#also i had to do laundry which took a solid two hours

[pvtpuma]

I work in four hours and haven't slept yet. I needed my five hours of unwind time after getting out of work at ONE IN THE MORNING. FIVE DAYS IN A ROW. I HATE THIS.

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 18 — TOYS

PAIRING: haechan x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, use of toys (vibrator, hand cuffs, and dildo), mutual masturbation, usage of nicknames, haechan is a perv and so are you.

WC: 1.3k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! hyuck and @jaeminvore never fail to make me go feral istg, i hope you all enjoy reading this :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“If you wanted it so much then you could have just asked for it, sweetheart.”

The voice snapped you out of your daze, eyes opening to see a very smug smile plastered onto your roommate’s face, having caught you in the act of pleasuring yourself with what? A mere vibrator.

You were beyond embarrassed, also frozen as you did not expect to see him back at your shared apartment so early. He was solid two hours early as per his usual schedule, which gave you the perfect opportunity to play with yourself in the privacy of your room, not caring about being loud whenever he was out.

Problem? It was your roommate you always fantasized about while giving attention to your needy cunt, he was irresistibly attractive, and so was your insatiable need to have him, yet you couldn’t quite go to tell him the same, to maintain the decorum of being roommates and all.

Now, Haechan wasn’t a saint by any means. He had lost the count of times he had successfully stolen your panties (especially your white lace ones with the small bow in the middle), from the laundry basket, using the already soiled cloth to jerk off, wrapping it around his cock, his cum straining it further (but you did not need to know about that).

He too was equally as depraved when it came to fantasies—you being the reason and root of the core for the majority of his fantasies at least.

So, when he returned home early, only to hear your sweet moans lingering in the air, he knew he had to take his chances and intrude in hopes of catching you in the act.

What he did not expect, however, was to hear you whimper out his name with your eyes closed, legs spread enough to give him the clearest view of your wetness, along with the pink vibrator which you had been using to stimulate your swollen clit.

That’s exactly when he said that sentence, making you halt your movements altogether, yours legs closing with panic when he took a step inside the room.

“Though, I’m really offended if you think that a measly little vibrator will make you feel half as good as I can,” he spoke up, clicking his tongue before pushing it against his inner cheek, something he did when he was annoyed, or feigned annoyance if you take the current situation into consideration.

“Fuck! Hyuck, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know y—you’d be home,” you stated rambling, covering yourself up by side, avoiding eye contact at all costs, but he was quick to chuckle hearing your sentence.

“Shh, darling. You should be happy I’m here to help now. And since I’m so generous, I’ll be keeping the punishment time short,” he mused with amusement, yet you could see the glimpse of darkness in his eyes, swarmed with the desire he’s been holding back all this while.

You gulped, your hands barely hiding your tits as Hyuck shamelessly gave your body a once over, mumbling pretty under his breath.

“What do you mean? P—punishment?” You whispered, and Hyuck could have sworn the sight of you being confused and breathless made him want to ruin you.

He walked closer, leaning against your bed and closing the distance between you two, lips brushing against each other in a gentle caress, which sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel just how soft his lips felt, and you hadn’t even kissed him.

“So fucking cute,” he chuckled, “now be a good girl and open your legs for me if you wanna be fucked properly,” he whispered, his warm hand resting on your thigh, parting them and you gasped when the sudden gust of cold air hit your wetness.

“Fucked? Wait, Hyuck what?” You mumbled, lips on the verge of touching his and your heart felt weaker than ever.

“Just follow what I say, yeah?” He raised his brows, nodding and you found yourself in a daze, nodding back.

Then he leaned back, not giving you the kiss you were so desperately waiting for, rather, he bent down to get a box from below your bed, your eyes widening because Hyuck was not supposed to know where you hid your box of sex toys.

“Be good and you’ll get what you want, baby,” he smirked, seeing how innocent you looked, especially when he handcuffed your hands to the bedpost, getting your blue vibrating dildo out and keeping it beside you.

Your eyes were fixated on his figure, your breath hitching when he took off his T-shirt in one go, exposing his pretty melanin and the faintest abs, which was probably the prettiest sight you had even seen.

He then sat down on the couch right in front of your bed, spreading his legs as he sat, hand resting on his hardening cock. The print of his length was visible through his shorts, your mouth open and dry as the thoughts of wanting to have him in your mouth took over.

“Get that toy, baby. Let me see you pleasure yourself,” he urged, voice sultry and eyes hooded.

“Wait—you won’t touch me?” You asked, sitting with your one wrist cuffed, disappointment clear in your voice.

“So eager to be touched by me, sweetheart? First show me how much you want it,” he said, palming his cock through his pants.

Your body felt warm. Hyuck’s aura was strong, his gaze even stronger and you found yourself following his directions simply because you wanted to be good for him, your subspace pulling you right in.

“C’mon, baby. Show me how you use that dildo, and think of me while you do it,” he commanded.

You picked it up from your free hand, shyly spreading your legs to make space for it, switching it on and rubbing it all over your wet folds, eyes closing as you thought about Hyuck’s tongue, wanting it to replace the toy.

“Hyuck,” you whispered, the toy prodding at your entrance.

“Fuck,” he bit his lip, the sight in front of him was lewd yet the most innocent thing ever, he couldn’t help but get rid of his shorts, stroking his fully hardened cock now.

“Good girl, put it in your tight little cunt,” he said.

You nodded, eyes still closed and breathing ragged, a low moan leaving your lips, which caused Hyuck’s cock to twitch as you pushed the vibrating phallic in you, thighs closing and opening again at the sensation.

A whine of his name left your mouth again, and he could have sworn it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard. You continued your ministrations, leaving the dildo in your cunt and pressing a small vibrator on your clit, doubling the feeling of your unadulterated pleasure, your eyes watering when you saw him fucking his fist at the sight of you touching yourself.

It was too hot for you to handle.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me,” he whispered, watching your body shake and a tear falling down your cheek.

That’s it, that was your punishment—watching Hyuck touch himself but not touching you, which left you frustrated.

An irritated sound left your lips, causing him to chuckle and approach you again.

“What’s wrong, darling? Not satisfied?” He asked, mocking you.

“Please,” you said in a small voice.

“Hm?” He asked, urging you to speak louder.

“Please touch me—fuck me,” you begged, surprising yourself as you had never been this desperate before, your body shivering as it ached for him.

His eyes darkened, his carnal desires taking over, “I hope you’re ready to be fucked all night, darling,” he said, voice deep and promising.

That’s all he said before capturing your lips into a deep kiss, pulling you closer by your neck, your knees weaker than ever as he bit your lower lip, making you go feral with just one action.

Oh you so knew it was going to be a long (and adventurous) night.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[pbandjesse]

I mostly felt okay today. I am very cold though. And that made things difficult. But if I kept moving I was doing good. I tried my best to be productive and that was good. And I slept better.

I was not feeling great last night but I woke up feeling a little better. I hugged James before they left for work but would sleep until 930. Which apparently is my bodies favorite time to wake up when I have no plans.

I stayed in bed until well after 10 though. I didn't want to get up and that was just fine. I did some research to find a non bug boot jack for Jess. And finally got up.

I took a shower and washed my hair and got dressed. And started cleaning. I did a once over throughout the apartment. Put some stuff away. Sprayed and wiped things down.

I started the dishwasher and put away all the laundry and dish pods mom gave us. And went to change the sheets. I also changed the duvet cover and made the bed very cozy. But this took forever and made me a little dizzy and hot.

I had cereal and cooled down before vacuuming and cleaning the fishtanks. I love that I don't have to change the filters anymore and I have a solid bio feedback from the plants, moss, and the purposeful snails. And the invasive snails are much more under control then they have been. Still not perfect but it's going well keeping them to a manageable level

I felt really good about the cleaning but I felt a bit exhausted. Just really winded. I took an hour to lay on the couch and watch videos.

I had the rest of the leftover pizza from last night for lunch.

I decided I would do some art. I drew for a while. I wanted to redo some of my ideas for the little tattoos we are getting in a few weeks. Took about an hour. And then I spent literally forever reworking my idea and my math. I made a chart for my yarn and discovered I didn't buy one of the colors I meant to. Incredible. I will have to go do that tomorrow.

I was proud of my work but I still felt a little listless. And like I needed some kind of deadline or something. Like I like having off from work but also I miss work and want to go back to work. But also I want to only work 3 days a week. Which I don't actually want but I am just complaining. I miss work. But I will miss having days off.

So I gave myself a big task. And spent the next two hours going through all of my clothes. Well most of them. I took everything off the hangers and everything out of my big green trunk where I store most of my extra clothes. This does not include my sweaters or jackets or the pajama drawer. But everything else is in the green trunk.

I would first pull everything out and then sorted everything into piles. Shirts, jumpsuits, dresses, bottoms. And I just have to many clothes. But I have been so good about purging over the last couple years and buying things I really like I didn't have as much to get rid of as I expected. Which is good! But I was worried about not having the space I was looking for. I decided to sort through and pull out anything that I only wear for summer camp. So now those have their own box in the studio. And then I was able to make some decisions on what was getting hung up again.

This was only difficult because I had so many long sleeve black shirts. Which used to be an issue in the opposite direction. I did a good job collecting things for layering. And in the end I only hung up half of the things that had been in the closet before. I'm very pleased.

And then I was super excited when I folded everything and it all fits so nicely in the green trunk and I didn't have to force it or anything. Amazing.

I hope to go through the jammies at some point but I share that drawer with James so I don't feel super pressed about it.

I ended up getting rid of another whole bag of clothes. So that's three trash bags of stuff. I am very happy with my purging even if it's slow going.

As I was finishing folding the camp clothes James came home. I was really happy to see them even though they were very sweaty. They apologized but it doesn't actually bother me that much. I just get surprised when they are damp.

We sat in the floor in the studio and talked. I showed them my yarn chart. And we discussed what we are going to do for dinner since we still have no oven. Our landlady hasn't responded but James is going to send a follow up about lowering our rent until it's replaced or fixed. Because we have to spend more money on food. I think this is fair. And she's reasonable so we will see what she says.

James would run to the grocery store. Got jam and milk. And soup for me and some little frozen burgers for themselves. And when they got home they heated up our food and then jumped on a DND game with their friends while I did some research on some 1970s name plate jewelry. Is anyone else obsessed with your name being on things? I love it and I don't know why. Also the names were incredibly 70s and I loved that. Just names you don't hear people under 50 having anymore. Darlene. Doris. Marlene. Pat. Just the best.

I am just resting now. I feel very winded still but thankfully I don't feel so sick as I did last night. Let's hope tomorrow continues that trend.

I hope tomorrow to go to the craft store and get the yarn I need. And maybe I'll stop at the savers. And just enjoy the end of the year.

I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well everyone.

[heyftinally]

For anyone who would like a shred of a reference point because they do not do fiber arts, let me try to contribute.

I crochet. Kitting is notably more "efficient" for a lot of garment crafting, but 1) I don't know how to knit 2) crochet isn't *that* far off and can still be used to make quite a lot.

If I want to crochet myself a triangle head bandana - just a triangle with two strings to tie around my head - it will take me about two hours IF I'm working uninterrupted and under ideal circumstances. That's 2hrs+ to make a hair accessory.

Now, if you need to make things like socks for your children, that's another solid 2+hrs per sock/set of socks (depending on size). A sweater could take anywhere between weeks and months to complete, depending in intricacy, size, how many hours you have per day to dedicate to it, and individual's personal working speed.

So when OP says "I wouldn't be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three combined", they're 100% correct.

Which, as they said, is also on top of having to make things like soap and candles if the family couldn't afford to buy them (or didn't have access to a place that sold them), and also generally tasks like tending livestock that the family may have had (anything from chickens to cows and horses), tending a garden, routinely bathing the children and herself (which I put in it's own category because such a task would take hours), laundry (wash dry mend and fold), canning during that season, and often making preparations for anything from visitors to political unrest that threatened the family.

Women of the home had a lot to do, and most of this stuff took a long time to do. But because so much of it doesn't exist anymore, and what of it does we have modern conveniences to aid with, we often don't really get an accurate mental picture of just HOW MUCH time and effort keeping a home used to take.

a phrase that kinda bothers me when talking about women's historical roles in europe is "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear it so often, those exact words in the same order even. and once you learn a little more you realize that the massive gaping hole in that list is fiberwork. im not an expert and have no hard numbers, but i wouldnt be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three tasks combined, so it's not a trivial omission.

it's not a hot take to say that the mass amnesia about fiberwork is linked to the belittlement of women's work in geneal, but i do think there's a special kind of illusion that is cast by "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear that and think "well i cook and clean and take care of children (or i know someone who does) and i have a sense of how much work that is" and you know of course that cooking and cleaning were more laborious before modern technology, but still, you have a ballpark estimate you think, when in fact you are drastically underestimating the work load.

i also think that this just micharacterizes the role of women's work in livelihoods? cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children are all sisyphean tasks that have to be repeated the next day. these are important, but not the whole picture. when we include all kinds of fiberwork—and other things, such as making candles or soap—women's work looks much more like manufacturing, a sphere we now associate more with men's work. i feel like women's connection to making and craftsmanship is often elided.

[modestcatholiclife]

After a Week Away...

After more than a week away, I'm posting again. I've been busy but not with anything that warranted its own post. On top of that, a close friend is going through an extraordinary hardship at the moment so my thoughts haven't really been on this.

As to the past week, I got back from my grandparents' place last Tuesday. It was a long trip home and very exhausting. By the time I was home, I was so exhausted I felt sick. That may sound overdramatic, and maybe it is, but it's not often that I go anywhere that's more than a few hours away from home.

On Wednesday, I tried to spend as much of the day as possible cleaning. Most of that was unpacking and the resulting loads of laundry, but I was also able to do something I've been wanting to do for a while: reorganise my bookshelf. I was a voracious reader as a child up until my early years of high school. However, now that I'm converting, I'm reevaluating some of the books I have and how they align with my values. Additionally, some of the books that I have are just not very good. My ultimate goal is to only own books that I'd be happy for my own children to read one day. I also have a bunch of religious books that I haven't had space for since it's only a small shelf. I'm very happy with the set up, I had so many books that they were taking up all the space on top of the shelf, which I can now use for things that need to be on display.

On Thursday, I joined my friends on a trip over to Burwood, a suburb off Sydney. My friends had seen TikToks about there being a lot of good places to eat there and wanted to visit their K-pop store. It was a very nice shop, serving complementary tea and with a cute crafting space in the back.

Friday and Saturday were spent working a dog-sitting job. I was caring for two Dachshunds, a 13 year old boy named Jensen and a 1 year old girl named KC. I had looked after them before quite recently, they were one of two jobs I took between Christmas and New Year's. KC is as energetic and friendly as they come, while Jensen is more reserved. He didn't much like me when we first met but after I comforted him through a very scary storm during my first time looking after them, he became a lot more comfortable around me.

Finally, we come to yesterday. My fiance and I were happy to be back at one of our usual Ukrainian churches for the first time in a few weeks, this time St. Andrew's in Lidcombe for their English language liturgy. The English liturgy has its own small but solid young adult community that my fiance and I are always delighted to be with. It was a joy to catch up with everyone and talk about how we've spent this holiday period. And most exciting of all, my fiance spoke to our priest and has been told that we can start officially arranging my catechism in the next couple of weeks!

This turned out to be a lot longer than I anticipated, I guess my week was more fun than I realised. I think I'll do a separate post about today and my coming week so as not to drag this post out unnecessarily. Though I will give one final update about my past week: I've finally told one of my friends about my recent engagement. All of my friends are secular and don't believe in marrying young or quickly. I'm sure they'll support me all the same but, especially with the relationship struggles my friend is having, they'll be concerned and doubtful.

Christ is Born! Glorify Him!

[incorrectbatfam]

any damian and tim bonding headcannons? since dc is utterly set on making them hate each other urgh

Once in a while Tim likes to knock Damian down a peg by reminding him he already discovered Batman and Robin's identity while Damian was in diapers

Damian showed up to Tim's room on a random Saturday afternoon. It took some prodding to figure out the petting zoo got a new goat, but the adults were busy and he wasn't accustomed to asking for "frivolous" things like that

Damian: "Do you have games on your phone?"

