#very unhappy with the dust and cat hair

[snzluv3r]

maybe beginning the deep clean of my room on a day where my nose was already more sensitive and sneezy than usual was a bad idea…perhaps i should’ve thought a little harder about how itchy and allergic the combination of dust and lingering cat hair would make me, let alone on top of what i’m worried might be an oncoming cold—and a very sneezy, hitchy one at that.

my room might be cleaner than when i started but i’ve certainly made a mess of myself and am sneezing so frequently still that i can barely make this post

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Chapter 3)

Summary: Your weekend with Mitch and Sarah doesn't start the way you thought it would. Struggles of your past are revealed, but now you have people who will listen.

Previous Chapter Links: Chapter One ; Chapter Two

I originally thought chapter 3 would be the full weekend together, but then the lunch scene became 2.5k words of hurt/comfort.

TW for this chapter: Mentions of past family deaths, including a car accident

Just a heads up about the series! Chapter one was just flagged as Mature by tumblr, so if you have settings to block or not show mature content you might not see future chapters come up, as I'm assuming more will get flagged.

Enjoy!

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During your drive home your mind was filled with the memories of that evening. You thought about the way their fingers felt dancing on your skin and sliding through your hair. You thought about how tight they each held you when saying good-bye. You especially thought about the kisses they each left on the top of your head, and how the sensation of being so cared for made you practically melt on the spot.

You got home and immediately fed your cats, who were in fact very unhappy about their empty food bowls. You got ready for bed and tucked yourself into your comfortable sheets. The cats quickly forgave you and hopped up to sleep on your pillows.

You started to wonder what the weekend would bring. You had no idea what Sarah had planned but were happy just to spend time with people who seemed like they truly cared about you. You had so much on your mind and feared it would take you forever to fall asleep, but it had been a long week at work with Ryan cutting two molars and fighting his naps, and so you quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When you woke up Saturday morning, you started to think about going back to stay with Mitch and Sarah for the night. You began to feel a bit anxious. You were worried that you would bother them, or that they would get bored of you, or that you would say something stupid. Mostly you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to keep your crush a secret if you were spending multiple days straight with them.

To try and stop your spiral of thoughts, you started to clean your apartment. It wasn’t huge, but with two cats there was a fair amount of dusting and vacuuming that needed to be done. Next you drove over to the local supermarket, grabbing the essential foods you would need for the following week.

After getting home and putting away your groceries you jumped in the shower. You continued to drown out the anxious thoughts by singing “Watermelon Sugar” as loud as you could without worrying about the neighbors hearing. You got dressed, dried and styled your hair, and put on a little make up. Next you packed your bag for the night, set out plenty of extra food and water for the cats, and drove over to Mitch and Sarah’s. Since that was a drive you did almost every day to get to Ryan’s house, you pretty much got there on autopilot.

You pulled up out front and noticed that there was no car in the driveway. You knew Tammy and Mark didn’t have it since they were picked up that morning by their friends, meaning that Mitch and/or Sarah had taken it somewhere. You began to worry that they had forgotten they invited you, or that you had the time wrong, or that you totally imagined the conversation the night before. Which led you to freak out that maybe you imagined all of the interactions that happened with them the previous evening.

Before your mind spiraled too much, a curtain on the front window shifted and you saw Sarah peek out. You took a deep breath, grabbed your small overnight bag, and went up to the front door.

You hadn’t even reached the porch when the door swung open, revealing Sarah with a bright smile on her face. She ran out to give you a hug and led you into the house with her hand on your back.

“Mitch should be back soon; he ran out to grab some sandwiches for lunch. Oh, let me grab your bag, I’ll put that upstairs for you!” Sarah was definitely high energy at that moment. She ran up the stairs and a moment later you heard the front door open again. Mitch walked in holding a bag from the local deli. He noticed you standing there, and his face lit up into one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen on his face.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Hey Mitch!” You replied with a similar smile.

He held up the bag saying, “Went to that place downtown that you recommended. You like their chicken salad, right?”

“Oh totally, that’s the best!” You were surprised he not only remembered which shop you liked, but which particular sandwich you usually ordered. You had only mentioned it once in passing when discussing new places in town.

Sarah came back downstairs and slid into Mitch’s now extended arm, sharing a quick kiss with him. You couldn’t help but smile at the love shared between the two.

“As lovely as it is standing here together, I am starving,” Mitch said walking into the kitchen.

You all sat at the table and Mitch handed everyone their lunch. For a moment there was only the sound of chewing and the Technology and Teamwork record that you requested Sarah put on before sitting down. After everyone had eaten at least half of their meal Sarah finally started a conversation.

“I know it’s just a sandwich, but this is delicious. Y/N, you have seriously never steered us wrong with food, home cooked or take away.”

“Thank you! My dad’s family is Italian, so we express love through food.”

Sarah decided now was the time to finally dig deeper into you and learn about your family. “Does your family live close by?” she asked.

You immediately tense up, not quite sure how much information to divulge. You try not to get too deep, and half avoid the question. “I’ve got aunts and uncles and cousins kind of scattered all over the country. My cousin Erin and her fiancé Jeremy are only about an hour away, so I see them occasionally but everyone else is pretty far.”

“What about your parents? Or siblings?” Mitch asked.

“Oh well they’re all together, along with all my grandparents.” You paused for a moment, gathering strength to reveal the truth. “They’re all in St. Joseph’s Cemetery back in Connecticut. That’s where I’m originally from.”

There was a moment of silence while Mitch and Sarah processed the fact that you just nonchalantly informed them all of your immediate family members were dead. You simply picked up the last bit of your sandwich, trying to maintain an upbeat mood.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Sarah said as Mitch rubbed your shoulder.

“Thanks. I’ve been dealing with the grief for a while, so I’ve got a pretty good handle on it.”

Mitch spoke up next, asking, “When did they pass?”

You finished chewing your last bite and took a deep breath. Mitch shifted his seat closer to you and placed his hand back on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a comforting manner.

You leaned into the touch before starting. “Well, my dad’s parents both passed away when I was young. My grandfather had cancer and my grandma broke her hip. She had complications from that. I’d guess I was five and seven when they died? I don’t really remember. We were good for a while, no big health issues. My dad was next. He had a major stroke during my junior year of high school. He was in a coma for just over two weeks before he passed. We spent two weeks convincing ourselves he’d get a miracle and recover, but he didn’t. My mom and sister had gone to lunch, and I hung back for a minute. That’s when he died. It hit the two of them really hard. That’s why I learned to cook, to make sure we were all eating.” At this point Sarah also slid closer and clutched your hand in between hers.

“The summer before my senior year of college I was on vacation with a couple of friends. Nothing crazy, just staying at my friend Sasha’s family beach house. I got a call one night from a police officer. My mom and sister had been hit by a drunk driver. He said they were DOA. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I ended up selling the family house and moved in with my mom’s parents. I didn’t want to be alone, and they started to need more help with daily tasks. My grandfather had COPD and my grandma was developing Alzheimer’s. Grandpa died about a year and a half ago and my grandma followed a couple months later. Then a family friend reached out saying her daughter was having a baby and needed a nanny, so I moved here to take up that job. It’s nice working for someone from back home, even if we weren’t necessarily close.” You tried shifting the conversation at the end but when you looked up and saw tears swimming in Sarah’s eyes you knew you hadn’t been successful.

Not only had you lost your parents, grandparents, and only sibling, but you took care of everyone before they passed. Mitch and Sarah knew they were on the same wavelength, both wondering who took care of you during these incredibly painful times in your life.

Seeing the sad looks on their faces is what finally broke you down. You couldn’t hold it back anymore and let out a sob. Suddenly you felt Mitch pulling you onto his lap, gently rocking you. Sarah stood and walked around the table to crouch in front of you, once again taking your hands in hers and rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

You were never one to cry, keeping strong throughout everything. But you also didn’t have a lot of people comforting you through everything that had happened. You had one best friend who had been there through it all, and you don’t know what you would have done without her. There were other family members who tried comforting you, but they were all dealing with their own grief. At the time, you were so focused on taking care of everyone and everything, planning wakes and funerals, dealing with wills and selling houses, that you didn’t even stop to accept comfort when it was offered.

But now everything was taken care of. Medical bills were paid off, headstones were in place, cars were sold, and there were no more administrative tasks linked to your family members’ deaths. All that was left were the emotions that came with losing everyone who you were closest to in the span of just a few years.

You finally allowed yourself to feel the pain of all the loss you endured. More importantly, Mitch and Sarah had given you an environment where you could finally feel it and know that you’d receive the comfort and compassion that you crave. Their focus was solely on you.

You stayed tucked into the embrace for a few minutes while you let your grief run its course. Your sobs turned to sniffles and Sarah brought over some tissues which you used to blow your nose. You sat quietly for a moment, feeling embarrassed about your outburst. Of all your anxieties that had run through your mind that morning, you never expected you’d become a blubbering mess an hour into the weekend.

As though reading your mind, Sarah gently placed her hands on your face, wiped away your tears and said, “Hey, don’t be embarrassed, okay? Don’t close yourself off from us. We want to be here for you. You supported our family through a difficult time. Hell, you supported your own family at a time when you should’ve had the freedom to fall apart. We want to take care of you, love. Please let us.”

You sat for a moment, absorbing what Sarah was saying to you. “Okay,” you replied so softly that they barely heard you. Sarah’s hands remained on your cheeks for another minute. You watched her eyes, curious when you saw them glance down at your lips before she looked over to Mitch, who was still silently holding you.

“Uhm, I’m just going to use the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute,” you said, sliding off of Mitch’s lap and walking down the hallway.

Mitch and Sarah sat in silence for a moment. “Were you about to kiss her?” Mitch asked quietly.

Sarah hesitated for a moment before stuttering out, “I don’t….I think maybe?”

“It’s okay if you were.”

“But that’s not what we talked about. We agreed to find someone to have a little fun with and share a new experience together. A one-night thing. This is….”

“So much more. But not in a bad way Sarah.”

“You’re right, it is more. What I feel for her is more than I planned. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I feel the same.” Mitch lifted her chin up before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“We don’t even know what she wants. We don’t know if she’s attracted to men, or women, or if she’d be attracted to both of us, let alone open to entering a relationship with a married couple!”

“We have a whole weekend of quality time to learn as much about her as we can. You said it last night, we’re creating an opportunity for things to happen naturally. So, let’s just go with the flow, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah answered before leaning in for one more kiss. You walked back into the room a minute later as Mitch finished throwing the last of the garbage from lunch into the trash. 

You had splashed cool water on your face to try and hide the traces of your tears, which mostly helped. Your eyes were still red from the irritation, making the green in your irises pop even more. 

For a second you all just stood there, and you decided to break the tension. “Okay so we can check off lunch and complete emotional breakdown from our sleepover checklist, what’s next?”

Picking up on your desire to move on from the earlier conversation, Sarah filled you in on the plan for the afternoon. “There’s this new adventure park not too far from here. It’s got rock climbing, trampolines, all kinds of fun stuff. And it’s only for adults, so we don’t have to worry about being surrounded by a million children. Does that sound like something you would want to do?”

“Are you kidding? That sounds amazing!” You were practically bouncing up and down with excitement at the idea. It sounded just like your favorite indoor playground you always went to growing up, only better. 

“Okay, great! Go grab your shoes and jacket and meet us by the door.” You ran to get everything you needed, thinking about how much fun this was going to be. With everything that had happened in your life, you had been forced to grow up quickly. Instead of a smooth transition, you were basically required to throw away the end of your childhood and become an adult too young. Maybe Mitch and Sarah would be perfect to help you heal from that. 

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Thank you for reading! LMK in the comments what you think so far!

Chapter 4 is in the works and should be up by the end of the week. It just clicked in my head that I move next week and need to actually start packing so I'm going to have less time to write over the next week or so, but I plan to not go more than a few days without any kind of update.

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

If you want to be added, let me know!

[daddycassie]

Fight or Flight Chapter 6

Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x Fem! Reader - 1,201 words

Warnings: Implied sexual content, graphic depictions of violence - gun violence, blunt force/beating, implied past assault, blood, generally unhappy feelings, character death

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It had been three days now since the “incident” in the middle of the forest with Lucy Gray. The two of you still held hands most of the time, but if you even looked at her, there was a high chance she’d pull away blushing madly. You still recall the sweet words you’d uttered to each other amongst passion. How she felt around your fingers. Was any of that real?

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

You squeeze her hand and rug her closer at the memory. Lucy Gray doesn’t resist and leans slightly on your arm. It wasn’t too late, if the sky wasn’t obscured by dark clouds it would likely still be a little light out. The air smelled of rain with the slight humidity that came alongside it.

Lucy Gray hums softly as she observes the sky from your side. “It’s gonna storm soon.” She says. You look at her, causing her to avert her gaze. You sigh before responding, “We really need to find a new shelter. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife.” Lucy Gray pauses. “A knife huh? Who taught you that little phrase?” You shrug. “My ma maybe? I don’t really remember.” 

Lucy Gray nods. “Well, don’t you worry, we’ll be there soon.” She replies, releasing your hand. That was a relief at least, you were getting tired of walking aimlessly day in and day out. You watch as she walks ahead of you. 

You follow her, she was running her hands through her own hair, grooming it. Lucy Gray never did seem quite satisfied with how she looked, that was something you’d noticed just from watching her. Always adjusting her dress, her hair, brushing herself off of coal dust and dirt. Lucy Gray wasn’t made to live in district 12.

It was like having a bright, shiny thing among everything dark and drab. A diamond in the rough, you mused to yourself with a smile. For as lovely as you knew Lucy Gray was, you also recall the horrible things that came with it. Drunk men at the Hob who couldn’t control themselves, sober men in the daylight offering ‘well paying jobs’, a bothersome, ugly, cheating nobody Billy Taupe. Coriolanus to you supposed.

You’d fought them all off with an iron fist. A shove to the drunks, a glare to the sober, a good old bloody nose for Billy Taupe and…

A crash of thunder interrupts your train of thought. It easily startles you both, Lucy Gray whips around to look at you. “Just the thunder.” You sigh. “We’re okay.” Her expression relaxes and she turns back around with a shaky sigh. You walk up behind her, placing a hand on her lower back to guide her along and to provide comfort. 

You both continue walking as the rain begins pouring. Dying of hypothermia crossed your mind, but you tried hard not to think about it. Lightning struck, followed by another crash of thunder. At the very least the flashes provided temporary light, which was helpful with the dark atmosphere. Lucy Gray shudders the rain was cold, you really couldn’t blame her.

When the wind blew you pulled her closer, hoping to warm her a bit. However, wind did not mask the sound of a branch cracking behind you. For a moment you tense, before recalling what happened with the cat. “Not this again…” You grumble, and look at Lucy Gray, who was already looking back at what was behind you two.

Lucy Gray had a wide eyed, fearful stare plastered on her face. “Lucy Gray?” You hear another branch snap. Your face pales, blood running cold. This felt familiar in the worst possible way. Like… a dream. Your vision blurs as you recall the nightmare that had haunted you since the night you arrived together at the cabin by the lake. The night you’d killed Snow. Peacekeepers.

Why would they be out this far? You answered your own question — Snow, he’d gone missing. Maybe they’d found his body, or the gun. Not to mention the evidence of you and Lucy Gray being there, the trap, the campfire, footprints. Maybe they suspected you of Mayfair and Billy Taupe’s murders too. Without warning they open fire. They’re far away, and new recruits too, you can tell by how badly they miss.

You dash forward and grab Lucy Gray’s arm. She runs after as you drag her along into an area of more tightly packed trees. You disappeared from view of the soldiers. “Lucy Gray, how many were there?” She said nothing, likely still in shock. The stress was getting to you so you shook her harshly. “How many?” You hiss, whisper yelling.

“Three.” She breathed out. Lucy Gray’s voice was weak and shaky. You pull her close as the rain pelts down hard on your heads. When the next flash of lightning comes you look around, spotting the group. Three men. You hadn’t planned on ever harming anyone again — let alone becoming a serial killer. Four deaths on your hands.

You grab a jagged rock from the ground and look at Lucy Gray’s face. For her, you were more than ready to kill. You felt her trembling against you, and a mix of anger, guilt and resentment invade your mind. The peacekeepers were reloading, they were vulnerable.

You stood and lunged at the quickest of the three. He cried out, dropping his loaded gun a few feet away. It took three hits to kill him, the third was brutal enough that it caved his face in, dark and red with blood. Your new strength must’ve come from adrenaline. You turn to the next man, he’s smaller than the first, smaller than you in fact. He looks terrified as he fumbles with his gun.

You hit his head right at the temple, the most vulnerable part of the head. Then you hit it again. His it caves, and his eye bulges, partially out of the socket. You grimace in disgust.

You felt deeply disturbed by your own actions and the way the man cries, garbled and inhuman. You hit him again, and then again, and he’s dead on the ground. The slowest with his gun, was now loaded, glaring at you. The only thing that gave away his fear was the fact that his hands shook as he aimed at you. You hear gunshots going off and prepare yourself to be struck.

The final peacekeeper falls, full of a barrage of bullets. Lucy Gray stood from where you’d left her in the bush, holding one of the mens’ guns. She was no marksman but at least ten of the total hundred shots the gun was capable of had landed, and that was enough. You drop the blood splattered rock and at the same time Lucy Gray drops to her knees.

You freeze. “Lucy Gray..?” She falls down into the mud. The familiar scene made you feel sick. Just like your nightmare, Lucy Gray had been shot. In the pouring rain you rushed to her side and held her as she finally let her pain be known, crying and whimpering weakly.

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Note: Tooootally wasn’t foreshadowing, totally

🏃‍♀️💨

@nothininteresting @lucygraysslut

[sugar-petals]

Group Sex With SuperM

SUMMARY: creating a group chat is all it takes.

↳ A/N. yep, we’re going there. 

words. 14k

WARNINGS ⚠️ friends to lovers hc, porn with plot, idol au, sex w/ all members individually and together, dom/sub dynamics, corruption kink, sexting, blowjobs & cunnilingus, gaping, graphic, pegging, bondage, light foot fetish, sex toys, spitroasting (m receiving), brat taming, dick riding, protected sex, doggystyle, cuddling aftercare

curious about an eightsome are we

understood

how’s the state of things then?

last september you decided to open an entire group chat just for planning your juicy sexual activities together

and oh lord is it active

and full of ideas

and explicit videos

and emojis

and excitement

yesterday taemin sent a clip of lusciously covering himself in champagne foam for you

wearing close to nothing

in fact just a piece of gauze, a snake-shaped necklace, and probably a bit of perfume

oh boy

watching that was an out-of-body experience for sure

the entire chat basically imploded with reactions

but hey hey

not so fast

we need to go through everything from the start

to see how all these utterly historic events happened to unfold

so where did all that come from?

first off 

befriending super m outside work (eating together, fooling around, bingwatching stuff, you know)

...means there’s no point nor chance in having a permanent favorite with a group like this

every member truly is the creme de la creme

super m is the package of the entire packages

they are so legendary you can bias each member for one day of the week 

and never run out of that pure bliss

in fact 

you all agreed to do exactly that on a regular basis to get to know each other casually

it just naturally happened

seven days seven members that’s just logical

you can’t always hang out together in full attendance so you split up your times and set specific days

you change that routine very often depending on your individual moods

but it usually goes like this because you want to develop closer bonds with them one-on-one

so this is how it ends up

mondays you work out with xuxi. oh, that sexy smiley man. his body is the ultimate bomb. is there something better than doing sit-ups next to him? anybody’s sports motivation would go through the roof. and if there’s someone you call to share a pile of food with? it’s just gotta be him. being with yukhei is self-care.

tuesdays, you visit ten to check out his latest dance moves. and: to have a huge cuddle session with the cats. sometimes, you watch whatever series you’re in the mood for. it’s always a time to slow down and mend your sore muscles from monday anyway. you think ten is so interesting and talented, and super pretty, truly one of a kind.

on wednesdays jongin and you often end up on long midnight walks with the dogs or you both look after his cute nieces. meeting up at the river han is a staple, you get ice cream and snacks. you adore kai because he’s a sweetheart and steadfast person, and admittedly... so damn hot, holy hell. being with him makes you feel great.

thursday is baekhyun day and full of cheeriness as you’d expect. long hours of gaming, cheeky skinship, banter, and pizza eating await you at his apartment. you adore this mochi for his everything, he makes you laugh uncontrollably so much. sometimes, you also comfort him when he doesn’t feel good about himself or exhausted from practice. he will sing anything you want, baekhyun is like your personal 24/7 radio station.

fridays it’s time for the studio. mark is crafting his most fire bars and loves to have you around there. you inspire him a lot. he’s just completely astounding and the sweetest to you. friday most people would go clubbing, but super m just has to meet up in the studio. no paparazzi, and the music is obviously danceable. i’m telling you: this mob can jop, duh.

saturday is for handsome taeyong who loves coming to your home. cooking, organizing, doing the laundry, and browsing youtube together is the best thing. taeyong is the shyest goodest boy and a great listener. he gives great advice and is the epitome of respectful. you just vibe very well together.

sunday you dedicate to taemin. you watch artsy films, experiment with outfits, and he plays the piano for you so expertly. man, you are lucky. he’s like a fairy to you, and a connoisseur, a mythical figure almost. since he’s a newly-found cat dad, you easily fill your day playing with the most interesting kitten that is lee kkoong. sometimes, you even meet shinee members dropping by.

so yes this is what paradise looks like

and they all love to engage with you in their own way and you develop favorite ways to spend time, they put so much effort into this

it goes without saying that you all realize how hard you’re crushing as the weeks pass

like can you imagine

all the hormones i swear

you’ve already been joking to them that you have seven boyfriends some months ago

well the prophecy is fulfilled faster than you can blink

when you meet up as eight for a movie night at baekhyun’s, the atmosphere feels pretty frisky

because lucas is sending you ten thousand glances and certainly nobody misses that

if this guy is laughing at your every word i mean

meanwhile taeyong is having a nervous meltdown at your every comment about the movie, it’s ridiculous, he’s smitten as fuck, he looks at you like you’re an actual goddess

mark keeps on making glimmering eyes at you as well, and he asks you if you want popcorn every two minutes

baekhyun is all curled up close to your lap and not even watching the movie because his face is almost nuzzled into your sweater for fuck’s sake

taemin has spent the entire preperation in complete frenzy making sure there are scented candles everywhere and the snacks are exquisite and costly. mother taemresa? at full throttle. he even used his own damn credit card.

meanwhile kai suffers from his fidgety legs, constant hair fixing and even more inability to concentrate on the movie 

because damn, he knows he wants your attention. he literally came around with the tightest shirt he owns so there’s that. you can see every little muscle doing its thing when he does as much as breathe. kai is now well aware he came to impress. it won’t take him a lot to realize he wants to be even closer to you than doing midnight walks.

ten is so firmly snuggled up next to you, he might as well be your cat himself. if ten starts acting like a clingy feline instead of being in roast mode, you know he’s lovestruck i’m telling ya

needless to say

the mood in the room is hard to ignore

hell there are romance candles everywhere all those hecking rose fumes are to blame

surprise surprise all the members try to sit as close as possibly to you the more the movie progresses

even abandoning the couch and seats to sit on the ground in front of you instead

“you want popcorn?”

“like some more popcorn?”

“here, have my popcorn!“

“more popcorn?”

“hey do you want popcorn?”

from all sides, constantly

the m in super m stands for making sure you have popcorn

you never run out

like when the leading lady is pulling out a cigarette in those old hollywood flicks and at least twenty guys are scurrying to offer a lighter

i’m exaggerating but

nobody even knows what kind of movie they’re watching tonight though

the elephant in the room is trumpeting too loud to understand the dialogue

you’re surrounded by seven big ole hotties who have fallen for you

it was inevitable

it’s more than clear to everyone that they all like you and you couldn’t be any more fluttered yourself

let the hunger games begin

i’m jopping i mean i’m joking

this is not the wwe

it’s pretty clear to the boys that if they fight you’re gonna be so unhappy and your quality time together is ruined

you adore them all, and they’d be regretful about hurting their own bonds 

and anyway

if it came down to it and the bad blood was really escalating um...

