tire you more, your hope of escape starting to slip from your grasp. “Stay still dammit” a gruff voice stated. He moved you both back, further into the woods, blocking your view of the orphanage and kept you still.

“Oi Kirishima! Keep those idiots away from the orphanage” He called out further into the woods, not second later a muscular man with spiky hair and even spikier teeth seemed to appear in an instant and disappear just as quickly. With the disappearance of the other man he moved you so you could finally see his face, though his grip on you never loosened. If you were honest with yourself, he was rather pretty. Hard red eyes stared into yours and seemed to judge your appearance as you gaped at him. His blond locks spiked out, much more naturally than the other mans, he had a defined jawline, and a look that screamed danger. In your curiosity you failed to notice how odd this whole situation was. Here you were being held down by an intimidation and rather frightening man, but you felt no fear towards him.

“Found you” he said, looking at you with a smirk as his face moved closer to yours. Just as you thought he was going to kiss you his face moved lower to your neck and started to pepper kisses and nips into the sensitive skin. You tensed in his hold, not sure what he was about to do, and scared for the outcome that seemed inevitable. Just then he roughly bit into your neck, causing you to shriek at the vast difference from what he was doing before and the pain that started to thump against your neck like a drum. When he was satisfied, he started to lick at your neck, no doubt cleaning up the blood. “There, now that’s sorted time to clean you up and get moving” Rather than letting you walk with him he picked up and set you on his hip, like a child. “If you move or cause trouble ill carry you in a more uncomfortable fashion got it” At his threat you tensed once more and nod in agreement. You had no idea what he could do to you and honestly, you didn’t want to find out.

He carried you both down the hill and towards the town, he hadn’t told you his name and didn’t seem in the mood for light conversation, so you stayed quiet, not wanting to anger the man further than he already seemed to be. When you both got back to the village it was silent. A stark difference between the village you had left behind, and it set you on edge. He must have noticed how you had started to shake a little, though he didn’t say anything on it. “Hide you face into my shoulder, quickly” he said, his voice slightly softer than earlier, though it didn’t stop the unease. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, he gave you a glare that made you close it instantly. You ducked your head down into his neck and froze against his side, questions swarming your mind. “right let’s move out” he shouted, his voice seeming even more loud now you were against his neck, making you cringe slightly. With one hand now taking your weight he hoisted onto a horse, repositioning you in front of him to lean against his chest. “Get some sleep, its gonna be a long ride princess”

When you woke you were still in his arms, though you were now wrapped up in a fur coat, keeping you warm from the wind. If you didn’t think about the fact he basically kidnapped you it could almost be sweet. He had positioned you in a way that meant the brunt of the wind was hitting against the fur coat, keeping you toasty warm. He was looking ahead, no doubt keeping control of the horse, though you did notice how he would glance down at you. Due to your position you couldn’t really see anything, giving in to the temptation of going back to sleep for now, who knew when you would be able to sleep again, you let your eyes closed and allowed yourself to relax, your head snuggling into his warm chest.

Your eyes fluttered open at a loud shout, startling you from the fragile sleep you had managed to get. “We’re almost there” He claimed, glancing down at your sleepy form curled into him. Cute. The thought was a fleeting one, but it made him freeze up slightly, he hoped you didn’t notice. This mate stuff was making him soft. The horse abruptly came to a stop and the man carefully picked you up into his arms bridal style. You noticed almost immediately this was much gentler than he had been previously, and honestly threw you for a loop. On one hand this was much nicer treatment than previously, even if he hadn’t been particularly bad, on the other hand what does this entail, does he want something in return? The man carried you inside what looked like a large tent and placed you down on a bed covered with fur blankets and looked rather nice and warm to cuddle up in.

“Look here’s the deal,” he said, sitting down on the floor before you, making your face in line with his. “You’re my mate, kinda like a soulmate, I guess. It’s a feeling. My name’s Bakugou Katsuki by the way. Call my Katsuki though, it’ll just piss me off if you call me anything else. Just, listen to what I say. Ill go get you some food, you look like you need it.” As Katsuki walks away you could hear him mutter under his breath “Skinny as anything” When he had officially left, and you decided he was far enough away you started to look around. The tent was rather spacious, but not to the point it was cold. If anything, it was so warm in here. Like an invisible fire was somewhere in the room keeping it warm. The tent itself smelled like wood pine and honeysuckle, and a hint of caramel, it felt more homely than your old village ever did. You knew you had to think through what he had told you, but you didn’t want to even think about it. Taken away from your home after it having been destroyed by them and he tells you you’re his soulmate and you need to listen him.

When Katsuki got back you were cocooned in the blankets, sure the room was warm, but as the night air drew in the rooms temperature seemed to drop drastically, so you had taken it upon yourself to collect all the blankets and pile them onto of yourself. Katsuki stood at the entrance dumbfounded at the sight, as in comparison he stood tall in his trousers and fur coat, with his necklace and earrings to adorn the look. He wasn’t used to feeling cold. He would need to thank his parents later for getting on at him to make sure he had enough blankets for his mate when it got cold. He placed the food down on the table and started picking apart the blankets until he revealed you, cuddling into yourself. “Look, I know its cold but you gotta eat, come on” He allows you to get yourself up, though you take one of the smaller blankets with you to combat the cold.

The meal itself wasn’t anything special. A meat of some kind with potatoes and asparagus. You were so hungry you ate it without question, too hungry to care. He watched you from the other side of the table, it made you slightly self-conscious but brushed it off as his thing, he had a habit of watching you. When you finished you made sure to tidy up your area as best as you could, not wanting to seem impolite. This made Katsuki scoff at you, your insecurity coming back quickly.

“Bed time” was all he said, even though you had been sleeping most of the day, the thought of curling up into the blanket seemed heavenly. As you climbed into the bed, securing yourself under the furs Katsuki came in behind you. He simply brought your body to his, circling his body around yours in a protective manner. With him so close to you, you found it hard to fall asleep. Though Katsuki seemed to find it easy, simply snuggling his face into your neck and falling asleep. You decided to go through your options. Option one, stay still and go to sleep unknowing to what could happen tomorrow, though by his current attitude and behaviour you now highly doubted it being too dangerous, or option two, somehow manage to escape his iron grip and run out of the tent, with no knowledge of where you were, how far from home, or what could be outside the tent. The thought of meeting something worse than Katsuki made you shiver and slightly move closer to him. At least you knew what he was capable of, plus you had the added protection that he claimed you as his mate, those usually ended happily. No one wanted to endanger their mate, it went against Barbarian law. Something you vaguely remembered researching when you were young and curious. With those thoughts in mind you allowed yourself to succumb to the warmth Katsuki provided and fall into a broken sleep.

Please reblog, it helps my tumblr grow and makes me wanna write more