Tim, handing Damian his phone: "No"

Pet photoshoots are one thing, but consider: pet music videos

Damian is jealous of how the law keeps him from doing things meanwhile Tim has freedom as an emancipated minor. Tim responds by saying "haha loser"

Tim is in Camp "If you ruin Damian's excitement I'll frame you for tax fraud 4 months from now"

Tim's playlist gets put through the Damian Test, which is like Rotten Tomatoes except Damian plays it for Titus to see how he reacts. Tim has a solid 22% approval rate

Damian's a vegetarian but he'll still fight Tim over the wishbone

Damian stays inside with the dogs during Fourth of July fireworks. Tim swings by to drop a cup of hot chocolate and sneak his dirty laundry into Damian's hamper

Tim's favorite "-core" aesthetic is Microsoft Windows Landscape Screensaver Core. Damian's is Change Your Brother's Microsoft Windows Landscape Screensaver To A Lungfish Core

Tim let Damian drive home one night. Damian took two wrong exits, almost rear-ended a truck, and kept forgetting to use his blinker. When Tim said, "I thought you knew how to drive" Damian replied, "Yes. I never said I drove well. Come on, Drake, I can hardly reach the brakes" (Tim also had a small moment of being proud that Damian picked up his sense of humor)

Damian convinced Tim to chaperone his group on a class field trip to the harbor because Damian wanted to dig through the sludge for evidence on a case

When Damian tells him not to do something, that's when Tim stops and re-evaluates the kind of danger he's willing to put himself in

Tim's apartment was stocked with frozen pizza, coffee, Doritos, and Mountain Dew prior to moving in. Damian's housewarming gift was an apple

Damian occasionally peels and puts an orange on Tim's desk when he's gone too long without a snack

Unlike Dick, Tim doesn't censor himself around Damian, and unlike Jason, he doesn't avoid uncomfortable topics for the sake of not getting in trouble with Bruce. Thus, Tim taught Damian what the peach emoji actually means

Damian: "Drake, how do you like your egg?"

Tim: "Scrambled"

Damian: "Too bad. Pennyworth forbade me from cooking"

They veered from patrol on a side quest to try Jokerized seasoning on top of as many things as they could

Tim once napped through a Wayne Enterprises fire drill. He woke up to firefighters knocking at his window with Damian next to them making an L on his forehead

When Tim went off on a mission with Young Justice, Damian packed him a lunch box consisting of a loaf of bread, two 5-hour energy shots, a flash grenade, Cheese Viking band-aids, Damian's lucky pen, a fake ID, and a handwritten note saying "I'm stealing your pants. Don't expect them back"

[the-dawn-star]

Place to Stay 22 Klaus M. x Gilbert!Reader x Elijah M.

A/N: Hello everyone and I'm sorry for the long wait. Life is getting hard but I hope you haven't lost your intrest just yet.

-S

+2500ish words, and proofread by lovely Ana_Mia_Lisa on ao3.

All interactions are highly appreciated!!

Waking up had never felt harder than it did now, right now, at this very moment. I did not attempt to push away the covers, probably because my whole body ached. The lack of an active heating system didn't help much. 

Whose turn was it to pay the electrical company this month? 

Now that I think about it, it was such a mundane thing to worry about…electrical bills…what a joke. 

I’d have to check the calendar to be sure, but I was pretty certain that my sister must've missed her turn. And not for the first time.

Not that she seemed to care that our house lacked a heating system. 

The list of things Elena cared about were surprisingly limited these days. 

Apparently, I didn't make it in her new list. 

I pulled my feet closer to my body, sustaining as much of the heat as I could. 

Back when we were still a team, we devised a plan, my sister and I, to have each other's backs, to support each other no matter what life threw at us. We would both get jobs if we needed to, maybe sell a few things. We promised to keep ourselves a float no matter what, we made it our top priority. 

Obviously, both our priorities had changed since then. Hers had become murder and betrayal. And mine…, I wasn't sure what my priorities were anymore. 

I let out a groan, finally finding the strength to move, reaching for my phone, and not because I was expecting a call. 

Old habits die hard I suppose. Sometimes too hard…

Instead of my phone, my hand made contact with a vase, causing it to fall to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. That made me jump out of bed at last. 

Maybe, even if I wasn’t going to go to school, I could be productive, maybe... 

Maybe I could do something actually useful instead of lying-in bed with no sense of the responsibility that I had. Responsibility that I have for mom and dad, for Jenna…

I tiptoed towards the door, opening it slightly, not sure if the crash had been loud enough to wake up the whole house or not.

And then I remembered the painful–but also comforting– truth, no one was home. 

I was alone. And that was a good thing, I needed time to think, to put the events that happened into perspective. 

I got into some comfortable–and warm– clothes, fetched the mop and two plastic bags from the kitchen, and I started to clean. 

The sky was gray, my sweater was gray, my mood was gray. 

Could it get any worse than this? 

My answer might've been no if you'd asked me that question roughly forty-eight hours ago, but that was before my sister thought me expandable. 

During the day, I tidied the house, cleaned the kitchen, dusted the photo frames and did two sets of laundry,–most of it being my clothes, which wasn't surprising, Elena seemed to practically be living in the Salvatore’s residence.–

School was a solid no today, for obvious reasons. Besides, I was so behind on homework. And I’d already called in sick for work. 

It was nice to just clean around the house and just be. 

Around midday, after cleaning the downstairs bathroom, I felt a bad headache coming along, the pain running wild behind closed eyes. 

Unfortunately, we had no pain killers on hand, most of them had expired and I'd thrown them out earlier that day.

I made my way to the kitchen, maybe if I ate something I'd feel better. I sat behind the counter with my slightly wizened apple in front of me. I didn't feel like eating it– or anything really–.

I just wanted to close my eyes and forget yesterday, and the day before that. Just to concentrate on the good things and maybe, possibly forget the gray world around me. 

My throat burned–the culprate probably being dehydration–,  just like the back of my eyes. It took over my mind and numbed my senses. Enabling me to feel anything but a dull aching  pain. I guess in that sense the pain from the headache was preferable to the pain of my shame–and possibly regret–.  

My phone vibrated. Again. It had been doing so since morning and the day before, also a few times during the night. But I hadn’t bothered to look  at any of the texts.  

I sighed, getting up and putting the apple back in the fridge, and decided that the living room needed a change of decor–and perhaps the windows needed to be cleaned–. 

As I moved the single red armchair to the other corner, I saw something I wish I hadn't seen. Jenna's key chain. It must've fallen off sometime. I could distinctly remember her looking for it everywhere. 

The key chain felt heavy in my hands, and I had no idea what to do with it. Jenna certainly didn't need it anymore. 

I decided to put it back in its place near the door, if not for any reason than for the vain sense of nostalgia. This house didn't feel like my house anymore. It wasn't home. It was just a place we slept in,–mostly me, by the looks of things–. 

And who was it that once said something about homes being where hearts were? 

--- 

As the hours creeped by and the light of day gave way to darkness, my tasks came to an end as well. I would've loved to sit on the porch and enjoy the night's cool air–if I wasn't scared to leave my own house, that is–.  All my homework was done, as well as the dishes, the vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing the sink, and of course the laundry that was still drying. 

My self obligatory tasks were good distractions, they left me very tired– just like I wanted–, but also, there was this painful truth, that if I wouldn’t have done the chores, no one else would. 

Because the only person actually living here was me now. Upstairs my phone had rang at least thrice and not once did I go up the stairs to retrieve it.   

It was only seven o’clock but I was exhausted.Exhausting was good though, because then I wouldn't feel so miserable when thinking about what had happened. Exhausting was…perfect.  

The doorbell rang, plucking me out of my thoughts. I froze. 

Someone was behind that door. 

I should open the door. But what if Damon was behind it? or Stefan or…Elena? 

Nevertheless, it's better if I open the door than them–whoever they were– kicking it open. 

I threw myself off the couch and ran towards the door, standing in front of it.

And then I stopped. I really didn't want to open it.   

“I know you're in there, Y/N.” 

I sighed, angering an Original wasn't a part of my plans for the day. 

“Open this door, Y/N. I shall not ask again.” 

Rebekah sounded destructive and not very interested in preserving my house.  

“Why are you here?” I said, certain that the vampire could hear me through the door.   

My first words for the day… How lovely. 

“I shall be keeping you company today.”

The day was almost over. But I didn't tell her that. 

“Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Are you rejecting my company?” 

“What? No! I…”

“Then I shall be keeping you company then, believe me, I'm one of the more preferable options, and least I'm a company that is not involved with you intimately.”

That shut me up. 

Rebekah tapped her perfect heels impatiently on the porch. She had a high sense of fashion. Of course she did. Being a thousand years old did that to a girl. And that was just what Rebekah was. 

A girl. 

“You are not invited into my house.”  

“I suppose not.”

Was she giving me an out? Did that mean I could actually refuse to invite her in? Perhaps. But was it wise to do so? Was it safe to do so? Perhaps not. 

I took one deep breath before breaking my bubble of ignorance that I’d built around me throughout the day.

I averted my eyes from hers before taking a few steps back and giving her the space to walk in. “Come on in then.” I murmured, my eyes glued to my feet.  

Angering a vampire wasn't wise, angering an Original was pure stupidity. 

She stepped in, walking past me and into the living room, before settling herself on the couch. “Come on, sit down. Unless you are planning on standing there the rest of the night.” 

What was that saying about unwanted guests again? 

Nevertheless, the female Original wasn't your average guest now, was she? No, no, Rebekah Mikaelson wasn't like any other person in this messed up town. She was confident, proud and of course, purly, entirely and unmistakably herself. 

My school mates tried to imitate her. They failed, of course. She was the kind of person who owned whatever space she walked in–my house stood as the perfect example–. 

Was it just natural to her or was it required with thousands of years of practice? I didn't know, I'm not entirely sure she did either.

I let myself fall on one of the armchairs. 

“So, my brother told me about what happened to you.”  

Had Klaus told her or had Elijah? I wondered. 

Rebekah bit her lip, crossing one of her delicate ankles over the other. If she had wanted to say something more, she didn't. It wasn't her place to do so. However, Rebekah Mikaelason wasn't one for holding her tongue. But I didn't think our friendship–or lack thereof–was enough for her to feel particularly sorry or concerned for me.   

“ Is this why you are here? Did he put you up to this?” 

“Niklaus is concerned for you, but no, none of them put me up to this.”  

I raised an eyebrow, like I could snatch the truth from between her carefully chosen words.  

Rebekah stayed quiet for a minute too long. 

“I know what it feels like to get stabbed in the back. Your sister did just that to me.” 

I opened my mouth to object, she didn't let me.

“And she was not the first, Klaus has done the same over the centuries, more than I care to count.”  

She sat tall while speaking about her trauma, like she was talking about something as mundane as the weather. It put me on edge. How broken could one be to even be slightly fazed in the face of such cruelty? 

But she wasn't completely unfazed now, was she? Oh no, if you took the time to look closely, you could see her fingers playing with the hem of her blouse. It was a slight sign, barely visible and all too easy to miss. Not for me. Certainly not for me. It dawned on me that maybe she needed to be comforted, not give comfort. 

Were vampires in the habit of going to therapy? 

Unlikely, it would be too complicated. 

But Rebekah Mikaelson should definitely consider it nonetheless.

Has she ever talked about the stuff that she had gone through to anyone? or did she bottle up all the anger, hurt and hatred? Hoping that it would explode when she was in the company of someone unpleasant? Someone who deserved it…?

“Should I go to therapy?”

Her sudden chuckle surprised me. She shrugged. “Honestly, I wouldn't recommend it. Not for you at least.”

“Why?”

“Therapists are disposable after we're done with them.”

“What does that even…oh”

“How do you deal with it, then? You know your own family is hurting you.” I couldn't help but ask. 

“It is no easy feat, but eventually, you try to forget and look past it. Every time that Klaus has killed me– regardless of him being in the wrong or not– he and I both knew that it wouldn’t be forever. In your case however, your livelihood wasn't the first– or second– priority.”  

An invisible hand clenched itself around my heart. I knew Rebekah was speaking the truth. The fact that it was painful or I wanted to avoid it, didn't make it less so. She was good at that, telling the harsh and brutal truth when people couldn’t fathom facing it themselves.  

“What would you do if your family had done the same to you?” My words were barely above a whisper and I couldn’t meet her gaze. In fear that I might see things that I wouldn’t like.  

Coward. 

She sighed, “My family is complicated and less than functional Y/N, but through it all we still love each other for always and forever. And we would never throw each other to an almost certain death–if that would even be possible–.”  

The vampire kept silent before getting up and walking towards the kitchen. I couldn't see her but I heard cabinets opening and closing. 

“Your alcohol reserves are surprisingly low.”  

Yes, Alaric Saltzman didn't leave much. 

I finally turned around to see Rebekah with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and two wine glasses.  

“So, this is your plan, then? Drinking…wine?”   

“Certainly not.” Rebekah sounded like she took offense. “We have much better vintages at our reserve.”   

I had never enjoyed wine much. In fact, I hated the taste, but still I took a sip, letting the taste of berries settle on my tongue. Rebekah on the other hand, rolled her eyes after her first sip. 

“If my family had done something like this to me, they…wouldn’t be my family anymore. Families protect and take care of each other when you cannot do it yourself.” 

I took another sip of the wine mostly because I couldn’t find any words to form a coherent response.  

“I’m not saying you should disown your family; I’m just saying that ‘forgiving and forgetting’ wouldn't do you much good either.” Rebekah took another sip, and licked her lips clean, her eyes staring into the abyss.   

“I don’t think I can forget.” That ship had long since sailed. 

“From what I know of you Y/N, you are meant to do more than just following orders.”  

I've never thought of myself as a follow the leader type, but during the past year or two, that was exactly what I've become. 

Drinking with Rebekah wasn’t something that had been on my to-do list, nor was our heart to heart. Alas, anything other than crying in bed was better, anything other than dwelling in pain.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Not anymore, at least. I said words barely above a whisper.

“I’ve lived for a thousand years Y/N, you're simply not like the coward. Except maybe in choosing your lovers–you’re really dumb in that regard.–”

Wine entered my windpipe and a violent cough ripped out of me. I placed the glass on the coffee table. “What are you talking about?” I asked, covering the lower half of my face. 

Rebekah was surely amused. 

“Oh come now, there is no reason to be so shy about your and my brothers’...relationship. Believe me, I've seen them make worse choices.” 

Rebekah poured the rest of the wine into her glass, and then she froze.

“Your sister is coming.” 

I didn’t have the time to say anything, only turning my head in the direction of the front door in panic. I couldn’t see her, not now. 

“I really enjoyed talking to you,” The whisper next to my ear made the hairs at the back of my neck rise. 

The lock turned, and I was alone.

---

( @dark-night-sky-99 @venomsvll @teenwolfbitches28  @haloangel391  @queenthorin1 @ollieandbonnie @hcqwxrtss123 @redwolfs-things @theweirdoleigh @mostly-meg @fandom-princess-forevermore @musically-ambiguous @isawritesstories @felinegrate @i-like-horror-andshitt @original-siphon @meyocoko @eddiebea @multistanhell @haroldpotterson @anastacia1705 @fictional-characters-i-love-them @beingsthings @kiaraandrea @hazgold @hallecarey1 @ethereal-imagies @pinknerpersona @ lil-writer-523 @malfoylaufeysonweasleybarnes) @queen-of-arda )

[projectadulthood]

How to Clean as an Adult

*** For more tips on how to *adult,* subscribe to https://www.projectadulthood.com/, a weekly newsletter on growing up. Think of it as your instruction manual to adulting :) 

Growing up, Sundays were the days when my whole family cleaned. Everyone had chores they had to get through. Mine were dusting and cleaning the bathrooms. If I was really unlucky, I also had to water the plants and clean the windows.

Although the whole thing took two hours max, it ruined my day. On the bright side, our house was always spotless. However, when I moved away from home for college, I often avoided going home for weekends. Why? Because I did not want to spend my Sunday morning cleaning.

Having shared my living quarters with quite a few slobs since I can finally appreciate my parents' cleanliness. While I'm nowhere near as tidy as they are (and, let's be honest, never will be), I'd like to think that I do have a solid cleaning routine going -- which you'll find below.

I also want to share a few tips and tricks when it comes to cleaning. Turns out, the average American spends almost one full day cleaning a month. Hopefully, the advice below will help you cut down on the amount of housework you actually have to do.

How to clean

You don't need to clean so long that you turn into a skeleton. Instead, here's a handy checklist.

Daily

Make the bed

Wash the dishes

Wipe down kitchen counters, table, sink, and stove

Sweep or vacuum the kitchen floor

Every other day

Change towels

Take out the trash.

Weekly

Change bed sheets

Dust (tables, windowsills, etc.)

Vacuum

Mop the floor

Water the plants

Do laundry

Clean mirrors

Wipe down the microwave, coffee maker, etc.

Monthly

Get rid of old food in the fridge.

Vacuum the mattress, by the ceiling (watch out for spiderwebs!), etc.

Clean the shower/tub.

A few times a year

Empty and clean the fridge and freezer

Clean the vacuum cleaner

Scrub tile grout in the bathroom

Clean the oven

Clean all the hard-to-reach places like behind the stove, fridge, etc.