...ten would destroy all of the competition

there’s no denying

by the simple virtue of his badassery and winning disease

quickly reducing all his opponents to a pile of dust so fine-grained, the great freddie mercury himself would resurrect to sing the soundtrack in the background and pump his fist

imagine that. superm actually being gladiators i mean wasn’t that the entire jopping mv

baekhyun would try to pull the leader authority card and use his hapkido martial arts skill but ten would obliterate him anyway so

even if taemin put on a dark robe and drew a salt circle to summon a million snakes from hell, ten would win the fight to a fault

but that’s too apocalyptic and outside of that thought experiment the boys are actually kinda shy so... let’s scratch that

there are seven days of the week with good reason 

you ease the uncertainty and tension by saying you’d truly fail as a tv bachelorette

everyone understands that deciding would be impossible and cheating is shit

why give someone a rose and break 6 hearts when you can hand out a whole damn bouquet

it’s more stylish my friend

and for what reason would ten want to face off against taemin and his army of snakes in the first place. they’re ten’s greatest inspiration

nor does kai have any tighter shirts 

he already ran out, he brought his A game from the get-go

on top of that the popcorn is empty there’s no more to offer

so you remain with the idea to just keep your daily routine

xuxi monday, ten tuesday and so on

keeps everything in order

it’s fair

plus it doesn’t mess with their schedules

usually unless a big award show is coming up but that can be re-planned in advance as well

you know... things can develop in their own timing with each member

it’d be awkward to expect everyone to be on the same stage at once

baekhyun is comfortable with all kinds of back hugs while taeyong and taemin are still completely flustered and turn all wobbly at just a greeting wave

you know what i mean

it’s already clear everyone loves you very differently 

some members are more straightforward, others take it slow, it’s just a normal thing

that’s when the group chat is born

it’s still very sfw 

compared to how explicit it’ll be in the future ahem

and everyone is overcautious with writing something except baekhyun, the eternal extrovert

for now you keep each other updated on how it’s all going with trivial details

earlier you just had individual chats and baekhyun arranged the group meetings since he knows the schedule best

now it’s all in one spot so that works

everyone’s curiosity is quenched at least a little bit

and they see each other anyway and put their heads together

baekhyun will be the most open about how far your skinship slowly develops followed by lucas and kai who oggle each other in their usual tom and jerry manner

which you have an eye on

you tell the members something very important for when they’re envious

or feel the need to one-up or catch up

it’s the sign to get closer to you and that they’re ready for taking another step. that’s literally what jealousy is all about

that advice helps them out a lot actually

kai takes that to heart in particular because he knows he’s prone and feels bad about it

and they also learn from ten who carries a quiet happiness with confidence that doesn’t need comparison, but he can also talk very honestly about how he’s standing with you to the point

ten knows how it’s done

as expected of such a competent man

like he’s kissed your hands very lightly but he doesn’t feel the need to show it off all day

and he also leads by example together with taemin and taeyong how one can give compliments even when not being involved in something 

“you’re looking adorable together“ as taemin would often say about you hanging out with kai or baekhyun

a lot of praise culture is developing in the group chat

you like to see it 

and now for the other elephant in the room

as for who will ask you to sleep with him first

(and mind you at this point they’re all walking around with condoms in their backpacks and jackets)

believe it or not

after the finishing touches on his latest mixtape (oh yes), and those tracks have you feeling some kind of way oh shit, mark gathers all his courage

yes it’s mark lee 

literally he steps into the blaze of bravery of jongin when he first put on a crop top

and gets out a little “can we... some time... you know...” after you’re having some pretzel sticks together and awkwardly sitting around

oh what's gonna happen next huh?

you say you’ve been thinking about it a lot

that he has a great body doesn’t go unseen

and tell him how you imagine it with him

long story short you’ll have your first quickie in the sound booth that night

cutting straight to the chase

him steadily penetrating you from behind, you leaning closely with your back to his chest

just standing and enjoying the rhythm

that dick. is amazing.

oh god, mark lee

long, curved, smooth, a classic

meanwhile your fave rapper is definitely going through it

his arms tell you everything

that’s an embrace for the books

he’s hugging you like his life depends on it

you can just take in how he’s been showering twice today this guy is clean as fuck he smells so good

getting off from shampoo and fabric softener is not what you expected but it definitely makes you clench

you both know he’s not gonna last for more than six minutes and that’s ok

that’s a lot of long-held frustration released into that condom

and a lot of passion put into how he puts his guitar fingers to work on your clit afterwards

jimi ‘lee’ hendrix has arrived

oh yeah mark, you fucking treat, fuck it up

that way you won’t last long either since you guide his finger tips to your favorite spot and the motherfucker completely goes for it

“like this, like, um?”

and he goes off with the wrist

oh shit

it’s all kept so short and simple and you’re on the oldest mustard-colored studio couch that ever existed but mark lee is mark fucking lee nothing can obstruct his quality

like this guy has some serious skills with the angles

that orgasm is gonna get some moans you didn’t know you were capable of out of you

never wasting time, that guy is he

mark definitely fucks like he raps. fast and good

you cool down together looking each other in the eyes, forehead to forehead, for like fifteen minutes, and you give each other little chaste kisses all over your faces and he melts every time

your little rendezvous was definitely so needed 

you ask if you can bring some vibes to play around with and a watermelon next time

you don’t have to ask twice

mark is so damn happy

and the timing was right

straightforward and spontaneous. that definitely works well with mark

no complaints, you go home feeling comfortably refreshed. you’ve told him he could tell the others or wait to do it, this is up to his comfort because he is shy

neither happens

after just one glance at him the next day while the group is doing a photoshoot

baekhyun already knows mark slept with you 

he just knows

and makes a loud “ohh wow, you did it” noise

ten takes two only glances to understand what’s going on too

mark nods and the whole group is highstrung for the entire day

like a hive of bees oh yes

kai is massively proud of raising mark so well but also really surprised

unlike taemin who calmly advised mark on many things in advance

guess where mark’s fingering skills originate from

he took some secret pointers from the king 

taeyong is shook at his rap buddy’s singleminded grit to just spontaneously ask you

while baekhyun...

is keeping it together repeating the anti-jealousy mantra you gave him in his mind

“jealousy means to get closer jealousy means to get closer jealousy means to get closer jealousy means to get closer....“

it makes him realize oh god he really wants to be inside of you badly as well

you ain’t dumb, you see his change of tone from cute to sexy in the group chat even if he might not notice

baekhyun is trying extra hard to make you react to him

he posts so many cute selfies with kissy faces

needless to say taeyong’s time slot gets postponed to next thursday while you visit baekhyun this evening

it works for taeyong because he still needs to think some things through

the news overwhelmed him a little and he is shy about meeting up but that’s not a problem for you

and it’s better to get together with your mochi sooner because you both know there’s a lot of banging to do

like seriously

your mood tells you that candy’s on the menu today

oh yeah. it’s time to be all over your clingy lil’ honey bunny 

there’s not much endless wooing involved it goes to the point very fast after you arrive at his home

you just wanna stop pretending and fuck like animals and see his brain melt from it

remember how baekhyun once said he doesn’t fancy nice girls

that’s what he meant by that

mattress earthquake

he wants you fully riled up with arousal and addicted to touching and grabbing him

yeah baekhyun gets off on your desire

that’s not hard to accomplish when he makes big puppy eyes and puts his tongue on your neck

with that gomez addams shit... kissing up your arm and then popping off as soon as he gets there

congrats morticia

here is a man who can handle ya

he’s being so slobbery and moany about it that it knocks the breath out of you 

that shit is so good

baekhyun is not just a pro at giving head my friend it’s also giving neck

and unlike mark, may god have mercy on you, baekhyun keeps on going and going and kissing and kissing and he wants to lick up all of you so bad 

we know how needy and stamina-heavy this fella is

baekhyun is super m’s most insatiable member by fucking far

he’s like just give it to me and you’re like ok here we go

this guy is burning up oh god

that’s an evening of ten thousand positions, fearless cumplay, and a lot of face-sitting

super m’s most unleashed tongue right here

thank god you worked on your fitness with xuxi otherwise you couldn’t do this

he’s moaning in some harmonic scales or something it’s a whole concert

baekhyun is fully at it with you in every room of his flat with his whole neck and underarms looking mighty veiny

yeah he even carries you around to make it short and simple he’s one impatient bun

he can lift up sehun bridal style so no worries

mochi is smol and thin but he won’t drop you i promise

he’s fueled by horny boyfriend hormones and wants to give you the greatest night of all nights

and hit all the amazing spots

baekhyun aims to make your pussy lips throb and fall completely in love with him

and the bridge of his nose if you get what i’m saying

he’s also versatile in his clothing choices

if you say keep your nerdy glasses on, oh yeah they stay on

just a little challenge to see if you can ride him hard enough to see them fall off

and that dick is not some extra long lasso mark lee calibre

so he can really bend it more and thrust with ease at many angles

talking about mark

he regrets not asking you earlier but you tell baekhyun that this way was much better because you unceremoniously skipped to the fucking instead of messing around

if it wasn’t for mark’s courage to break the ice even with a choppy sentence 

you’d still be awkwardly looking each other in the eyes while munching pizza

all hail mark lee nervous legend

this way, baekhyun goes all out with fewer restraint and the burden of being first with making the impression that comes with it

we all know he’s too self-conscious for his own mochi good so that’s a better way to start out

this way baekhyun will have sex with you until he’s passed out on his bed

knocking him out like that might as well become your favorite hobby

even minutes after your tongue still feels like it’s knotted together with his honestly, the muscle memory is kicking in

and this must be the most dick thrusts you’ve ever gotten in one night

baekhyun really wants to be all inside you, make you feel him

if the condom broke at least his baby will be easy to identify from day one

it’ll come out and belt a perfect G#5

he gave it all my god you stopped counting the times you came your pussy is just dripping wet it feels crazy

and his voice has become all raspy i—

that was baekhyun’s hardest vocal run yet i swear

the contraception shelf in the convenience store next to his house is close to empty

but there’s no need to buy more

what you two perverts have been up to is enough for comfortably going through 10 years of celibacy

baekhyun is content and sleeps like a baby

you hold your bun for like two hours afterwards and never want to let him go

you are as wobbly as taeyong after getting a head pat from you

and the most well-kissed girl in this city tonight

both sets of lips

what a smoochy boyfriend

you even get the chance to jerk baekhyun off in his half-sleep after he wakes up and asks you to put your hand in his pants

guess who opens his mouth very wide to lick his own semen off your fingers with some really obscene noises

it’s his royal nastiness byun baekhyun 

who sucks your tiddies to drift back into sleep again

with his hands in your pants

god bless this man

the group chat is sending 👀 emojis all the way throughout the night

your boys know love is in the air

they’re loosening up the timing is right again

you send cute smiling emojis 

a bunch of “ahs” and “ohs” come through via voicemail

and lucas even writes: “so who’s next? 😳”

damn

you reply boldly: “the one asking that”

the group chat becomes a buzzing beehive again

from which you extract that kai is also very interested while ten, taeyong and taemin prefer waiting a little more

but this time you don’t switch time slots since you’ll meet xuxi on monday already 

kai wants to set up something nice and prepare the catering and whatnot (alright you rich man)

so it’s gonna be wednesday as usual with him

so far so good that’s the plan

sunday being taemin day, you get together to read and paint and listen to music

you feel like just doing some sensual kissing with him and taemin is very down

yeah baby he is the kissing king, taemin is hot stuff, he knows exactly what he’s doing, those lips are the pillows at the gates of heaven

losing your mind is a staple when you do that with him

just making out on the couch surrounded by the nicest arrangement of pot plants you’ve ever seen while it rains completely relaxes you and the serotonin is off the charts

he holds you so gently and tastes so good

what is it, rose water or something like that

he even put on his coziest sweater so you’ll love leaning against him

TL;DR taemin is the biggest fucking romantic in the history of SM

that was so seductive you’ll be dreaming about it

applause for lee taemin please

perfect contrasting programme: just hours later

yeah here it goes now

monday starts with xuxi stripping more than he usually does 

at the makeshift gym in his room while he’s on the treadmill

with his hair freshly dyed the most himbo shade of blonde ever

and yeah that’s blonde with an e because yukhei is too sexy to be called a blond. what an ugly word to look at

he’s a blondé

so that’s nice

he’s so dtf you just skip the workout 

time for lubed condoms.

i don’t have to tell you that you literally jump on him 

or that you’ll be dealing with super m’s singlemost biggest equipment

he doesn’t even have to drive it home an inch by himself you’re already riding him

he can’t handle all that gear in the first place

because how do you even develop a technique with such an unrealistic dick

hell how do you even exist like that

so it’s clear who’s taking the lead

all he has to do is work that body but it sort of happens on its own

himbo autopilot

you are going hard and chaotic on this man

xuxi doesn’t even know what hit him

he’s so vocal and excited 

you fuck him while he holds you up, get down on several gym benches, have him bend you forward at the bathroom sink... 

...and you attend business in ten’s room on a desk and window sill

because it’s the most silent there and doesn’t disturb xiaojun’s beauty sleep

ten has discreetly ushered you there and preoccupies himself in the kitchen with the cats

he knows how the game is played

either floor ‘em all or always watch out for others

MVP

but you are secretly wondering what ten is plotting because he has some serious self-control and observation skills

given how tidy his room is... whatever his plans are you can look forward to it

xuxi is definitely suffering from your heavy duty cock destruction in the meantime while being in heaven at the same time

that dick is worn out and dripping 

so much bouncing is even gonna make the biggest boy lose it

milking that orgasm out of him is gonna be so gratifying yum

the deep and defeated moans, my god he really surrenders to the pleasure

wow that was almost as to-the-point as studio sex with mark

no idle talk in nct huh

you clean each other all exhausted and then gobble up three bowls of noodles each

then sleep for two hours in each other’s arms

then do a second round because this guy is really getting you going and yukhei wants to live this monday to the fullest

like this man gives you previously unknown levels of energy

must be the blonde hair. it does sexy things when yukhei is twitching

this time it’s a dick blowing festival

oh yeah

the type where you’re so sloppy with your head bops, he doesn’t even know where to put his hands and needs to think emergency thoughts

oh yeah big dicks make for some nice slurpy noises that sound really plump you know what i mean

he’s gonna realize very soon you do this shit for your own entertainment

and get all kinds of squeaks and faces out of him

only little pauses help him keep up the stamina so he asks you to pull off for a bit every two minutes or so

he has to look elsewhere and distract his mind with thinking about washing the dishes

girl... your tongue has this man sweating major bullets

you’re big on the corruption kink are you

once again 

xuxi is gonna be so shaken and pass the fuck out from cumming

and he thought he was a horny guy

his soul must have left his body and that scalp is probably dead

but bleaching was worth it (he looks like a sleeping angel now)

not to mention banging all over the wayv dorm

ten got a preview of what’s expecting him

not that he doesn’t know he reads you well

lucas promises to return the oral favor next monday and finally collapses entirely in the living room wearing only boxers

nothing new for wayv, great sight for you

not a single workout routine has exhausted xuxi this much

he needs 10 hours of sleep to reboot

“she’s so wild 😲😂😍” is gonna be what he’ll summarize it as in the group chat later

first big boy taken down

the second one follows

wednesday is right around the corner 

oh yes

kai definitely goes off with the preparation you are not ready for this spectacle

he redecorated his entire kitchen and bathroom to perfection with flowers, lanterns, dim light, petals, expensive fabrics draped from the ceiling, and there’s a great view on night time seoul

you can tell he’s best friends with taemin

i mean they’re the greatest entertainers of their time of course their taste is great

always going the extra mile

the black, sheer shirt with a deep cleavage that kai put on is nothing short of a treat

is that a lace choker he’s wearing

and his hair is pushed back lord have mercy

you get pretty weak in the knees at that

the catering leaves nothing to be desired either. a full 3-course sicily-style italian meal with 100% organic ingredients and beautiful basil and thyme garnishings

to set the mood afterwards jongin does what he does best

don’t tell me you didn’t see this one coming

just a chair for you, some music, and him

is this like a whole damn private concert?

he has prepared an entire setlist to thrill you with selected styles of dance

even a rendition of salsa, swing, and tango argentino

i’m telling you...

if kim jongin moves his body for you like that you’ll be fucking hooked and honored and not believe your eyes

what a feast

prepare for a serious case of dropped jaw

and jongin being an absolute daredevil dancing incrementally close to your chair

he incorporates all these little moments of skinship

where he strokes your hair, your jaw, or takes your hands

while at the same time he’s completely destroying it on the dancefloor

with those scorching hips and how he works it on the carpet right in front of you

you’re about to fucking melt

what a time to be alive

the sheer shirt’s buttons are holding onto dear life as do his pants

kai’s movements are becoming extremely ecstatic

what a fucking lapdance 2.0

men have clearly evolved otherwise this wouldn’t be happening

kai dances like a king on a stage but jongin? is god-like when he dances with just one person as the audience

shiit

and because he’s very nervous

he work particularly hard to ace it

in his mind he’s already underneath you judging by how he’s moving

...you can definitely fancy a luscious private concert each wednesday

and for designated activities in the bathroom

he even made a whole 5-hour playlist of the finest songs

so he can make you grind on top of him

don’t tell me kai isn’t the master of courting

king of effort

i don’t have to tell you that this is gonna be the most sensual night you’ve ever had

kai will get to know your body very, very well

those hips never stop do they

the fact that thursday is baekhyun day right after this?

wow aren’t you exhausted

the orgasms just seamlessly continue huh

everything goes on like that 

friday you have a toy-filled, passionate evening at the studio with mark who’s doing the most 

let’s say mark just has good ‘vibes’ indeed

this almost gets as messy as your first time with lucas

have fun cleaning up that couch, canada

what a sex marathon

if you don’t have your period

there’s always a lot of action going on 

or actually. you do catch a break for the weekend

saturday you bake delicious, pistacio and pecan-crusted sticky buns with taeyong 

who also shows you the new fledgelings that have hatched in his apartment

so adorable

sunday you endlessly make out with taemin in the sheets who has of course heard of jongin putting on a show

so he dances for you as well and even does the hands-tied criminal choreo in an especially luscious rendition (aka extra heavy breathing and grinding on the floor, and doing splits that almost rip his pants)

oh yes my love

nothing really happens afterwards you just have dinner completely flustered

if lee taemin dances, sex becomes redundant and doesn’t compare anymore

but really now

the slow burn is unbearable with him for fuck’s sake

taemin knows how to work up the seduction bit by bit

you basically masturbate all evening after returning to your house

god. what to do with this guy

on monday you ravage yukhei’s dick and get all that head 

xuxi is a chaotic fella but he keeps his promises

plus you get the best full-body massage of your life

and for the first time pull out your phone to basically livestream yourself riding him

so the whole chat can watch for five minutes

yep. you learned that courage thing from mark lee

the camera work is obviously subpar but the video definitely has maximum effect

kai and baekhyun stream their reaction right alongside your broadcast

“woah woah oh my god oh my god!!”

everyone’s freaking out, everyone stops whatever they’re doing, everyone is glued to their screens, they love your body moving

you’re having a blast 

especially when you stream another round an hour later and lucas holds the camera now

his arm is perfect for that by the way

strong and stable and high up in the air

so you can do your thing on that fat dick with a bonus of the sexiest xuxi moans ever

that deep but soft tone... yukhei really got a perfect groaning voice huh

after getting steamy for almost ten minutes, you get some great close-ups of your pussy after having yukhei pull out mid-romp

because that gape is for the gods

don’t kid yourself with a dick like that inside you’ll be opening a little wider

it looks and feels even better with lucas tracing his long fingers inside of it

with the closeup zooming in even more while he’s putting his thumb on your clit 

mmh that’s good stuff

six very shaky boys are sitting in front of their phones right now being able to look um very deeply inside of you

baekhyun is basically frozen to a statue on the reaction stream and salivates nonstop it’s just running down his neck at this point

his wettest dreams are right in front of him

stretched out pussy all juicy and swollen? baekhyun’s lifeblood. he’s seeing god 

he turns up the brightness of his phone to maximum so he can see every little detail 

remember. this guy loves to be inside of you so obsessively he wants to pay rent to live in there

so he’s appreciating an HD view of his favorite place, really deep and really pulsing and really soaked

yukhei has slathered you in lube and really pushed apart your muscles very gently, no abrasion, you relaxed so nicely around him

it’s feeling good as fuck

kai who’s watching right next to baekhyun just stares with big eyes

every injury he ever got while dancing is suddenly healed 

he’s a new man his spine has put itself together his legs are reborn

taeyong almost falls off his chair when he tunes in

he’s that bewildered

he just types a big WOW and a wall of blushing emojis

the explicit songs he’s been listening to and whatever he’s been rapping about recently are nothing in comparison to this

finally someone climbed up to taeyong’s level of nastiness

and he thought he’d never find someone on eye level

secretly he loves the nice view but he won’t admit how much

meanwhile he will rewatch this over and over for the whole week at least five times a day

and then there’s taemin

| adorable 😊🤗🎀 6v6

| can you put the camera a bit closer again 👉👈

| and turn on the flash if that’s ok 😳

| ah thank you 💟

i don’t know what taemin has seen or heard or experienced in his life and what made him this way but damn he loves that graphic shit

turning on the flash makes even yukhei’s jaw drop and rub your clit even faster

he’s damn proud he could make your pussy open up to him this way as he should be 

cuz he’s really been improving his Big Cock Techniques (BCT)

mark doesn’t write anything but he’s online and streaming so yeah he’s jerking off

with two hands

baekhyun is typing how much he loves the wet sounds and how great the fingering action is

and he’s damn right. telepathy 

that’s your favorite pervert right there yeehaw

in the meantime yukhei’s brain is empty he’s just smiling bright and enjoying the moment and the attention and your body

ten is basically next door because this is the fucking wayv dorm 

you can hear him choke on his coffee and whisper ‘oh my fucking god, oh shit’ to himself

the phone almost topples into the sheets while lucas is putting all those rubs and circles into your clit but the audio is already telling the boys to watch very closely anyway because here it comes

taeyong is probably falling apart by now given how he’s posting a couple fragmented sentences that you try to decipher on yukhei’s phone

until you get close and take up filming yourself again 

so yukhei can make a video with his own phone as well

yep that’s two cameras on you by now not just one

xuxi’s been such a steadfast babe 

and he gets to see the fruits of his work. for one, just how much of an imprint he left with his cock inside you 

and second how hard he can make you cum now

those big fingers are magic on you

taemin gets all the closeups he ever needed from your camera because you hit the zoom even more

yukhei starts kissing you twice

not as carefully as he often would

it’s the really wet and passionate version this time

he films your lower faces as good as he can

those big fucking lips 

they never fail to make you get the hots

they’re really made to do all this are they

his tongue nips into you with extra saliva on board

you suck it into your own mouth and mix it with yours, and gather some more

and slip your tongue above his in return

yukhei makes sure you can hear him swallowing all that warm runny spit and moans into your mouth

guess who just blew one big juicy load into the condom

and he’s not even inside of you

jesus christ yukhei

looks like french kissing is his orgasm button 

you start sucking on his tongue when it slides back between your lips and you make them really tight and puckering

the noise is so delicious

yukhei shoots the rest of his semen into the condom

you go even harder on him, the kiss gets really deep

kai and baekhyun are literally jumping up and down on their beds by now

taemin and mark are sending star-eyed emojis

ten is definitely beating the meat next door

yukhei’s hand is massaging incessantly between your legs

he makes you feel. so. good.

when he retreats from the kiss you’re ready

you can hardly keep the phone stable in your palm

yukhei also points his camera back at your pussy again

and makes sure to catch every contraction

you know an orgasm is good when you’re going all “oh... ohh...”

even taeyong goes online to stream his reaction because you cum so beautifully

he’s actually crying and can’t close his mouth he can’t believe what he’s seeing

your pussy lips are so sloppy and stretched apart and twitching and you make sure the camera catches every bit

it takes almost half a minute until your muscles calm

you tell yukhei to clean it up with those plump lips of his

baekhyun and taemin are violently agreeing with thousands of “YESS EAT UP!!!” and “yes!! 😊♥︎🌹” text bubbles in the chat

your guys are so cute do you realize that

in order to have both hands free, lucas ends his video, puts his phone aside, and is already licking you up like a whole bowl of whipped cream

you keep on streaming on your own phone and brush the hair out of his face

the best part is catching yukhei’s tongue winding between your lips and then spoiling your pussy with big kisses very very slowly as not to overstimulate you

he’s such a fast learner he’s doing it really well

once you’re satisfied and cool off, you stroke the back of his neck and his favorite boyfriend duties are officially on pause

so he can go to pull off the condom and clean himself up, and get ready for bed after a quick mini snack

while you blow kisses into the camera, flirt with all your babes while they flirt back and even bow to you

and film your pussy all swollen and licked up but slowly closing a little bit again, ever so slightly

ten sends two little black hearts and a little “that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen thank you 😽”

you make sure taemin gets an extra close view of your clit and taeyong is making high-pitched squealing noises in his reaction video stream

mark goes like “yea that’s the spot!”

kai has joined baekhyun with the mouth and saliva action, they’re both licking their lips all over the place and make lewd lusty faces

they’re literally sucking and eyefucking your pussy through the camera bitch they want it so goddamn bad

oh to have their mouths on you right now to come down from your high and chill

you tell everyone how much you miss them and how badly you want them to be here

and how you want to feel all of them all over, on your skin and inside you

the chat is full of yearning and horny crying emojis now

yukhei helps you clean up the rest while you text how it felt with mark and baekhyun because they wanna know more

you talk about how yukhei’s girth is always rubbing that one spot inside and his breathing changes when it does

and you say you really loved their reactions

the members promise to be careful and discrete when they re-watch the stream and ten also says that if you don’t want it to stay in the chat some day you should never hesitate to delete it

you say no problem boys you should know me inside out, just remember to use head-phones when yukhei starts slurping at the 01:27 min mark

taeyong and mark are losing it at your puns

then you have a glass of water taller than yukhei’s dick and basically dance to the bathroom

lucas talks to the boys with his big ole smile in his pyjamas while you’re busy

oh god he is so shy

but very very blissed out. it really takes only two things to make this man happy. big plates, twitchy pussy.

a truly simple man. you like that

kai is definitely evolving from his teasing yukhei agenda in the meantime

he is sending thumbs up emojis instead of raised eyebrow ones

you lay down in xuxi’s big embrace and say goodnight to your boys

yukhei buries his nose in your hair, and kisses you on the forehead so innocently, taeyong melts in his little video square on screen

taemin is a big fan as well

he’s living true to his “explicit shit and romance” life motto isn’t he

you ask if everyone was enjoying themselves

big positive reactions all over the chat

you coo how you adore them all so much and want more of things like this where everyone is involved

eight people are going to bed very happy today

yukhei waves and baekhyun goes offline as well, as does taeyong who’s beaming

end stream

it was a masterpiece

that mark needs to recover from the very most, his entire bed is full of used tissues

and basically

over the next few hours the chat is losing their minds over and over again

everyone can’t stop gushing and telling you what their favorite part was

kai says how turned on you were was making him hard all night

ten enjoyed the wild kissing part and how wet everything was

naughty boy taemin keeps on talking about how — i quote — your insides are the best ever!! while sending flower emojis

your stream has unleashed a gigaton of sexual energy

and that basically goes on and on

until tuesday arrives

oof 

today’s the day

you know that ten is up to something 

except the little hearts and kiss comment

he hasn’t written much in the chat

oh shit oh shit what is he planning

he truly is a pisces

you know that some epic stuff is about to go down since the cats are with yangyang 

and — what

there’s a large canvas in his room with a piece of cloth to cover it

lord have mercy

he’s bringing the big guns

ten will even hold a little speech on how he got inspiration two weeks ago

only to proceed to unveil the art very shyly

it’s an elaborate pencil drawing standing about as tall as him

immaculately sketched in a realistic way

have a guess what he’s been drawing

exactly right it’s an erotic depiction of you

laying on your back, thighs spread, head thrown back

and to make it mysterious you see more of the legs rather than the crotch area

so whatever or who is giving you pleasure is entirely up to you to imagine to your liking

it’s more about how the person he drew feels lust rather than the onlooker. he drew this for your own enjoyment

he did that very cleverly and classily 

this canvas will be your utmost treasure and get such an intimate spot in your home

it doesn’t take very long until you’re mounting him and get those hips moving in a circle

ten is just full of surprises

you ask if you can photograph the drawing and upload it to the chat

ten is like ohhh!

but why not, now that he thinks about it. he secretly likes praise and visibility for his drawings so much

the post is definitely a success 

lots of exclamation marks and reaction memes for three hours straight

but who would’ve thought otherwise

ten is just massively talented, always on point

and hits the right nerve with his line of work

as your pussy can attest

yukhei is gonna tease in the chat that he heard you in the dorm and that it sounded mega hot wink wink wink

ten writes:

| my tongue hurts 

| let’s do it again next week

| i feel inspired to draw more as well

the chat explodes with hype for another two hours

multiple members come up with their own artistic takes on you

on wednesday kai presents a feral dance he choreographed for the whole morning. showing a representation of what you are to him and what he feels for you

very beautiful

on thursday baekhyun gifts you a deliberately humorous doodle titled mochi mama in the style of i dunno, probably picasso on crack

you have not seen anything like it

it’s gonna make you laugh in sad hours for many days to come

talk about come

baekhyun will have his hands busy in and on you all night

he wants to feel mama mochi and please you and make you smile

try not to climax challenge: failed several times

on friday mark blasts a song he wrote about you as soon as you put your hand bag down in the studio