Clean windows

Clean fixtures, like lamps and ceiling fans

Once a year

Get rid of expired meds

Organize the kitchen cabinets

Clean out drawers and closets

Defrost and clean freezer

Clean the baseboards

Wash your duvet, pillows, spreads, etc.

Cleaning hacks

Power clean 15 minutes each day. This will prevent clutter. Ideally, you want to designate a "home" for everything you own so that you can put everything back in its proper place during the day (and, most importantly, at the end of the day). Speaking of putting things back, clean in such a way that doesn't require you to make an even bigger mess, i.e., piles of clothes. Always think: if I stopped in the middle of cleaning, would the room be cleaner or messier?

Clean up as you cook. Wipe the countertop, do the dishes, sweep up... That way, you won't have to deal with a pile of dirty dishes after dinner. Besides, most of the time, all you have to do when making dinner is stir (depending on the dish, of course), so you can save a lot of time this way. By the way, if you wipe down the stove after every time you use it, you'll never really need to clean it.

Layer two trash bags in the bin. When you take out the trash, the next bag will already be there. Your future self will thank you.

Use a sink strainer. Or get one immediately if your sink doesn't have one.A clogged-up sink is no way to start your morning. Also, invest in a suction cup sponge holder -- you don't want your kitchen sponge sitting in gross food water.

Microwave a lemon in water (in a microwave-safe bowl) for up to 5 mins to clean your microwave. Remove the bowl with oven gloves and clean the inside of the microwave. DO NOT microwave water on its own unless you want your microwave to explode.

Keep an open box of soda in the fridge. It'll absorb any nasty smells from old foods. Remember to change it out once in a while, though.

Boil half a lemon with some vinegar and water in your kettle. This will get rid of at least some of the buildup and freshen the kettle.

Simplify your laundry. For example, if you only have 20 pairs of black socks that are all the same, you won’t ever have to match them. Dumping them in your sock drawer is as far as you'll have to go when sorting clothes. When folding laundry, fold the largest items first, leaving socks, underwear, and other small items for the very end. That way, it’ll feel like you’re done with laundry faster.

*** For more tips on how to *adult,* subscribe to https://www.projectadulthood.com/, a weekly newsletter on growing up. Think of it as your instruction manual to adulting :)

[idontblushsrry]

Love Language|| Jujutsu Kaisen

“I wanna be fluent in your love language. Learning your love language.” 

A/N: If you didn’t guess from the tagline this is inspired by the song love language by Kehlani. I’ll probably do more of these with different shows and what not because why not. If I missed anyone lmk and I can make a part 2. Also please tag spoilers appropriately esp for manga readers, that being said spoilers for the prequel? manga on Yuuta’s part.

Characters: Itadori, Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Maki, Inumaki, Okkotsu, Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

Warnings: said it b4 but spoiler warnings in general but esp on Yuuji, Yuuta, and Maki’s parts

Plot synopsis: The 5 love languages; physical affection, quality time, words of affirmation, gift giving and acts of service, and how each jujutsu kaisen character shows their love and affection for you. Ft. a gender neutral reader!

Word count: 2352

Itadori Yuuji

Love Language: Quality time and physical affection

Ok listen-

So for physical affection, Yuuji’s just that kind of person

He is all about giving to you

He’s holding hands with you if you’re ever walking anywhere, and if you’re not a hand holder pls pls pls let him hold your pinky he likes the reassurance

No but seriously he loves to hold you like yall could be walking in completely opposite directions and he’ll try to find some way to hold onto you until the very last second

And even then he’s all ‘:( babe imy’

‘Yuuji we just talked 2 minutes ago’

Another way he shows his love is through quality time

I think for him this is the biggest thing overall, esp as a jujutsu sorcerer bcus you never know yk but also because you’re important to him

Like remember how he literally went to occult club so that he could get out of school in time to go visit his grandpa...ye :(

He also loves finding dumb touristy things to do with you while in Tokyo or anywhere yall go together on a mission 

If you get together before he died and came back then that time he had to spend away from you literally killed him

Like my mans was goin THROUGH it

He almost considered spoiling Gojo’s secret

When he sees you again, he’s not gonna let go for like a solid day

Fushiguro Megumi

Love Language: acts of service and words of affirmation

This boy loves you so much

He loves to tell you all the things he loves about you when you’re alone

But he’s a little awkward with his words sometimes, hence where acts of service come in

He’ll immediately offer to hold your things, run to help you train or study, and if you’re cold? He’s fully prepared to never see his jacket again

Also he can’t cook but he’s fully prepared to suffer hearing Sukuna and suffering through Yuuji’s antics if it means he can learn how to make your favorite food

He also will surprise you by making you a playlist of all the songs that you’ve had stuck in your head and sends it to you randomly out of the blue one day like ‘thought you might like this’

However the best of both worlds is when he leaves you little notes throughout the day or sends you texts asking if you need anything or just encouraging you to keep going 

Negl he’s lowkey the president of the Y/N support club bcus-

You need anything? It’s yours

Cravings? Sad? Angry? What do you need bby, I’ve got it for you

Also he’s totally the type to be like you need help fuckin this person up? 

Also before yall started dating, Fushiguro was a mess

He was constantly asking to spar with you and go on missions, basically anything he could do to be near you  

End of the day, Fushiguro loves you and makes sure you know it whether it’s through his actions or his words

Kugisaki Nobara

Love Language: physical affection

So, she’s not the best with words, she tries but like someone help her bcus she is LOST

Like when she had a crush on you she was like “c’mere dumbass i wanna give you a hug”

In fact, she still is like “c’mere” but now you are dating :)

She loves you though and at first she doesn’t really know how to show it 

But one day you both come home from training and you just look at each other like ‘yeah today sucks’ and yall both just held each other for the rest of the day 

After that, she decided that she wants to do that with you but like always

She’s holding your hand, kissing your cheek when you go shopping, etc. etc.

She really loves to cling to you because she always has this fear that maybe one day you’ll get killed or just disappear so she figures might as well hold onto you for as long as we’ve got

After missions, she’s running up to you and if you aren’t prepared for the tackle, you’re probably gonna fall

On dates too, like if you guys have to meet up for a date, she’s tackling you

On the subject of dates...

She doesn’t mind PDA, and while she might hold your hand or arm so that you don’t get separated

She also doesn’t mind wiping food off your face and eating it, only to then kiss the spot on your face the food was previously at

She will split her shopping load between the two of you, however she will be slightly pouty if she’s carrying more than you (she then cheers up when she realizes she can do more shopping to “balance” the two of you)

In private she’s very cuddly and kissy which honestly isn’t that bad until it gets hot

At which point she’ll just say turn on the ac or convince you to walk around in a tank top (or something like it) so that she can continue holding you

Tbh she prefers the big spoon, but if she’s ever upset you let her be the little spoon >:(

All in all a very loving girlfriend who tries her best to show how much she loves you by glomping you at any given moment. 

Zenin Maki

Love language: acts of service and quality time

So you’re telling me that Maki wouldn’t immediately go out of her way to make sure her and her s/o can spend as much time together as possible?????

Like she’s super observant (which can cause her to be a bit harsh, see Yuuta) but she can always tell what’s bothering you

So if you’re upset that you haven’t been spending enough time together due to her being out on missions or otherwise busy she’s immediately running to finish her stuff and spend time with you.

((She’s very sorry, but on the bright side she brought your favorites!))

Maki is also an acts of service type

This mostly ties in with her kind of direct action way of thinking

She thinks she’s slick but you can always see her sneaking around to do small things like grabbing your laundry for you and folding it

She’s very much like if you love someone, you gotta prove it

Overall, dates with her are very intimate and personal to the two of you

Like she’ll take you to a frog pond you landed in during a fight once

Or you’ll take her to a street fair that serves this exclusive food that Maki mentioned wanting to try 

However, Maki shows her love through quality time and acts of service and while she does receive love from these to a degree, she is very much a words of affirmation gal

She’s not insecure in her day to day life but she has her moments, everyone does

Sometimes, she’ll feel like shit and a failure and all she wants is for you to say that she’s doing amazing and that she’s a great girlfriend.

Inumaki Toge

Love language: Physical affection

Because of his curse, he can’t exactly express how he feels about you through words

He does text you frequently throughout the day (I’ll have to do a hc abt that someday)

But he’d prefer not to be on his phone to communicate if you’re right in front of him

So he does the next best thing and just smothers you in physical affection

He loves kissing you the most

Like he could spend hours just kissing you if you let him (please let him)

But in public, he gets if you’re not a big fan of pda he’s willing to tone it down as long as he gets kisses later in private

He’d still prefer it if you held his hand or linked pinkies maintaining touch in some way

Also, unrelated, but it means so much to him if you try to understand his sushi language

He knows realistically the foundation of any relationship is communication so already he’s at a disadvantage because of his curse 

But if he sees you like take notes after he says something or start to need him to text you to translate, his heart is swelling

Like ‘omg this person loves me enough to learn a whole new language <333′

Another tangent but before you were together he was struggling so muchhhh

Like how does one express their feelings for someone without words?

If you’re Inumaki, you buy some flowers and text said person to meet you at a cafe

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to realize it was a date, but once you did, you ever so gently linked pinkies with Toge

Okkotsu Yuuta

Love language: words. of. affirmation. 

He’s literally so sensitive please tell him you love him regularly

In return he’ll be sure to tell you how much he loves you too

He knows that he can’t really be there for you as much as he’d like but he likes to let you know that he’s thinking of you

Doesn’t matter the time, if you call, he’s answering

If he doesn’t he’ll cry he’ll immediately call you back and is apologizing for missing your call

You assure him it’s no big deal but the man has his volume turned all the way up and changed your ringtone to one specific for you by the time you’ve even said hey

Aside from that, he really is sensitive

He’s been through a lot especially with Rika as well as growing up alone and bullied 

So for him, it’s everything to hear that you like having him around and don’t think he’s too much or anything like that

Of course, he gets better with time, trusting you and having the confidence in himself to not need constant assurance

That being said, if you ever just whisper in his ear, “I love you, Yuuta.”

That’s not your boyfriend, that’s a puddle of love on the floor

(Maki, Panda, and Inumaki had a field day when they saw him, Fushiguro now questions if Yuuta really is a respectable 2nd year.)

Gojo Satoru

Love language: gift giving and quality time

So Gojo doesn’t exactly get to spend a ton of time

Between missions, him beefing with higher ups, and you and him playing parent the baby sorcerers yall don’t exactly get time to go out much

In which case Gojo tends to default to two options:

He’ll either go the extra mile to try and spend time with you 

Whether that be an at home date where he tries and fails to surprise you with a home cooked meal

Or a date out at a restaurant or cafe (which you tend to visit after his home cooking efforts)

OR he’ll bring you various souvenirs from his missions

He loves to spoil you, and if he could he’d probably bring you back a whole store’s worth of stuff

But alas, airport security regulations

Anyways, he loves to spoil you especially if he can spoil you with sweets because it benefits him in two ways 

He treasures all the time you spend together, and he does try to overcompensate for his absence with gifts

Despite your assurances, it’s kind of a guilty pleasure at this point (just let him, trying to argue just goads him on further)

He doesn’t only buy you small things, he enjoys buying you outfits

And he especially likes seeing you in them 

Kento Nanami

Love Language: acts of service

Y’all remember the episode where he killed that curse that was bothering that baker lady?? Yea that

He’s literally such an acts of service boyfriend it’s not even funny

Before you got together, he would memorize your coffee order and bring you a cup pretty much everyday like clockwork

Now that you’re togehter, he wakes up before you so h=that when you wake up there’s the smell of coffee throughout the house

When you come out of you’re shared bedroom and he’s just scrooling through his phone like “mornin’”

Of course you already made the bed and ironed his clothes because relationships are give and take

And then when you leave for your jobs in the morning, he kisses you and holds the door open for you

He’ll draw a bath for you if he gets home before you, if you let him join or not is up to you

Also, if you ever get sick, he’s actually the best

Like he isn’t the best cook but he can heat up soup and tea

He’ll run to the store while you’re asleep and when you wake up, there’s like a whole tray of food in front of you and he’s like ‘it’s important to eat and drink so your body can heal’

And when you inevitably fall asleep after eating and taking medicine at his insistence, he tucks you in and clears away the dishes, exiting with little more than a kiss to your head

Ryoumen Sukuna

Love Language: gift giving and acts of service

So like Sukuna never says he loves you...ever

But he does notice if someone or something’s making you uncomfortable, and if so, said entity’s head will be presented to you later that day

You also just so happen to be the only person he can tolerate being around him for longer than 20 seconds

He also loves to give you jewelry, he likes seeing you adorned in something from him

He also isn’t gonna just handle all your problems for you, he will push you to become stronger by training with you 

He’ll also expect this energy to be reciprocated, as long as you’re pushing yourself to be better, he’s content with that

(He wants to see you grow because he’s scared that if he ever gets caught lackin one day you’ll end up dead)

He’ll never tell you or admit it, but Sukuna truly does care for you and hold you in a regard that he doesn’t have for others

So be grateful jkjk

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Hero is young compared to Supervillain. Supervillain can tell Hero is getting depressed and overwhelmed so they send their druggie/fuck up of a son, Villain, to fuck with Hero. Villain gets Hero to drink, smoke pot, etc and they wind up sleeping together which causes Hero to latch onto Villain. Villain doesn't feel here or there about Hero; They'll take the companionship, but they're dealing with their own shit so this is just a way to distract themself.

Request #15

Warning: nsfw, dub-con, alcohol & drug intake, manipulation.

A bit of a more complex one, but fun nonetheless!