100% of the lyrics are about how sexy and charming and special you are to him and how infatuated he is and how much he thinks about you all the time and how much you knock him off his feet, and how he has the biggest hots for you, jesus christ

that mark lee canada flow wants to make you fucking nut right then and there

the fandom just got his lit mixtape and he’s already working on another one i guess he sure has enough nsfw inspiration for it

all the more reasons to cum hard on his dick tonight

and make sweet love to that sexy body because mark lee isn’t the only one with the hots

then comes saturday

taeyong day

the tension is rising

you’re at his place

the sweet boo comes to put some chirping fledgelings into a towel on your lap as usual

there’s a big crispy lasagna baking in the oven, dripping with cheese and sauce with the most full-bodied herbal mix ever

damn tasty 

gordon ramsay would rate this particularly well on twitter

honestly man

we all know gordon ramsey would like taeyong’s dishes

the evening passes as it always does

so he didn’t jump on the bandwagon that’s interesting

it’s almost as if the stream didn’t happen or anything

just as you expected

taeyong doing his own thing and being just very consistent makes him so sexy and desirable to you it’s hard to explain

you just like his style of going about things you know

he’s very receptive to your impulses

you figure it’s up to you to make some steps

so when he opens the fridge to pull out a self-made, perfectly swirly vanilla-chocolate vortex pudding that’s just at the right temperature, you can’t help but hit on him like the world is ending 

but as you learned from taeyong’s example: your way

you ask him to open his mouth and maneuver spoon after spoon of pudding into it for him to deliciously savor it

giving him compliments on always making your day along with that

that bowl is empty very fast my loves

and taeyong very happy

oh yeah he was enjoying that

with his eyes closed

oh fuck

the sexual tension could rip the air in half like a mark verse

you decide to sit down on his lap all nonchalant and finish your own pudding... more than suggestively

taeyong is basically holding his breath at this point he’s a puddle

you tell him he can put his hands on your waist if he wants to

no answer needed his fingers are already on their way

you can hear how his heart is approaching a techno music BPM

at this point all you can do anymore is lean in to whisper if he likes to go to the bedroom with you

he can keep the apron on

taeyong tastes deliciously of pudding aye

you roll around in the sheets kissing so heavily

this is pure indulging you just feel how you’re sleeping with a chef

who happens to have the veiniest dick of all time

you’re definitely filled up well

sliding up and down on him deliciously for twenty minutes

really slowly and hugging each other tightly

and saying romantic things

that’s the good life

by the end of the evening the group chat gets a picture of taeyong’s world class lasagna 

and a ‘very random’ shaky picture of your hand in his hair

which baekhyun instantly comments as:

“now tyong knows how great you taste as well 🤓😁🤗“

yukhei agrees wholeheartedly and ten starts making baby don’t stop puns

kai is totally in love with the quality food 

baekhyun voices his interest in making more pictures of that kind with you. you know, hand in the hair, no big deal

kai says hurry up with it hyung, all the hair dye makes you balder every minute

baekhyun reprises his doodling and now draws a couple

it’s mama mochi with byun baldhyun

“this will be the next selca“

glorious

you’re having a damn good time

but later you feel something is going on

the whole week passes and taeyong seems to be brooding

next saturday he has a hard time expressing himself when he comes to your home 

you ask if he’s not comfortable having more sex or if he struggles with the relationship setup

taeyong says it’s not that but can’t explain any further

you go on a whim and ask if it’s a confession he has on his mind

bingo

“taeyong... if you think i’ll judge you for something. remember we’re only doing this since a couple weeks. it’s hard to know how the person really reacts if you don’t know each other inside out“

he is still hesitant

you ask him if it’s something taboo

“yeah...”

you thought so. taeyong is the least basic person you know along with taemin

guess why these two are saved for last my dear readers

you tell him that how he’s in his own lane is what you appreciate him for in the first place, it’s why you’re here with him, you love your duckling chef so much

if he wants a different kind of sex that’s perfectly him

he looks relieved and understood hearing that

and confesses that yeah... he wants to go a little kinkier with you

now you know why taeyong was acting with so much restraint

and put all of his feelings and sensuality into food pretty much

in fact the kinky sex has already started whether you noticed or not

indirectly. as in, the dynamic

truth is he wants to be a service sub

oh yeah lemme introduce you to some new things

service subs like to really cater to their dominants and fulfill their every wish not just in bed, but around the house as well

and there’s even more to it as you will soon discover talking to him about it

an apron is only the start

in case you have been living under a rock

taeyong’s duality is nuts 

he’s a completely shy mega pervert

it’s not a secret that this guy wants hardcore bdsm torture sex

you letting all that aggression loose on him for fucking sport

and being cold to him

with a bit of soft domme action as the perfect balance 

yep 

he wants you to take him out and take care of him at the same time

he’s perfectly aware he’s among the freakier and more deprived members

even ten is just casually freaky and just open for a lot of things. taeyong is deliberate

and pretty deep in the femdom community as far as his browser history is concerned

we all know assertive partners are his thing

but he’s afraid he’ll get you into something that’s a lot of responsibility

you say mister i’m familiar with your interests 

my dear you never made them hard to guess

you tell him it’s no problem for you to give it to him raw

you’ll be doing disgusting things to him that sexy face will straight up drown 

did you know?

our dear boy taeyong loves it when you spit in his mouth and do virgin roleplay

if he asks you to break him don’t be surprised

he wants to release control completely

he goes by all the rules

and i guarantee. when he comes along your dominatrix mood is gonna skyrocket he just brings that shit out in people

his mere naked body is just... how not to go nuts on him how he wants it

long story short tied up taeyong head to toe ends up immortalized as a vertical photograph

the group chat is overwhelming your notifs with wide-eyed emojis and all caps

amping up the game a little more each day are we

without even trying. hell, this just happened

where this is going is gonna be fun

sunday goes down with you grinding yourself all over taemin but you’re both clothed

you grab the back of his neck to lean in for kisses over and over and over

yes kisses are key

if not the favorite thing he does

let this sink in. if taemin overwhelms a little kitty with a hundred thousand smooches, just how kissy is this guy gonna be 

and have fun teasing his erection through his pants

lee taemin a squirmy mess? hell yeah

in classic fashion he will spend the most time of the evening on his knees getting slapped around in several blindfolds, harnesses, and wrist ties

his fantasy finally came true

i repeat what taemin has been dreaming of is reality

thank god for taeyong having you second guess his private tastes. otherwise you would not be on your dom grind now

taemin even goes as far as ordering lingerie for your encounters — to wear himself because he’s taemin

satin and silk blouses he already has in his wardrobe so there’s no shortage

i don’t have to tell you that you can spend hours grinding on his cock in a room full of candles while taemin is in head-to-toe bondage

that’s his idea of a good time and hell you are really treated to perfect eye candy, taemin’s hotness will bring your pleasure to a new level

the group chat will definitely love your photography taken from your sessions

taemin is just an utter no-compromise kinda man to make kinky love with. everything is planned he’s never settling for less than a perfect evening

where both of you really experience the ultimate satisfaction from treating your bodies to the best of clothes and toys and scenarios

give me an amen for taemin being your sunday guy because this legend of a man is your personal church

and his discography is the bible

and cum play is the baptizing my friend

so yeah huh

every day you can look forward to. monday to sunday

and not a day goes by without someone in the chat reminiscing the steamy video you did with lucas

you end up repeating what you wished that day

for everyone to be with you

so you could feel all of them 

and you say maybe it’s time to arrange something 

you’ve gotten to know each of them personally and intimately by now

and integrated them into your personal life

hell when you wake up the first thing you see is ten’s drawing across your bed

or baekhyun’s funny mama mochi art on your phone background

and you start your day literally selecting from a pile of taeyong’s freshly washed and ironed clothing stacks in your wardrobe

sitting at your breakfast table with a bouquet of flowers that kai and jongin brought you

eating food you bought together with lucas

listening to music that mark made especially for you

they’re all in your life together so it’s the right time to make some heated love together

the chat is all down you don’t even have to ask any further

baekhyun volunteers to go about his leader duty to organize the best possible venue and best possible date

cause with superm things do go 100

he asks what kind of atmosphere you have in mind

you say hard and nasty and kinky

which will definitely make the chat interested

and baekhyun was about to rent a huge modern art penthouse in gangnam

you say no need to go that expensive. you just need a large bed, no paparazzi, and an area where you can be loud. sculptures you could care less about

you have yukhei on your team, so that’s a living sculpture already 

it needs a safe haven essentially, with a dark and lusty atmosphere would be so nice

ten steps in saying he has the exact spot you’re looking for 

he has a friend who runs a declining night club in the suburbs, with some pretty attractive and grungy backrooms with plenty of space to fuck

yeah a club is exactly what you’re looking for that’s a good idea

it’s closed on monday so baekhyun and ten arrange a rental just then

of course way in the evening

with the guarantee of nobody else around

baekhyun knows how this rigged game rolls he says they need the club to perform a dance practice, overnight stay, and shooting a music video

which is only a half-lie

not “hey we are super m planning an orgy wanna invite dispatch and tell lee soo man”

regardless ten’s friend is pretty chill and indifferent anyways

and baekhyun’s money is doing the talk

you’ll be guaranteed to be left by yourself

monday evening it is. 

you already have a whole bunch of fantasies to let loose on your boys

and put it all in the chat

yo it’s called brainstorming and it sure has brain in it

you discuss

and it goes down next week 

you encouraged the members to wear what they feel best in, no dress code, no comparison thinking. you want to meet them like you got to know them, each in their favorite expression

taeyong dons a mass onslaught of fetish gear underneath a trench coat, including a fancy collar, lots of hairspray

and latex gloves. shit he’s a freak

baekhyun puts on the coziest clothes he finds and his smol sneakers but they are secretly expensive, his hair is curly and big, he put on a nice scent

kai can’t help but go black suit and lace underneath, you know him

bleach blonde yukhei gets out the tight white tee and smug jeans

creative genius ten goes all out designing his own fashion (!) with paint, he puts on sexy af glasses and goes for his signature ‘cleavage down to the belly’ look underneath a bomber jacket

mark goes for a casual suit but make it swag, with a sleeveless top underneath, yeah those mark arms go crazy 

taemin — picks his most dazzling silver outfit that looks like a rendition of mermaid scales, pointed shoes, princely hair, famous i’m so fabulous

and it’s already starting out sexy in the car before you even arrive 

because this is all gonna be glorious from the first second to the last

baekhyun and kai will do the driving

you have not one but two classy and sexy chauffeurs you hear me

yeah in their shiny black german cars with those sleek comfortable seats

baekhyun, taeyong, ten and lucas are a team

and then you get kai, mark, and taemin, including your group luggage because such a trip needs a lot of things to pack trust me

you’re with team kai on the way to the club and with team baekhyun the way back 

it’s already lit and steamy on your way there

nothing better than getting in the mood held by the greek god arms of none other than lee taemin with mark lee assisting

you’re entirely wrapped up in kissing taemin so passionately, his tongue melts into your mouth like the finest chocolate

thinking about how you were making out last week gets you going even more

as does feeling up his bulge, ugh taemin is so sensual

mark sitting on your other side being eager to attend to your thighs, your waist, your back, your hands, your hair, your stomach

yep

yukhei has been telling him about the wonders of a whole-body massage since you like it so much

mark gets his hands all over you to provide a sexy caress and wow he’s doing it well, giving everything the perfect kind of attention, always asking if you want more of this or more of that

mark loves everything about you and he knows how to make your anticipation become even more intense by dedicating time to all areas generously

you feel like he’s worshipping you head to toe

it’s the way to get turned on

mark has great soft hands and knows your best spots by now

that’s exactly why it was a good idea to sleep with the members individually at first

you could figure it all out in detail and each member could show their style of doing things, and you could teach them

mark has become an expert in skinship

while he’s kissing into your neck whispering revering things to you nobody else would understand

they’re intimate, spicy details from your studio lessons

with a romantic twist even because mark is giving you his entire arsenal, the entire palette

“i’ve been thinking about you so often...”

with jongin driving carefully and taking the lesser frequented roads 

kai is really keeping it together

the maknae backseat party is faithfully photographed by mark who sends it to the other team after taemin and you select the best shots, giggling

your favorite is a bird’s view of your cleavage with taemin kissing right between your breasts, slightly below the sternum

his hair is softly splayed over the area

taeyong and ten reply with heart eyes in the chat

on you go kissing and touching

taemin is so gentle with you and easily accepts your wild licks and bites, leans his head back so you have perfect access to his neck

by the time you arrive at the club’s back entrance, he’s marked up and his lips are mighty used

ruined neck, ruined mouth

taemin’s favorite two accessories to walk into a club with 

including a hard-on

with mark and kai strutting right after, chewing mints

...both getting hard themselves because mark loves your body and jongin has very good ears when it comes to picking up things that happen in the back of his car

and this bitch got a raging libido, so

the best part is everything is prepared

the other team already parked their car there earlier

ten had the keys to every needed lock, showed everyone around, and then baekhyun went into organization overdrive

this is the first time he didn’t clown around to distract from work since debut

if baekhyun ever means serious business... wow

your best boy taeyong has located the perfect backroom that’s shaded inside and neon-lit from the outside

the window’s aren’t particularly low-sitting so that’s a privacy plus

there’s a huge white extra oversized bed with some more great furniture and a sofa landscape

he desinfected everything to a T

and pulled out every utensil you might need from a large black bag

he walked in like he just commited a bank robbery but in reality there’s cutesy pink rope in the bag

oh well

classic taeyong

yukhei sorted and handed out the condoms plus water bottles for everyone

he’s the expert for the basics don’t come at him he’s doing a great job

after you reminding everyone of the safeword 

taemin sits down with you on the bed and you keep kissing

keeping up the flow right there

//

you beckon your lil’ adorable mochi who’s been dying for skinship

baekhyun is so turned on he wastes no time joining

still fully clothed while the other members are about to undress

you actually like baekhyun huddling up against you in his oversized hoodie it’s cute

so hey, change in plans

everyone ditches the protocol and climbs on the bed only without their shoes 

lot of ties and belts to pull them closer to you

you bring all of them together on the bed now

the feeling of having everyone around you is so electrifying, you have to distance from taemin’s seductive lips not to get some kind of adrenaline overdose

jesus this guy is trying to soak your pants like baekhyun forgot to turn off the shower

you get to enjoy five minutes of relaxed massaging from all sides to cool everything down a little

baekhyun and yukhei alternate with kissing you

yum

big plush lips plus a horny tongue

that’s a good combination

kai is definitely setting the pace of how to massage you, and how to move the body while doing so, and what expressions to make 

instead of sitting there awkwardly staring into space

remember? master of courting — that’s kim jongin

even baekhyun follows his example a bit

you’re entering cloud 9 from that whole-body massage

you can tell they’re all dancers. there’s rhythm involved

having the seven of them attend to you at the same time just hits different

that are 14 hands

70 fingers

all in sync with kai’s physical ideas, carefully yet purposefully kneading and stroking 

kai also helps everyone find a good area and makes sure everyone stays away from any precarious or sexy zones

because you’d probably get off from that in the matter of a blink

to be honest you’re already feeling heated you can’t help it

but that’s a good sign you’re definitely feeling this 

and there’s not a single limp dick in this room at this point already

baekhyun being the best people reader all over again manages a seamless transition to some water drinking

so everyone is ready to go

you wish you could do everything at once but decide to get a load of some slow body rolls against you because hell yeah

courting expert kai is sure to oblige, dance god taemin joins right in, and ten completes the holy trinity and hell does he go off

photographer mark on duty again. this moment has to be captured

baekhyun does his mood management magic and encourages ten and taemin to let out their little sounds more

kai he doesn’t have to tell

nor you because you’re already moaning

shit these guys are just too good

these bodies are machines

again bless your xuxi workout sessions

you wouldn’t keep up otherwise

you curse them because your pussy feels creamy way too early

switching to grinding on their bulges is not a better idea because it’s making you even hornier but anyway it’s your favorite activity

yukhei takes time and some effort to get fully hard so that’s a grateful job now

because you can gather yourself

you resort to using your cleavage to stop turning yourself on completely

and then your hands to palm his pants because that’s even more inconspicuous

group sex with superm? hardest early orgasm avoidance challenge EVER

is there some kind of legally accessible viagra for women

there’s no way you could turn yourself off help

you either get the first orgasm out of the way or keep it together to have some suspense in here and see the boys work hard

the decision is clear

time to bring out the toys that taeyong assembled on a table

baekhyun, taemin taeyong and ten are in the down to get tied up in various ways

lucas and kai get blindfolded and get a sexy task from you

slowly humping the mattress just for your viewing pleasure

topless for that matter

no need to ask twice there they go

photographer mark stays free and flexible. it’s always good to have someone outside bondage just in case with such a big group

anyway so you will be busy for sure

the rest of the boys strip down to only their briefs and get a good dose of spanking

ten is definitely moaning the loudest there

taeyong ends up with tied wrists in a prayer position and has his fun getting slapped around by you 

until he’s breathless and smiling to himself with his tongue hanging out

someone got his daily meal of smacking

taemin highly approves 

nobody’s surprised

baekhyun gets a quick and simple upper body rope harness that’s very easy to grip him by

and just to tease him you add some nipple pinches

result: loud baekhyun noises

cute as hell

so that’s how he’s been training himself to reach all those high notes

interesting

taemin, completely naked, has his hands and ankles tied, looking so beautiful all helpless and his cock itching for stimulation

and because taemin’s strange ‘artistic’ kidnapping fantasies that he never stops talking about cannot be ignored he gets a mouth gag for good measure

you know you just roll with their ideas

he’s a simple man that’s all he needs

you decide to put a bigger bondage piece on ten who ends up in a hogtie aka his new favorite place to be in

if there’s one guy who’s flexible like that it’s him

let’s see for how long he can take it

ten likes a challenge

you tell mark exactly what kind of pictures you want of your tied darlings and he’s well-engaged with that task

baekhyun is clinging to you a lot in the meantime

he gets kisses on the mouth 

and your open ear 

because you can tell there’s something on his mind

or rather

his ass is telling him something after you activated it with spanks huh

what does baekhyun want?

baekhyun wants the strap

and the strap he shall get

his time has come

this time the safeword won’t do so tapping yukhei’s thigh is the deal

taeyong’s kinky tool collection has a nice and thick equipment to offer, jet black black straps, jet black dildo, like it’s some kind of secret agent gear

it takes a lot of lube to get it into baekhyun’s tight and tiny ass but what’s new 

he’s not the gaping expert 

and way too busy laughing at the members’ reaction faces so his damn asshole is contracting god dammit

what a brat

next time he gets a toy for prep

only when you grab him by the harness and get into a rhythm, baekhyun throws it back

good boy

kai and xuxi are allowed to take off their blindfolds now because you have a task for them

taeyong’s toy collection features one extra long double-ended dildo, transparent and neither too slim nor too wide

if baekhyun doesn’t have that thing inside his throat i don’t know who

this shit is made for him

and you can tell he’s salivating for that

you tell yukhei to use those big hands to keep baekhyun’s head steady

and oh wonder, his long fingers enclose it perfectly

kai gets to go hard on baekhyun and fulfill his lifetime fantasy that he has had for over a decade now and jerks off to every night:

baekhyun not talking

so while baekhyun’s ass is getting properly stuffed

so is his mouth

kai has no qualms squeezing the toy into baekhyun’s throat a little more roughly

those are some pretty intense choking noises

mark steadily hits the snapshot button

some people go to pound town

baekhyun goes to silicon valley

kai is not afraid to push that thing as far as it can physically go

you’re pleased with how he’s doing it

and with baekhyun’s blowjob abilities anyway

is there a better throat in this industry? probably not 

he’s pretty surprised himself with how much he can take it

that poor ass is getting more than it can handle in the meantime, baekhyun is throbbing and whining

little did you know his prostate is so sensitive and makes his dick leak

such a shame you fully exploit that

you tell yukhei to have baekhyun move his head on his own to get into the rhythm

and get taeyong over to suck on the other end of the toy because oh yeah

let me just say these two are amazing

god bless sm entertainment 

not for any executive decisions

but for their uncanny ability to attract and assemble all the subs

lee taeyong giving head like the rent is due is a sight you need in your life

like everything, he does it roughly and properly

baekhyun is barely even sucking anymore just straight up gagging and seeing stars

because uh-oh here comes a big fat prostate orgasm

mark is clever enough to hit record on his phone

and capture a shaking baekhyun travelling through a whole bunch of universes, at least in his mind 

because that’s how strong his climax is

all he can say is thank you mama mochi and recover from this on his back

kai is satisfied with the result as well because baekhyun managed to not say anything for fifteen minutes

kai never had this much silence in his life

taeyong is still not done sucking the toy off and you let him

never step between a man and his favorite dildo

lucas takes up the task of untying ten who wants to share the other end that’s free now

and mark hands over the camera to kai who films just that

which also means mark is in the mood for you

about time to get some dick

and have taemin watch right next to you

being able to delight in mark’s wonderful technique

doggystyle

which ends up in kai joining 

which causes yukhei to join

and baekhyun to film 

the three are literally queueing while waiting for their turn

you tell them when to pull out and let the other member have you

until mark is riddled with so much suspension, the fifth thrust on his turn ends up in an unexpected hard climax

“oh my god oh my god!“

obviously kai will let loose now and cum as well, accompanied by really breathy groans

yukhei takes his time to make you moan which gives both taeyong and taemin a good show and an untouched orgasm

eventually you get to hear lucas growling his soul out

and kai bickering to pull out already

because it’s time for buffet

after getting rid of his condom, mark has been untying the very resilient ten who’s been in prawn bondage for like half an hour and five minutes now

respect

he and baekhyun team up to eat you out

yeah prepare for a dream team

while mark and kai chill on the other side of the bed

lucas on the other hand still doesn’t have enough and ends up licking your legs with his cock firmly palmed in those big hands

baekhyun and ten are doing the most meanwhile, lapping you up all sloppy

the job of the cameraman goes to a wild taemin who’s undone his safety hook 

he can’t stand this shit anymore he has to join the action instead of lying around in ropes

jeez the guy has the fun of his life playing with filters

silently giggling to himself

until kai finds out that taemin has been putting cat ears on ten and cowboy hats on lucas

kai confiscates the phone from naughty taem and decides to take up that task himself

so taemin can eat you out himself now

alright there are three heads bumping each other between your legs now

and yukhei close-by, currently nibbling at your outer thighs

can you imagine how crowded and crammed that is

you tell mark to get taeyong out of his ties as well

if you’re gonna cum he has to join the party as well

and he will not hesitate my friend

taeyong’s kinky tongue (which can make all kinds of completely unprecedented moves and slurping noises) riles up the other three to put all their effort into this

you order baekhyun and ten to line you left and right of your hips, fingering you from there

and let both taeyong and taemin get you to the point with their tongues at the same time

it’s a busy day innit

the reason is that baekhyun and ten didn’t come but you plan to change that with some dual handjob

baekhyun lets out some pretty hoarse panting noises

(yeah jongin destroyed him with that toy in his mouth for real)

once your hands grip onto their erections, almost automatically baekhyun’s fingers start going crazy on your clit and ten goes mad with his thumb right next to it

yeah he’s kept his rings on this is gonna be a sexy sight

mark and kai retire from their pillows to join at your request

mark kissing you, jongin sucking on your breasts

from this point on things are pretty much just a daze

two tongues two hands? oh shit

four people are trying to make you cum what did you expect

and three other people are licking you all over

yukhei doesn’t even care at this point he’s just straight up kissing your feet

ten is silently groaning it out, he’s pouring his seed into the condom with little twitches in the hip and shoulders

taeyong’s tongue is gonna finish you off, taemin’s lips will make you feel so good, your legs will be a shaking mess in yukhei’s hands

how to even describe this

it’s an explosion of heat and contractions

you’re going fucking crazy from all that head and tongue action god damn

mark definitely has to swallow a lot of your moans all over the place

and taeyong

also swallows

what a god-loving man

your pussy is leaking enough to feed baekhyun as well

who still strokes himself off while he’s cleaning you up with his mouth, oh boy he really developed a lot of stamina

you have your fun telling him to stop jerking himself off

so his orgasm ends up being ruined

those always mess him up

always a nice sight to have him shaking and whining and gasping

you have to roll over at some point before getting overstimulated

phew that takes quite a couple of deliberate breaths

now you have seven hot guys with sopping wet mouths on your hands, looking at you exhausted and infatuated

that’s super m for you

yukhei, man for the basics he is, hands out towels

you really gotta say he’s kept a clear head in all of this except maybe the sudden foot fetish reveal

of course taeyong towels himself down the most he’s basically covered himself with anything he could get his hands on

that face is dripping like his saturday evening lasagnas 

you help clean mark who kinda lost his mind and heart while kissing you, he needs your care a little more now

baekhyun soon snaps back into organization mode and has the brilliant idea to unpack xuxi’s and jongin’s luggage

to have everyone wearing their gigantic hoodies and sweaters

it’s warm in the room anyway but this feels so much cozier

after going to the bathroom

a ball of cuddly guys is snuggled up all aroud you faster than you can think

mark and taeyong are already sleeping they really knocked themselves out

champs

kai finds the completely forgotten phone somewhere in the sheets and turns off what seems to be a 50 minutes video

that’s gonna be fun to watch some time

baekhyun nuzzles himself to sleep against your sweater, right between your breasts

“mochi mama thank...” are his last words before he drifts off to pineapple pizza land or whatever dreamscape is in his head

probably something much dirtier but anyway

lucas and kai steal kisses from you and go off to sort out the room

jesus christ they still have the energy

taeyong’s nasty lil’ toy collection gets cleaned and reassembled, the ropes get coiled up, the towels wander into a washing machine in the other room

whose steady bumping lulls the rest of you to sleep

while taemin, epitome of taste he is, plays his best of hits on low volume with his phone

dozing off between seven guys while “heaven” is playing? 

best thing ever

the rest is history. you’re surrounded by sleepy cuddly sweater men

you actually sleep for a couple hours

dawntime you wake up cozied and sandwiched between yukhei’s tiddies and jongin’s back

which is the most protected, snug place on earth

even a nuclear superweapon couldn’t explode past that spot

they’re fast asleep

giant baby and teddy bear

safeguarding you in unison

ain’t they adorable

baekhyun is awake silently doing pilates, smiling cutely at you when he sees you’re awake, and he gets a big load of kisses i’m telling you

miraculously everything is tidy and smells fresh, and there’s a light soup in the air...

... lee taeyong got up at 6:30.

he was a whirlwind

the group gets to enjoy a 3-course classic korean breakfast 

because taeyong found the club kitchen

what kind of godly entity is this man

how did he do all of this

the club is the cleanest it’s ever been

taking care of 24 people is probably so difficult, this is actually easy to him

you depart in a good mood because damn that soup was restaurant quality and baekhyun had the idea to give you morning head to which everyone joined in

good thing the club has showers

baekhyun is still horny as hell and you want that D(elight) any time of the day 

so you fuck for a bunch of minutes in his car after dropping off the team and they giving you playful winks

you park the car behind xiumin’s house because that’s the most calm place to be

people are sleeping on xiumnin so hard, no paparazzi are around, ever

baekhyun settles there with you smiling

he didn’t sing “get you alone” with no reason

baekhyun needs that one-on-one time with you to ground himself and love you all over again big time

plus you are dying to cum bouncing on him on the driver’s seat 

while he is desperately gripping the steering wheel to have something solid to hold onto

yeah baekhyun is always ready to lose it for ya

it’s literally such a good spot to fuck

he’s strapped in all underneath you and you can see him squirm and get heart eyes from up close

you also love how your thighs meet the fabric of his pants

baekhyun’s tiny lap is already worth a huge nut you love grinding on him

those shapely thighs

with his cock peaking out from underneath his sweater

what his morning head tongue can do, his dick can do twice with ease so time for round two today

glad you have your bag with some utensils

you’re generous with lube on the condom

in fact you love spilling it over his pants a little

it looks like you’ve been squirting on him that’s why

baekhyun is down for your pervy imaginations

and gets even harder

not bad lil’ guy

time to make him moan with the grip of your walls

mochi breathes pretty hard because damn... more dick destruction

you love burying your hands in his sweater at the shoulders and just fucking ride

his hair gets messy, his bedroom gaze is so intense

his ass still hurts from yesterday but it seems to turn him own judging by the high-pitched groans and his begs for you to bounce on him harder

no problem his dick is just made to be ridden

if this wasn’t a high-tech car from the future with carbon and whatnot anybody could hear baekhyun’s um ‘vocals’ from the outside

this is so much fun oh my god

baekhyun releases with his eyes shut and teeth pressed together, his nose is all scrunched up

jesus this one got to him

he drives you to his home with his fingers shaking a little on the steering wheel

literally tapping like they do in his microphone on stage

yep this shook him up

and insatiable byun is now satisfied byun

nothing better than knowing you ruined your cupcake boyfriend in the best of ways

back at his apartment and after some extra carbo hydrate heavy food, as a pre-nap treat you grind on his thighs and his ass because why not

and gyrate him to sleep with his arms and legs stretched in all directions

both of you are still in disbelief that all of this happened

legend has it you’re dreaming of more group sex ideas that night

the next day taemin sends the champagne video to celebrate your first time together

which brings us back to the start

and that’s how it all happened

now you know

congrats on being a lucky girl

related: super m as subs

FINAL NOTE. ah shit i love this dynamic, thank you for reading 🎊

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts or translations allowed. all depictions fictional.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

*

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

*

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well,��fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

*

[corruptedconfessions]

Yandere!Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Barbarian!Bakugo Restraints - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

 I changed the prompt to be gender neutral along with the rest of the fic!

If anyone wants to send in more Barbarian Bakugo prompts or requests I would love that. Or ask for a pt 2 smut sequel where he fucks you for the first time k thankksss

Also just to cover all the bases, I don’t mention the readers size, but Barbarian Bakugo is b I g. Like fat gum big but with muscles. Tall thicc man, could probably lift a house (jk...unless?)

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

It had all started with a flower.

Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. But the flower stuck out to you. You had been out in the woods, searching for an herb that you needed. As the village healer you tried to keep a high stock of the basics you needed at all times, and the spring this year had brought a round of illness through the village, so your fever suppressing herbs were running low. Which was how you ran across…him.

He had nearly scared you to death, slumped against a tree, a large gash crossing his entire chest, bleeding out sluggishly onto the forest flooring. You were shocked and frightened by his size, he was well over six feet, built like a warrior, all hard edges and muscle. Still, your kind heart gave you no choice other than to stop to help.

“Are you…okay?”

You hesitantly reached out for him, flinching back when his head suddenly snapped up, crimson eyes meeting yours as his face curled into an ugly snarl.

“Do I fucking look okay?”

He moved, almost as if he was going to lunge at you, only to wince collapsing back against the tree when that opened the wounds that had just started to clot shut. Even more red splattered to the ground, matching his eyes as he gave pained ragged gasps.

“You shouldn’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He glared at you even more, giving you a look that just screamed ‘no shit’, you supposed it was a little pointless to say that now, but still.

“Here…let me help.”

You ignored the angered snarls that were aimed at you as you moved closer. He couldn’t do much other than glare at you, and both of you knew it, emboldened by this you stepped closer, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“...I can help you with this.”

His gaze sharpened on you, drifting briefly down to your basket that held the herbs and flowers you had been collecting before focusing back on you.

“The fuck do you mean? I don’t need your shitty help you-”

He cried out collapsing in pain when you pushed against the wound on his chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you did so.

“You were saying?”

He growled gritting his teeth as he glared you down. Oh if looks could kill~

“Tch. Whatever. Do whatever you want, peasant.”

You scowled slightly at him but brushed off the insult, chalking it up to the man probably being scared and in a lot of pain, even if he did put on this tough guy act.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

You spent the entire day tending to the man, running out into the forest and grabbing plants and herbs to help heal him. You carefully made salve for his wounds, tore your own clothes for clothes to wipe him down and wrap him up in. You cleaned his wounds, dressed them, and bandaged them tight. You even gave him plants to chew on to help with the pain, something he took eagerly even if he did bite your thumb.

He was near unconscious by the time you were done, eyes hazy and glazed over. Still he was no longer wincing in pain and as you wiped at his chest it came away clean, showing that the bleeding had stopped. The wounds were still nasty but at least they were properly cleaned and dressed now.

“I’m all finished.”

You sat back, taking in his form, now bathed in the soft beams of the sunset. He almost looked cute like this, rested against the tree, hair glowing and face soft. It reminded you of…

You paused turning slightly to pull a flower out of your basket of herbs-A bright red lily to be exact. You smiled gently at him as you tucked it into his hair, just above his ear.

He snarled at you, snapping his teeth menacingly and causing you to flinch back, but the flower stayed. You couldn’t help but continue smiling gently down at him as you stepped back, meeting his gaze as he glowered at you, a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

Your hands still shook slightly in fright but you couldn’t help but compare his fit to that of a cornered cat. Small, helpless, and yet you always ended up being scratched.

If only you knew how sharp his claws really were then and there. If only you had turned around and left him to bleed out instead of helping him, giving him a fighting chance of surviving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Fire rained down around you, bits of flaming rooftops rained down around you as you ran through the streets of your once peaceful village.

Barbarians. They had swooped in in the dead of night, their war cries piercing the peaceful silence of your village. There was no warning, no mercy, just fire and death.

You dodged the bodies of the people you had grown up with, the people you had loved. You wanted to cry, wanted to mourn, but you needed to keep running, to survive even if they couldn’t. You had gotten lucky, you had managed to hide, undetected as the warriors stormed through your part of the village, and now you needed to run before they came back.

But your luck had already run out.

You had run blindly through the streets, smoke burning your eyes and blurring your vision. You were so focused on the tree line, your only chance of escape that you didn’t even notice the hulking figure standing in the middle of the road, backed turned to you until you quite literally barreled right into him. You grunted as you fell back onto your butt, staring up at the blonde with wide shocked eyes as he turned around. Anger and irritation was on his face until he saw you, a disgusting twisted grin making its place on his blood covered face as he stared down at your trembling form, you stared right back, eyes wide.

It was that man. The man from the woods all those weeks ago. What was he doing here? Was he…was he part of this invasion? Your blood ran cold as he grinned, a cruel sharp grin. His cape blew behind him in the wind, and your eyes couldn’t help but immediately lock onto the decoration hanging from his sword holder.

It was your flower. The flower you had given him. Dried and preserved, pressed between wax and tied to his sword’s sheath. His grin widened when he noticed what you were looking at, his chest puffing out as he stepped closer to you.

“It’s about fucking time. Hows my little bitch doing? You sure made it hard for us to find you~”

You yelped as he leaned down, roughly grabbing your arm as he hauled you off the ground, pulling you against his chest as the arm that wasn’t nearly crushing your wrist wrapped around your waist. You nearly threw up as you were pressed against him, the blood on his chest smearing across your cheek. He smelled like blood, fire, death. The stench strong enough your stomach rolled.

“L-let go of me-!”

Once you were snapped out of your stupor you immediately started hitting feebly at his chest, trying to pull your poor abused wrist from his grasp as you squirmed. Nothing worked, it was like the man was built out of stone, you were unable to move even an inch in his grip and hitting at his chest felt like punching stone. All it did was make him laugh cruelly down at you as he leaned down slightly, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Feisty~ I like that.”

He smacked your ass, grinning and laughing that cruel cackle again when you yelped, jerking in his grip. You squirmed on his shoulder but all that got you was a pinch to your ass and a rough order to hold still as he walked off with you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, he held you up with one arm, you could see from where your head hung upsidedown the muscles in his back rippling as he shifted you.

You were forced to stay limp over his shoulder as he carried you all the way across the village, any squirming or attempts to fight led to pinches to your ass and thighs, hard enough you were sure to be littered with sensitive bruises come morning.

Just as you were starting to get dizzy from the blood rushing to your head you were suddenly pulled off of his shoulder, thrown onto a horse, your captor immediately joining you. A muscled arm wrapped around you, pulling you back to his chest as he yelled out another war cry. You could feel the eyes of other barbarians on you as they joined his cry of victory. You couldn’t help but shake as your ears rang from the noise as it finally hit you as he snapped the stirrups of the horse, propelling the both of you forward. He wasn’t going to kill you, he was going to keep you. Or at the very least take you back to his camp to tear apart before discarding. You couldn’t let that happen! You started squirming again in his hold, tears starting to stream down your face as you shoved at his bloodied chest, hysterical and frightened. The arm that was wrapped around you quickly moved, his hand snapping up to grip your chin tight enough you swore you could hear your teeth cracking under the pressure. Red eyes, bloody red eyes stared down at you as he smirked cruelly, dragging his tongue over his canines as he stared down into your eyes.

“Be a good mate and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

You whimpered weakly, trying your best to shake your head in his grip. He held you there for a moment, making you stare into his blood thirsty eyes, something in your gut told you he was hoping you’d fight back, keep disobeying so he would have an excuse to hurt you. You didn’t give him one.

It seemed to please him anyway as he let go of your chin with an amused chuckle, the tight hold pressing you against him immediately returning as he kept riding off into the woods, his pack of blood covered barbarians following after him.

If only you hadn’t given him that flower.

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 17

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 18

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader)

Chapter: You finally make contact with the Avengers again but everything is not as it seems. Or rather everyone.

Word Count: 1928

A/N: the next 2 chapters are more “Move the damn plot, Mee!” than “yes, brain! Deliver some flowing, symbolic prose!” I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are.

The village was small. Hearty in the way towns are that have crawled out of the wilderness, just barely keeping the wild at bay. It was rugged and worn, and if you’d been there by yourself, you’d have passed right through without marking it.

Bucky pulled the creaking truck beside one of the larger single-story buildings. You’d have guessed the shutters hadn’t been painted since they were installed sometime in the late 1960s. The windows were probably last cleaned around the same time. The concrete wouldn’t need painting. No, eventually it would crumble into the dust whence it came.

For now, the entire side of the building had taken on a soft brown patina; decades of road dust streaked grey with the steady drip of melting snow and ice. Most couldn’t have picked it out of a line-up from the other buildings. Nothing distinguished this one as a government building except the sign in the filthy window of the door advertising its hours of operation. You doubted very much if their adherence was strictly enforced.

“Only library with wifi for the next hundred miles,” Bucky had told you as he gassed up the truck for the drive. You’d yawned and handed him a coffee in a white styrofoam cup. The liquid was black and cloudy as the sky overhead. Even the 3 creams you’d dumped into yours had done little to brighten the stale, hefty brew.

The library door groaned when Bucky drew it open for you. Not the gentle squeak of a place welcoming a new guest. No, this was the deep angry howl of a door stubborn and calloused in its disuse. The woman scowling at you from behind the counter stood as the physical embodiment of the very sound. Grey wisps of hair tumbled out of a hastily tied knot, a worn and grease-stained flannel hung on heavy shoulders over top of a fading wool knit. The collar had begun to fray long ago, as had this woman’s patience.

“Hi.” You offered as pleasant a smile as you could find, a customer service smile, though you were the customer.

The frown didn’t budge one millimeter. Her eyes though, turned to Bucky when he stomped heavy boots on the rug at the door. Muddy slush from the day-old snow dropped off his boots in clumps.

“Please wipe your boots outside,” she scolded.

“The snow’s right up to the door—“

Her head snapped and her eyes burned with the sort of anger only a stern teacher could conjure.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded before cracking the door just enough to knock his boots on the brick wall.

“Do you need somethin’?” she asked you. Not, ‘Can I help you?’ Not, ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’ Not even a, ‘Are you lost?’ This was a terse, ‘Honey, I know you’re lost and I know trouble. I want nothin’ to do with either.’

“Yes,” you jumped forward, matching her eagerness to rush you out. “I’m um… I’m not from here and—“

“Well I can see that.”

Bucky stepped in then, a scowl as deep as her own. He turned it down on you though. If you could kick yourself, you would. One of his rules of being on the run – don’t give away unnecessary information. Not who you are, where you’re going, who’s coming for you, not even what you need. Be nondescript. This was a difficult rule to follow when you were a nervous talker, when your sympathy scale was off the charts and the best way you knew to communicate was to connect in a personal way.

“We need to use your computer,” Bucky said simply. “You have internet here?”

She pointed to a back corner of the building. “Yeah. We even have indoor plumbing,” she grumbled.

“Well, she hates us,” you fidgeted, leaning close to whisper at Bucky’s shoulder as he led the way toward the computers. “You remember people you hate. She’s going to report us or something.”

Bucky chuckled as he looked back at you. “To who?”

“I don’t know… a Mountie? Loki could be anywhere right? Anyone?”

“Loki is from another planet. He’s not Interpol. There’s no hotline running for us. Far as she knows we’re a couple on a fishing trip.”

“Really? You don’t think she’ll remember us?”

He shrugged, pulling a chair over beside the one he took in front of the computer. “She wouldn’t have remembered some idiot who forgot to wipe his boots. Probably gonna remember ‘I’m not from here, please like me,’” he teased, donning a high squeak of a voice.

You smacked his arm with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I sound like.” A glance over your shoulder at the woman unfurling a cough drop at the desk. “She just looks so unhappy. How many  people smile at her in a day, you think?”

“Not enough,” Bucky agreed. Grim places made for grim people. Harsh living and meager needs made even the softest people harden at the edges. Necessity, he called it. Survival.

“See. I might be the weirdo that cowered at the library door, but she’ll have a story to tell her partner when she gets home. Bet she’ll laugh about it.”

Bucky chuckled, sparing a glance over to you as he booted up the software. The computer was ancient and it made a dissatisfied grinding noise at the request.

“You laughed at least,” she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“That wasn’t a laugh,” he argued, failing to stifle a grin. “That was a… a snort at best.”

“Oh come on. There was at least a chortle.”

“A what?”

“A chortle! Look it up, we’re in a library. Ma’am!” you hollered, turning over your shoulder and waving.

“Knock it off!” Bucky laughed, reaching for your arm and pinning it to your side.

“Ma’am, could you point my friend here toward the dictionaries, he needs to look up a word—Umpfh!”

He’d clapped a hand over your mouth, the other still firmly wrapped around your arm, enveloping you thoroughly.

“No, we’re fine with the computer. Internet, so helpful,” he hollered, over your muffled chuckle.

The soft tickle of breath on his hand, the gentle shake of your laughing shoulders set off that warm, brightness in his chest. He was smiling down at you as he let go.

“Well I definitely got a smile, at least,” you nudged when he did lift his hand away. “You don’t smile enough either.”

“I smile.” His brow crinkled, like he wanted to scowl, but then… he would be proving your point. So he kept a half a smirk on his lips.

“Well, yeah, everybody smiles sometimes. But you rarely,  and you never laugh���“

“I do too. I laughed yesterday when you fell on the stairs.”

“That was rude. You didn’t warn me they ice up like that.”

“It was funny,” he shrugged. “You looked like a cartoon. You should’ve seen your face.”

“You should see your face, Sir Scowls-A-Lot.”

“Scowl?” His eyes went wide and the smile threatened to erupt into an astonished laugh.

“Yes. You have the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen.”

“What the hell is RBF…?” he wondered. But by now you were talking over each other, arguing and laughing all at once.

“People say, ‘If looks could kill…’ but, really. When you’re grumpy it’s like… if looks could kill, gimme Captain America’s shield because, nothing could stop those silver bullets.”

“It’s not that bad,” he rolled his eyes, typing away on the keyboard.

“It is. I mean, it’s fine, it’s a good looking face, so it works. But it’s a definite scowl.”

“A good looking face?” His entire visage lit into a grin now. His grey eyes were sharp and glittering like the cat that got the canary.

You were suddenly, glaringly aware that you’d been carrying on about all the little looks you’d noticed about your indefinite bodyguard all while you were still pressed tight against him from shoulder to hip. Heat flooded your cheeks and nose and throat at a record pace as you scrambled for a proverbial ripcord.

“Oh, you know you’re handsome.” When had denial ever worked for anyone? Misdirection, was clearly the way out. “Don’t act like I’m the first person to tell you that.”

He was still as marble for a long moment while you picked at your nails. The grin had dimmed a little, no longer a beaming mischievous thing, it had settled to a gentle warmth. He was Bucky again, the one who carefully assuaged your fears, who listened, who made eggs when hot pockets wouldn’t do.

“No,” he agreed finally and you looked up at the sweet softness of his tone. “First time in a long time it’s mattered to me, though. For some damn reason… I care what you think.”

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony’s voice thrummed angrily through the computer’s speakers. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Bucky took a sharp breath, deep into his lungs, breathing in the last of the stillness between you and taking it with him when he turned to the monitor. “Yeah,” he said and then he was talking to Tony. Something about a Doctor and the big bang and some powerful stones. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky.

Tony was irritable. Fuming, actually. The “doot-doot blub-blub-ting doot-doot” of the videocall ringtone repeated again, fueling the inferno. Waiting on technology was not something he was accustomed to. Waiting for inelegant, vulnerable technology that was too old to exist to project an image of the inside of his offices out into the world, well that would have been an a resolute No before today. But his teammates are nothing if not stubborn. Barnes most of all.

“Finally!” he sighed, leaning forward and peering at the image. “Why is it so grainy. I can’t… That’s a terrible picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Dr. Strange deadpanned beside him.

“No that can’t be it. Connection’s bad or something. They can’t even hear us talking!” He began waving haphazardly at the screen, hoping to catch the eye of the soldier or the stone-keeper.

That’s when he noticed what was actually on the screen. Bucky’s arm around you, tightly. A laugh. The goddamn Winter Soldier, your guardian for this mission, looking down at you as though he…

“Holy shit,” Tony mumbled, leaning closer. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, you have to allow the app to access your microphone,” Strange rolled his eyes, entirely missing the point.

“Hey, Rogers?” Tony called just as Steve strode into the room, slightly out of breath. “I think your bestie has compromised the mission.”

His eyes were glued to the screen as Steve leaned his shoulder with a hand on the desk to get a closer look.

“Indeed,” he hummed through a grin as he watched the screen.

“What?” Tony frowned up at him.

Steve shook his head minutely. “Bucky’s fine. He’s only ever failed one mission. And I’m not this mission.”

Tony’s frown never lifted as his eyes darted over Steve. Doubt clouded them for but a moment. He hammered a quick line of code into the digital projection of a keyboard and swiped the screen away.

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony asked after patching the room’s audio systems through to the rudimentary video conferencing software. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Not a second later, Steve – or rather Loki projecting himself as Steve – noticed a slight shift in the cameras in the room. One after another, they made slow sweeping turns until he stood squarely within each and every frame.

Part 18 >>

[doctors-star]

lister/rimmer for “Oh no, I feel bad- SYKE, no I don’t.” pretty please

“You’re being weirdly helpful today. What do you want?”

Rimmer opens his eyes parodically wide, fingers splayed against his sternum in an elaborate moi? gesture. It is an appearance of surprise and hurt so manufactured that Lister almost wants to applaud the performance, bow at their audience of stars, and abandon the bastard to his machinations. But unfortunately, Lister has been granted prophetic visions of the future and knows with deep and terrible certainty that, were he to do so, he would spend two minutes wandering the empty decks, trip over Kryten’s best mop, slide on one of Cat’s abandoned silk cravats, and go and find Rimmer to bitch about it and hope that he’s doing something more interesting. So, given that interstellar travel is remarkably exhausting, it’s far better to cut out the middleman and instead lie here on the sofa and watch Rimmer direct scutters to haphazardly clean the living quarters inch by mind-numbing inch. They’ve even got little white glove-fingers on their claws, so that Rimmer can demand that they swipe something to test for cleanliness and then bawl them out for miniscule specks no-one else can see. Once, Rimmer had conjured up a white glove for himself and gone round doing the same thing, but when Lister had pointed out that he couldn’t pick up dust and therefore was imagining things, Rimmer had only doubled down harder - so hard that he’d worked himself into a real tizzy about going video-blind, or being permanently stuck with dust on his finger for all eternity, or dying, again, and had needed to go and have a lie down in the dark for a bit. So this is - debatably - an improvement.

Normally, Lister wouldn’t give a toss about Rimmer bossing the scutters about on yet another mad powertrip, but he’s going too far. He’s thrown out all Lister’s mouldering dishes, professing concern for Lister’s health but probably just trying to irritate him, and he’s cleared out the space in the corner of the bunkroom that Lister had hesitantly earmarked for the crib - and in doing so, had thrown out Lister’s third-worst t-shirt, the one with the curry stain vaguely resembling Maggie Thatcher, and which he likes to keep around in order to spit at it every now and then. The final straw, however, had been when Rimmer had nasally informed him that he was getting in the way of the scutters’ gruelling floor-cleaning regime, and that he had better go and put his feet up instead - to keep out of their way, of course.

“When have I ever tried to manipulate you to get what I want?” Rimmer says with a voice which he probably thinks is sweet and just makes him sound like a particularly jammy and unpleasant used-car salesman trying to get off with the seventeen-year-old girls coming in for their first Fiat 500.

Lister narrows his eyes. “Do you want that alphabetised or chronological?”

Rimmer blinks at him balefully, still very much putting it on. “Can’t I just do something nice without an ulterior motive?”

He considers this. “A person could, even if they never have before. You, though, I genuinely think the shock of it would kill you.” Lister spreads his hands invitingly, obligingly lifting one foot out of the way of a scutter before letting it once more dangle over the side of the sofa. “So, out with it.”

Rimmer shifts nervously from one foot to the other, inventing something at speed as though he never expected Lister to call him out on this - in which case, he’s a moron. More so than usual. “I don’t want the twins sleeping in our room,” he blurts out all in one rushed go, and Lister raises an eyebrow. “They’ll - they’ll cry, and keep me up, and I’m not giving up my Learn Esperanto discs for rodent-sized versions of you.”

Lister makes a game show-style incorrect noise and blows a raspberry, just to watch the left side of Rimmer’s face twitch in irritation. “Nope, not happening. They’ll cry so’s I know they need me, so I gotta be here to hear ‘em. Anyway, I wouldn’t make you give up your Esperanto discs - they’ll be better at it than you in a few months.”

Rimmer makes a sucked-lemon face at him. “Your spawn is not piggybacking my learning, the little parasites,” he says sternly.

Lister cups a hand around his ear exaggeratedly. “What was that, little-Listers? Ni estas tre lertaj? Yes,” he says to his still flat stomach in a very gooey voice that makes Rimmer clench and unclench his fists like a prize fighter, “you are very clever!”

Rimmer wrenches one hand up and points at him viciously, the other fingers curled in so tightly that his knuckles go white. “I forbid it.”

Lister sticks his tongue out. “Move out. Anyway, that’s not the reason - you cleared the space for their beds yourself. So, what is it?”

Rimmer narrows his eyes. The scutters start inching towards the door and effecting their escape. “I want to pick the film tonight, and it won’t be Fast and 14ious again,” he says carefully, feeling his way into the lie.

Lister pulls a sympathetic face and makes his game show noise again. “Oh, too bad,” he says, “you know well it’s Cat’s shout tonight so helping me won’t do anything. Anyway, 14ious is the best one.”

“It’s scratched to hell,” Rimmer points out. “We have to make up our own dialogue for the entire second act - last time, Kryten had the central car chase pivot around a shipment of mopheads and got disturbingly into the sex scene immediately following.”

Lister winces briefly at the recollection, but shrugs. “Exactly, it’s the best one. Right, contestant, last chance, remembering that you still have your lifelines: ask the audience, fifty-fifty, phone a friend-”

Predictably, Rimmer frowns. “Phone a friend?”

Internally, Lister pumps his fist. “Sorry contestant, that’s wrong too - you don’t have any friends.” Rimmer offers him a truly poisonous look and Lister nearly falls off the sofa snorting with laughter.

Rimmer folds his arms. “Well, if you know so much,” he sneers. “Work it out for yourself.”

“Nah, ‘cause you’ll just say yes to anything in the hope I’ll shut my gob,” Lister says without taking offence, and Rimmer looks vaguely exhausted. “Come on,” he wheedles, “tell me what’s eating you.”

“Nothing!” Rimmer snaps, unfolding his arms in a jerky motion and stalking off to fold himself into his bunk so that Lister has to awkwardly lean his head over the back of the sofa to see him. “Maybe I just want to live somewhere with basic standards of cleanliness.”

“Yeah,” Lister allows, watching Rimmer rub at the webbing between thumb and forefinger obsessively, as though seeking comfort. “But usually you yell at me until I do it. This,” he says, gesturing at the hard work of the scutters, “could be interpreted as nice, Rimmer, so you’d better do something selfish before the Playboy cover designers get in touch and make you every Miss July for the next century, or something else equally unlikely happens.”

“You’re an unbearable goit with all the standards and appeal of a mangy, leg-humping jack russell.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, explain yourself, you uptight lunatic.”

Rimmer makes a face at his own knees, then looks up, sees Lister watching him, and makes an even unhappier face. “Well,” he says, and then Lister has to wait and listen to nothing but the noise of deep space and Red Dwarf slowly falling apart around them for a good minute. “We ought to be ready for the babies, when they arrive,” he says suddenly, addressing the starched creases in his trousers.

“Which will be in about seven months,” Lister prompts gently, turning around to lean his chest against the back of the sofa and watch Rimmer better. He rubs the back of his neck carefully, tugging at the baby hair under his dreads. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be prepared, but - seven months is a long time, in the depths of space with sod all else to occupy them. Rimmer seems oddly hung up on it. The thought occurs to him like a lead weight in his stomach. “Look, man, I know we never asked for ‘em, but they are coming, so even if you don’t want them around you’ve-”

“No!” Rimmer says sharply, and when he meets Lister’s eyes he knows Rimmer is entirely serious, even though he still doesn’t understand literally anything else about the situation. “It’s not-” he waves a hand at Lister dismissively. Then he fixes his gaze on his hands, and addresses his remarks to those. “Pregnant people are supposed to rest,” he says sternly, “and be undisturbed by - by mess, and noise, and small children.”