Enjoy! [:

~~~~

Hero heaved out a tired sigh as the thugs they had just stopped a few minutes ago got taken away by the police. They collapsed down into a sitting position, legs hanging off the side of the rooftop they were on. The hero stifled a yawn and rubbed at their sore eyes, dark circles hiding beneath their mask. As they watched the city's artificial lights mix with the moonlight's glow, their mind began to wander to places they did not want to visit but really couldn't stop themself from exploring.

At the same time, on top of a nearby building, two figures cloaked in the darkness observed as Hero got lost in their thoughts.

"Damn, I can't even see their face, and this bitch still looks depressed as fuck." - Villain muttered, their own mind tired but still much more 'collected' than the hero's. Their comment earned them a look from their superior, Supervillain.

"Just go and get the job done." - the older criminal ordered, a dark hint to their voice. The villain silently stood there for a moment before giving them a small shrug and moving towards the rooftop's edge.

"You got it, pops." - they responded in a monotone voice and jumped towards the next building. Villain moved from one rooftop to another, their footsteps silent, undetectable, deadly.

"If only all that skill had gone to someone less pathetic." - the supervillain thought bitterly and then retreated out of sight, disappearing amidst the shadows.

Hero, still unaware of the presence standing right behind them, quietly mumbled to themself, "...Why the hell did I pick this job...?"

"I dunno, 'cause you're a dumbass?" - the villain answered from behind the hero, startling them and nearly making them fall off the edge. They hurriedly got up into a fighting stance, ready to defend themself.

Villain only snorted in amusement, walking to the edge and sitting next to where Hero had been just a moment ago. They patted the ground next to them, inviting the hero to sit, "How's about we talk instead, ay?"

With a small grin, they added, "You look like you could use a break."

"..."

Hero, very much convinced this was some sort of trick, continued to stand there, ready for combat. The villain's grin left their face, and they turned their gaze to the city below. "Alright then, guess I'll just do the talking."

"..."

"So, like I was saying. You're a dumbass."

"..."

"Like, come on, man, you think you can just keep up this little heroic act forever?"

"Yes." - Hero finally answered through gritted teeth.

"Oh! So you can talk after all! You're still lying to yourself, though." - Villain said, a stupid smile on their face that infuriated the other to no end. It upset them because the criminal was right. And Hero hated that fact so much.

Deciding to keep up their lies, the hero responded, "I'm doing perfectly fine, thank you very much."

"Yeah, 'cause sulking all by yourself on a random rooftop in the middle of the night sounds so healthy." - Villain pressed, pissing Hero off even more, their body slowly shaking with anger.

"Ugh! Just what do you want?!" - they exclaimed, glaring at their enemy. They didn't have time for this! They- They didn't want to deal with this... They knew just how miserable they were... they didn't need a reminder...

"I just wanna help ya out." - the villain answered, giving the hero an oddly convincing look. There was pity in their eyes, but also... understanding?

Gah! No, that makes no sense! What could... Villain possibly know...

"You want to... help me...?"

"Yup!"

"...Why?"

Villain silently looked at them for a moment before their eyes went to the city lights once more. "Everybody needs a break from their own mind's bullshit every once in a while, no?" - They quietly asked.

Hero was unsure of how to respond, doubt creeping into their thoughts. Should they trust them? Perhaps... just one time wouldn't hurt? Before they could answer, however, the villain stood and offered them their hand, catching them off guard again. "Come on. You could use a distraction."

"And so could I..." - Villain thought, as they watched the hero internally battle themself, considering their options. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hero relaxed their stance and, with a small sigh, slowly approached the villain and took their hand.

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

"This is where you live?" - Hero questioned, a bit astonished at the state of the apartment the villain had taken them to. While the place was a decent size, it was an absolute mess. Dirty laundry and trash were scattered everywhere; it smelled about as good as it looked.

"Then again... who am I to judge...?" - the hero thought bitterly, remembering that their own home wasn't looking that much better.

"Lovely little place I got, ay?" - Villain responded, dropping themself onto a big gross couch. What were all those stains from exactly? Hero decided they didn't need to nor want to know and sat next to them.

"Uh... yeah. So, what exactly are we here for?" - the hero asked, looking to the villain. The other merely scooted to the edge of the couch and pushed some trash aside, revealing a cooler. They pulled out two beers from it, handing one to their nemesis.

Before Hero could say anything, Villain, seemingly out of nowhere, pulled out a bottle opener and cracked both their drinks open. The villain immediately took a swig while the hero sat there for a moment, staring at their own bottle silently before thinking, "Oh, fuck it." and chugging nearly half of it.

"Ay! There ya go, Hero!" - Villain grinned, giving them a rough but friendly pat on the shoulder. Hero couldn't help but smirk a little themself. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad?

And then Villain pulled out a bag of some questionable powder.

The hero looked at them skeptically, taking another swig of their drink to cool their nerves. Their hesitance didn't go unnoticed by the other, who gave them an even wider grin. "Have you ever tried it?"

"Well.. no..." - Hero answered, the alcohol slowly getting to their system. God, why were they such a lightweight?

"Then don't knock it." - Villain continued, dumping the powder onto the table in front of the two, arranging it into neat little lines. The hero watched intently as the other leaned down and took one of the lines, inhaling it through their nose.

Hero set their beer aside and did their best to copy them.

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

A few hours have passed. Both Hero and Villain were now waisted the fuck out of their minds, barely comprehending any of their actions. The two were leaning against each other, blabbering some nonsense that made them giggle.

The villain's hands suddenly found their way to the other's chest, lightly trailing up and down it. "Say, Hero, wanna make this even more fun?"

"How??" - the hero slurred as Villain got up and dragged them along to another room. The two managed to stumble their way into the criminal's bedroom, Hero landing on the bed with the villain right on top of them.

"Oh..." - they started, their hands wandering across their enemy's body seemingly on their own. "Alright." - they said, and Villain dragged them into a sloppy kiss.

Very quickly, both of them freed themself of their clothing, throwing it aside and letting it get lost in the endless sea of trash that was Villain's apartment. Their skin met and felt perfect against one another. Hands were roaming all over, memorizing each other's bodies, finding all the right spots to touch that drew sounds from them.

As their lips parted for air, they both groaned as their hips ground together, the friction rising pleasure in them. Hero wrapped their limbs around the villain's body, holding onto them as they slid into the hero.

Their mouths met again, moans becoming muffled, the sound of the bed creaking in rhythm with Villain's thrusts filled their ears. As their enemy hit the right spot, Hero's fingernails dug into their shoulders, their back arching into them as the other sped up.

It didn't take long for both their breathing to grow unsteady. Their thrusts and movements turning chaotic and sloppy as they neared their orgasms. The villain's name slipping past Hero's lips as their muscles clenched tight and flexed, Villain reaching their own finish in nearly perfect sync with them.

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

Days went by, then weeks, then months. Criminal activity has been on a clear rise, civilians growing fearful and demanding to know why the hero was letting it happen, demanding that they do something, but their 'hero' was long gone now.

All this time, Hero had been meeting up with Villain more and more. They thought it would just be a one-time thing, but it had evolved into so much more. At first, it was just once a week or two... Then once every couple of days... And now...?

Now the hero was glued to the other's hip; they saw them every day, getting waisted beyond belief, getting lost in careless pleasure. People were dying, but Hero didn't care. Villains were winning, but Hero didn't care. They couldn't bring themself to care anymore...

Villain, meanwhile, was doing a bit better than them. They were glad to have a solid distraction for once. It felt nice to have company, to have someone else they could be miserable and ruined with every day of their existence.

Still, outside of that, though, the villain didn't care much. If Hero got hurt, then they could deal with it on their own, and if they died...?

Well, then they died, and Villain would have to find a replacement.

Just like they always did...

[b0amagination]

Hasan and Declan - 1

Hi hello! This will be an ongoing series, paired with audio recordings of each chapter made by yours truly! They’re not perfect by any means, but this is an option I’ve been craving forever and will be making available :D

~~~

Content warnings: head trauma, trapped in a small space (claustrophobics beware), suggestive comments, threatened murder, and kidnapping.

~~~

Hasan huffed, balancing their washbasket on a knee in order to grasp the door handle with one hand and pry it open. They caught it on the swingback with their foot and ungracefully made their way into the laundromat.

For the fourth time that day, they cursed the delivery service for refusing any time that worked for them until two weeks out. And it wasn’t like their current washer was even partially functional. That bitch was fully out of it.

So they were stuck driving the entire ten minutes to the laundromat to do their laundry until then.

One of the fluorescent lights was flickering incessantly, and they walked to the opposite side of the store. No way in hell they were doing anything with that kind of annoyance in their face.

There were only a few other patrons in the store waiting by the dryers, which made sense given it was… Jesus, it was 11:00pm already. Sundown at 6:00pm made it impossible to keep track of time.

They threw their load into two separate washers, delicates separated carefully, and hopped on top of one for a seat as it ran. An innuendo came to mind, making them snort as they pulled out their phone and put their earbuds in.

Half an hour of tiktok scrolling later found them alone in the building, clothes finally done sloshing in what had to be a less than clean machine. They hoped their soap could override whatever was swimming around in there. 

A quick google search on how much soap was needed for a load of laundry assuaged some of their fears, but quickly turned into: ‘how to clean a washing machine?’ ‘is it that dangerous to climb into a washing machine?’ ‘how long can you survive when a washing machine is turned on?’ ‘killing people in washing-

“Rough night to do laundry, huh?” 

Hasan’s eyes shot up and froze on the unexpected visitor. Blue bangs peeked out from a hood, dusted lightly in snow. When they tugged it off, longer dark hair trailed over their shoulders and framed bright red eyes, shielded by glasses, still staring at them.

They realized they’d forgotten to answer. They’d also forgotten the question.

“What?” Hasan ripped out both earbuds so they’d have a chance at hearing the answer.

“I’m just talking about the snowstorm,” the visitor responded, tipping their head to the windows. The light from inside illuminated white flakes flying by the building that Hasan hadn’t noticed until now. 

“Oh. I mean, it must have started after I got in here.” Suddenly, the snow in their hair made a lot more sense.

They strode up to Hasan and extended their hand without hesitation.

“I’m Declan.”

“Cool.” They nodded. 

“And you are…?” Declan asked.

“Hasan.”

“You got pronouns?”

Hasan squinted.

“I- don’t we all?”

“Fuck, dude, some of us got complex lives.”

“Jesus Christ-” They started, but the other cut them off with a cackle.

“Not in this house,” Declan grinned and Hasan sputtered, trying to put themself back together.

“Shhh- shush. Shut the fuck. Fuck your up. Oh my god.” They took a deep breath. “My pronouns are they/them. How about you?”

“Solid. I’m a he/him guy myself.” Declan looked smug. It would’ve been cute if it wasn’t infuriating.

“Weren’t you here to do laundry?”

“I still am!” He gave a million dollar smile and bent down to open the washer Hasan was perched atop. They leaned over their knees, watching him sort his laundry. Shirts and pants went into one bin, and socks and underclothes went in the other. 

“You… you sort by big and small? What the hell?”

“Hasan, do you enjoy finding socks inside your pant legs and shirt sleeves?”

They raised their brows and put up their hands in surrender as Declan loaded his small clothes.

Hasan’s gaze landed back on their phone where the unfinished search was still waiting on their screen. The cursor blinked expectantly. They gave a quick glance to Declan, then erased it and ticked in ‘how to fit person in washing machine.’ 

They really weren’t sure if they wanted him yet, but the opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time. Empty public space, a victim with potential, and a phone in his back pocket.

What more could they have asked for? 

Declan opened the washer across the row and Hasan hopped down from theirs, slipping their leather gloves back on. They plucked the phone out and set it behind them.

“Hey, Dec?” He turned around, confused and opened his mouth to correct them. “Nope, more important question coming your way. How do you feel about submission?”

“Excuse me?” 

They landed a kick to his stomach, following up as he fell and shoved his shoulders down. He folded halfway into the washer and looked up with panic in his eyes.

“What the-nghh!” Another kick in the same spot pushed the air from Declan’s lungs, rendering him useless as his legs were frantically shoved in with him. “Woah, woah woah! Let me out of here!”

Hasan shoved their foot against the lip of the entrance, keeping him from pushing out.

“Hold still and shut up. You do anything reckless? I’ll shut that door and put you on spin cycle.”

“Very funny. Let me out.” His tone went from light to a wavering seriousness very quickly. Quite promising. He knew he was being threatened.

“No, no listen. It’s actually fascinating. Did you know: apparently, washing machines can spin with a force that’s two-hundred times the earth’s gravity! I mean, this was a preliminary google search and we’re in a public service where you’ve gotta pay four whole quarters for anything halfway decent, but you get where I’m going with this, right? This shit’ll kill ya! I can kill you right now!” 

Doubt wormed its way into Declan’s expression, but something else softened and brought fear to his eyes. Even halfway hidden by the cramped space, Hasan was delighted to see how that facade melted away.

“I don’t believe you.” His voice shook.

“Ohh, babe, you don’t want to challenge me. Especially when I have you right in the palm of my hand.”

He could hardly move but his face said he was squirming against the words and power Hasan dangled over him.

“What do you want?”

“Smart question… smart boy.” They smiled. “I want to take you.”

“T… take me?” Declan blanched, trying to adjust his position. He slipped a hand behind him, only to find the empty space where his phone should’ve been, Hasan supposed delightedly.

“Don’t blush like that, goodness, I’m not going to pleasure you. You’re going to come back to my home and I’ll do with you whatever I see fit. That’s the deal.”

“Why would I?” he asked, like he even had a choice anymore.

“Because it’s the only way you’ll live to see tomorrow.” Hasan watched him shuffle about, putting his body behind him in the machine. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” they said.

“I’m not cooperating with a kidnapper,” he snarled. “Especially not if they’re so pathetic they try to kill me in a washing machine.”

They looked down, a glare alighting their face even as they tried to suppress it. As soon as Declan poked his head out from the machine, trying to push out as quickly as possible, they slammed the door shut. An anguished cry came muffled from inside and Hasan laughed, stooping to pick up their victim’s detergent.

Their foot propped them between the washers and held the door shut as he regained his bearings, watching in horror as Hasan opened the drawer and poured a generous amount. 

“Stop! Holy fuck, stop!” Declan shrieked, but he was ignored.

“How much room have you got in there, Dec? Shall I label you as a bulky load?” Pounding against the door answered them, and they clicked the corresponding button. “Right, and soil level? When’d you last shower?”

“You’re fucking insane!”

“I’ll set it as heavy just in case, then.” A bing of confirmation sounded, and the green light next to the start button lit up.

“Open up! God dammit!!” Declan sobbed, gasping and trying to avoid hyperventilation.

“I’m pretty sure someone said not to bring him into this!” Hasan rolled their eyes, bending over the window. “You know, I could hit the start button right now and it would all be over. That door would lock. Even if I wanted to stop, if I regretted what I’d done, I’d be powerless. And so would you. Is that what you really want, Declan?”

“No, please no!”

“I’m glad you agree. I don’t want that to be the end of you either, but the only other option you’re allowed is climbing out of there calmly, and being entirely agreeable while I bring you back to my car and my home,” Hasan said.

“I… Hasan. Please, please you don’t have to do this- wait no!” He gasped when Hasan’s hand drew closer to the control panel. 

“It’s one or the other.”

“No, no, no, I’ll cooperate if that’s what you want. I can cooperate. Don’t kill me, whatever you do.”

The door opened, and he tumbled out halfway on to the floor. 

“Out and on your knees.”

“Shit, okay, okay…” He put his hands up, shuffling uncomfortably on to his knees.

“Good. Up.”

As he shakily rose to his feet, standing only a few inches shorter than Hasan, they rooted through their pockets. They had to have something helpful on them somewhere… their pant pockets proved worthless and they moved on to their inner sweatshirt pockets where, under three mechanical pencils, they actually procured something useful.

“What now?” Declan asked, watching Hasan’s silent stare rove over him.

They didn’t know what else to say and simply stepped forward, grabbing Declan by the scruff of his jacket and smashing his head on the corner of the washing machine. He crumpled to the ground, groan stifled by the flooring.

“Your whole body is just begging to run, and I can’t let that happen,” they explained, taking the zip tie from their pocket and locking Declan’s wrists behind his back. 

He was too out of it to resist much at all as he was hoisted into Hasan’s arms and carried away.

~~~

Next...

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 12

Okay, warning on this one. It gets steamy at the end so 18+. Also, if anyone has read ACOSF and has a book hangover like me (and can’t get over the steaminess) lmk

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

You and Steve sat shoulder to shoulder in his hospital bed. Both of you had your arms crossed as you stared down the doctor in front of you. Doctor Beeton, who’d you never wanted to see again. Not because he was a bad doctor, but because Bucky couldn’t remember the last eighteen months.

The last five days had been tough. Bucky had gone through countless tests and it became clear his memory went blank the week before the three of you had slept together for the first time. Steve was doing a lot better, he’d even started walking around and was being discharged today. But you hadn’t seen Bucky since he woke up.

Doctor Beeton sat on a black stool, explaining, “All tests indicate that this should be acute. Bucky’s had a lot of head trauma, so we can’t predict how or if it will come back.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head against the back of the bed. Bucky had enough memory problems without this. You often had to repeat the same thing over and over to him already. You remembered once, months ago, telling him four times you were going to see a movie with a friend. Steve had been on a mission. He’d called you in a panic when you weren’t at home.

You sign, leveling Doctor Beeton with a stare, “We’re about to have two babies. Twins. Is there anything you can do?”

Steve squeezed your thigh.

The doctor shook his head. “This is going to have to come back on its own. We’ve talked about this before,” he looked to Steve.

Who nodded solemnly, and explained to you, “We had tests run a while ago. Buck’s memory just isn’t the best because of all the wiping and head trauma in the past. It’s not getting worse, or it wasn’t, but he’s got all these blank spots. Like, the first three months after the blip or everything that happened when he was fifteen. And you’ve seen how he can be with some details.”

You nodded, sighing again. “Okay, so what do we do?”

“You go home, Bucky can be discharged today too,” the doctor explained. “Get back to a normal routine. It’ll help jog his memory.”

You and Steve exchanged a look, what the fuck was a normal routine?

———

“So, we lived here?” Bucky looked at Steve for confirmation. You hadn’t broke the news yet that you were a throuple, Buck thought he and Steve had gotten a place together off the compound. And you were just tagging along to make sure they were okay. Because you were just the Avengers secretary.

The place didn’t exactly look like two men lived here though. It had been yours before they had moved in. Bucky surveyed the entrance with a big round, gold accent mirror. And the pictures on the wall of your college girlfriends, your childhood pets, and the three of you.

You stood behind him as he entered the apartment, peering into the living room. With your vintage green velvet couches, marble tables with gold accents, vases full of plants and flowers. He peeked at the book shelf, every book on historical fiction, romance fantasy, or social theory. All yours. Neither of their tastes remotely.

He surveyed the small table you had, big enough for four. You scratched your head, would it fit two small children soon? It was dark wood with a bench pressed against one wall and two chairs on the other side. It had been the only way to fit it into the space. The walls were a coral sea pink accent wall and gold hanging lights. He walked into the kitchen, looking specifically at the pink flowers you had on the breakfast bar. “We didn’t actually live here, did we?” He asked Steve.

“You did,” you answer. You motion for him to walk to the table. He follows from the kitchen, awkwardly taking one of the chairs as you slide into the bench sighing with relief. Your legs felt ready to give out by this point. “You lived here with me.”

Steve slid into the bench beside you, taking your hand.

Bucky’s eyes fixated on your hands. You remembered that in his mind, it was eighteen months ago. And eighteen months ago, he and Steve had a pact not to sleep or date you because they both wanted you.

“So you two are a couple then?” Bucky asked coolly. “And I just slept in the spare room.”

“Not...exactly,” Steve looked to you for help.

“Buck,” you said, “just hear me out. A lot has changed...a week after what you remember, the Avengers had their annual fundraiser event.”

Bucky nodded, “I remember getting a suit for that.”

You nodded, you had booked this fitting. It had been two days before Bucky stopped remembering. “At the party, I got a little drunk and I asked the two of you to sleep with me. You had been drinking that strong stuff that Thor brings and we’re also pretty drunk. And you did.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “We had a threesome?”

Steve nodded.

Bucky’s face blanched. You remember that he was going through the same emotions as last time, realizing he had sex with his best friend in the world, and who he’d had a crush on since they were kids.

Bucky looked at Steve and asked, “And you were okay with this?”

Steve’s face twisted, “No, I wasn’t for a long time actually.”

You scratched the side of your head, “Steve struggles with being a little...closeted. He’s really not out to most people. But the three of us started hanging out and having sex with each other, regularly. And then you two moved in here. And I got pregnant. And here we are...” You trailed off. That was over simplifying it a bit.

Bucky’s eyebrows were touching his hairline. “What?” He breathed.

“The thee of us are a throuple, a relationship with three people,” Steve clarified. “Or as y/n called it, a super secret super solider threesome. Because no one knew about us.”

Bucky surveyed the two if you, leaning back in his chair uncertainly. “And now?”

You wrinkled your nose, “Everyone thinks I was sleeping with both of you separately. Because you two got into a big fight when I got pregnant. So everyone assumed it was over who the father is.”

Bucky’s eyes dropped to your belly, which was very obvious in your empire waisted, pink maxi dress. “Who is the father?”

You run your hand up and down your bump protectively, “We don’t know. You and I decided it wasn’t important.”

A terrible thought ran through your head, what if Bucky didn’t want the babies now?

He cocked his head to the side. “So what was the fight about?”

Steve cleared his throat, looking sheepishly down at his hands. “I walked out when y/n told us, and we got into a brawl. And then I asked her to get an abortion. And then I heard the heartbeats and I wanted her to leave you to be with me and have the babies. And then she told me it wasn’t going to happen. And then you and I got into a fight because I asked you to be with me. Without her.”

Your head snapped to the side, well you didn’t know about that. There would definitely be a conversation about that later. Bucky just raised an eyebrow.

“But,” Steve continued. “I’m back and I want to be part of this family. With both of you and our children.”

“Children?”

———

Bucky seemed to be taking the news rather well, in a way of not talking to either of you for the last four hours and staring at a wall way. But he hadn’t walked out yet.

He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, contemplating for most of the rest of the day. Occasionally, he looked over at asked a clarifying question. One of you would answer and he’d go back to his silent thought.

Neither you or Steve said a word to each other in fear of disturbing Bucky.

It was late when you heaved yourself to your feet, placing a hand under your bump, you finally addressed Bucky. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I just want to know where you’d like to sleep tonight.”

He finally blinked, looking up at you. No, not at you, but at your belly, “huh?”

“Do you want to sleep with us or there’s a pullout couch in the spareroom. It’s a nursery now, but...”

He swallowed hard, looking to where Steve was minding his own business, pretending to read a book. “Can I sleep on the pullout couch, please?”

You would under normal circumstances squeeze his shoulder at his uncertainty, but you remembered how much Bucky hated little affectionate gestures in your early relationship. “Of course, baby,” you said instead. He looked at yor quizzically and you realized you shouldn’t have used the pet name. Clearing your throat, you said, “Let me get that ready for you.”

“You shouldn’t—“ Bucky started, staring at your belly.

Steve stood, “I’ll help. It’s okay, relax.”

You rolled your eyes, “I can unfold a damn pullout couch.” Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, it was probably the first time he’d ever heard you swear. You took a lelvelling breath before saying, “Steve, I’ll find the sheets and you get the couch, okay?”

He nodded in agreement.

You went to the hall closet, pausing to let Steve pass you in the narrow space. Closing your eyes, you could see it five years from now. Trying to walk down this hallway with a laundry basket while two five year olds being chased by Steve and Bucky with nerf guns barrelled the other way. Oh no, this place was definitely not going to be big enough for the five of you soon enough.

You entered your former office, now nursery. Bucky had painted the walls a gentle green. No furniture was in here yet, except your couch from when you were in college (soon to be tossed to the curb), the rocking chair you’d ordered last week, and a couple of unopened boxes of baby furniture.

“Sit,” Steve instructed, nodding towards the rocking chair.

You did as he asked, stroking your belly as you commented, “Just a friendly reminder you’re not supposed to be doing anything too strenuous either. You were just impaled.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing a box to the corner of the room. “I would hardly call moving these boxes strenuous.”

You rocked back and forth slowly, “So you asked Bucky to leave me?”

Steve paused, he propped his arm on a tall box and looked at you, “While we were on mission, and he gave me hell for it. I also decided I was done being scared and I would be there for both of you. And them.” He nodded at your belly.

You could easily start a fight about this. Instead, you nodded and said, “I think we need to move.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “When we suggested moving in together, didn’t you say this place was a once and a lifetime investment? That it would pay for itself one day and you loved it too much to sell.”

You pursed your lips, this apartment was your first love. You bought. You fixed it up and decorated it. You’d literally sought exclusively jobs in this area to avoid ever having to move again. You had once thought this place was enough for you, and now it was feeling a little cramped.

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched upwards. “You’re nesting. If we’re gonna move soon, let’s at least do it while the baby stuff is still in boxes, yes?”

You rolled your eyes, “Pull out the damn couch, Rogers.”

———

The following morning you sat at the breakfast bar, a beagle in hand, munching away happily.

“Okay, so we’re supposed to get back into some kind of routine,” Steve stood on the other side, leaning against your kitchen counter. “So, we typically started each day by going on a run.”

You looked over to Bucky, who quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re not running,” you clarified, knowing his unasked question. “You’re still under concussion protocol. So, you an I are going for a walk.”

Bucky straightened at that, “It’s really okay, I can just—”

“Not an option, soldier,” you stood. He gazed at you in your leggings, a tight compression shirt that made you look very pregnant, and a high pony. You’d have liked to go on a run too, albeit much shorter and slower. “This is our time to chat and you can ask me a million questions. And I can tell you embarrassing stories about Steve that you missed out on.”

“Hey!” Steve raised his hands in defence.

“You,” you pointed at him, “are also under orders to take it easy.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Bucky said, “Why aren’t you walking with us.”

Steve shrugged, “I’m a super solder who was stabbed in the gut, I heal fast. Your brain doesn’t. We don’t know how many concussions you’ve had, we’re not messing with concussions.”

The golden rule: don’t mess with concussions.

“Steve’s gonna run with Sam,” you interjected. Steve raised an eyebrow. “He’s outside. You’re to follow his pace for today.”

Steve rolled his eyes, pushing off the counter. It would inevitably be a very slow run for him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, soldier,” you nudge his foot with yours. The closest you’d be getting to an affectionate gesture anytime soon you realized with a slight heart ache. “You’re not getting any younger.”

He laughed, standing to grab his shoes. “So, what’s next in the routine after a walk?”

Bucky, ever the gentleman, opened the door for you and let you walk down the stairs first. You knew he was keeping a close eye on you, even as you gripped the railing.

“We make breakfast,” you started, thinking of the list you and Steve had made last night. “Then we go to work. We used to take separate cars, when we were keeping this a secret, but now I guess we’ll drive in together? I mean, as long as you’re comfortable with that.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

You opened to door to your building, the crisp morning greeting you. You started on your usual walk, trying to take on a brisk pace.

“I mean, doesn’t everyone already know?” Bucky asked.

You nodded, “Pretty much everyone. You and I have been acting like a couple ever since we found out about the babies.”

Bucky swallowed hard. You realized he hadn’t said a word about the babies yet.

“How are you feeling about everything?” You asked, trying to subtly steer the conversation in a direction where you could ask how he felt about the babies.

He shrugged. “I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up without a memory. I’ll adjust, untangle everything as we go.”

You nodded, “A lot has changed this time though...”

He glanced at you, and you made a pointed gesture at your belly.

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, eighteen months ago I couldn’t image this. Eighteen months ago you were the hot secretary. In our last conversation, you told me you were craving an afternoon delight and were referring to coffee. But I still obsessed about it for the next two days, wondering if it was an invitation.”

You smirked, “It was.”

“The point is,” he took a deep breath, “we were all different people the. I would have done anything to sleep with you, let alone go on a date with you. Stev was the guy I’d loved forever and I was content to be his friend. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, but...I never thought it’d happen to me, and I was okay with that.”

You really wanted to take his hand, instead focusing on fiddling with your fingers to ease the ache of needing to feel him.

“What I’m hearing,” you said, “is that you’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted, and you don’t know how to handle it.”

He shot you an exasperated look, “I thought we were going to be talking about fun facts about our relationship.”

You took that as him wanting to change the conversation and launched into a story about Steve getting the three of you lost hiking.

When you got back to the apartment, you were a little more winded than you would have liked to admit and the stairs hadn’t helped. Your back ached and you desperately wanted to go lie down.

“Can I get you something?” Bucky asked.

“Water?” You asked, sliding into a seat.

You watched Bucky reach for a cup in a cupboard, without having to tell him which. He even grabbed your favourite cup. Everything would be okay.

———

The three of you settled into a new routine. You and Bucky went for walks together until he was cleared to run, first with Sam then with Steve.

You went to work for nine. They both walked you to your office and would come have lunch with you. At five, you’d leave together.

You’d come home, each of you taking turns to cook dinner. You’d typically end the night watching a show and be in bed early. Bucky would sleep in the spare room and you’d sleep with Steve.

Every other week you had an ultrasound and Bucky had an assessment.

You and Bucky had a secret habit though. Most night you woke up with the babies kicking wildly. You’d get up to avoid waking Steve and go sit and read in the living room. Bucky was typically waiting for you, up with a nightmare or just not able to sleep.

Most of the time you’d sit in silence. Sometimes Bucky would read off some headline from this phone or you’d recount something someone had said on your day.

There had been no change in Bucky’s memories but he seemed to be getting more comfortable with you and Steve. Life went on. There was nothing you could do about it, so you just went on.

Until Wednesday. A random Wednesday that you would remember for the rest of your life.

It didn’t start out so special. Your alarm went off and your cursed at Steve for setting it in the first place. Sleep was hard to come by and you were twenty six weeks pregnant and hating it already.

“You were the one who wanted a morning walk,” Steve rolled over, tracing your belly. He kissed his way up your neck and you swatted him away, feeling remarkably unsexy.

“Fuck off, you have to run,” you rolled over and placed your feet on the ground. Your back already ached and your head was throbbing. Today was not going to be a good day, you decided internally. You rolled your neck and got up to face the day.

Bucky was sitting in the kitchen when you got up. “Morning,” he grumbled over a cup of coffee.

You nodded in agreement, you’d both been up from two till three doing buzzfeed quizzes. According to buzzfeed, you should be dyeing your hair green. You were not considering it.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and waddled to sit beside Bucky at the breakfast bar. Your back squeezed painfully as you sat and Bucky noticed.

He reached out a hand to steady you and help lower you to the chair. “You okay?”

You shrugged, “Pregnancy. My back just really hurts.” You propped your head on your hand and wiggled your eyebrows as you said flatly, “I booked myself a pregnancy massage for tomorrow though.”

Bucky propped his head on his head, mirror you as he said equally as flatly, “Wow.”

“Alright!” Steve clapped his hands together, booming as he came in the room. “Let’s get moving!”

You looked at Bucky, “I’m gonna castrate him.”

“Why!?” Steve asked.

You peered around Bucky and said, “Fifty percent less chance of pregnancy. That’s how I see. It’s almost effective strategy for birth control.”

Bucky frowned, “Thats really not how statistics works. If you have two fully fertile men hat you’re sleeping with at the same time, that wouldn’t decrease your odds by fifty percent. It would maybe be like twenty five or ten...”

You smirked, “So I’m sleeping with both of you now?”

Bucky blushed a deep shade of red.

You stood, leaning over to kiss his cheek as you went. He froze under your touch and you retracted it like you’d been burned, wholly unaware of the subconscious gesture. “Buck—” you started.

He cleared his throat, not making eye contact as he looked at Steve. “Let’s go.”

You spun to look at Steve, who eyed you with wide eyed uncertainty.

———

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky not talking to you, even as you sat in a meeting with your two maternity replacements. Jenna and Alicia. You hated them both. Two bland, corporate machines. You picked them because you figured they would follow instructions and wouldn’t care enough to actually get good at your job and start trying to make changes. Besides, there was too much to teach and too little time. You would give them each select tasks and they could figure out the rest.

“The one thing upon need to remember is that every call goes through five different people before it gets to you,” you shifted in easily. Your back was really aching. “Don’t waste your time with stupid questions. Get to the point, who are they. Who do they want to talk to and why. You each have a cheat sheet with how to direct calls and who is willing to talk to who?”

They peered down at the lengthy binder you’d made for them. You were beginning to think it wasn’t enough.

“Take five, ladies,” Tony called, entering your office.

They scurried off, afraid to even look at Tony. Yeah, this was going to go over really well.

You stood on uneasy legs as you came around to give Tony a hug, “Thank god you’re here. They bore me to tears.” Tony wrapped an arm around you and your back seized. You flinched, hard.

Tony pulled back, putting his hands on your shoulders, “Are you okay?”

You were nearly in tears but you nodded, “Yeah, the babies just kicked really hard.” You lied. He obviously didn’t buy it but he let you go sit in your chair. You sighed in almost instant relief.

“What can I do for you Tony?” You asked, spinning slightly as you stroked your belly.

“I came to talk about your maternity leave,” he started. You just rolled your eyes. This was becoming an old song and dance.

“I’ll work till I pop or the doc says I can’t.”

He pursed his lips, “I’m worried your going to run yourself thin and then something bad is going to happen.”

You waved him off, “Nothing is going to happen. I had an ultrasound last week. Everything looked great.”

Tony shook his head, “I have a really bad feeling. I can’t explain it. But I do.”

You touched your chest, “You’re worried about me.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No you care, it’s sweet. It’s misplaced but it’s sweet. I’m totally fine. You can put that worrying into finding me a house though.”

Tony rolled his eyes this time, “I knew this was coming. That cramped little space is not going to work soon.”

———

Steve and Bucky came to get you at five. Bucky didn’t meet your eye as you left.

He sat in the back seat of the car on your way home and he went and sat in his room as soon as you got home.

“Did I fucking break him?” You whispered at Steve as soon as the two of you got into the kitchen.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “No, he’s just...you threw him for a loop.”

You leaned against the counter, fisting your hands through your hair. “I can’t live like this, Steve. I can’t just not touch him. I can’t just ignore how he flinches every time I get close.”

Steve held out a hand, “Take a deep breath. If this was two years ago, he’d have gotten on a motorcycle and have been out of state in an hour. If this was the start of our relationship, he’d have reacted the same way. We dealt with it then, we’re dealing with it now. You have to let him come to you.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against the cabinet. He had to come to you. For everything, especially touching.

The rest of the night was spent in silence. Bucky didn’t even come out for dinner. You and Steve went to bed early.

You woke up a 1:58am. Steve was snoring beside you and the babies were doing gymnastics inside of you.

Your heart twisted, you wondered if Bucky would be sitting in the living room waiting for you. Probably not.

You stood up, your back twisting painfully. You couldn’t freaking wait for that massage.

You made it down the hall and saw a soft light on in the living room. Bucky was sitting there, on his phone. He didn’t even look up as you padded up behind him. He just said, “Have you seen the video of the raccoon with the cotton candy?”

You let out a laugh of surprise. “Yeah, I have. But let me see it again.”

Bucky was sitting in the green armchair. You came to sit in the corner of the couch, as close to him as you could get to peer over at the video.

Bucky let out a chuckle as the raccoon dipped the cotton candy in the water. You smiled warmly over at him.

“Have you the video where they give him a second piece,” you ask gently.

The look on Bucky’s face was too pure. Too excited. You ran your phone and immediately search for it.

Half an hour later, your sitting with a book in your lap and Bucky is scrolling through his phone. You shift uncomfortably and Bucky asks, “The babies?”

You quirked your eyebrow at the question.

Bucky didn’t talk about the babies. He went to the ultrasounds and sat quietly in the corner. When you complained about the kicking at night, he quickly changed the subject. When you talked about baby stuff with Steve, he left the room. It was almost as if your belly wasn’t getting bigger everyday.

“Yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably. “They’re really going at it tonight. And my back aches.”

Bucky smiled quietly at you, you were almost looking back down at your book when he asked, “Can I feel?”

You looked up in surprise. Especially after this morning, this was the last question you expected to hear.