Lister feels a frown settle on his brows, and a worry settle in his gut. Rimmer swallows hard, adam’s apple moving like a yo-yo. “Why’s that?” he murmurs gently, as if - if he could only be quiet enough - the question wouldn’t spook Rimmer out of his honesty.

Rimmer shrugs one shoulder. “Stops the baby growing up strong,” he recites oddly. “Mummy said she’d spent so much time running after my brothers that she was worn out with me, and that’s why I was slow.” He sniffs. He looks horribly lonely, and a hundred thousand miles away, and it’s like there’s a fist around Lister’s heart slowly constricting. “And that she might as well keep focussing on them, since I was never going to catch up.”

Lister shakes his head slowly. “Rimmer,” he says, “you’ve got more hang-ups than Elton John’s feather boa rack. I’m not raising the kids like your parents did you, and I’m not going to lie on the sofa for the next seven months doing sod all.”

“Whereas normally you’re such a ball of energy,” Rimmer snipes, but his heart’s not in it.

“Yeah,” Lister agrees calmly, “I’ve a strict schedule of slobbing about in different places and I’m gonna stick to it. Rimmer.” Rimmer flicks his head up guiltily and Lister offers him an exhausted look. “You can’t just decide to only care about my health when it suits your trauma and really annoys me, alright?”

Rimmer frowns. “Why not?” he whinges - which is a surprise, because Lister was anticipating him latching onto the caring thing, and not getting much further.

Lister spreads his hands. “All or nothing, baby,” he says firmly and with cheer, and then shoots Rimmer a wink - which reminds him of the aforementioned caring thing, and sets him off sputtering.

“And - and I don’t care,” he manages in the end. “Watch me not caring, you odious toad.”

“Uh-huh,” Lister says, and then, when Rimmer chances a glance his way, blows him a kiss to make him go all red and cross. It’s really ridiculously endearing.

“This,” Rimmer says, pointing at him, “is a manifestation of my dreadful upbringing, and, and Stockholm syndrome, anyway.”

Lister manages a grin, and lets it go. As he slumps back into the sofa, he can’t help but wish that Rimmer wasn’t probably right - and not just because the man is obnoxious and intolerable on a good day, when he’s wrong - and failing that, that this Stockholm syndrome, this resolute and unbending care that humans apparently manifest for one another despite literally everything when there is nothing else in the universe except a few creeping lifeforms and the persistent love they put out like radiation from a life-destroying nuclear incident, touching everything and making it all complicated - he cannot help but wish that it wasn’t there, or that it was there more, or something. That Lister loved him less, or that Rimmer loved him more, or that there was anything, anything at all, that Lister could do to change that.

But there isn’t, and he hasn’t got a hope in hell of Rimmer ever acknowledging affection without yelling got you afterwards, so he’d better just - stop bothering, really. Lister sighs, and smoothes his shirt over his stomach. He doesn’t care that Rimmer doesn’t want to care. He’s fine about it.

He hears his own brain make the game show noise. In a fit of pique, he removes one vile sock and throws it into the cleared space designed for the cots, and tries not to think about the hair-pulling sense of satisfaction he gets from listening to Rimmer yell at him.

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Come As You Are

Blake: [To Sun] I still don’t think this is necessary.

Sun: C’mon, babe-a-licious, it’s perfect! You’re the life of the party!

Blake: *Raises eyebrow*

Sun: Okay, well you were the life of the party but that’s not your fault.

Yang: Yeah partner, it’s pretty hard to compete with [gestures at her body] all this!

Blake sighed, choosing to ignore that comment and glanced down at herself. They were at a “come as you are” party celebrating something (though it seemed like with the death of the Grimm Queen and the rapid downspike in Grimm activity, plus a collective loss of intelligence in the Grimm, that people didn’t need a an actual reason to party) and the theme was obvious.

So Blake had eventually caved to Sun’s pleas and was busy wearing what was effectively lingerie. A black bandeau top with a cartoonish hole shaped like a cat head (basically a circle with two triangles about where the ears would be) that left little to the imagination as to the size and shape of her boobs and a short black skirt, a studded belt and hanging from the studded belt was a black cat tail. Her ears were on display, she’d drawn whiskers on her cheeks and blackened the tip of her nose but she’d drawn the line at wearing cat paw gloves and slippers and had opted for a sensible pair of heels.

Sun had basically stripped down to a furry yellow speedo and a pair of flip flops and was carrying a bunch of bananas, his own tail swishing back and forth happily.

Yang on the other hand was technically wearing more but it hardly mattered. She’d somehow managed to fit her excessive curves into a skintight bodysuit that was somewhere between a leotard and a corset, her rump barely fitting in the back while Yang’s breasts were all but spilling out of the top. It was sleeveless, she wore no stockings as she was happy to show off her legs and she wore a pair of four inch black pumps and atop a head filled with lightly curled blonde hair was a pair of bunny ears. And as if to prove her statement right, Yang had had eyes on her all night, not that it mattered to the very taken brawler.

Three guesses what she’s was supposed to be and the first two don’t count, Blake thought.

Blake: Such modesty, Yang.

Yang: Pfft, modesty schmodesty. If you got it--

Blake: Let it all hang out?

Yang: *Snorts* You see anything hanging?

Sun: [Uncomfy] Hey, uh, isn’t Jaune supposed to be here? I mean you two did say you were gonna match outfits.

Yang: Yeah, well, lover boy changed his mind last second and refused to share with his loving girlfriend what he was doing.

Blake: You put him in a headlock and demanded he tell you again?

Yang: *Blushes* No! I haven’t done that in years!

Blake: *Waits*

Yang: [Sighs in defeat] I may have tried to smother him.

Blake:*Crosses arms*

Sun: With your--

Yang: With my tits. [Grumbles] I think I’m using them too much if he’s actually developing an immunity.

Blake: [Pleased] There we go.

Still, Blake couldn’t help but smile at the grumpy and still slightly red faced form of her partner even as Sun coughed and tried to pretend that he suddenly found something interesting about Oscar’s exaggerated farmer costume of heavy brown boots, heavy duty dark blue jeans and the black-and-red plaid shirt he had tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up, one hand carrying an actual hay fork.

Blake looked around and saw Ruby in track shoes, track pants and a sports bra with goggles resting at her hairline. She was busy talking to a group of admirers alongside Weiss, who was in a smart pure white pantsuit with a pale blue blouse beneath that really was no different from her everyday wear as the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. The only additions being a clipboard and a pair of fake eyeglasses to sell the look, her hair dun up in a bun.

Nora was wearing a horned helm of some sort, sleeveless chainmail that left her biceps open to admire and brown leather bracers on her forearms. She wore studded black leather pants that showed off an equally powerful lower body and furred boots. A red cape was tied around her neck and the young woman had Magnhild over her shoulder and was darting about excitedly, other partygoers ducking to avoid getting smashed over the head by the low hanging hammer.

Blake wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be, but the same went for Ren who wore poofy white pants, black flats (slippers? She didn’t know) and a green jacket that was similar to his first outfit, but he could hide his hands in his sleeves and rather than buttons, there was a length of white rope that tied it together. He was busily following Nora, trying to ensure she didn’t cause any brain damage in her hyperactive state.

Otherwise Neptune was wearing a toga and a golden circlet of equally golden leaves native to Mistral with strappy brown leather sandals. Sage was across the room wearing a ceremonial robe that was unfamiliar to the Menagerie born faunus with a wooden staff and Scarlet was both dressed as a stereotypical pirate and was clearly flirting with Yang’s uncle, who’d been lazy and added a small top hat and wraparound shades and was drinking liberally from a flask.

There were others they knew but the only others she could see at the moment were Fiona Thyme in what looked like wool footie pajamas and Maria Calavera in a hooded cloak, upside down and...doing a kegstand with two men near her age holding her feet, wearing what looked like a gimp suit, the other in slacks, suspenders, a bow tie and nothing else!?

Blake’s head snapped back to Yang who was staring, disturbed, at the same scene. Blake shuddered. Sun shrugged.

Sun: At least the old lady’s having fun.

Yang: Yeah. Kinda wished her fun didn’t make me wanna bleach my eyeballs though. [Grouchily and quiet] Where is he? I swear, if he’s skipping out on me...

Blake: I’m sure he’s just--

A ripple of laughter cut her off and Blake blinked, looked and--

Blake: [Disappointed] Late. *Big sigh* Oh boy.

Sun: [Breaks down into snorting laughter, turns away to avoid potential Yanger]

Yang: [Spins] What’s--

Jaune had arrived, but instead of whatever he’d agreed to wear with Yang he was wearing a large, stereotypical trash can around his torso with his bare arms moving awkwardly at his sides, his bare legs waddling slightly in the clanging and clunking costume. On his brightly grinning head was the top to the trash can, held in place by a strap that went under his chin.

Yang: [Sputtering incoherently]

Ruby: [Distantly] Yang, that’s so mean!

Yang: [Distressed] I didn’t--

Weiss: [Distantly] For shame, Yang Xiao Long.

Yang: [Upset] Nooo, it’s not--

Partygoer: Wow. Poor guy. [To his girlfriend] Please don’t ever do that to me. [Girlfriend hugs his arm]

Yang: [More upset] I swear--

Scarlet: [Finally looks over] *Squawking laughter*

Yang: [Even more upset] Stop, it’s seriously not--

Qrow: [Disappointedly] Firecracker. We raised you better.

Yang: [Can’t decide whether to cry or explode; pouts at Jaune while trying to glare] Baby, we talked about this!

Jaune: [Happily smiling] You talked. I ignored. Besides, everybody’s perfectly in character! Who am I to deny my nature!?

Yang: *Unhappy teakettle noises*

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

Dragonslayer’s probably my favorite RWBY ship, Black Sun’s leagues better than Bumblebee (IMPO) and I really couldn’t help myself here.

[thebiscuiteternal]

“A Bird in the Hand” Friendship <3, Mutual Interests (Sorta Not Really), Hidden Identities, Kidnapping, The Ship Is A Huge Spoiler Sorry

__________

Having decided he was going to lose his mind if he had to listen to the constant chatter about scores and techniques for one more moment, Nie Huaisang quietly slips out of the dining hall and heads out into the early evening air.

Just a little time to himself to clear his head, that’s all he needs. A short walk, and then he’ll go back. If Da-ge gets upset about him wandering off here… well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

Movement in the bush next to him startles him a little, but not enough for him to miss that the small reddish-pink form darting out of the leaves is flying very oddly.

Wing damage at the very least, he calculates. If he doesn’t intervene, it’s probably going to be a predator’s meal soon.

Concern replaces his earlier exasperation; he changes course from the path he’d been planning to take and begins tracking where it might land next instead. 

---

The erratic flight pattern makes his task a little more difficult, but there is still a bit of light left in the sky when he finally snares the wounded and bedraggled puff of feathers -a rosefinch, one he hasn’t ever seen this particular color and pattern of- and very gently deposits it in his lap. 

“Shh, you’ll be fine,” he soothes, carefully rubbing the poor thing’s cheek with a fingertip to calm it down before reaching into his sleeve for his usual pouch of supplies. “See? I’m here to help.”

Once the bird is gorging itself -no, himself- on seeds, he begins inspecting and carefully cleaning the injuries. He was right about the wing, plus there are nasty cuts to a leg and another to the neck. Claw marks, most likely. “Poor darling, you must have just escaped a cat,” he coos softly as he takes out thread and thin strips of cloth.

“Interesting.”

Nie Huaisang only just barely manages to avoid jostling his patient when he jumps slightly at the unexpected new voice, then freezes when he turns his head to find a young man wearing red and white robes. “Ah! I’m sorry if I entered a restricted area, I just-”

“It’s fine,” the Wen stranger says with a smile. “You haven’t left the guest territories yet.”

“Oh… good. That’s good.” The rosefinch cheeps in his lap and pecks his hand and he looks down and clicks his tongue as he resumes threading the needle he’s holding. “Demanding now that I’ve been nice enough to feed you, aren’t you?”

“May I observe while you work?”

He doesn’t hear the Wen disciple move at all, so when he looks up and finds the young man standing barely a step away, he has to restrain himself from scooting away on reflex. “Er- I suppose? Most people don’t want to,” he says, watching as his new companion takes a seat on a rock next to him.

Up close, there is something slightly unnerving about him. It's the same feeling he notices when Da-ge is trying to intimidate people around him less, like there's something big and dangerous being forced into a too-small hide.

Nie Huaisang swallows and ducks his head, reaching into the supply pouch to produce more seeds for his patient. He finishes prepping the needle and gently coaxes the rosefinch into a better position, feeling an intense gaze on him all the while as he begins the first neat, tight stitches. The bird makes an unhappy noise of pain, but more seeds and petting keeps him from attempting to escape and he only cheeps grumpily to himself as Nie Huaisang works.

"You're very skilled to make it trust you so easily."

Despite himself, he feels his face heat at the rare compliment. Though Da-ge and their cousin Nie Zonghui often try not to get bored whenever they visit the aviary, the only person who’d ever actually been interested in watching this sort of thing was-

He bites his lip and shoves that thought aside. “It’s a lot of practice in patience, mostly,” he says as he finishes with the leg and turns his attention to the wounds that might need to have feathers clipped for proper treatment. “You have to learn how they work, how to follow them without getting them so stressed they accidentally hurt themselves worse, observing flight patterns, all that.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to put in for someone who so infamously avoids it.”

Nie Huaisang stiffens, then forces himself to calm down.

Stupid. He’s wearing Qinghe colors and this disciple probably just saw him hanging around Da-ge. He’s not hard to identify, and his reputation… well.

Still, the unease lingers, though he tries to shake it off by remaining focused on his task. By now the rosefinch is comfortable enough with him that he’s able to gently remove some damaged and bloody feathers. “I just… I like doing this. That’s all.”

“Understandable. A reward only counts as a reward if you want it.”

It’s gotten dark enough for people in the buildings down the path to begin lighting their lanterns, but he’s well-acquainted with working in such conditions. He finishes the neck and wing injuries quickly, the strange disciple remaining in his spot for the duration. 

“There we go, all ready to get better,” he croons sweetly, coaxing the finch to his shoulder, where the bird snuggles into his collar. 

An elegant hand reaches into his view. “May I?” the disciple asks.

“If he’ll let you,” Nie Huaisang says, tilting his head to give space. The rosefinch is having none of it, however, and ducks to hide under his hair with a grouchy little squawk, tiny claws pricking at the nape of his neck. “Or not. Sorry about that.”

The other man’s lips curve in amusement as he draws his hand back. “It’s fine. Patience, as you said.”

Nie Huaisang begins packing up his pouch. The unease from before has faded into a more readily ignored feeling, especially since the disciple hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it. “Do you want to walk back to the pavilion? Da-ge won’t be happy if I stay out much longer. He’s probably not happy with me for staying out this long already, actually.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the other man says as he stands and needlessly dusts his clothing. “But I live in a different part of the compound.” Another smile, slow and interested in a way that makes Nie Huaisang’s face grow warm again. “There are still two more days left in the tournament. Perhaps we’ll cross paths another time.”

“Ah- well- shouldn’t I know your name, then? You already know mine.”

The strange disciple bows, smooth and sharp, not even a fold of cloth wrong. “This humble one is simply Han-er. I look forward to our next meeting, Nie-er, gongzi.”

It is only later, after Nie Huaisang has returned to his own room with the rosefinch, that he realizes somewhere the ‘perhaps’ had become a certainty.

---

They do cross paths again, more than once, in fact. 

After the second encounter, Nie Huaisang can’t help but notice that Han-er always seems to find him when he’s entirely alone. 

A spy, maybe? 

Maybe not. He’s been keeping track, and Han-er has never asked him anything particularly pointed about Da-ge or their cousin or anything about them that might be considered ‘vital information’, just the occasional offhand curiosity about their relationship dynamics. Their sects may be on bad terms -very bad terms- but Han-er has been nothing but polite.

By the time of their fourth meeting, he feels guilty for ever having had such suspicious thoughts about the man.

“And how is Minsheng doing this morning?”

“Besides being crushed under the weight of such an auspicious name?” Nie Huaisang asks cheekily, earning another of those amused smiles.

“You cannot deny he has earned it.”

He can’t, really. Once no longer in constant pain, Minsheng has become chatty enough that the finch has received at least one threat of being roasted and eaten.  “He’s recovering at a good pace. I worry about taking him home, though. With the differing climate, he’ll be miserable while his feathers are growing back in.”

Han-er inclines his head and looks away. “Why not leave him with me?” he asks after some consideration. “I do not have your experience, true, but our time has been... enlightening. And he likes me well enough, now.”

It’s… not a bad idea, really. If Nie Huaisang changes the bandages again just before he leaves, all that should be left to do surgery-wise would be to remove the stitches, and he’s seen that Han-er has a steady enough hand for that… “I can draw up some notes for you this afternoon and deliver them and Minsheng before the closing ceremony, would that be alright?”

“Perfect.”

---

He doesn’t actually see Han-er again before his sect departs to go home to Qinghe, having been forced to leave Minsheng and his notes with a guard who’d smirked at him in an extremely discomforting way. It brings back the troubled feeling lurking in the back of his head and leaves him unsure whether he’s unhappy to have missed the meeting, or somehow relieved. 

When word comes several days later that the Cloud Recesses have been burned, he decides on relief.

---

His stomach churns unhappily in a mix of unsatisfied hunger and nausea as they’re dismissed back to their cells after another day of grueling work and so very little food. Each step feels like he’s trying to slog through knee deep mud, and by the time he makes it to their designated hallway, he’s starting to feel dizzy.

Something… something’s wrong. Had the food been spoiled? But no, no one else seems to be...

“Young master?” asks one of the other Nie disciples.

“I’m fine,” he lies, even as it feels like the floor rolls under him like the deck of a boat.

He falls and doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

When he opens his eyes again, the disorientation persists. Something noisy is going on nearby and whatever he’s lying on, it’s too comfortable to be the paper-thin pallet mattress he’d been subjected to for over a week.

This isn’t his cell… Where…?

What is that noise?

Confused, head swimming, he tries to sit up and finds that his hands have been bound behind his back. Before he can start to panic, gentle hands squeeze his shoulders and assist him in rolling over. 

He dimly registers that the sound he’s hearing is the chattering of a bird.

But why would there be a bird-?

A familiar figure leans over him, long fingers sweeping his hair out of his face and down his cheek in an affectionate caress. For the briefest moment, he is grateful to see the face of… perhaps not a friend, but at least someone he knows.

Then ice cold terror seizes his insides when his eyes register the crown on the man’s head.

The Eternal Sun.

“Tell me, little bird,” Wen Ruohan says, smile sharp as a knife’s edge and gaze hungry. “Was I patient enough?”

__________

((Author Note: Okay, so, like, if I’m not remembering wrong, Novel!Ruohan is described as ridiculously young-looking because of his high cultivation. Like, we’re talking 19-ish even though he and Jin Guangshan are the only Great Sect leaders who have at least one fully adult child at the time of the Phoenix Mountain competition. So I thought, what if he leaned in to it? Suckered the other sects by having an older proxy take his place at meetings and conferences so that no one actually knows what he looks like except for some of the Wen Sect’s inner circle?))

[catflorist]

The Time Being (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: Time-slipping is a side effect of wielding the Rinnegan. When Sasuke slips through time, he always goes to Sakura, whether he wants to or not. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

warning: this chapter contains mentions of death, and also orochimaru displays some possessive behavior over sasuke.

pt. 2: ocean

“You are weak,” Orochimaru hissed, a lazy foot pinning Sasuke’s chest to the ground.

Sasuke glared up at the snake Sannin. “I’m not weak.” In the dim torchlight of Orochimaru’s hideout, his power grew by the day.   His new mentor was unimpressed. “You’re not committed. Don’t waste my time if you’re still holding on to your silly village.” He released Sasuke. “You must choose.”

That night, Sasuke saw the faces of the people he had left behind, because the Sharingan kept him from forgetting. But Sasuke had already made his choice. He was already here, wasn’t he? He would do anything to kill Itachi and avenge his slain clan. Nothing else mattered.

He lit a fire in his mind’s eye. Everything burned away, except for Itachi’s face, and the shape of his own hatred. He learned to cut away stray thoughts of his old life, his teammates. He dismissed the time-slipping as a fluke, as inexplicable as the way his curse mark boiled his blood and infused him with strength. As he grew more powerful, the task of rewriting himself became easier and easier, until it was nothing at all.   At the hideout near Kusagakure, Sasuke turned fourteen, then fifteen. Orochimaru never called him weak again. Instead, when he looked at Sasuke, his gaze was hungry, like he might consume him. If Sasuke didn’t already know the Sannin wished to claim his body as a vessel, he would have known with one look at his sallow face. The desire was obvious. It grew as wild as brambles around Sasuke. But Sasuke used the thorns as his shield and protection as he cultivated his hatred and his power, clearing a path towards vengeance for his clan.   One day Orochimaru led Sasuke to his own sprawling quarters and hissed, “I have a gift for you,” and presented Sasuke a purple obi. When Sasuke knotted it around his waist, Orochimaru trailed a possessive finger over the thick cord. His pale hands trembled. Sasuke pretended not to see.   Kabuto called for Orochimaru, and Sasuke was alone in the Sannin’s dark chamber. Dust coated everything in sight except for an ornate vanity and mirror in the center of the room. These fixtures gleamed even in the dark. Askew on the surface of the vanity lay jars of fine white powder, pots of creamy greasepaint, and vials swirling with green liquid, for which Sasuke could name no purpose. 

Sasuke dipped his fingers into an open jar of paint. The purple pigment was tacky on his skin, like drying blood. He eyed the collection of brushes Orochimaru used to paint his face. The bristles of each brush tip varied in color and texture. They were composed of human hair. Sasuke frowned, then locked eyes with his reflection in the mirror.   For the first time since he had joined Orochimaru, Sasuke had the opportunity to look at himself. The mirror revealed long dark hair falling past his collarbone. A loose, white shirt carelessly flung open to reveal his bare chest. An obi, purple as poison, coiled like a snake around his waist. A dissatisfied mouth, slanting down. Red, red eyes that absorbed all light and reflected none back. In a trance, he pulled his hair back from his face. Itachi peered back at him. Sasuke recoiled and dropped the ponytail.   In his own chamber Sasuke cut his hair as short as he could get it with a kunai. When it was done he felt the jagged and uneven spikes and let out a breath. He was not Orochimaru’s vessel. He was not a Konoha shinobi. He was not Itachi. He was his own. . . Sasuke’s old teammates infiltrated Orochimaru’s lair.    Through Orochimaru’s network of spies, Sasuke had heard word of Sakura’s healing abilities, and her defeat of Sasori of the Akatsuki. He could not help staring at her, trying to sense the difference. But when her mouth formed the syllables of his name, his ears rejected the sound of her voice.   He had not heard any news of Naruto. Sasuke tested his abilities and found him wanting.   The encounter was short and inconsequential. Sasuke had done his work well. He didn’t feel a thing. Nothing, not even his old teammates, could keep him from fulfilling his purpose. 

Half-asleep in bed that night, he remembered how Naruto’s nose twitched right before he smiled. 

Sasuke opened his eyes and frowned at his ceiling, shutting down the intrusive thought.

He remembered another half-forgotten detail. Sakura’s knees bruised easily. 

Spots colored Sasuke’s vision. He gasped, fighting a flood of nausea.

Rain pattered upon a wooden roof. The air smelled like salt.   Sakura’s hair was long. She said, “It’s you.”   By the time Sasuke activated the glare of his Sharingan, he was back in his bed.   He shot up, fingers still tingling, far more shaken than he would like.   Sasuke had learned to harness the power of his curse mark. He had mastered the chidori, the Sharingan, and all of Orochimaru’s tricks. He had overcome his weaknesses and cut away all ties to his old life. How could this be happening? . . The next time, Sasuke lunged at Sakura even before the tingling in his fingers faded.   Sakura let out a grunt. Her forearm blocked his assault. When they made contact Sasuke’s stomach lurched. Her body felt solid and very real. 

Sakura sprang backwards and held up her hands. “I don’t want to fight you.”   Sasuke darted towards her again. She twisted his arm and flipped him to the ground. His back connected with the floor with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.  

Long pink hair dangled in his face. He tried to move, but an iron grip pinned him down. “Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry.   “How did you get so strong?” he demanded.   A small bubble of laughter escaped Sakura.   Sasuke’s stomach turned in a familiar falling motion. He lurched up in his own bed, the sound of her laugh ringing in his ears, and spit out a curse. 

The last person to pin Sasuke down in a fight was Orochimaru. Two years ago. 

When he had attacked Sakura, he hadn’t even bothered to use his doujutsu. He had underestimated her. . . Sasuke knew he would slip again, as if he had activated his Sharingan and seen the shape of the instinct with his own eyes. He prepared himself. As he cooled from the previous encounter with Sakura, he decided it would not be wise to attack her. Instead, he would use the visits to his advantage and gather information.   The next time, he was ready.   The scent of salt filled his nose. Sasuke was alone in a one-roomed, lofted shack. He rushed to the nearest window. Morning sun illuminated a rocky coastline, which eased into sand and then an endless expanse of blue ocean. Two tall rock formations studded the water and distant mountains cut into the sky. This landscape appeared nowhere near Konoha.   Sasuke released his grip on the windowpane and assessed his surroundings. The room was bare save for a table, a bookshelf, and two chairs positioned next to the small hearth. A row of large seashells decorated its mantle. He caught a glimpse of bedding tucked away in the loft high above his head. A dark cat dozed on the kitchen counter next to a stack of wooden bowls.   The door creaked open, inviting a gust of wind into the room. Sakura halted in the doorframe, carrying a wooden bucket heavy with seawater. She wore loose pants and a man’s shirt. A diamond marked the center of her forehead.

“Sasuke,” she greeted, brow furrowed. A strange expression—something he couldn’t name—rose then fell from her face. 

“Am I not who you expected?” Sasuke bit.   Sakura’s mouth twitched. “Not quite.”  

“Where are we?” he asked.   “My place,” Sakura said, shutting the door with a swing of her hip. She set the bucket on the floor.   The dark cat slunk down from the kitchen counter and leapt into Sasuke’s surprised arms. 

“Her name is Hime,” Sakura said, as the cat made herself comfortable on his shoulder, as if she were royalty.