“Yeah, of course,” you put your book down. “Will you give me your hand?”

Bucky gently reached out towards you, you took his hand, watching his face carefully before placing it where the babies were most active.

He jumped in surprise, “You weren’t joking. Wow.” But his hand stayed firmly on your belly as the babies continued to kick wildly.

You observed his face, his eyes were so full of wonder. Like they were when you told him you were pregnant. He even had a small smile on his face as he traced your belly, looking to feel more of the babies.

“Bucky, about this morning, I’m really sorry...”

His eyes snapped to yours, suddenly aware that your faces were only inches apart.

He quirked his head to the side, “No, no. I have something I wanted to say to you actually. I didn’t even go to bed, I just waited until you went to bed to come sit out here in case I missed you.”

His hand continued to stroke you belly as he went on, “I realized something today, after you touched my shoulder. I was surprised, but also, it didn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. I feel like I haven’t been fair to you, and I definitely overreached today, but mostly I wanted you to know, I really liked it when you touched me.”

Oh. Your eyes widened slightly at the admission.

“And,” he went on, “I got thinking about how this must feel for you and Steve. Like a long distance relationship where the other person is right in front of you. I don’t remember everything, but I know I loved you guys. I want to try. Everything, all of it. You and him and the babies. I want it.”

A tear made its way down your cheek, you weren’t even aware you were crying. “I want to kiss you so bad,” you admit. “Actually, I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

He boyish smirk took over his face and he leaned forward to brush his lips against yours. You kept your hands at your side, even as he deeper the kiss, leaning you back slightly in your seat. This was his kiss, it would go how he wanted it to go. He broke the kiss to stand in front of you.

“Get up,” his voice had dropped an octave as he looked down at you with hooded eyes. You did as you were told, not sure where this was going.

He took your hand, you thought he was leading you to his room before he suddenly pushed you against the wall. Your gasp was interrupted by his mouth pressing hard down on yours. You pressed your hands hard into the wall as he kept kissing you. As his tongue entered your mouth, exploring ravenously.

The kiss broke suddenly for him to drag his lips down your skin to your neck. You let out a loud moan as his tongue traces up your neck towards your ear. “Oh my god,” you gasp, it had been a while and heat was pooling between your legs. You wanted him now and you wanted him fast.

“Touch me,” he growled in your ear.

You didn’t need to be told twice as you dragged a hand up his spine. He shivered. You wrapped your hands in his hair and he let out an audible moan.

His lips were back on your neck, sucking a mark. Your hips bucked under him and he tried to get closer to roll his hips against yours.

He couldn’t get close enough with your belly. And you needed more.

Suddenly your shirt was gone, leaving your top half completely exposed. His hands roamed your swollen breasts.

You gasped at the feeling, raking a hand down his back.

He tweaked a nipple, “Is this what you like, baby?”

You could only nod as his mouth took one of your nipples.

He tweaked the other one and your knees started to feel like jelly. “I didn’t hear you baby, do you like it when I play with your nipples?” He tweaked them both for emphasis.

“Y-yes,” you managed.

He pressed open mouth kisses up your neck back to your ear. His tongue flicked the inside of your ear and you almost came undone.

“Do you know what else I realized, baby?” His hands still cupped your breasts. You attempted to grind against his to get some friction but he was being patient. Agonizingly patient.

“What?” You finally gasped.

He licked that spot again, and said with his lips brushing your ear, “I really like it when you call me soldier. Especially when you’re bossing me around.”

He bit on your ear lobe and you couldn’t help but moan.

“Alright, soldier,” you pushed him away to tug at his shirt. “Stop teasing and get to work.”

His eyes gleamed.

He pulled back to take his shirt off and you pulled off your sleeping shorts, now fully naked in front of him. He looked down at you, a devilish smile on his face.

He started with your shoulder, pressing open mouth kisses down to your left breast. He took it in his mouth, expertly sucking. You pressed your hands against the wall to steady yourself.

He continued down your body, kissing down your belly. His hands rested on your hips as he fully lowered himself to the ground. You expected more teasing. Some tendernous.

Not for him to lift a leg over his shoulder. Definitely not for him to latch on to your clit, doing that little trick that he did. You almost screamed.

Heat was building fast. His hands cupped your ass. You needed more. You might have said it outloud.

A finger entered you and you jolted, grinding against his face. It curled inside of you and you swore. “Bucky, I—”

He didn’t stop. He added a second finger and attacked you with his mouth with even more ferocity. He was starving and this was his first meal.

And he was going to devour you.

You wrapped one hand through his hair, gasping for air. You were close. He just had to keep going with his fingers hitting that spot. Yes, just like that.

Bucky broke away, his eyes dark as he looked up at you. “Let’s go wake Steve up.”

You were so fucking close. Oh my god. But he didn’t give you an option, gripping your hand and dragging you down the hall.

He opened the bedroom, leading you in. Steve was still out cold, but Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you down beside him. He started taking his pants off and you started slapping Steve’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Steve opened an eye. He saw you naked and seemed to perk up a bit. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Bucky’s deep voice surprised him. “You wanna play?”

Steve was up in an instant, “I’ll get the lube.”

You smirked up at Bucky, who was stroking himself as he stared you down.

“Get on the bed, soldier,” you demanded.

He didn’t need to be asked twice, he crawled on top of you. He dragged a his lip up between your breasts until he was kissing you fevourously again. You expertly wrapped your legs around him and flipped him over so you were on top.

You took hold of him, stroking him hard, how you knew he liked it. His head rolled back as he moaned. You guided him to your entrance and sank down on him fully. He gasped, reaching for your hips.

You groaned, grinding down on him, “If you think this feels good, just wait till Steve joins in, soldier.” As you said it, Steve’s hands roamed up your body, coming to cup your breasts.

He breathed in your ear, “You ready for me, baby?”

You nodded, leaning forward to grasp Bucky’s shoulder as Steve lined himself up with your entrance. Suddenly they were both thrusting into you. Bucky could barely breathe, grasping the sheets from the insane pleasure.

You, were already close. You could barely move, except to enjoy the feeling of both of them inside of you. Finally.

You were ready to explode. Your hands grasped Bucky’s shoulders as he thrust into you at an erratic pace.

Steve leaned forward to cup your breasts and whispered, “Cum baby.”

You screamed as you felt your walls release. You saw black for a moment and as your started to come down, Bucky came inside of you. He leaned back, panting heavily but Steve wasn’t done. He kept pounding into you. You came again before he finished.

You finally felt Steve pulled out and you rolled beside Bucky. “Oh my god.”

Bucky gaped, “I was missing out on that.”

Steve plopped down beside you and burst out laughing. You started laughing too. And soon enough so was Bucky. It was contagious. You couldn’t help out. Soon you were gasping for air but every time you nearly stopped, it started again.

The laughter died down after a while. You started to yawn and Bucky timidly asked if he could stay the night. You told him of course, got up to pee, and laid down between them.

Finally, your family was starting to feel complete. Bucky wasn’t back to being himself, but things were staring to look up.

You dozed off but just as quickly Bucky was shaking you awake. You blinked thought your exhaustion. Steve was no where in sight.

“What?” You rasped.

Bucky wouldn’t meet your eye as he said, “We have to go. Steve’s getting the car.”

“What?”

“Everything is going to be okay, y/n,” his voice broke. He started to lead you out of bed. You gasped, your belly contracting painfully. “You’re bleeding. We’re gonna go get you check out.”

You could barely breathe. Not as he gently dressed you. Not with each time your belly contracted painfully again. Not as you looked back and your pristinely white sheets to see them smeared with bright red blood.

Tags (open) @booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

[dzamie-oc]

05 - Space

Space prompt, eh? A good a time as ever for some hammer-space dragon! Featuring Sylvia, the loveliest little gold dragoness in the Dragonslayer Guild Hall.

Length: 2200 words Rating: M (noncon vore. Not sexual, but it’s still noncon and vore) Summary: Victoria, a dragonslayer in training, learns an unforgettable lesson about how hammerspace dragons work, and perhaps about assuming mundane explanations around fantastical creatures.

Minors DNI with this particular story. I am hella uncomfortable with the idea of y’all openly interacting with vore.

-----

“Hey, Sylvia, any chance I could borrow a gold coin? Need to test the magical affinity of this thing to some elements, and gold’ll do just fine,” the cheetah asked the little golden dragon perched on his shoulder. “Y’know, before I permanently affix the actual part.”

“Yeah, gimme a second. Hand, please.”

Behind them, Victoria watched the pair work - or, well, she watched Dzamie work, while Sylvia mostly just watched him from closer. She had initially stopped by to ask the katul about one of his swordwork lessons, but he seemed busy, so she was fine waiting... for ten minutes longer, maybe. A bit more if she thought she’d get to cuddle the adorable little dragoness. Yes, time and time again, Dzamie himself had repeated that every dragon can kill an incautious slayer, and it was almost always in reference to Sylvia, but the woman found it hard to take it seriously. Not that she’d ever say it aloud. Even if it turned out not to be true, Sylvia seemed to take pride in her rumored “danger,” and Victoria liked the little lady too much to rain on her parade.

A loud hiss filled the air, then Dzamie waved a gold coin in his hand back and forth, steam rising up from his paw and the coin. “What’s he doing that does that?” the human asked herself, aloud.

Dzamie, however, was the one to respond, without looking up. “Oh, fire spells come easy to me, so I use ‘em to quickly dry off stuff Sylvia gives me. Gives the workshop a certain smell, but it’s not really enough drool to bother humans.” His voice dropped to a mutter as he looked over his work, then nodded and spoke up again. “Yeah, that’ll work. But, yeah, if you ever catch me after a swim, I do the same thing to myself - just, with a silencing spell when there’s people around.”

Having been unofficially invited into the conversation, Victoria walked closer. The katul was working on what looked an awful lot like a gun from a video game. “Huh, forgot you did cosplay,” she remarked, “and, wait, why would what she gave you be wet?”

Two pairs of eyes swung to look at her, one tiny and yellow, one more her size and, well, also yellow, but with a purple aura around them that soon cleared. “I trust him to return items from my hoard,” Sylvia said, “and, naturally, anything I don’t bag up for protection gets wet.”

Victoria looked around, trying to find where the little dragoness might have put a hoard that she could somehow reach from Dzamie’s shoulder, to no avail. Luckily for her, Sylvia easily read the human’s face, smiled, swished her tail, and said, “Hmm, tell you what. You’re nice enough to me, good enough pets and all that.”

“Oh, is she the other one who’s been giving you strawberries?” Dzamie asked. He was looking back at the prop again, where a finger wreathed in green fire poked at a floating spell circle of the same color.

Sylvia huffed. “Anyway! Would you like to see my hoard, Victoria?” The golden dragoness sat up as tall as she could to deliver her next line, “just be aware that if you try to steal from me, your life is forfeit.”

Any tiny, intimidating effect she might have had was immediately discarded as her furry, feline perch moved his arm and sent her tumbling onto the table. In spite of herself, Victoria laughed. “Sorry, sorry!” she said, “it’s just, the timing. I would love to see your hoard, Sylvia. Assuming it’s not just that coin. Uh, no offense, you’re just, well, you-sized.”

Dzamie interrupted again, muttering “alright, let’s see if this doesn’t explode this time” as he picked up his project in one hand. “And Victoria, pop quiz! Zero percent of your grade. What species of dragon is this adorable golden derg?”

“Don’t call me a derg.”

“Adorable golden dragon,” the cheetah amended. The device in his hand whirred and glowed with his green magic, and successfully failed to explode, at which he gave a satisfied “heh.”

Victoria leaned against one of the other tables, trying to recall. “She’s a... hammer-something. Not hammerhead, hammer... hammerspace!” she said with a confident smile.

Dzamie nodded. “Fantacular. Just making sure you might know what you’re in for.” He turned to Sylvia. “I’m gonna go test this out proper. Back in a few.”

The dragoness on the table walked over to the edge and sat down, facing Victoria. “Okay, then, just set your sword... somewhere and give me your hands.” As she did so, unsheathing the weapon and laying it flat, Sylvia continued, “I never figured out whether it’s easier for you if I go slow or fast, but I like slow, so I’m gonna go slow.”

“Oh, and you’ll want to ditch the rest of your armor,” Dzamie added, gesturing to her with the toy gun, “trust me on this, it’s uncomfortable and then you just have to clean it unnecessarily.”

Victoria glared at him. “Sure, Teach, let me just strip down right in front of a male katul all alone in this room.”

Dzamie passed his prop to his other hand, then held up his fingers as he counted off, “okay, one, Sylvia’s here with us; two, just because I fit the stereotype doesn’t mean you should use it; and three-” he lifted his project, “- the only reason I’m coming back here in the next half hour is if this thing explodes on teleport. ...which you better not,” he muttered at the prop. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

For a solid minute, Victoria stared at the spot he’d vanished, almost daring him to teleport back in. Sylvia coughed to get her attention. “He’s not wrong, though. I don’t know about armor maintenance, but usually people prefer to be in comfortable clothes.” The little dragoness turned her head away and flicked her tail back and forth. “If, uh, if they wear any, but people like that are few and far between. Look, it is pretty cramped on the way to my hoard, but I’d be an awful friend if I insisted you get rid of things that aren’t weapons.”

“Things that aren’t weapons?”

The golden dragon gave her a flat look. “Can you really blame me, a dragon, for not trusting dragonslayers with weapons?”

“Fair point.” Victoria sighed. After a moment more of internal debate, she started to remove her armor. She asked Sylvia for some help, and before long, she stood before the hammerspace dragon in a sports bra and athletic shorts, glad that her friend was a dragon and not a katul, or a human.

Sylvia looked her up and down; Victoria jokingly asked if she thought she was hiding knives or something. “I... already checked, actually. Just thought dragonslayers wore something more underneath. Laundry day?”

The human grimaced. “It’s done, just... I wasn’t thinking earlier. Er, so, hands?”

“Hands!”

Victoria tentatively held her hands out in front of Sylvia, who pressed them together with her little paws. She brought her muzzle right next to the woman’s fingers, then looked up and said, “just so you know, I’m not letting you back down from this.” Before Victoria could ask what she meant by that, the dragoness opened her jaws and lunged forward.

She could hardly believe her eyes. Her arms looked just fine all the way down to her wrists, but there... they simply weren’t. Sylvia’s snout started, and her arms stopped. Her hands were surrounded by something warm, squishy, and wet, and when she tried to move them or pull them apart, they were pressed back in on each other. Then, a wave of pressure rolled down the hidden hands, and Victoria watched as more of her forearms also shared her hands’ plight. She wiggled her hands more, but there was no change. It took a few seconds for her mind to finally piece it all together: Sylvia was eating her. Somehow.

Another swallow pulled her elbows in, locking her arms out straight. In the back of her head, Victoria knew that she really ought to be panicking, that being eaten by a dragon was something she should not be going calmly into. But still, even as she bent over to the table, leaning down towards the dragon’s tiny body, it was hard to really take it seriously. After all, if she turned her head, she could see that not one of Sylvia’s scales were out of place, so CLEARLY the tiny dragon couldn’t be swallowing her.

A moment later, and she no longer had that problem. Her head was buried deep in somewhere dark pink, surrounded by hot, wet flesh, and any time she moved her arms or twisted her head, all she heard was wet “shlrk”s and squishes as she was guided back into position. The dragoness’s next swallow came more quickly, as though anticipating the human’s reaction:

Now that her eyes were no longer trying to tell her she wasn’t being eaten, Victoria came to the obvious conclusion: her friend had betrayed her trust for a meal. However, she found that she wasn’t scared, or terrified. Be it her own natural inclinations, or her, admittedly incomplete, training as a dragonslayer, Victoria instead found rage. With a primal yell, she twisted and turned, thrashing her arms to try to choke or even gag Sylvia, and she kicked one knee up, trying to feel her way into slamming into the tiny trickster. Unfortunately, the next thing she felt was her knee pinned against her belly, joining the rest of her upper body in the tight, slimy tunnel. Dragon drool got in her mouth, so she spat and sputtered as her hips, shorts, and other thigh were engulfed by the irrationally long throat. Between the heat, the steady, almost soothing noises of wet throatflesh squishing against her skin, the humid, heavy air, and simple exertion, Victoria soon found the fight slip away from her. Ankle-deep in what she thought was a very small dragon, the human sighed and let Sylvia close her jaws after her foot without a struggle.

When her head pressed against the ring of muscle, Victoria had resigned herself to her fate as dragon food. After all, the only person who knew where she was was Dzamie, and that katul would probably demand something-

Her head ran into something solid, and a clattering sound entered her ears, rather than just the constant squelching of wet flesh. Victoria opened her eyes, then sat up and- well, sat up, brushed her hair and Sylvia’s drool from her eyes, and then really opened them to see...