“Why is this happening?” he demanded. But with a cat purring next to his ear, he imagined he did not form the threatening picture he wanted.   Sakura validated his concerns by asking, “Do you want some tea? Or if you’re hungry, I collected mussels. They’re best when they’re fresh.”    He snorted.   “You’re already here, aren’t you? Might as well enjoy yourself.” She smiled. Her fingers twitched. “Unless you’re interested in another fight.”   Sasuke’s fists clenched. I am here for information, he reminded himself, and took a reluctant seat at the table. Sakura poured two cups of tea, though he had not asked for any, and sat across from him.    Sasuke asked, “What year is it?” The cat sprang from his shoulder onto his thigh.   Sakura named a date five years ahead of his own.   “Where are we?”   She smiled.   “What’s happened to the village?”   Silence. Konoha might have burned to the ground, or Sakura might be Hokage. Sasuke could not read her.   Another question burned in his throat, one he had not planned to ask, but it escaped him anyway. “Do I…” He swallowed. “Do I kill Itachi? You must know.”   He thought her eyes saddened. Or maybe it was the light.   “Answer me,” he snapped.   Sasuke had spent nights envisioning what might happen the next time he slipped—the questions he could ask Sakura, the knowledge he would gain. But he had not considered the simple possibility that she would resist answering him. He had not foreseen the cup of tea steaming before him, the cat curled in his lap.   “I’m sorry you’re hurting so much,” she said.    Sasuke shot up, jostling the table. His teacup toppled over. The cat let out an unhappy cry and darted out of sight.   “Don’t act like you know me,” he spat, blood rushing to his head.   He was speaking to the shadows of his empty room. . . Sasuke returned to this Sakura at the seaside time and time again.    It always happened when he was tired, half-asleep, his guard down. He worked himself to the bone, hoping fatigue would fend away the unwanted journey. It did not.   Sasuke bombarded her with questions. Sakura responded with jests, frustrating half-truths, or silence, until Sasuke stopped asking. He had failed to adopt Orochimaru’s slick and persuasive nature. Any information he learned was at Sakura’s mercy.   Sometimes when he arrived, Sakura was making breakfast. Feeding the cat. Sitting by the hearth, playing a game of shogi with herself. “Tea?” she asked, each time. 

Sasuke would slam the door on the way out. If he couldn’t control his visits, he could at least limit his exposure to Sakura. The wooden shack was perched on the first patch of firm ground by the water. He stared at the ocean until he slipped back to his own time.    His visits were brief, until one time, it wasn’t.   Sakura was up in the loft, folding her bedding. She fluffed a pillow and made no comment at his appearance. 

Sasuke dodged the cat’s affections. He sat cross-legged against the side of her small home and waited for the vertigo that meant he was on his way. Half an hour passed, but it did not come.   At the sound of a creaky door, Sasuke opened his eyes.   Sakura strode outside with a wooden bucket. “You’re still here,” she observed.   Against his better judgement, Sasuke spoke. “I’d rather not be.”   “You look tired.”   “It’s the middle of the night,” he insisted, squinting in the morning sun. A bird chirped cheerfully in the middle of his sentence.   “Well,” Sakura said. She situated the bucket on her hip. “Don’t let me keep you.”   This concluded their second-longest conversation. Sakura walked down to the tide pools, waded calf-deep in the water, and collected mussels. He was still here when she returned, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the stone path.   Water sloshed from Sakura’s bucket. “Are you hungry?” she called, already smirking in anticipation of his refusal.   He glared.   Sakura was not done. She touched a finger to her chin. “You like sitting here. I’ll build a bench,” she decided.   “Don’t,” Sasuke advised.   Next time, a bench waited outside her house. The material was the same smooth wood as the house, though Sasuke didn’t see any hardwood trees around.    He scowled, but he sat down. The cat joined him, then Sakura joined him.   “When was the last time I was here?” he sighed.   “Three days ago.” Sakura set an extra cup of tea between them, which Sasuke ignored. “And you?”   “Last night.” He rubbed his temples. “And the night before that.”   “No wonder you’re tired,” she said, scratching Hime between her ears.   Sasuke sprang a question. “Why aren’t you in Konoha?”   “I like the ocean,” Sakura said, without skipping a beat.   “Since when?” he muttered. They had seen the ocean together once, on their first mission. He didn’t remember Sakura making any particular fuss about it.   The half-smile on her face faded. “I’m here because I’m waiting for something.”   Something in her voice made Sasuke’s head turn. He allowed himself to really look at Sakura, to see what she would be like in five years' time. Her hair was long again. Her limbs were wiry and powerful emerging from the men’s clothing she now wore. Her chin was just as delicate as he remembered, her eyes just as green, reflecting the sea.   “What are you waiting for?” Sasuke asked. The rocky ceiling of his chamber gave no response. . . On Sasuke’s sixteenth birthday, Orochimaru procured another gift for Sasuke. He held out a thin wooden box and opened the lid for him. A delicate wooden comb lay in its plush interior.   “For your hair,” the Sannin said.   Sasuke nearly smiled. He was unversed in the finer details of gift-giving, but even he knew that kushi made inauspicious gifts.   “Don't worry about good or bad luck, Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru assured. He grasped the comb and ran a thumb across its slender wooden teeth, producing a musical vibration. “We won’t need any of it.”   He stepped closer and ran the comb through the front lock of Sasuke’s hair. He was gentle, practicing ownership of his future vessel.   Sasuke froze through the first stroke of the comb, and the next. Then the fine teeth snared on a tangle. Awakened by the twinge of pain on his scalp, Sasuke pulled back. The hairs stood up on his arms.   Orochimaru would soon try to claim him. But Sasuke was stronger than Orochimaru. He fell asleep that night thinking about his next steps.    He woke up and blood was dripping from his eyelashes, clogging his ears. He retched at the scent, acid rising to his throat. He saw his parents’ slumped bodies. He saw Itachi’s red eyes. He heard every sound a clan made as it was slaughtered, then the terrible silence after the screaming had stopped.   His fists clenched in his blankets, but his fingers closed around sand.   There was an ocean in front of him.   Sasuke was chest deep into the cold water when he realized he was not splattered in the blood of his nightmare. He plunged under anyway, because he still felt unclean. He floated in the darkness, his body bobbing with the tide. After some time, his lungs panged in a distant way. He opened his eyes, feeling the burn of the salt. The pain in his lungs worsened until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Sasuke broke the surface and gasped for air.   When he emerged from the waves, Sakura was waiting for him on the beach. She held out a blanket.    Leave me alone. Sasuke opened his mouth to spit out the words. But he hesitated. Accepting Sakura’s blanket changed nothing in his own time. It would only make his existence a little warmer and drier for the time being. Nothing he did here in this dreamlike world changed anything at all.   Sasuke wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. It was soft and heavy, and smelled of something fresh. Dimly, he remembered this was Sakura’s scent. He dropped to the ground to ease the shaking of his legs. 

Without a sound, Sakura sat next to him. She did not touch him, did not look anywhere except the water. Sasuke dried his face, then ran his fingers through the cool sand, grounding himself. All was quiet except for waves crashing against the pair of rock formations.

As he was slipping back, she spoke. “Take care, Sasuke-kun.”   Sasuke fell into a dreamless sleep. In the morning his clothes were stiff with seawater, flecked with salt and sand. Something hard and round pressed against his palm. Sasuke opened his fingers and discovered he was holding a pebble. Its surface was smooth as water, and it was the same color as the moon.  . . It was another night, and instead of sleep, Sasuke was pulled to Sakura.   She joined him outside. The morning sun shimmered on the water.   “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Like usual, she offered Sasuke tea. As Hime purred against his leg, Sasuke’s fingers wrapped around the cup.    “Hm,” Sakura said, watching him. “If I remember right, this is the last time.”   “The last time?” Sasuke repeated.   “The last time you’ll come here.” She took a sip of her tea. “It’s not the end, though. You’ll see me elsewhere. In other times.”   Sasuke remembered the other Sakura he had met, the first time he had slipped. She was crying, and Sasuke had held her hand. He had tried to forget.   But that wasn’t the first time. An old dream—what Sasuke thought was a dream—came back to him in a rush. A woman with pink hair had given him breakfast. She was pregnant. Her baby had kicked.   Something must have shown on his face, because Sakura said, “I know this is strange. It’s been strange for me too.”   “You know what this is—why this is happening. At least say that much.” Though he tried, his voice had no heat.    “Yes,” she said. “I know why this is happening.”   “How do you know?” he asked.   Maybe he asked the right question, because for once, Sakura gave him a blunt answer. “I know because you told me.”   Sasuke’s throat went dry. “Sakura—”

He didn't know where he was going with that sentence, but it didn't matter. He slipped away. . . . .

Up next: Sasuke forms his team, learns the cause of his time-slipping, and makes some decisions.

Notes: Combs (kushi) are considered bad luck when given as gifts--"ku" means suffering and "shi" means death. This chapter and chapter 7 are my favorites, so I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you did!!

late update bc I was swept away celebrating how trump was voted out of office!!! he can now f*ck off :)

[lemondropsssss]

ok so i accidentally posted the wrong version of this first chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows how i managed that, here’s the actual version with like, finished thoughts and shit. this story is on ao3 here

.

The mountain happens.

Words are said in a moment of anger and fear. Terrible words. The Witcher couldn't have hurt him more if he'd used his sword. Jaskier has made Geralt angry before, but this? This was different. This time he means it.

So he walks away.

Doesn’t get the stories from the others. He stops at their campsite and packs up his gear as quickly as he can. He knows there’s a few of his items in Geralt’s pack but he ignores them. Rooting through the man’s belongings with abandon is not something he should be doing anymore.

His ears are ringing and all he can hear is the steady thud of his heartbeat and the beat of his lute on his back as he walks.

His lute. Jaskier stops short and quickly pulls the instrument from its case. Still as beautiful as the day Filavandrel had given it to him, barring one small dent when he’d used the poor girl as club. He’d taken out four of the bandit’s teeth with that blow. Geralt had smiled at him.

Now thinking of that moment brings bile to his mouth, and he retches horribly into the tall grass. The rushing in his ears gets louder and louder. His grip tightens and he can hear the unhappy twang of pressed strings.

He needs to get it away from him as humanly possible so Jaskier grips his lute and flings it far over the mountain side. He doesn't hear it hit the ground, but knows there will be nothing left of it but scrap.

Good.

He keeps walking.

Jaskier is alone, half drunk on lack of sleep and actual drink from his hipflask when it happens. When the last twenty-two years of his life fragments around him.

It's the fucking metalsmith's that triggers it; one second he's ambling down the road in the vague direction of an inn, tavern, or otherwise amenable hayloft. And the next second he's brought to his knees by the smells of worked leather, hot steel, sword oil, and some burnt tang in the air he can't even name. It's distinctly Geralt and it breaks him.

Memories fall around him like shards of glass; cutting his skin until a biting stinging hurt is all he can feel. And when the pieces shatter they dig into him; flaming shards of the last decades burrow deep into him, the hurt taking root in his bones and the soles of his feet. And every piece sounds like...

Shut up, bard

Fuck off, Jaskier

Go away, boy

Why do you never listen?

He wanted you gone

You shouldn’t be here

He doesn’t like you

This is where we part, bard

He wanted to be rid of you

It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling

He’s telling you everything you need to know why don’t you take the hint you stupid useless excuse of a man

If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands

For once in your life do as your told

It takes Jaskier three months to get from the dragon mountains to Oxenfurt. Apparently, destroying his main way of generating income isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. It also doesn't help that most of the coin he does find he in turn spends primarily on wine and not say, getting to his destination in a timely fashion.

Cresting the hill, Oxenfurt is just as beautiful as he remembered it. He slogs through the city, thinking wistfully of one of Geralt's more useful talents; scaring other travelers well away meant less time pushing and shoving through people to get anywhere.

When he finally reaches the great carved gates to the University he’s stopped by two guards before he can even think to step closer.

“This entrance is for students, faculty, and the academics. Giving Door is around the back.” The guard gestured over his shoulder towards the back side of the citadel where Jaskier knew there was a free kitchen and a place to get staple supplies run by the University.

“Oh, but I am faculty, good sir,” He says with an easy smile. No need to antagonize the nice men with pointy sticks. “Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, at your service.” He mimes tipping his cap. The guards are not impressed.

It takes some wheedling, but soon the dean is summoned and Jaskier is recognized and clapped firmly on the shoulder and after just a little too long of the bowing and scraping and speaking of payment and contracts and gods cursed lesson-plans before Jaskier is allowed to retire to his rooms.

The rooms are as he left them, though he suspects that while he was being held captive by the dean someone came in to sweep, dust, and open the windows.

Here he is. Home. Or as much as passes for it anymore. He’d thought that Geralt was his home but- no. No. If he was going to do this and be here, he has to put that fanciful life aside. He has to accept that he doesn’t belong in the worlds of magic inhabited by witchers and sorceresses and powerful princesses. He was a bard. Less than that, he was a bard without an instrument.

Well then.

Time for a change.

The next morning he takes a long bath. His traveler's beard is scruffier than he likes, so he trims and shapes it carefully until he’s satisfied. It's important to look the part. He'd managed to squirrel away a hefty sum over the years, so he goes down to the city on a mission.

He buys new shirts, trousers, doublets, boots, coats, gloves. All in muted earth or jewel tones; burgundies, rusts, indigos, navies, and soft tawny browns. No black. He gets his hair cut shorter, something more fitting a professor at a prodigious university and not some fumbling idiot following a man who clearly doesn’t care for him.

When Jaskier gets home he carefully packs everything from his life with Geralt into a chest. His clothes, cloak, packs, songbook, and some small treasures children had given them as thanks. He grabs the last one, a crudely carved wooden cat. Geralt had been given this by an eight-year-old girl in some backwater village plagued by a nasty band of nekkers. She’d been so proud of her work, even Geralt couldn’t be a grouch to her. He puts that figurine back on the mantle, shuts the chest, and pushes it under the bed.

Slowly, he dresses in his new wardrobe. Shaking fingers struggle with new buttons, but he manages the shirt and half of the doublet. Trousers next, then boots. And finally, after an age of adjusting seams and doing then redoing buttons, he meets his eye in the floor length mirror.

The man before him is in his early forties. He's handsome, with a wide smile and bright blue eyes. Lightly built, but corded with muscles built over years on the road. A few streaks of grey swirl in his hair. He’s fit, almost six foot tall. Dark blue peeks from under his high necked burgundy doublet. Dressed like this, he looks like a professor and not some damned fool.

“Well then,” His voice is rough, even to his own ears. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” Saying it aloud made his breath catch, his stomach roll, but he stood firm. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” That felt marginally better. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” Hardly any wobble to his voice at all that time. “Jaskier the Bard died on a mountain top, far from home and very alone.” Deep breath.

“My name is Professor Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I have no idea where this is going, but its definitely going. Also, just for some supplemental texture--> John’s townhouse   Y/n’s apartment)

The Arrangement 

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, some angst, John being kind of an asshole.

Sweet Surrender

John leaned back in the dark leather chair positioned behind his mahogany desk, his elbows propped on the upholstered arm rests and his fingers touching at the tips. Besides work, there was a lot of his mind, most of it having to do with Y/n. They weren't his usual thoughts of her though, these were troubling. Something had changed with her and lately, he had been starting to sense that she was unhappy. Y/n hadn’t out-rightly said so, but it was in the little things; she’d stopped offering him details on the life she lived outside of their shared moments and all in all, she wasn’t her typical light, carefree self. 

In the beginning, it was Y/n’s bubbly personality that had attracted him, enthralling him. Before, he’d usually find his women via other means, there had only been a few others and they were all nice enough, good at following orders and fun in bed. But nonetheless, Y/n was certainly his favorite, upon meeting her, John could easily tell that she was a natural submissive and wasn’t thoughtless like those gone by. She didn’t take her role in his life lightly either, and John cared for her in a way that he hadn’t for anyone one else. Which was why it stung to think that he wasn’t doing right by her, their arrangement was supposed to bring them both pleasure, but if he wasn’t doing that for her, then half the purpose was lost. He wondered what had caused her discontent, up until then, he figured that he had been good to Y/n, he took care of her needs; sexual, financial and otherwise, he tried to listen when she needed an ear and always respected her boundaries. 

He’d have to bring it up soon, John wasn’t afraid of addressing it, besides, it was nearing the eleventh month of their first contract, they’d have to discuss whether or not they wanted to renew it or not. Usually, John never renewed them, by the end of the year, he'd often find himself yearning for a fresh face, letting his latest attraction go like dust on wind, but that year it was different and he couldn’t see himself growing tired of Y/n in the foreseeable future. John knew what he wanted, the final decision would have to be Y/n’s. 

“Mr. Wick?” his secretary poked her little brunette head into his office, interrupting his tumultuous thoughts. With a hum and annoyance expertly kept at bay, he glanced up, meeting a pair of clear green eyes. Abigail was just a few years older than Y/n and had been his secretary for going on three years. He could never tell what her angle was though, with all the tight shirts and short skirts, sure she was pretty enough, but it was the kind of beauty John could see himself getting bored of quickly. She didn’t really have much of a defining personality either, very two dimensional and he suspected that she didn’t have much more depth than she offered at face value. She was nothing like Y/n who was intelligent and exciting. “Your one o’clock is here,” even after she delivered her message, Abigail stayed there, still holding the door open.

With a quiet sigh, John sat up straighter, slowly moving to stand, “Is that all Abigail?” He didn’t even spare a minute to look at her, though, he could feel her eyes on him. When she offered a meek yes, finally turning to walk away, he called her back, just remembering something, “Did you finish the draft I asked you to work on?”

After a moment of hesitation, and shuffling her feet childishly, “No, Mr. Wick, I haven’t-”

“How the fuck am I supposed to start the deposition on Monday without it?” He snarled, glaring at her; John absolutely hated excuses, especially when he could tell they were going to be baseless.   Alarmed, Abigail jumped, her face going pale and her eyes glassy. Apologizing profusely, she cast her gaze to the shiny marble floor, but John was too irritated to care. He’d have fired her right on the spot, but he needed someone working his receptionist’s station and for that draft to be finished by the end of the day. So, he’d spare her, for now. “Just….get it done by five,” he’d wanted to leave by four thirty to get ready for dinner later that evening, but he’d spare Abigail the half hour, “And get the hell out of my office.” Without another world, Abigail scurried out and John  finished gathering his materials, almost ready to head to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was a text from Y/n, and despite himself, he smiled, she never ceased to brighten his day a little. She had sent a picture of the dress she’d purchased for the night, per his request; a short, dusty mauve, chiffon one with a cowl neck and thin straps at the shoulders. Directly below that picture was another of strappy nude stilettos with thin five inch heels, John adored seeing her in high heels, especially those pencil thin, dangerous looking ones. The attachments were followed up by a simple question, “Are these okay?”

John moistened his lips, already able to picture how the outfit would look on Y/n, definitely good enough for him to want to keep her in the bedroom. She had a wonderful sense of style and normally looked good in anything. Usually, John preferred to be there when she shopped, ensuring that she wasn’t worrying about prices and that things like lingerie were suited to his tastes, but in the event that he was unavailable, John had found that she was fine on her own. “Those are perfect,” he sent the text, locking his phone and heading out of his office to the conference room.

John detested Y/n’s apartment. It was small, no, small would be an understatement, it was tiny and if he’d had his way when they were first checking places out for her, John would have seen that she’d gotten something bigger. But, he was deep in lust and Y/n hadn’t been happy with any of the other that the real estate agent took them to. In fact, it had taken almost a month for her to find that place in New York City and, when they had gone to see it, Y/n had instantly fallen in love with the quaint, cool-toned, vintage styled apartment with beige and mellow blue walls, light hardwood floors and white wooden doors that were intentionally made to look faded and unfinished. The decorator that John had hired kept with the natural vintage theme too, adding an old fashioned farm sink, a charming mix of stained marble and tiles on the kitchen counter, homely rugs and even a 1950’s refrigerator solely for aesthetic purposes. Thankfully, the running fridge was integrated and actually from their century. 

As time passed, Y/n had also ensured that her love for houseplants were reflected in her decor too. She had one in every room, always watered and tended to, some growing cheerful flowers while others just maintained a healthy greenness.

Before Y/n had moved in, John had been sure to ask her well over three times if she was sure about her decision, and each time she’d assured him that she was. Y/n had eventually explained that if she lived in something bigger she wouldn’t have a clue on what to do with the extra space, it was just her and Theo anyway.

John stood at Y/n’s door for a minute, searching for her key on his bunch, casually looking up and down the hall. Thankfully, the neighborhood and by extension, the building, was a nice one. Upon finding the right key, John slipped it into the lock, turning twice. As he entered Y/n’s apartment, John called out to her, though, before she could answer, he felt a gentle rubbing on his leg; Theo.

Chuckling, he bent, scooping up the grey Scottish fold. John held the cat to his chest, absently running his fingers affectionately on his soft head, “Where’s your mom?” He asked, already walking towards the living room, earning himself a meow.

“Oh,” Y/n was just hurrying out from the other side of the living room, barefoot and still in her silk lilac robe, though her hair and make up was already done, “John,” her eyes went wide and she looked down in embarrassment, clearly alarmed, “I’m so sorry, I must have heard the time wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured sternly, “I’m early, don’t worry about it,” he waved off her worry, still holding Theo in his arms. John had never been a cat person, but Y/n’s four year old rescue had taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and John at some point, the furry fella had grown on him. 

“Thank you,” she smiled lightly and John offered a faint smile of his own in return, “Theo!” Y/n scolded just realizing that he was in John’s arms, “You’re gonna get cat hair all over John.”

“It’s okay, he just wants a little attention,” John sat himself on her olive colored living room sofa, the length of his legs exaggerated by how low it was, “Go finish getting ready,” he urged and after a brisk nod of compliance, Y/n  hurried off again.

John’s hand was low on Y/n’s back as they followed the hostess to their party’s table in the high end French restaurant. Their table was near an elaborate indoor fountain, beneath a glittering chandelier and as they approached, Y/n could see that a middle aged couple was already seated with a round of drinks. Putting on her best smile, she waited for John to introduce her before offering her hand, “Ellis, Lauren, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Her breath hitched excitedly at the word, even if that was the way John always introduced her, it wasn’t like he went around telling people that he had an, by all intents and purposes, a paid for fuck doll. Still, it was enough to feed her hope that one day, maybe in the distant future, he could actually see her as that, as his girlfriend, that the word wouldn’t just be a cover. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” after a moment of bewilderment and obvious hesitation, they took turns shaking her delicate hand, and Y/n did her best to maintain her trained smile; she was used to dealing with snobs anyway.

Even as they introduced themselves; Lauren and Ellis Capeldai, Y/n could see they were judging her; a girl her age, with a nearly middle aged, rich, powerful man? In their minds, Y/n could only be one thing. But alas, she was used to it, and if John had taught her anything, it was that opinions didn’t matter, they were consenting adults, and whatever they did with their personal lives was no one’s but their business.

John pulled out her chair and just as Y/n sat, John did too, immediately engaging conversation with Ellis. They glazed over small talk for a couple minutes, before getting into the specifics of a case; the Capeldais’ owned a private clinic in the city and had recently had a malpractice suit brought against them. Quietly, from her position next to John, she tried to keep up with their conversation, though, she only knew that much when it came to legal and medical jargon; an English degree could only take you that far in certain directions. In fact, the only thing she could deduce was that someone’s relative had died and that John was positive that he could prove that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead patient’s. 

Eventually, it came to the point where the more they spoke, the less Y/n wanted to hear. There was a dirty side to John’s job, or maybe it was just John himself, though Y/n could never bring herself to see him like that, so she blamed it on the trade instead. He was always willing to go the extra mile, or twenty, for his clients, just to make sure that they won, even going those miles meant getting his hands dirty. It was rare for Y/n to see that side of him, the side that he showed clients, that was ruthless and capable of anything in the name of victory and though John’s power and confidence enthralled her, it also scared her.

If he was like that, what else could he be?

Slowly, Y/n retreated into herself, no longer paying any mind to how their conversation unfolded. Working on autopilot, she steered her gaze to the plate before her, using her fork to shift around what was left of her entree, punctuating her movements with the occasional sip of Pinot Noir. Y/n sunk into her own little world until John’s grip held firm on her exposed thigh, his warm breath fanning her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “It’s rude to play with you food darling.” His gravely drawl sent shivers up his spine, “You don’t want to ruin our night by being punished, do you?”

Hastily, Y/n shifted her dilated gaze to meet John’s whiskey pools, the new rosiness in her cheeks brightening her sparsely applied blush, evident to those that sat across from them, “No sir,” she cast her head down out of instinct, “I’m sorry.”

Surely, the Capeldais’ were spectating with intrigue, though, thankfully not hearing a word of John and Y/n’s exchange. “It’s okay,” his rough fingers inched higher, sneaking beneath the hem of Y/n’s dress, “But don’t do it again,” he warned, covering his tracks with a peck on her cheek.

Even when John redirected his attention to his food, his hand still lingered on her upper thigh, slowly working its way further up, his feather light touch ticklish and reflecting in the pooling moisture in her panties. “So Y/n, dear,” Lauren turned to Y/n, her distaste masked under a stiff smile, “What do you do when you’re not being wined and dined by Mr. Wick?” There was malice in her words, Lauren had apparently decided that Y/n was nothing but a gold digger or something of the sort. 

For a moment, Y/n glanced towards John, who cleared his throat loudly, thankfully, opting to answer for her, “Y/n works at a bank, you probably know it; Fraser Holdings,” John gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, and by then, his fingers were close enough to brush her crotch, “It’s where we met actually, I had some business there and she caught my eye.” John was a master of controlling narrative Y/n knew that every word of his explanation was chosen carefully, with the intention of carrying an air of vagueness. Y/n wasn’t ashamed of her job as a secretary, it paid the bills, at least, it used to, and she knew that John probably wasn’t either, but some people just weren’t worth the whole truth. 

“Oh,” Lauren's stiff, condescending smile was apparently permanently plastered to her no doubt Botox infused face, and her nosiness was proving to be relentless, “And how long have you two been dating?” At the question, the graying Mr. Capadali looked up, he too was intrigued by the question.

Just as the query hit the ear, John’s stocky index brushed her lace clad folds. Caught off guard, Y/n jumped, her eyes going wide and breathing an alarmed gasp, her knee made painful contact with the bottom of the table as she crossed her legs, only serving to squeeze John’s hand in place. Again, she looked to him, but that time, he indicated for her to take the question, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his trimmed scruff hiding it almost perfectly. “Um…” her words wavered as he rubbed gently, just barely grazing her nub with his pointer, the lace of her panties adding extra, effective friction. “We’ve been together for about a year.”

A slight tugging on Y/n’s thigh was enough of an instruction for her to uncross her legs, parting them slightly. Under the security of the pristine white tablecloth, John pushed aside the crotch of her panties, rubbing Y/n’s cilt slowly with the ‘v’ of his index and middle fingers. Once again startled, she glanced his way, but he merely offered. Her swollen bud throbbed beneath his expert touch and Y/n had to hide the moan that threatened to escape her matted-burgundy painted lips with a lengthy drag of her wine. Her breath shuddered as she set the glass down, quickly looking to John, who'd already rekindled conversation with the older couple, seemingly unaffected by her plight.

Her eyes stayed trained on his side profile though her attention waned; John's handsome features blurring as her orbs glazed over with desire. By then, it wasn't hard to identify the distinct pink hue standing out on her otherwise flushed cheeks and the absence of focus was blatant. The more prolonged John's ministrations became, the closer Y/n got to her tipping point. Just out of the corner of her faulty vision, Y/n could see when John carelessly let the fabric napkin fall over his hardened crotch, the creases and haphazardness of the eggshell material masking his hard on. 

Another hitch of her breath came when one of John’s fingers slid further into her drenched heat, her posture, maybe thankfully, not allowing him access to her entrance. Though, John had a solution for everything, no mind how harsh or abrupt it may be, “Well, Ellis, Lauren,” he cleared his throat, pretending to check his watch. A waiter had just cleared their plates and had promised to be back soon with a desert menu, “I think we’ve covered a lot tonight, but Y/n and I have an early start tomorrow,” for the first time in a while, he removed his fingers, dragging them along her inner thigh, messily spreading her slickness. Now hot, bothered and still in the middle of a packed restaurant, Y/n could quickly feel herself growing frustrated at the loss of contact, ready to grab her clutch off its resting place on the table as John signaled a waiter, handing over a business card and requesting that the final bill be sent to his office. Y/n doubted that it was something the establishment regularly did, but there wasn’t a soul willing to deny John Wick. Besides, if he said he was going to pay, there wasn’t a bit of doubt that he wouldn’t. John was a man of his word. 

After they’d bid their companions goodnight and safe travels, John led Y/n out of the restaurant, holding onto her into her light petite coat as the valet brought around his navy Maserati, the dark coat shining even in their dimmed surroundings. John, as Y/n had learnt, was quite the car enthusiast and he’d collected quite a few over the years, enough to supply a small dealership, with almost everything from prized, classic muscle cars and widely adored classics to flashy sports cars and of course, some more sophisticated ones. 

After they’d gotten in, John had tossed her coat to the back seat and then peeled away from the curb, navigating the car onto the busy street, easily weaving through the thinning traffic. Stealing a glace, Y/n found that John’s expression wasn’t readily readable, though, when, not too long after they’d left, he turned into a deserted, poorly lit, damp alleyway between a shady Chinese restaurant and a low grade department store, she got a pretty clear idea of he wanted. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in that dress babygirl?” His question strained and mumbled as John undid his seat belt and used the lever beneath his seat to push it back a little. Excitement had Y/n breathing heavily, and she didn’t think to answer his question. “Didn’t I ask you something?” He probed roughly, undoing the belt, button and zipper on his black slacks.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, blushing and blinking quickly, her stomach fluttered when John reached over to undo her seat belt, easily manhandling her over the console and into his lap.

“Well let me show you,” he grunted, grabbing her hand and shoving into his undone pants, over his erection, gasping quietly at the distinct firmness overtaking his member, “See what you do to me? This is all you baby,” he whispered harshly, catching her ear lobe between his teeth. 

The alluring aroma of fine wine and musky cologne clouded her senses and Y/n’s breath hitch, the sound quiet, and pitched. “Sir,” she moaned, eyes wide and pupils lust blown as her hand lingered in John’s pants long after he’d stopped applying pressure. 

John trailed feverish kisses down the column of her neck, high on the scent of her perfume, occasionally alternating between lapping his tongue over her vein and nibbling her skin. He was definitely going to leave marks, claiming her as his own. As his mouth ravaged her throat, John fiddled with the thin straps of her dress, letting them slip carelessly down the curve of her shoulders, eventually urging her arms out of them and pushing the top down, exposing her breasts, pushed together enticingly by a simple, cream colored strapless bra. “I want you to ride my cock,” John’s fingers slid up her body, thumbs brushing the smooth, stain covered padding over her nipples, before easily undoing the front clasp and freeing her full, voluptuous breasts, “Now,” he growled, pushing aside the crotch of her flimsy thong, his digits brushing the lips of her swollen, soaked pussy.

With anxious hands, Y/n helped John shove his pants down to the area right above his knees, “Come on,” he slouched further into the leather stead in an instant, John’s hands were up her dress, holding her hips in place as she eased down on him. Feeling how he bottomed out inside her, stretching her tightness so wide it burned, Y/n’s head lolled back, squeezing her eyes shut as her loud moan bounced off the windows. “Move, now,” he managed through his clenched jaw after he’d given Y/n a minute to adjust. 

Desperate, filthy mewls swirled in the heavy air around them, joining John’s languid grunts as his hips rose to meet hers. Each time Y/n came down on him, her bouncing erratic and harsh, her core slapped his balls, rendering loud, wet, perverted sounds. “Sir,” her breathy cries were the only interruptions of her heady noises.

"Fuck," John hissed, just before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her pebbled nipple and one hand sliding up her back, pressing her chest to his face, "Faster," he urged.

Y/n's eager hands slid up John's chest, the material of his grey button up smooth under her palm, his carnal heat seeping through. She settled them beneath the lapels of his tailored, black blazer, bunching the fabric up in her fingers as she quickened her pace with renewed vigor. 

The tinted windows around them fogged over and the purring of the engine fell on deaf ears. John could feel her nails digging into his skin, even through his shirt and the throbbing veins running up his shaft offered Y/n an irresistible friction. Every time she came up, only to sink back down on him, John’s swollen tip reaching her end, Y/n could feel herself drawing closer to the edge. “Please,” she whimpered, pleading for John to permit her release.

John’s hips  jerked upwards to slam into Y/n’s center, the remaining hand caught under her dress now aggressively squeezing and kneading her ass. The other violently grabbed a fistful of her head, rearing her head further back so John could ravish her neck without resistance, “Do it,” he commanded between skin pulling bites, “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock. You’re my little bitch and I need to feel you cum.”

Before long, Y/n was shuddering; her legs straddling John stiffening and her pussy convulsing as warm juices gushed from her center. Her gasps were broken and her breaths ragged as Y/n’s eyes rolled back and her hold on John’s now wrinkled shirt loosened. With a slackened jaw, the rest of her body went limp and John was the one still moving, though, his thrusts rigid. 

The feeling of Y/n milking his cock entwined by the ecstasy that always accompanied being buried deep inside her was pleasurably unmatched and soon, John was following her to release, “Fuck Y/n,” he sputtered, slowing his movement as he spurted bursts of hot seed inside of her, their products mixing as it seeped out, coating Y/n’s thighs and dripping onto his.

It took awhile for their breaths to slow and for any sense of coherence to make its way back into the stilling running car, and even after; they lingered, John’s now flaccid cock still cocooned in her settled center. When he finally guided her off him, John used tissues from the glove compartment to clean Y/n up as she still sat in his lap, and she let him readjust her dress, forgoing her bra, instead just pulling the straps over her arms. When he set her back in the passenger seat, Y/n winced, though she wasn’t half as sore as she’d usually be after sessions with John, when he had more room and time to work with. In fact, hot, spontaneous moments like that one were rare, which arguably only made them more enjoyable.

Except, that night, as Y/n silently watched John clean himself up, his expression stoic, as it typically was, she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and not just in a physical way. That dinner hadn’t been her best one with him, she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him as the villain, willing to desecrate the name of a dead man. Logically, she knew that it was the job, and someone had to do it, but being that good at it? It took guts and a certain kind of coldness that frightened her. 

And then, of course, there was the typical issue of their otherwise unattached status. Because, as scary as John was when he was in his element, she still found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, considering the more she fell, the more it hurt when she remembered that she was just his sub. It was confusing, but mostly it hurt.

The drive back to Y/n’s place was without conversation, though, when John parked on the curb and Y/n had gathered her stuff, namely her purse with generous bits of her bra sticking out the top and her coat draped over it, John grabbed her leg before she could get out, “Do you have vacation days?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, intrigued though not daring to say anything further.

“How many?” John’s eyes were void of anything telling and he wasn’t going to give her more without Y/n’s compliance.

“A month.”

“Good,” John reclaimed his hand, immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and his fingers going to dance on the unlocked, brightened screen. He didn’t look at her again, leaving her bewildered as he came out and jogged to her side, opening the door for her. John helped her out of the car, and with a hand low on her back, he walked to the front double doors of the building, holding one side open but making no move to go in himself. “I want you to take two weeks,” he said, putting his cell away, “I’m taking you to a summer home in North Carolina. Abigail will book a jet for Sunday afternoon, call your boss and tell him you won’t be in on Monday,” and before Y/n could protest that she actually needed to give H.R. a month’s notice, John intervened, “If he gives you any trouble, let me know and I'll talk to him, okay?” By ‘talk to him’, it was quite possible that he meant bullying her boss into giving her the time off without consequence.

“Yes,” her lips quivered in surprise, and Y/n nodded again, “Okay.”

“Okay,” John repeated, stiffly reaching across to peck the side of her lips, “I’ll send you the flight details, and I’ll taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon,” when Y/n agreed, they exchanged pleasant good-nights and John finally let Y/n go, secretly hoping that their trip would do them both some good in terms of their upcoming discussion. 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: our indestructible days ch 1

More deadfic for the Good Intentions WIP Fest, though since the event’s over I’ll spare the poor mod yet more of my horseshit. 

This was, in fact, the first fic I really tackled post 2017 BH watch! And boy does it show. I’m doing y’all a favor by editing it to hell and back before posting any of it, honest. Due to that however, I don’t know how many chapters there will be. At least 4, since that’s as far as I’ve gotten in the editing process. We shall see!

All you need to know for this one is: What if Kimblee didn’t stop Pride from possessing Ed on the Promised Day? :)

Title comes from Puscifer’s “Dear Brother.”

=

The air burns against his flaking skin, molten stone growing dark yet still radiating a dangerous heat. Everyone else has gone after Father, the rattle and scrape of transmuted stone fading. It's just the two of them now, the alchemist and the homunculus, and Pride has the upper hand.

“This container won’t last much longer,” he says matter-of-factly, leaping down to stand before the boy. In the dusty sunlight filtering in from above Edward Elric’s eyes shine, catlike and calculating. His breathing is ragged, spit between clenched teeth. He’s pinned by cords of unyielding shadow. If he struggles much harder, Pride might break something.

That thought demands brief consideration. It would be satisfying to take Edward apart bone by brittle bone, to take his pound of flesh for the damage incurred to his Philosopher’s Stone. The left arm would sever easily, if he but sharpened his shadows. Tempting, yes, but ultimately pointless.

“But still,” he continues thoughtfully, a new plan already fallen into place. “Like my father is, you are of Hohenheim's bloodline. We’re virtually brothers. Which means, Edward Elric, I can use your container. Your body belongs to me!”

It is an easy thing to invade the bloodstream, entering through a thin cut on the boy’s cheek. Pride fills every vein and artery with shadows until Edward’s heart is smothered, his blood sludge. He ignores the screams, the uptick in thrashing. This is tricky work, something only achieved twice before, and he hadn't seen either success firsthand. His Stone is too big for such a little cut. He spares a tendril of himself to stab the boy's chest, wrenching open a wound big enough to deposit his core directly against the thrashing heart within. Connective tissue regrows at a breakneck pace, sewing him irrevocably into a body a thousand times more complex than his original container.

With that taken care of Pride lashes out with a snap of white teeth, unfettering the strangled soul. The body still writhes, pain a thing of the flesh rather than the spirit, but there is less resistance after that. If it's lucky, the boy's soul will be absorbed into his Stone, its energy and knowledge assimilated, made useful. Then again it could simply burn up in the transference, an ember caught in a cold wind.

Either way, that which was called Edward Elric will no longer be a concern.

What a big fuss Wrath made of it, with his story of the man who became a homunculus who became King. A little pain suffered is nothing, when the alternative is death.

Edward’s screaming makes this all the sweeter.

Without its contents, his old container collapses to so much dust and an empty pile of clothing, and— 

—ah. 

There are memories, kept just beneath the surface of Edward’s dying panic. The mind is easy to parse when the soul is absent. Old night terrors, old horrors. Loneliness. What a childish thing to fear.

A heartbeat. 

Another. 

Waiting— dreading— the body’s rejection of him. 

But it never comes. Barely a shudder of resistance, the only lash of alchemical reaction his Stone instinctively healing injuries the boy had incurred.

The silence after that's finished is a breathless, giddy surprise.

Pride tests his new container carefully, casting an unhappy glance at the automail arm he’s now saddled with. It’s an unpleasant weight, cold and heavy; the leg much the same. It'll take time he doesn't have to adjust to them. How pathetic, that humans must rely on machinery to recover from serious injury. Once he’s regained some of his strength he’ll have to do something about them.

Something shifts within him, a sensation not unlike vertigo stealing his breath. Pride hesitates, wobbling on unfamiliar limbs, but the feeling passes. He smiles. A strong bloodline indeed.

“Fight all you wish,” he says aloud. “I've won.”

Even his voice has changed. His true voice is marred, pitched deeper. Weighed down. He is weighed down by this new container. It's strange. This is all very strange. But he must adjust quickly, for the battle isn’t won yet.

He shakes unfamiliar blond hair from his new container’s eyes, looking up through the hole punched through the many underground floors beneath Central Command. Four thin stone pillars ascend through it, stretching all the way up to the parade grounds. Such a distance. Even the sacrifices shouldn't have been capable of stretching so much material so high without it collapsing. What did they do? What was that array they activated that allowed them to perform alchemy again?

The fight has shifted. He must return to the fray, now that he’s been renewed. Father would—

Father expects him to—

No. 

Not yet. He’s not strong enough to rejoin that fight, yet. His Stone was damaged even more than they’d anticipated when he forced Mustang through the Gate. 

Pride sniffs, tasting the air. There are humans nearby; more souls to consume. He licks his lips and sends his grinning shadows upward.

He is hungry.

=

Major General Armstrong kneels beside the body of Führer King Bradley, hating that she's been sideline for what is surely the most decisive battle Amestris has ever seen. Her men are up there, where that pale creature had ascended only minutes ago atop a pillar of molten stone. Bullets and mortars were near useless against the lesser homunculi; what could their Father be capable of?

Her pulse is still racing, a sour taste settled in her mouth. She knows acutely what it feels like to die, and the experience has left her feeling hollowed out in a way she's unsure of how to voice. She remembers a maelstrom of suffering, countless voices begging for release. It's not something she'd wish on a Drachman, let alone endure again. If not for the Elric brothers' father she'd still be trapped in that hell. They all would be.

Is it fear that still makes her heart pound, or cowardice?

Her lip curls. Fear is justified. Fear is the intelligent reaction. To fear something means you're paying attention. Cowardice, however....

She shakes her head. Four of the human sacrifices—Izumi Curtis, Alphonse Elric, Van Hohenheim, and Mustang—had been afraid, and yet still determined to stop that monster. Even blinded Mustang hadn't hesitated to fight on, utilizing the famed Hawk's Eye to direct his flame attacks. It's both begrudging and gratifying, to realize the man has a stronger spine than she'd thought. 

The fifth, Fullmetal, is still below fighting Pride. There'd been sounds of combat, and then screaming, but it's gone quiet now. The distance and echo distorting the sounds had made it impossible to determine who had been doing the screaming. The lot of them on this level have been keeping a wary eye on the hole in the floor since then. They don't know what that particular homunculus is capable of and the only alchemist left here is the serial killer Scar, and he's in no shape to assist. The idiot boy had better not die while the battle's still on.

She eases to her feet, hissing pain despite her best efforts, and cats her sight on the blue sky above. A single blast of power had punched a hole in this underground labyrinth clear through to the surface. How can they defend against something like that?

Bah. Defeatist's talk. The alchemists will do all they can to do just that, and her men will support them. They're Briggs men. They'll do whatever it—

"What the hell?!"

"What is that?!"

She turns sharply toward where the few soldiers who'd insisted on staying behind as a protection detail are gathered. They've all drawn their weapons, aiming at the hole in the floor. Ribbons of—shadows—stretch up from below, splitting open to reveal red eyes and white jaws.

Damn! And here she'd thought Fullmetal had been left behind to fight the homunculus alone for good reason! Was the boy really so useless as to die now?

"PREPARE YOURSELVES!" She bellows, striding toward the lashing shadows. A glance is all she needs to know it would be futile to try and keep distance in a room as small as this. Better to be with her men. She may have lost the use of her sword arm but this is a fight she will not—cannot—leave for her men to fight alone. "Fire at Selim Bradley the moment he shows himself!"

The red eyes narrow. The white jaws grin. Grating laughter echoes off of the stone walls. "That container has been discarded, Major General," the mouths all say in the same mocking voice. "But are you really going to risk injuring this body?"

From out of the depths a figure rises, lifted up on tendrils of shadow to step lightly onto the rubble-strewn floor. Her men curse, guns dipping. Somewhere behind her Mr. Curtis and the frog chimera inhale sharply. She can't blame any of them.

The grinning boy with living shadows curling at his boots is Fullmetal.

"Edward," Izumi's husband says, hushed. The boy pays him no mind, eyes flat and cold as coins.

"It was wise of you to stay behind," Fullmetal—no, Pride—says, still smiling. The shadows stretch and curl, painting the room in streaks of black. "Your contributions to the war effort are greatly appreciated."

Too late, she understands what he means to do. "No! Don't you dare—!"

The shadows strike, and her men begin to scream.

=

"Edward Elric."

His name whispered out of the murk. A voice calling him awake. He can't pinpoint where it's coming from. Everything else is so loud. There are so many people nearby, all of them screaming, all of them begging to die. Everything is so red.

"Fullmetal."

He tries to put a name to the voice. He knows it. Doesn't he know it?

Fraying. He's being... stretched. Pulled apart. Losing his sense of self.

He's losing himself.

"Surely you're not going to roll over as easily as that, are you?"

He... he knows this voice.

A pinpoint of white, searing amongst all this writhing red. The shape of a man comes into focus. White clothes, long dark hair, the wide eyes of a madman, tattoos on his outstretched palms.

"K...Kim...blee...?"

The man smiles. "Ah, so you are still in there. Good, very good."

"Where... what is... this...?"

"We've both become a part of Pride's Philosopher's Stone now. Two souls clinging to our individuality amidst a howling mob of anguish." Kimblee rocks back on his heels, throwing out his hands. His face is a picture of bliss. "Isn't it exquisite?"

He looks away, out at the writhing, the screaming. Nothing but gaping mouths and dark eye sockets everywhere he looks, the barest suggestions of human shapes. Souls. How many died to make this Stone? "It's—loud. No. No, this. This isn't. This isn't what I...."

It's getting so hard to think.

Kimblee looks almost disappointed now. "Tell me, Edward Elric. Are you truly so weak as this? Unraveling at the first glimpse of something beyond your control?"

He looks down at himself. Two arms, two legs. No automail pulling insistently at his bones. Of course not. He's only a soul, nearly as red as the others twisting all around him. He's inside a Philosopher's Stone, which makes him only one more lost soul. Wisps of red peel from his limbs, chafed and scraped away by the chaos pushing and pulling at him from all sides. He's falling apart. Losing himself. Soon he'll be nothing but babbling energy, regenerative power for the homunculus he's become a part of. For... for....

"Pride."

Kimblee raises one curious eyebrow. "That's right."

"Where—Where is he?"

"A bit preoccupied eating to overhear this conversation, if that's your concern."

He—Edward, he's Ed, gotta stay focused, he can't slip again, his name is Edward—strains, struggling to remember what happened. How he came to be like this. He was.... There had been.... Pride. Selim had been badly—injured? damaged?—after forcing the Colonel through the Gate. His container was failing. He'd pinned Ed down—pain, it had hurt—and declared that Ed would be... that Ed's body would be....

Ed's just a soul now. He doesn't have a body, no skin to prickle and no breath to catch, but a chill runs through him all the same. "He. He took my body. He made me his new container. Didn't he?"

"That's right."

No matter where Ed looks it's all souls, no glimpse of what's going on outside this Stone. Ling—and Greed, for that matter—have always had a good idea of what was going on when the other one had been in control of Ling's body. How did they—

Hold on.

Ed looks back at Kimblee, who just smiles pleasantly back. Eating. Pride can't hear them right now because he's eating. The hell does that mean?

"I can't see," Ed snaps, shoving at a soul that's drifted uncomfortably close. His hand is paler, more defined than it was before. He's got a good grip on himself again. He really should've paid more attention when Ling talked about the meditation shit he did while Greed was refusing to share. "Ugh. Where is he? What's he doing, Kimblee?"

Kimblee chuckles and waves his hand. The tempest of screaming parts like a theater curtain; bright light spills in that leaves Ed blinking and shading his eyes. He goes to it anyway. He has to know what Kimblee meant—

His sight adjusts, and he's looking at a bloodbath.

There's red sprayed across the near wall, splashed along the floor, drips and splatters and scraps of tattered uniforms everywhere he looks. A single soldier is in view, firing wildly right at Ed only to have the bullets deflected by a shadow pitted with familiar eyes and bloodstained fangs. The gun in the soldier's hands clicks, the clip emptied, and the shadow cuts him down. Ed can hear the brutal crunch of bone, the muted spurt of spilled blood, the ragged tearing of meat. He hears someone laughing. His voice. His stolen voice multiplied weirdly through the shadow mouths as Selim's had been. 

Ed hollers, twisting away, but Kimblee's white hands hold him fast. The man's voice roars out, ragged with terrible glee. "Don't avert your eyes! Don't look away! That's your body out there, cutting those men down. Take credit for the destruction your hands have wrought!"

"NO! NO! That's not—it's not me—get the fuck off—I don't want this!"

"Then what are you going to do about it?!"

"—no, no, I don't—I—w-what?"

Once Ed's stopped struggling Kimblee all but drops him, still grinning from ear to ear. "I thought about interfering, when Pride first tried to take your body for himself."

"What?"

"I'm perfectly content in here, but he decided to throw away his honor as a homunculus. So proud to be what he is, that very quality he was named for, but the moment he found himself in grave danger he sought to escape into the body of a human." Kimblee snarls. "He's pathetic. A disgrace."

Ed watches his body's left hand rise, pointing at—Major General Armstrong? Her face is a mask of blood, and the rest of her isn't much better. Sig's beside her, one arm slick and hanging heavily, the other supporting Scar who looks like he narrowly escaped a meat grinder. Behind them he can just glimpse Jerso in his frog form, lying so still it's impossible to tell if he's still breathing. The window or whatever out into the real world flickers as—fuck—as Pride looks at another soldier spring out from behind cover. He empties his clip in record time, unerringly aimed at Ed's chest. Do any of the bullets hit? Do they hurt? The soldier's cradling his rifle strangely, one hand clumsily wrapped in bloodstained cloth. 

"Why?" Ed asks, weary. A shadow arcs out, bristling with teeth, and bites through the man. He goes down with a bizarrely muted scream and another spray of blood. "Why didn't you stop him? This—this wouldn't be happening if you'd stopped him!"

Kimblee regards him, eyes narrowed, face unreadable. "Führer Bradley is a homunculus," he says conversationally. "And Greed. His vessel is human as well, isn't it?"

Outside, sounds of crunching, splattering, chewing. Ed watches a clean white uniform stain almost black with gore. "Yeah? So what?"

"I started to think a little, that's what." Another little chuckle. Fuck, this guy really is crazy. He's enjoying this. "The homunculi make such a fuss out of being better than humans. More evolved, above our petty fears and desires. They're so proud to be the puppeteers of this country, the hands on our yokes as they've guided us to this Promised day."

Ed watches the shadows finish off the soldier, nothing but a smear of blood and a couple glistening pieces of meat left behind. The window flickers again as Pride turns his head to regard the last of the survivors.

"It's funny," Kimblee says. "For how much they talk, they so rarely deliver on their promises. So I ask you, Edward Elric. What are you going to do now?"

The General. Sig. Jerso. Scar. They're going to die. Pride's going to kill them. For all Ed knows they might think he agreed to let Pride take his body.

He looks at his hands. He's nearly himself again, or at least as nearly like himself as he can be without his body. He's got two arms here. Two legs too. An arm and a leg, and a body, and the whole damn country on top of it now. He's made way too many promises to fail here.

Ed sets his jaw and leaps out into the light.

[peachyteabuck]

old school (make me drool)

summary: bunny is sweet, well-behaved. something about princess, though, makes her want to act out for the first time in her life. 

pairing: natasha romanoff x ofc

words: 2,663

trigger warnings: heavy md/lg, spanking, forced age regression, manipulation, there’s a vague allusion to starker, breaking of rules, 

notes/other: ANYONE WHO USES THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO BRING RAPE FANTASIES INTO MY INBOX WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY. this was inspired by @orphiclittleone & i highly reccomend you check out their blog!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

It started when Princess had to go with Steve to a meeting with Natasha. For whatever reason Steve decided she couldn’t be alone, and Natasha said it would be fine. Princess wasn’t too mad, unhappy she could only bring one of her prizes stuffed animals, but nearly-willingly went with her Daddy to Aunty Nat’s. Still, it wasn’t until she met Bunny that the pointed frown left her face.

Steve put her down onto the thick comforter next to Bunny, whose lips were wrapped tightly around a paci, hands clutched around a large stuffed animal of her namesake, eyes trained on the TV in front of her. Her long, thick hair was tied from her face with a pink scrunchie with a bow on it, her knit sweater a matching shade of pink. Her socks were stark white, ankle devoid of the tracker Princess had to wear.

Bunny said nothing at her guest, head only turning when Natasha caressed her face.

“Uncle Steve and I are going to do some work in my office, okay Bunny?” She placed a kiss to the girl’s head where her hair parted, careful not to remove any from her perfect ponytail. “I’ll be down soon to give you your bottle. Until then, play nice with Princess, alright?”

Bunny, still not dislodging the paci, nods and leans into her Mommy.

“Good girl,” Natasha praises, leaving one final kiss to her girl’s forehead before leading Steve into her office, a room adjacent to the playroom the girls resided in. In a moment of good faith, she had her coworker close the door behind them.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve chuckled as he sat in the fine leather chair near the fireplace. “I put that track on Princess for a reason, you know.”

Natasha sighed, grabbing the file from her desk. “If we weren’t discussing how someone was disemboweled by a small terrorist organization outside Orlando, I’d keep it open.”

Steve, already worried about what Bucky had exposed Princess to in order to watch her squirm, acquiesced.

Back in the playroom, Bunny made a disgruntled noise as Princess poked her chubby cheek.

“Do you ever speak?” Princess asked, nose wrinkled at her supposed playmate’s poor playful reciprocation. “Daddy said you were quiet, really quiet. He said you almost never talk. I’m not quiet.”

Bunny, much to Princess’ dismay, remains mute. Not a squeak, not a huff, not an eyeroll. Even Bucky’s Doll was better than this, and she was often too exhausted to give Princess enough attention for the girl’s liking.

Princess, though, is anything but a quitter. She pulls back for a few minutes, allowing her counterpart to relax. Just as Bunny seemed the happiest, Princess yanked the paci out of her mouth and pinned her to the floor.