A pile of assorted coins, gold, silver, bronze, and more, bars of precious metals, gems of many colors, piled up nearly as tall as Victoria, herself! A trio of abstract sculptures - possibly part of a set, Victoria reasoned, though one could never really tell with that much abstraction. And, for some reason-

“So, how is it? I’m glad you calmed down eventually,” came Sylvia’s voice from all around.

“There’s... a train engine...” was all Victoria could say.

The little dragoness laughed. “Haha, yeah! One of my earlier additions, actually. I bet every hammerspace dragon does one of those, ‘okay, but CAN I eat that?’ things; I just decided to keep mine for a while, as a trophy, and over time, well, it’s a bit sentimental now.”

“You ATE and KEPT an ENTIRE TRAIN OUT OF THE-?!” the human shouted, dumbfounded, then faltered. “Uh, what’s it called, train house?”

Another laugh. “No, no, I ate a MOVING train - well, just pulling out, not that fast - and kept the engine car. The passenger car and all the delicious treats within are years gone.” There was a pause, and then. “Don’t worry, though. I’m much nicer these days, keep myself in the green zone.”

Victoria sighed, crawled over to the vehicle, and climbed into a seat. “Well, as far as places to die go, this place at least looks nicer than I expected.”

“Die? Who said anything about that? I’m not letting you stay in my stomach, you’ve got stuff to learn and I’ve got strawberries to eat, given only to dragons who DON’T have anyone stewing away in their bellies. ...willing meals notwithstanding.”

Another sigh, though this time of exasperation. “Sylvia... stomachs digest organic material. I am an organic material. I just hope I pass out before the pain gets to me too much.”

This time, there was raucous laughter, followed by a shriek and a swear. “Uh, sorry, fell off the table. You should attend more dragon biology lessons. And/or ask Dzamie for some notes, though if you do, prepare to have an entire encyclopedia dumped on you. Unabridged.”

“I’m safe?”

“You’re the biggest danger to yourself in there. Don’t smash yourself in the head with a sculpture and you’ll be fine.”

Victoria’s mind was still reeling. Nearly half a dozen earthshaking revelations in only a few minutes was not an easy thing to deal with. “And... you’ll let me out when I ask?”

“Or in half an hour. I want strawberries and that’s when there are strawberries. Oh, but make sure you aren’t holding anything when you come back up, or you WILL be eaten again, and it WON’T be to see all my shinies.”

This time, Victoria decided to take her threat seriously. And she had more reason to not “rain on her parade” about being a deadly maneater.

[ppersonna]

pick your filter - pjm | m

mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter. which me do you want? the one to change your world, i'm your filter - filter, bts

↳ summary- You love turning Jimin on, and you’re desperate to make him punish you for it.  Jimin loves punishing you while you listen to his music.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 5.1k

↳ pairing- jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is literally just smut, there’s 1% plot and it’s pornographic too, there’s some fluff at the end but i repeat it is still smut. there is no god in this chili’s tonight

↳ warnings- buckle up pals.  established relationship, explicit descriptions of sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), BDSM themes, spanking, belt usage, dirty talk, derogatory names, pain kink, daddy kink, face-fucking lol, unprotected sex, slight impregnation kink but like not really they just wanna have a baby together and talk about it lol, jimin is filthy and i cannot portray him as anything but filthy but then he has like cute babie syndrome at the end.

↳ a/n- hi i feel maybe 1% shame in how fast i wrote this but whatever.  thank you to @carly-bean-blog for sending the prompt in!  i loved it and went from a planned drabble to 5k words lolol.  one day i’ll be less verbose 🥴🥴 plus enjoy and feel free to send in more requests or just a message to say hi bc as you can see i love talking. also RIP to the wine glass i broke while writing this fic because i hit my table to hard.  wine glass 2020-2020

Turning Park Jimin on was a delicious challenge for you.

When you first began dating, all it took was a ‘come over’ text, and he’d be there in 5 minutes flat regardless of the fact that he lived 15 minutes away.

Now, a few years and a marriage under your belt, it took a bit more.

That’s not to say he wasn’t the same insatiable man you met at university; even after all these years Jimin could easily go 3 or more rounds a night.

But really getting him riled up, getting him hard and wanting and desperate for you was another thing.  Sometimes, you just wanted him to come home and take you right against the kitchen counter, so turned on he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

You’re determined to win that challenge today.  

To be truthful, the day was terrible for you, and you were seeking release in the form of your husband dicking you down until you were speaking another language. You were desperate to let loose, push aside the emotional and tender sex that seemed to be more commonplace in the bedroom recently (and you enjoyed equally) but today you needed to be treated like an absolute harlot.

The idea rolled through your mind while you were busying yourself with housework, laundry and dishes.  Options of how to get your husband to take you on the floor, rip your clothes off, make you beg for more, simmered in your mind and made the low flame in your stomach burn.  Lingerie could do the trick, Jimin definitely liked to see you swathed in delicate lace or creamy satin.  You had a nice deep red set that was dying to be used and discarded on the floor.

It came to you as you set your speaker to play some music as you flicked around the house.  Jimin’s sweet voice filled the rooms, causing you to pause as shivers raked your spine.

His music.  There was always something Jimin loved about having his music on in the background of your sex that made him work harder on you, fuck you deeper.  Maybe it was narcissism at its finest, but who were you to complain if it benefitted both of you.

You discarded all thoughts of cleaning the rest of the house as you stalked towards your bedroom closet, gathering the red bustier and panty set, with matching garter belt and stocking clips.  You purchased it rather spur of the moment, a huge sale at your favorite boutique, and you wanted to save it for something special.

It appeared the special moment was now.

You took care to curl your hair, a gentle wave with not too much product.  Jimin loved to tug his fingers through your locks, and grip them in a ponytail as you sucked his cock.  Any product would unfortunately get in the way.  Makeup was minimal, a dash highlight on your cheeks and inner tear ducts, light pink lip stain on your lips.  Jimin had been the test subject of many a lipstick, as you determined to find the most blowjob-proof one.  Needless to say, none of the lipsticks were 100% solid, but it was the best time Jimin ever had as a test subject. You preferred to stick with the stains, easier cleanup for the both of you.

You complete the visual as you swap your grubby cleaning day clothes for blood red lace lingerie, smirking at yourself in the mirror.  The cups of the bra molded against you, encasing your tits perfectly.  Jimin would surely lose his mind.  The panties were simple lace, and you had the inkling that they would not remain intact tonight.   Jimin’s propensity for literally ripping your knickers right off you was legendary.  But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?  You wanted your husband to be absolutely feral for you.

Step two of your plan was now underway as you slipped onto your bed, perfectly made now, and snapped sultry photos.  You ensured your cleavage and smooth legs were in the shot, a finger on the mouth.  You took a few more, exposing more and more of your body.

me 2:56 pm- hi babe what you up to?

mini 2:56 pm- baby!!!! Not much, just waiting for hobi to get back from lunch so we can practice this new choreo.  

Mini 2:57 pm- what about you? besides being the world’s cutest wife :)

Me: 2:57 pm- oh not too much. I did our laundry and cleaned up the house a little.  Now im just relaxing and missing my babe :(

Mini 2:57 pm- baby :( i’m sorry.  I should be home in a few hours okay! I’ll order in pasta from your favorite place to make up for it

Me 2:58 pm- well, i was sort of hoping you could make up for it but… i don’t want pasta

Mini 2:58 pm- you don’t? What do you want? Pizza?

Me 2:58 pm- [picture attached]

Me 2:58 pm- no, I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.

Mini 2:59 pm- oh fuck 

Mini 2:59 pm- baby you’re playing a dangerous game, teasing me like this.

You nearly had him, he was sniffing at the bait and soon he’d bite and you’d reel him in.  You sent the next picture, showcasing your tits with one cup pulled down, nipple on display.

me 3:00 pm- you mean this kind of game?

mini 3:00 pm- christ

mini 3:00 pm- fuck babe, you’re gonna make me pop a boner at dance practice.  You know I can’t come home for a few hours.

me 3:00 pm- hobi still gone?  Go to the bathroom and i’ll send you a video.

mini 3:01 pm- holy fuck asdskadj okay

Time for the pièce de résistance.  Ensuring the speakers blasted ‘Serendipity’, your husband’s full length solo, you clicked the record button and filmed your hand sliding down to your clothed core, rubbing over the mound with a rough hand.  You breathed heavily, sighed, mewled a bit.  

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Come home.”

You end it with a hand sneaking under the band and insertion of one finger.  Leave him not just wanting more, but rabid for it.  The video file is sent before you've even pulled your fingers from their spot resting on your clit.

Minutes passed, you were sure he was watching.  The man lived for your exhibitionism.  

mini 3:06 pm- you better have your hands behind your back and be on your knees when i get home, little one. In the middle of the bedroom floor. 

mini 3:06 pm- i want you to listen to the music and think about me fucking you.  Think about how i destroy your little cunt so good.

mini 3:07 pm- but don’t you dare touch yourself.  Your pussy is only mine to play with, you got that?

me 3:07 pm- yes daddy 

mini 3:07 pm- good.  I’ll be home soon.

Congratulations, you smirk to yourself in the mirror's reflection across from you.  You’ve won the grand prize.  Please make sure you collect your prize from the man with the raging boner.

You idly realize that Jimin hasn’t told you when he’ll be home.  You know that on any normal day he’d be home at 5:30.  But was he leaving early?  Could you chance it?  As much as you wanted to disobey and face his delicious punishment, he also could just as easily punish you by not letting you cum at all. And the chances of that type of discipline tonight was high; Jimin would surely make you pay for teasing him at work by exacting torturous ache the same to you.

You’re spinning the pros and cons of preparing yourself now or later, when you are given your hasty answer by the sound of keys jingling in the front door.  Your heart rate spikes dangerously, feeling like the muscle would force the blood out of your veins with the pressure.  

You squirm off the bed and descend to the floor on your knees, resting back on your heels, and holding your hands behind your back.  You lower your head to the floor, knowing Jimin loves it when you avoid eye contact until he tells you when and where to look.  

His footsteps are heavy, slow and torturous because you know that he knows that you’ll be on the very edge of your sanity.  The warmth in your belly is torched with tinder and starter and is flaring high.  Jimin’s simple presence, just like this, is enough to get you to an incredible high.  Nothing brings you to your knees faster than when he turns from your sweet, adorable and gentle husband into the sadistic and powerful dominating owner of your body and soul.

It takes 5 deep breaths from your belly before you hear Jimin enter the bedroom.  He’s not saying a single word, but you can hear his soft footsteps on the hardwood floor.  Your knees are aching at the pressure of the hard floor, but you ignore it. You’d ignore cauterizing wounds for the man hovering above you if he asked. 

You’re trembling, you notice.  Your thighs are quivering ever so slightly and the grasp on your hands behind you is weakening.  You grip harder, determined to maintain perfect correct form.

Jimin is frustratingly silent.  He walks around you, and you feel his eyes rove your body intently, as if looking for fault or reason to punish you.  He seems pleased when he finishes his rounds, standing right in front of you. 

“Look at me,” he states with authority, but his tone is gentle. 

You finally tilt your head up to gaze at your lover and nearly gasp at the sight.  Jimin is, on an average day, the most ethereally beautiful man you’ve ever seen.  Today, he looks as if he descended from heaven mere minutes previous.  His pink hair is pushed back, eyes darkened with desire, and wearing the tightest shirt you’ve ever seen, making his toned dancer’s body ripple under the cotton.  Tight sweats that leave nothing to the imagination about what he’s packing between his thighs sit low on his hips and you spot just a hint of his lower abdomen, the v line of his adonis belt, and you’re sure you’re drooling.

“Look at me,” he corrects, a smirk on his face.  Your eyes snap to his own again, and he winks at you. 

“Have you been a good girl for daddy?” He asks, and it feels like a loaded question.  

You play it coy.  “Yes, daddy.”

He stands still in front of you, hand stroking his face as he watches you.  His eyebrow arches.

“Are you sure? You have done nothing to upset Daddy? Nothing at all?” His voice becomes teasing, and the smirk on his features is sinister.

You bite your lip. “I sent Daddy a video of me, touching myself to his music.”

“That’s right, angel,” he murmurs and circles you again.  You feel like his prey before he comes in for the kill. “You made daddy leave practice early.  Don’t you think that’s not being a good girl?”

“No, I did wrong.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he murmurs.  “I’m gonna make you regret getting Daddy hard and horny at work.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and you shiver.  His hands are smooth, warm.  You love the way you feel the cold steel of his wedding ring pressed to your skin, a tangible expression of his love and loyalty.

“Stand up,” he directs.  You’re quick, thankful to be off stinging knees.  He lets his hands glide down your back to meet at your clasped hands, pulling them apart and turning you to face him.

He threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, sealing your lips to his.  His lips are soft and taste of chapstick, a hint of sweat, and something just so simply Jimin that is addictive.  He’s gentle and tender in the kiss, the kind of kiss a husband gives his wife.  It speaks miles beyond the simple action, and you chase it, revel in it, knowing it’s the last time he’ll be gentle tonight.  

He breaks from the kiss, touches your nose gently and winks.  It makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The control seeps back into his face; it's physically present in the tight gaze of his eyes and the coolness of his impassive features.  It’s a stark opposite of who just kissed you, and you’re breathless at the sudden change.  

“Gonna spank you with my belt, baby,” he murmurs.  A hand slaps hard against your ass, surprising you and making you squeak out loud.  “Lean over my desk like a good little slut.”

You obey immediately, jerking your body towards his grand oak desk. It’s gorgeous dark wood that matches the decor of your room perfectly and makes for a delicious spot for your sexual proclivities without being obvious.  As much as Jimin wanted a sex swing, you would not cave to that.

You bend to fold your body over the desk, gripping the edge and pushing your hips back to allow for more access to your husband.  The speaker system by your bed plays music, and you recognize the opening chords as one from his latest album with his six best friends. A smile slips to your face as the volume turns up, quiet enough you can talk, but loud enough it’s noticeable. His smooth, melodic voice is ringing through your bedroom and through your entire body. 

He stalks in behind you and rubs at your soft globes.

“Mmm, you look so pretty in this,” he compliments.  “You know I love seeing you in red.”

You turn your head to gaze at him, smiling.  “That’s why I bought it, Daddy.”

“Good little bitch,” he sighs.  

As expected, he rips the underwear from your body with one clean pull.  You’re always surprised by the action. He never gives warning.  Your eyes follow as the useless fabric soars towards the ground. 

“Much better.”

He moves away from you, walking towards the closet.  You train your eyes forward, keeping locked on the wall ahead of you, rather than staring.  Jimin tells you when and where to look and you follow that.

The gentle clinking noise of a belt buckle causes your pussy to quake.  You’ve been slowly moistening since you sent the first text, but you were now starting to drip as if you were overflowing.  By the end of the night, you’ll be drowning in it.

He’s behind you again as quick as he left and he rubs the leather belt against your bare behind. 

“What’s your word?” He asks, soothing at the skin with the device that will soon maar it.  Jimin is ever careful, checking on your mental and emotional safety as well as your physical, and ensured a safe word was in place each time.

“Red,” you assert.  He hums his approval and kisses your ass once, one quick little peck, before he lifts back up to standing.

“Count for me, little whore.”

The crack of the belt spanking your cheek electrifies you.  You feel as if every muscle in your body clenches as the sting vibrates through your buttocks and down to your core.  

“O-one!” You’re shouting, distracted by the pain in your ass to care about your pitch.

Crack. The next slap lands on the other cheek now, and you hiss at the pain.  It bites at your skin, and it soaks your pussy. 

“Two!”

He delivers the next straight in the center, hitting both cheeks and letting the sizzle melt its way to a pleasure that’s reverberating through your core.

“Three! Fuck!” you gasp. 

SMACK.  It’s the hardest yet and tears well up in your eyes at the initial whollop, before your hips are writhing and desperate for friction.

“Four!” You’re wailing and you know it makes your husband go even wilder.

“Stay still or I won’t let you cum for a month,” he grits.  Your hips stay put, knowing he’s a man of his word and not wanting to face his wrath.

He continues his barrage, and you’re counting out 15 strikes before he stops.  You’re sobbing, the pain and pleasure surging so forcefully through your veins that your cunt clenches around nothing and you’re dripping onto the wood of the desk.

His warm hands are soothing at the reddened flesh of your ass, the sensation stinging at first, but oozes away to a relaxing warmth against the punished skin.

“Good girl, baby,” he commends you, hands rubbing all over your flesh. “Took your punishment like such a good girl.”