Bunny tried to yell, but Princess placed her hand over the girl’s mouth before she could do anything. As Princess leans close to her ear, she whispers low, giggling as Bunny clutches her stuffed animal’s ears in her tiny hand. “Daddy says we can be playmates, do you want that, Bunny?”

Suddenly, in the span of less than a second, Princess hears her Daddy’s footsteps, hears the knob turning, and jumps off Bunny to the other side of the blanket. Bunny laid, there, stunned, as Nat and Steve picked up their respective littles.

As Steve bid his goodbye, and Nat turned around to close the door, Bunny perched her chin on her Mommy’s shoulder and locked eyes with Princess, who wears a smile fit for the evil penguins from the movie Bunny was watching before Princess showed up.

Somehow, Bunny knew their game wasn’t over.

The next time they met, Bunny is playing on a blanket in Natasha’s expansive backyard, dressed in a plain-pink one-piece bathing suit with her hair in two braids down her back and the bracelet Doll made her on her left wrist. Peter’s in the pool, sunbathing on a unicorn floatie. Doll’s curled into Bucky’s side, shoulders covered with one of her Daddy’s worn t-shirts – one large enough to cover her sensitive, bruised thighs. Natasha, Stark, Strange, and Rogers are all inside, making drinks for themselves as the sun swelters high in the sky.

Princess is the only other conscious person who remains outside, an easily forgettable body as Bunny colors under the sweet shade of the big tree in the back of the expansive yard, quiet enough that the occasional squirrel or bird will hop across her blanket and sniff at her forgotten snack.

She’s unable to ignore her counterpart, though, when Princess plops herself down onto the thick, cotton blanket specifically designated for outdoor use.

Bunny, despite her annoyance, says nothing.

Princess says nothing in turn, watching the girl in front of her meticulously color in the lines of a complicated flower.

“Daddy never lets me color anything like that,” she finally says, staring at the set of sixty-four crayons Princess had wanted for two Christmases and three birthdays but still never received. “Daddy says they’re too complicated for me.”

Bunny stops coloring for a moment, whole body stilling. Princess thinks she’ll say something, thinks she’ll show a break in her shell that’ll give her some in. But no, the sound of crayon gliding against thick paper fills whatever silence Bunny intended to proliferate with words.

It’s then that Princess takes out one of the most-loved crayons – a soft blue that’s had the wrapped long since pulled off.

“Do you like this crayon?” she asks Bunny.

Bunny stops coloring – bright orange crayon inert as she tries to swallow the dryness in her mouth. Fear paints her face as she gazes upon her favorite coloring tool. Out of all her markers, her colored pencils, her watercolor paints. None of those hold a candle to that one crayon. It’s the only crayon she doesn’t like Natasha using, the only one she saves for the special coloring book pages – the ones she gifts her Mommy for Christmas and for her birthday and when Natasha picks her up from spending time at Uncle Bucky’s place because she’s been on a business trip.

Which is why Bunny nearly cries when Princess snaps it in half, then crushes the pieces into something resembling dust. She does whimper, though, does drop the crayon she’s holding and curl her legs up to her chest and stares at Princess with these wide eyes that beg for her to stop whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.

“What’d’ya gonna do about it?” Princess questions. When Bunny doesn’t answer, Princess quirks her eyebrow then moves to grab another one.

Bunny gasps, tears beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes. “Please don’t,” she whispers.

Princess pretends not to hear her, and selects another well-used crayon. “Really, you’re just gonna be a baby and let me do this?”

Bunny looks around the lawn, begging Natasha to come outside or Peter to feel how frightened she is or even Bucky, a man who rarely pays attention to her but seems to like her more than Princess, to look over and wonder why there’s such tension between his best friends’ best little girls. Unfortunately (for you, at least), none of them pay you any mind. Somehow this is worse than when Natasha has to leave you alone for work or whatever it is she does when she’s away. At least then you don’t have to do deal with Princess.

“Please, Princess,” Bunny says a little louder. “Please don’t break my crayons.”

Princess smiles wide and sinister, like that Cheshire Cat from that movie you don’t like very much. “Alright then,” is all she says before standing up and skipping off to lay on the Aurora towel that was in the shade of a different tree. Even though she’s alone, Bunny remains upright, curling around her precious box of crayons.

The third time they meet is Bunny’s birthday party about a month later. The main festivities are over, all the adults drinking from Natasha’s expensive liquor cabinet. Doll’s curled up on Bucky’s lap, playing with a My Little Pony toy (Applejack, of course) and occasionally being fed bits of cake from Bucky’s fork; Peter’s enthralled with the latest installment of their classic movie marathon that’s playing just too loud for Bunny’s liking.

On any other day, Bunny would be elated to watch her favorite movies with her favorite friend. She’s allowed to eat ice cream cake (vanilla, from her favorite pastry shop down the street) and wear her favorite pink dress.

Her hair is in two low buns with a pretty pink bow. Natasha spent the whole morning with Bunny in her lap, telling her how cute she is and how much she loves her. Everything was great, perfect.

That was, until Steve and Princess showed up. Natasha was preoccupied with catching up in her friend to notice Bunny clutching her favorite stuffie or Princess’ sly smile.

Like the first time they met, she and Princess are placed on the blanket that sits in the middle of the playroom. This time it’s fleece, thick, one Bunny made with Doll one of the rare times they’ve had playdates together. It’s full of mint green and soft pink flowers around a bunch of sea animals. Bucky said he found the blanket kit at a craft store and thought the two of them could make it when he and Natasha were working in his office.

There were a few moments of silence as Steve pet Princess’ hair and explained how much Princess had been looking forward to today. Princess just smiles big and wide and teasing, waiting for the adults to leave before she finally speaks.

“Ya know, Daddy and I love teasing each other…” Princess says as if she’s the most innocent conversation maker to ever fail to meet her counterpart’s eyes. “You and your Mommy should try it sometime.”

Bunny gulps, fidgeting with her hands. “Mommy doesn’t…Mommy doesn’t let me do that without her permission.”

Princess scoffs. “Oh, you ask your Mommy for everything. Daddy hasn’t made me do that in forever.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Daddy likes it when I act out.”

“Mommy doesn’t,” Bunny doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to stave off what she now understands is inevitable. “Mommy doesn’t like it when I act out. She likes it when I’m good. I get candy, cuddles, stuffies when I’m good.”

Princess almost rolls her eyes, frustrated. “Maybe you should just try it sometime, just to see what happens.”

Bunny doesn’t say anything back, too scared of what would happen. Natasha always told her curiosity killed the cat, but could curiosity kill her as well?

Hours pass without incident, without Princess nagging Bunny or Bunny snapping at Princess or, really, anything happening. Princess merely leaves her to brew for hours, eating cake with her fingers and eyeing Bunny to see how she’s doing. Bunny’s lost in her own thoughts, the only indication of time passing being Steve coming in take Princess home.

As Steve picks her up once more, a smirk spreads across her frosting-stained face. Her eyes are knowing, full of mischief. In the background, the forest fire scene from Bambi plays on the large TV. Bunny wishes she could be one of the forest creatures running for their life, able to get away from the natural disaster that had descended upon her home.

Despite her fear of Princess, her words stick in Bunny’s brain like gum in her hair. It’s all Bunny can think about for days, maybe even weeks after her birthday party.  It gets worse when she’s alone, when all she has are her thoughts and her hands and…and…

Bunny decides to do something, do the unimaginable the day Natasha says she’s going to have lunch with Stark and Strange. That she’ll be back in a few hours.

Just enough time, Bunny thinks as she hears the front door shut and the deadbolt lock. Just enough time for her to do the unthinkable.

◦ ◦ ◦

“Bunny!” Natasha calls into the house. There’s the usual pause, one where she’s used to allowing Bunny to find her voice. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t hear the usual yes, mommy? followed by the pit-pat of her feet across the house. “Bunny?” she calls again, but the only thing she can hear is resounding silence.

Natasha’s heartrate picks up tenfold, not even throwing her shoes off as she runs to the room she kept Bunny in when she had a long work day. As she types in the code to open the door, Natasha is met with a sight she’d never thought she’d see:

Bunny, with one hand down her pullup, and the other clutched over her mouth. Her pale yellow pajama shirt is hiked up to her ribs, threatening to fall over where her hand meets her center.

For a moment Natasha does not know what to do, body frozen and chest heaving and heart racing. Bunny hadn’t so much as blinked without permission, let alone touched herself sans asking Natasha beforehand.

Squeaky, breathy moans slip past her fingers, eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body shakes with the desperation that comes just before an orgasm.

That’s what snaps Natasha out of her trance, what makes her fly across the room and grab Bunny’s face with her perfectly manicured hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Natasha hisses through her teeth.

Bunny bites her lips, eyes wide with fear. “P-princ-“

Natasha almost growls. “What, Steve’s little?”

Bunny nods slowly, meekly, lip quivering in fear as Natasha hand remains firmly grasped over her jaw. “P-princess s-said that it woul-d be f-un to-“ Natasha, a woman who has not had a hair out of place since the Reagon administration, nearly knocks over Bunny’s designated stuffed animal bookshelf. Wordlessly, she places Bunny over her knee and exposes the soft skin of her ass.

Bunny hadn’t been spanked in years. Ever since Natasha had gotten her, broken her, she’d been the perfect little – so obedient and eager to please, smart and quiet, happy to play by herself while Natasha worked with the others. She was everything Natasha could’ve asked for and somehow more…

But this? This was inexcusable. She was a big believer in second chances, but those must always come after an appropriate punishment.

“You think just because Steve’s Princess can whine and act however she wants, that means you can, too?” she hisses, hitting each cheek twice. “You think that girl’s behavior excuses your own?”

Bunny yelps, trying to find the strength to speak without sobbing. “N…no…” she mumbles, digging her face into her and trying to curl against the woman whose lap she has found herself in.

“What was that?” Natasha snaps, hitting the backs of her thighs this time. The slaps of skin on skin echos throughout the room and stabs at Bunny’s ears.

“No, Mommy, I am not allowed to misbehave! I am not allowed to break the rules”

“Good,” Natasha says through grit teeth. She takes a moment to grope her heated ass cheeks, and you savor the sweet moments away from the sharp pain. “If you didn’t know your place, I would’ve had to call Steve up to see how he keeps Princess in line. Maybe Bucky, too. He once kept Doll in a basement for two weeks because she wouldn’t eat her vegetables. Do you want that?”

Violent shivers shoot through you. Uncle Bucky and Steve are nice enough to you, especially when Natasha’s around. But with her permission to discipline you in their preferred way? You shrink away at the thought. “N-no Mommy. No, Mommy I’ll promise I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” Natasha coos, another few smacks landing on her bottom. “Now, for the rest of your punishment…” Bunny gulps, trying to relax her muscles so it doesn’t hurt as bad.

“Now, should I put you on meal replacement shakes or keep you in chastity?”

[kmseokjins]

Twisted Tails (Chapter 2)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / (Future) Poly!OT7 x Reader / Hybrid!BTS x Human!Female!Reader Warnings: angst again, but not too bad Words: 3.4k (It could have been longer)

Summary: You return to the shelter the next day for the interview and to see Jimin and Namjoon again. 

Hybrids: GermanShepherd!Namjoon, BirmanCat!Jimin, more to come later!

Notes: Here it is, folks! Chapter 2! This has been just been collecting dust for a few days, and I decided that it had enough in it to pass as Chapter 2. I was going to add more, but the resolution to the shelter conflict will come next chapter. :)

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

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You had gone home entirely exhausted from the events of the day, anxiety for the following day creeping over you no sooner than you had left the shelter after filling out the paperwork. You had lugged the box onto your kitchen counter, unable to bring yourself to shuffle through the contents; you would worry about it later, when you could actually focus. From dealing with your late sister’s lawyer plus the revelation that you were possibly only steps away from being a hybrid owner, you couldn’t bring yourself to summon the energy required for anything besides a hot shower and collapsing into bed.

You had been intent on visiting Namjoon and Jimin after you’d filled out the adoption paperwork, but Jackson had advised you against doing so.

“Jimin might not let you go this time,” He had joked with a chuckle before his expression turned somber and serious, “I know you’re probably sick of hearing this, but I’m sorry about your sister. It’s never easy losing someone.”

You had managed a weak smile in response, “Yeah, it’s been...difficult.” You had never thought you would lose your sister, at least not so young. She was really your only family connection left, aside from your estranged mother and your late father’s brother. 

Neither of you have heard from your mother for years (and she hadn’t even attended the funeral) and to be honest, you didn’t really want her drama in your life. Your uncle was the only family that your sister and yourself kept in constant contact with, even though he lived a few hours away.

“Jackson,” You started carefully, tapping the pen a few times on the countertop, “I..can you tell me how Namjoon and Jimin were when they were first brought here?”

Jackson frowned as he looked away from you for a moment, leaning back against the countertop, “It was heartbreaking,” He answered after a few moments of silence, “Jimin was beside himself, crying. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him besides Namjoon, and Namjoon was...emotionless.” Jackson rubbed a hand over his face, “I can’t believe the officers brought them here, especially since you were around.”

You sighed, “I was so busy with arrangements and work that I didn’t even think about them. I...I don’t know why. I should have. When the lawyer said my sister gave them to me, that’s the first time they even crossed my mind. I’m glad they were brought here though and not to one of the less...adequate shelters. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

“You were grieving, it’s understandable. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah...but I might be too late.”

You had followed Jackson’s advice and didn’t stop to see the two hybrids before you left and went home. You felt bad doing so, but perhaps not seeing them again was a good thing. You certainly didn’t have the heart to tell them that there was a chance they wouldn’t go home with you.

Mrs. Choi had said that the decision was ultimately up to the hybrid, but you had a feeling that she had a double meaning to such words. Just because a hybrid preferred a certain owner, didn’t mean that they would be good for them in the long run. You were starting to think that the shelter was much more strict than they let on. Compared to the other potential owner, you were certain you had a great disadvantage. 

Sure, you had knowledge about hybrids, but you had never owned one before. Once upon a time, you had entertained the idea, but you’d never found “the one”. In regards to the two hybrids, the only thing you had in your favor was that they were familiar with you.

You hoped that this interview wasn’t going to stress the hybrids out more than they already certainly were. 

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

You were fidgeting in the hard plastic chair in the front lobby of the shelter, straightening immediately whenever someone would emerge from the doorway behind the receptionist’s desk. You’d been met with disappointment several times, sinking back down into the hard plastic with a sigh each time.

You had already been interviewed before you’d been instructed to sit out in the lobby until someone came to get you. You’d been sitting out here for 30 minutes, observing the few people who wandered in and out throughout that time. In the first five minutes, you had exchanged a few words with Amanda before you’d promptly let the conversation die as her attention was snagged by the phone ringing. You didn’t try to engage her in any further conversation when she was done.

You preferred to wallow in your thoughts.

The interview had been lengthy, questioned by Mrs. Choi and Ms. Ahn, the resident expert on “hybrid behavior”, or to put simply: a hybrid psychologist. They’d asked simple questions: your name, your age, where you worked, what kind of residence you lived in, and your experience with hybrids. They had also asked you to explain your history and relationship with Jimin and Namjoon. You’d been as honest as you could when it came to anything about hybrids. You knew surface information, the basics, but you weren’t no expert. You were willing to learn, however. You made sure both women understood that loud and clear.

You might be drowning in nerves about caring for someone other than yourself, but you weren’t going to give them up without a fight. Your sister would expect nothing less.

“Tell me about your sister, Y/N. She owned them previously, correct?” The question from Ms. Ahn made you raise your eyebrows. “How did she treat them?”

“Yes, she owned them for 2 years before...before this.” You glanced over at Mrs. Choi before back to Ms. Ahn as the woman urged you to continue, “She treated them with respect, I’ve never seen them distressed or unhappy in her care. They were standoffish the first few months that she had them, but they eventually came out of their shells. Jimin more so quicker than Namjoon.”

“Standoffish? Was there any certain reason why?”

“To be honest, I’’m not sure. My sister mentioned that they hadn’t had an easy life, but she never indulged further. You have to understand, my sister was very private. She shared with me about most of her life, but there’s some things she kept to herself. Telling me any details about Namjoon or Jimin’s past didn’t sit well with her. It wasn’t her story to tell, and I agreed with her. It’s theirs. Even if I knew the reason why, I wouldn’t feel comfortable giving you that information.”

“Hmm, I see.”

The longer you sat there, the more you wondered if maybe you’d projected a bad impression to Ms. Ahn. You had went into the interview determined to be as honest and transparent as you could, but maybe that’s where the problem stood. You had admitted that you had never owned a hybrid nor did you know in-depth information on them. That’s not to say the other party looking at the two hybrids were experts. They could be just as new as you.

“Y/N? You alright?”

You jerk sharply at the voice and a gentle bump to your shoulder that breaks you out of your thoughts, hand reaching up to press over your heart as you look up to find Jackson standing in front of you, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed at you.

“Jackson, you scared me.”

Jackson offered an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I called your name three times, but you didn’t respond. You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just got lost in my thoughts, I guess.” Sitting up, you peered at him hopefully, “Are you here to take me to Namjoon and Jimin?” 

At your inquiry, Jackson immediately brightens, “Yes, I sure am!” He motions for you to follow him from the lobby, turning left at the desk instead of going through the doorway behind it. 

"How are they this morning?" You asked curiously as you followed after him. Mrs. Choi and Ms. Ahn hadn't been forthcoming when you had asked them as soon as the interview was over.

He glances at you sideways as he stops at the last door on the left at the end of the hallway, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, “Neither of them really engaged with the couple. I think Jimin is still upset from yesterday, so that’s making Namjoon uneasy.” Jackson glances at the door before back to you, “I’m rather curious to see how things change once you go in there. Are you ready?”

Without waiting for a confirmation from you, Jackson twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside before he urges you to follow. You hesitate for a few moments before you step past the threshold inside, looking around to survey the scene.

The room wasn’t overly big, the walls painted a soft, light green. Several plants were potted throughout the room, and filling the center of the room were two comfortable looking couches angled to face each other. The one facing the door is occupied by the two hybrids, who immediately perk at the sound and sight of the door swinging open. You don’t miss the rigid posture of the brunette nor the fidgeting of the darker haired male in the brief seconds it takes them to recognize you.

“Y/N!” Jimin bolts up from beside Namjoon on the couch, ears immediately perked and his fluffy tail flicking lazily back and forth behind him. The cat hybrid quickly comes to your side, wrapping himself around you as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

You were glad he didn’t try to knock the wind out of you today, reaching up to rub a hand on his back gently, “Morning, Jimin-ah,” You greet, letting him tug you away from Jackson and towards the couch where Namjoon has remained patiently sitting. The dog hybrid watches the both of you carefully as Jimin urges you to sit beside Namjoon on the couch. “Namjoon-ah,” You greet the hybrid on your right as you sit beside him, practically squished between the hybrids as Jimin plops down on your other side.

As you study Namjoon for a few moments, you take note that he seems much less tense than he had a minute ago when you’d first walked in. The large ears on top of his head are completely alert and focused on you and Jimin, and you can’t help but reach up slowly to rub the base of his left ear. His head tilts towards your hand and his eyes flutter at the sensation.

Thump, thump, thump. You giggle at the sound of his tail smacking the couch at the pets.

Your attention is momentarily pulled from Namjoon as Jimin grabs your left hand, ducking his head as he places it on top of his head. You blink at him for several moments before gently giving in to his silent request for pets. A purr rumbles free as you scratch gently at the base of his ears. 

You can’t help but realize they’ve come a long way since the first time you met them.

[ 2 years ago. ]

“Sis,” Ellie meets you at the front door of her house before you can even raise your hand to knock on the bright yellow door. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, “There was traffic, plus you live out here in the middle of nowhere.” Your big sister didn’t live that far from the city, but it was still a decent drive out to her quaint little house with the closest neighbor a five minute walk or more away.

“Oh shush, just get in here, I have people for you to meet!” Despite being shorter than you, Ellie snags your hand and pulls you into her house, carefully shutting the door as you stumbled to get your bearings. She loops her arm through yours, “They’re in the living room.”

“They? Did you bring home two or more men this time, Ellie? One man is trouble enough, but two!?” You nudge at her with your shoulder, half teasing and half certain that your sister was about to introduce you to her new boyfriends...or boy toys.

“Oh shush, they’re not my boyfriends!” Her hand smacks your arm gently as she tugs you through the foyer and down the hall before you both emerge into her spacious living room. You bring you both to a stop as your eyes fall on the two young men sitting on the couch. You weren’t expecting this.

“Ellie…” You breathe, eyes wide as you take in the ears that you can spot on both, “Did you…”

“Yes, yes, I did. I wasn’t going to, but they...they insisted.”

“Insisted? How long have you known them? Did you adopt them from a shelter?”

“No, not exactly. It doesn’t matter, alright? C’mon let me introduce you.” Ellie drags you forward, closer to the couch, grinning at the two hybrids as she stops you both several steps away. She clears her throat gently before lowering her voice as she begins introductions, “Y/N, this is Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin. Guys, this is my little sister, Y/N.”

The first hybrid, Namjoon, is a dog hybrid. He looks tall and skinny (almost too skinny, if you think about it), with a mop of blond hair on top of his head, his large, slightly pointed ears are alert and focused on the both of you in front of him. His brown eyes look you over before he peers back up to your face, head tilted ever so slightly before his lips part and he speaks, voice low and rough, “Hello.” His arm shifting and tightening around the figure next to him draws your attention to the other hybrid.

Pink hair is the most notable feature on the hybrid, his small black ears standing out against the light hue. He’s curled up against the dog hybrid, appearing almost smaller than what he really is and he’s almost skinner too. He keeps his face averted against the dog’s shoulder before a gentle nudge silently urges him to do something. He makes a soft noise of protest before he slowly raises his head to look at you, although he avoids eye contact.

Blue eyes. You suck in a swift breath as you catch a glimpse of the sky-like hue of them.

“H-Hello.” His voice is softer and slightly higher than the dog’s, and he’s immediately ducking back down to hide against the other, ears flattened and eyes squeezed shut.

It about breaks your heart.

“They’ve had a difficult life,” Ellie tells you when you follow after her into the kitchen, mostly to avoid the awkward silence that settles between you and the hybrids once your sister excuses herself to make drinks. You’d sat perched on the edge of one of the chairs before you’d quietly excused yourself and power walked to the kitchen.

Her words stop you from practically hissing at her for leaving you alone with them.

“I can tell, Ellie.” You sigh as you lean against the island, “Where did you really find them? You never answered me.” You don’t know why you’re pushing for information; you had a feeling that Ellie wasn’t going to tell you what you wanted to know.

“Does it matter, Y/N? Look, they needed my help, I helped. They didn’t want to leave and...I didn’t have the heart to tell them no.” She turns to face you, “Don’t look at me like that, you would have done the same, sis.”

“Yeah...you’re right.” She is right, you agree. You wouldn’t turn them away if you had been in the same position.

“Of course I am. Older and wiser, remember? Now, c’mon, they’ll warm up to you in no time, I know it.”

[ End. ]

“Y/N-ie,” Jimin’s voice startles you from the memory, eyes widening as Jimin’s thumb brushes just over the top of your cheek, “You’re crying,” He murmurs, his own eyes wide and glassy.

You immediately retract your hands from them (earning a whine from both) as you hastily wipe the sleeve of your sweater over your face, desperate to dispel any further tears from falling. “I’m sorry, I’m….it’s just allergies,” You sniffle a little before you smile as brightly as you can at the cat hybrid.

Jimin’s eyes narrow marginally, briefly flicking them at Namjoon over the top of your head before back to you, “Allergies?” You can hear the disbelief in his question.

You nod quickly, “I’m sensitive,” You weren’t telling a complete lie, but he doesn’t need to know the real reason for your tears, although you suspect he might have a hunch; they both probably do. In an attempt to avoid either of them questioning you further, you grasp for the first thing that comes to mind, “They’ve treated you good here, right?”

“Yes. It’s not...home, but we’ve had worse.” Namjoon answers you, one of his ears swiveling towards the door that’s Jackson-less and closed. “They’ve kept us comfortable.” 

You nod, relaxing at the confirmation that the shelter had been treating them well. You hadn’t exactly doubted that, since Jackson seemed nice and fair enough, but it felt better to hear such words from Namjoon. The shelter couldn’t compare to home, but at least they weren’t being thrown back into a possible scenario like whatever lurked in their past. You’re glad that this shelter was setting the bar high with their hybrid care.

“What did you think of the couple that are also interested in you?” You prod gently, looking back to Jimin before back to Namjoon, indicating the question was for them both.

“They were nice,” Namjoon answers you first again, his shoulders shrugging, “Same as all the other couples that have looked at us recently.” His eyes flick to Jimin for a moment before going back to your face, “They’re always smitten with Jiminie.”

“I don’t want to go with them,” Jimin murmurs beside you, fingers tugging on the sleeve of your sweater absently, “We want to go home with you.”

“I want you to go to a home that’s right for you.” You offer him a soft smile, “I would love to have you both, but it’s not completely up to me. If there’s someone better…”

“There’s not!” Jimin’s sudden outburst startles you, “Don’t...don’t you want us?” Jimin’s ears have flattened to his head, blue eyes swimming with tears as he shrinks back into himself slightly.  “I..I don’t want to go with a stranger.”

“Jimin-ah,” You begin, “I’ve never owned hybrids before, I don’t even know where to start. Don’t you want to go with someone who knows how to take care of you, keep you happy?”

“We’ll help you, Y/N! Right, Joonie?” Jimin doesn’t bother to look past you at Namjoon.

“Of course,” Namjoon hums in agreement from beside you, “We want to go with you, Y/N.”

Looking back and forth between the two, you sigh, “Are you sure? Positive? I don’t want either of you to regret doing this.” 

“Yes.” “Yes!”

Part of you was quite certain, and fearful, that the two hybrids only wanted to be in your care because you were the last connection to your sister. You didn’t dare question them as to whether your theory was correct; being here in the shelter wasn’t the time nor the place for such sensitive matters. Upset either hybrid unnecessarily was going to dwindle your chances down to none.

You weren’t sure how Jimin nor Namjoon would react should the shelter decide to place them with the other interested party.

“Okay,” You simply state, nodding your head absently before you push yourself up from the couch, “I need to make a phone call real quick, okay?” Your reassurance is mostly directed at Jimin, catching sight of his wide eyes as he peers up at you in slight alarm.

He regards you for a moment before he slowly nods, fingers releasing the hold he had on your sweater before placing his hands limply in his lap. Jimin glanced nervously at Namjoon before his eyes tracked you across the room as you picked the farthest corner to make your phone call.

You scroll quickly through your phone to find the number that called you last week, hovering your thumb over the call button for a moment before you huffed out a breath and pressed your thumb down.

Having some legal power in your corner couldn’t hurt. Better safe than sorry.

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