You sniffle in reply and he pulls you up, making you stand on wobbly legs.  He twists you around and pecks your lips again, a reminder that Jimin, your husband, is still there and loves you more than he loves life itself.  It soothes you more than any salve could and it steels your resolve to continue.  It’s easy to submit and thrill at the loss of control when you trusted the master with your entire being.  

“Color?” He asks, checking in with you.

“Green,” you smile. 

He’s pleased with your answer.  He pulls away from you and pushes you towards the bed.

“Lay down on your back.  Head off the side.  I’m going to fuck your throat, and you will take it all.”

You’re giddy as you saunter to the bed and notice that Jimin is proud of the blooming red of your ass.  It’ll be a literal pain in the ass to sit tomorrow, but it’s worth all the doting and affection you’ll receive in return for being such a good girl for him.  The music has changed, another sensual track featuring your talented husband.  It sends shivers down you, straight to your core.

You maneuver your body to lie on the bed, grateful for the soft blanket on your burning ass, and tip your head off the bed.  Your mouth opens complacently and Jimin shoves his sweats down to reveal his hardened length.

You’re licking your lips like his dick is the finest meal money can buy, and he chuckles.  His left hand strokes it, shivering at the cold press of his wedding ring mixing with the heat of his hand. 

“You want my cock?” He asks.

You nod, captivated with the motion he strokes the shaft.  You almost forget to speak, but his harsh gaze is like a whip.

“Yes! Yes, I want your cock Daddy!”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he hums.

Well, this would be too easy.

“I want to suck you dry, let you fuck my throat so I can’t breathe.  I’ll let you cum down my throat and make my face so messy from cum and spit that it gets in my eyes and messes up my pretty makeup, daddy.”

His strokes have become faster, and he sucks in hard for air. “Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

You open said mouth again, letting your tongue hang out like a welcome sign to your throat.

He growls, it’s guttural, and it feels as if it’s positioned on your clit, vibrating the nub.  Your bliss is cut short as he drives his thick dick into your mouth and directly to the back of your throat, leaving you no time to prepare.  You whine slightly around it, and he tsks.

“Don’t you fucking dare whine.  Take it all,” he sounds ruthless and your pussy quakes.

He sets a punishing pace, the tip of his dick ramming through your throat.  It doesn’t take long for it to become messy, saliva trickling from your mouth, falling towards your eyes due to the angle of your supine head.  Jimin sounds angelic, the moans that leave the dancer’s body should be recorded and played for an audience, you think.  You’d suffer through hours of this for the reward of his sweet voice crying out your name.

“Fuck, my little cock slut loves it when I fuck her throat, hmm,” he asks, breathy and harsh.  You nod as much as you can.

“Yeah, that’s right.  You love daddy’s cock, don’t you? You love it when I fucking choke the shit out of you with my fat cock, huh?”

The voice of an angel with the words of the devil himself.  The duality is intoxicating and you are head over heels for both Jimin’s inside of him, every aspect of the man you pledged your life to.

“Mmm, you suck me so good,” he’s groping at your tits through the fabric of your bra.  You’re surprised that it’s still on, but you trust he’s aware and always has a plan.  

“Are you crying, baby?” He asks mockingly.  Tears and saliva mix and your face is completely ruined by it.  You nod again and blink.  “Good, fucking choke on it.” he goes even faster and you’re moaning.  It hurts and the gag reflex is there, but the pain gets you off, and you know the second it became too much, your husband would stop in an instant.  

“Little sluts get their face fucked when they disobey daddy,” he chides, emphasising each word with a thrust.  

It’s as if you’re desperate for his orgasm, wanting nothing more than to swallow every ounce of what he spills into you, clean him up and ask for more.  He won’t have that tonight, it seems, as he’s pulling out of you as quickly as he entered.

“I want to cum in this tight little cunt,” he bites.  You slither up from your position and wipe at your eyes, resting against the pillow after he orders you to remove the bustier.  He asks that you leave the belt and stockings on, however. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, baby,” he’s discarded his shirt and is sitting ahead of you, watching you.  His gaze turns you on and opens you up like a flower.

Your thighs are spread far and you lean back further onto the pillows to put the star of the show on display.  You’re coated with your slick; it’s slathered up and down your thighs and dripping onto the duvet below you.  He breathes out in appreciation.

“I think my favorite thing about you is how fucking wet you get for me.”  He’s still not moving and you want to beg him to touch you, please do something, but refrain.  “You feel like a fucking dream when I’m inside you.”

“B-baby,” you break character and freeze, but he ignores it and allows you to continue as you sigh with relief. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” he banters, and you nod with wide, needy eyes.

“Touch yourself for me, then.  Show me how badly you want daddy’s cock in you.”

A hand flies to your cunt in record time and you’re desperately eager to spread the lips of your folds apart and rub at your slick and swollen clit.  A breathy, heady moan escapes you at the friction you’ve been aching for since you sent the sexy photo hours ago. 

“Fuck!” you shout, circling the bud.  Jimin’s eyes are glued to your hands, and he watches with awe. 

“Finger yourself,” he demands and you’re obeying before he’s even finished speaking, two fingers slipping down to enter your channel.  You arch off the bed and grip a breast in your other hand, flicking at the nipple for extra sensation.  

He coos at you as you fuck yourself with wild abandon, gasping his name as you slip deeper with each thrust.  

“Add another.”  His voice maintains its even quality, maintained and cool.  But if you opened your eyes, you’d see that he’s salivating at the sight, desperately restraining himself.  His cock is weeping pre-cum and he could explode in an instant watching this too long.

Your ring finger slips in with the other two and you’re keening at the stretch.  The pain is gone in a flash, just a pinch that simmers to a desperate pleasure.  

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he breaks his composure, momentarily.  He’s so in love with you, every single fucking bit, that he can’t help it.  “God, you’re beautiful.”

His words have you blushing, as if they’re the most lewd part of the evening and not the fact you’re fingering yourself in front of your husband while he watches and orders you around.

“Rub your clit with your other hand, love.”

The pressure of your added hand on your clit and the fingers thrusting into you has you soaring to your high and your throat chokes on the air.  “O-oohhh fuckkk!” You whine.

“You close, baby?  You gonna cum on those cute little fingers and get them messy for daddy?” He asks, voice violently serene.

“Y-yes! Please, I want to cum,” you beg.  You know the rules, he tells you where and when your body receives its pleasure.

“You wanna cum?” He asks again, and you feel a spike of irritation.  He’s already asked you that, haven’t you already answered?

“So badly, daddy! Please! C-close.” Words are escaping your mental capacity now.  You’re there, nearly there, just one little tiny string holding you back from the edge of euphoria.

“Too bad.”  

Your fingers are pulled from your cunt quickly and you’re crying.  Tears are forming in your eyes as you feel an ache deep to your womb.  You had been so close, so deliciously close.  Jimin knows this, thrills at watching you edge further and further through the night.  You won’t admit it at the moment, it’s pure torture then, but the buildup to the finale is indescribable.

“You don’t get to fucking cum until I tell you to cum.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes! Yes, Daddy,” you babble, nearly incoherent from arousal and denial. 

He makes you writhe there, pussy so slick its soaking the blankets and you’ll have to change them later but the only thing you think about is your cunt, your weeping cunt that’s screaming to release. 

You feel your breath slowing and know that Jimin wants you to come back down to earth before he’ll bring you up again.

“Good fucking girl,” he kisses your belly, licking at the navel.  He whispers quiet words of adoration as he trails down your abdomen and end at the top of your mound.  Your legs are shaking, no, they’re nearly convulsing from need.

He spreads your folds, and it’s pornographic the way he spits on your pussy, as if it needs any more wetness.  It’s not about the wetness, though, and you know it.  It’s about the message, the ownership.  

“My favorite little fuck toy,” he murmurs, lightly tracing everywhere but the bud throbbing with need for friction.  “I can’t wait to cum inside this little pussy tonight.  Gonna flood your whole fucking cunt, babe.”

Jimin knows the way to your heart, and the way to your orgasms is through his words.  Gentle whispered ‘i love you’s’ in the day and disgusting filth at night.  It’s just another reason in a list of a million why you work so well together. 

“Should we get you nice and pregnant tonight?  You want to make a baby?”  

You nearly sob at his words.  He can fuck you harder with his words than his cock.

“Please!” You’re yelling, tears streaming down your face. “P-please! I want your baby.”

He leans down and smiles for a moment before speaking. “Well, my little wife will always get what she wants when she asks so nicely.”  His lips attach to your clit, suctioning it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.  It’s swollen and slick, and it feels like fucking heaven.  His plushy lips are working for it, taking you so desperately close to the edge.  

You’re gasping a symposium of his name and praising the ground he walks on.  You’re sure if you died now you’d die a very fucking happy woman.  The world around you is gone, and it’s just Jimin’s sinful mouth suckling at your cunt.

You’re close again, and Jimin knows it.  You’re begging, pleading with him, but it’s useless as he roughly pulls away.

The music continues on in the background.  It’s lighter, and Jimin croons in the speaker as he grunts in your ear.

He muffles your anguished cry with a messy kiss that tastes of you, and he’s thrusting into you.  The slickness guides him in easily and he’s whining against you at the feel of your walls accept him and hugging him tightly as if they’ve missed his cock swelling within them.

“JIMIN!” You’re seeing fireworks as your husband fucks into you, holding you close to him.  It’s as rough and kinky as it is intimate and sweet.  He holds you, cherishes you, while he’s pistoning his thick member into your loud, drenched cunt.  

“I love you,” he whispers, slipping a thumb into your mouth that you suck at eagerly, as skilled with his fingers as you are with his cock.  “I love you so fucking much.”

His eyes align with yours, yours full of tears of absolute unrivaled pleasure, and his with full and never-ending devotion. 

You’re both so close, and you pull him against you to kiss his lips.  You want to connect completely to him as you cum, as he spills into your womb and creates something, someone there. 

Your cunt flutters intensely, quaking in anticipation as it builds and builds and builds.  Jimin breaks the kiss to breathe and warn you, “I’m going to cum soon, baby, please cum with me.”  He’s gentle and sweet, the Jimin who cries at love stories and wears flower crowns now present inside you.  You nod quickly, gasping as the coil winds tighter and tighter.  

Your kissing is messy, passionate, and your hands grasp him everywhere.  You’re tugging at his toned arms and solid back, seeking refuge as the tidal wave grows impossibly high, higher, so so high,

And crashes into you at 100 miles per hour.  Your cunt is contracting and pulsing around him so intensely you nearly black out, crying loudly into his mouth.  He’s groaning with you, the feeling of your already impossibly tight walls clenching down on him demands the orgasm out of him.  He’s cupping your whole face in his hands as he spills into you and your walls suck him in further, so far he could disappear completely.  

It feels as if you orgasm for hours, but it's merely minutes later that you’re trying to catch your breath and slip back into reality.  You’re clinging to each other like last lifelines and the gaze between you is so intense it clenches at your racing heart.  

The silence between you two is long and speaks an entire conversation before your lips even open.  He’s singing so sweetly through the speaker, it sounds like he’s singing directly to you.  “I love you,” you’re whispering to him.

He rubs at your cheeks in his palms, wiping away stray tears of bliss that have slipped down your face.

“I love you.”

You settle into him, unwilling to move a single inch away from your husband, and marvel at the beauty that is your life, your future.  

Jimin holds you close, kisses you gently and sings softly along to the music as you fall asleep, and he adores the fact that he holds his entire world, his future, in his arms.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[justjuiceyboy]

late night drives

in which Juice drives you out of charming for an evening to drive you two back together

word count: 1,309

——————————

Life had become a little too much lately. You spent the entire day managing the restaurant and waiting tables, the first not even being your job, you definitely weren’t getting paid enough for it anyways. Then you’d come home to study for college, what you were doing part time. There was barely any time to spend with Juice, him often being away from the evening to the morning on runs with the club. You were pretty much always passed out by 11 pm and Juice rarely left the club even on quiet nights before 1 am.

You understood, the club was supposed to come first. But there was always a part of you that wanted him to yourself. His tanned skin to always be waiting at home for you when you finish work. It would never be that way though, you just had to get over it.

It was now Friday, meaning it had now been twelve days since you’d seen Juice in person. He left you little notes on the coffee table in the morning before he went out to work in Teller-Morrow, it just wasn’t enough though. You missed him terribly. It’s not like you were going to do anything drastic like break up with him but you knew a conversation was needed because things couldn’t stay this way for much longer, not seeing each other in shared home in nearly two weeks. You just didn’t know when you’d get the time to do this.

Fridays were always quick at work. It was busy which made your day go by faster. You got to keep any tip money you made during the night, therefore leaving you with a solid amount of change to take home. However you were slightly later tonight because it seemed all of the other employees thought you could close all by yourself. You felt physically and mentally exhausted, not knowing how much more you could take and also knowing that you had to go home to begin to revise for your exams that were coming up quicker than you’d like. You just wanted Juice, even if it was just for 10 minutes.

Closing the door behind you, you felt how warm the night was and shrugged off your leather jacket. You began the walk home, checking your watch: 22:43. Usually you’d be home almost an hour ago but you were just so done with the day that you wanted to curl up into a ball in your empty king size bed. The restaurant was only a five minute walk from your house, some people wouldn’t dare walk around in Charming this late at night but you were known around here.

Sighing, you opened the front gate into your front garden, closing it behind yourself. You walked up to the front door, putting in your keys and letting yourself in. You were greeted by the familiar scent of laundry detergent and vanilla candles that you often burned. Happy to be home, you threw your bag down at the door, making your way to the living room to rest your feet.

You weren’t expecting the sight that lay before you. Your boyfriend sprawled out across the couch, a newspaper on his lap, remote to the TV in hand as he flicked through channels. He smiled widely when he noticed your presence, quickly standing up to engulf you in a hug. You felt yourself relax into his embrace, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you. You were home.

“Missed you” he whispered, muffled by your hair. 

“Me too” you replied, feeling like you hadn’t seen the man you loved in months.

You stood for several minutes in silence, almost in disbelief that this was finally happening. You were finally back to Juice. The house had felt empty without him, you had missed his laugh, his stupid random facts that he told you all the time, even the mess he seemed to leave everywhere behind him. The man could walk into a room with no items and leave a mess regardless.

“Cmon, want to show you something” he muttered, grabbing your hand to lead you to the door, taking out the keys and locking it behind you both. You followed closely behind, unsure of where he was bringing you. You trusted him that he wasn’t going to do anything too drastic at this time of the night.

He passed you a helmet for his bike, whilst he climbed on and started the engine. Knowing you were still a little apprehensive about the bike, he held out his hand to put you in for a feverish peck on the lips and suddenly you felt you weren’t afraid anymore. You threw your leg over and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly. You took in the smell of his aftershave lingering on his kutte. You could see a few stray hairs on the side of his neck that he must have absentmindedly missed when shaving.  The little details stood out to you, they were his favourite.

The motorcycle revved to life, bringing you out of your thoughts, jumping slightly. Juice chuckled, finding your unsure behaviour funny when he was used to bikers who weren’t afraid of anything. He enjoyed being your protector against all the badness in the world.

The journey lasted about twenty minutes, you watching the trees as you whizzed past. There was no one around on the streets of Charming, it was after 11 pm after all. Streetlights lit up the streets, gradually becoming less and less as you ventured out of the town, the roads become slightly worse. There wasn’t much around so you weren’t too sure where you were, you weren’t really one to venture outside of Charming. Juice pulled off the road onto a small dirt track, leading the bike up a hill where he pulled to a stop at the peak.

Juice took off his helmet and glasses, once again holding out his hand to help you dismount the bike. You took off the helmet and left it on the bike. Juice pulled you close quickly, you letting out a squeal as he laughed once again. You finally looked around. The ground was gravelly but he led you through a few trees out onto a grassy area. You looked around, mesmerised by the sight in front of you. The view spread for miles, all being illuminated by the stars in the night sky and tiny lights you could see from the distant town you had just left behind. You felt that you could see the entire world, all whilst wrapped in your man’s arms. You glanced up, him ignoring the view and staring back down at you cracking a grin, like a small child in a candy store.

“I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much” he said sheepishly. You could see the apology reach his eyes, which in turn looked exhausted from the amount of work he had been doing.

“I’ve been no better, work and school have been killing me recently so I’ve been asleep before you get in” you whispered, looking back at the view, “this is beautiful”.

“My favourite spot” he murmured, however his eyes never left you, “before I met you, I used to come here because it was the only place I felt comfortable to sit and think.” He paused for a minute, as if he was trying to find the words for his feelings. “I don’t like being alone but since you’ve came along I feel like there’s a reason I’m supposed to be here”. You smiled at his honesty, delighted that he trusted you this much to let you in. You pressed a kiss against his clothed chest, knowing this was the only reply he needed.

You knew this wouldn’t be the last of your late night drives together.

[makeste]

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.