#he was good though and just watched them while he snuffled for treats | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-” you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

#the gentlemen #tgm #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #vminkook smut #vmin smut #jikook smut #taekook smut #i don't even know how to tag anymore fksdfjsk

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quillsanddaydreams · 4 years ago

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false promises

sirius black x reader

—author’s note: this idea was something that came to me before writing a paper and it just struck with me since. Sirius and you have a long history you can never get over. What happens when you finally get an opportunity to leave it all behind?

—warning(s): breakup and angst. gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren’t used).

—word count: 1,702

The sky was quickly turning black as you watched the streets the bus passed through. Today had been a whirlwind of emotions you weren’t sure you could contain. You had looked through old photographs, happy faces smiling back at you. They seem to make you feel worse, although you knew you had to do what you had planned for the day. Rip the band aid. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out and walked into the restaurant.

Your gaze immediately went over to him, his smile lighting up the room. Sirius. No other name could do him justice. James had an arm around him, enthusiastically telling the company something. Remus noticed you first. He gave a huge grin, waving at you. Forcing yourself to smile back at him, you made your way over to the table.

“Aha there you are!” James exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. “And here we thought you wouldn’t show up to a meeting you called.”

You rolled your eyes playfully while your heart constricted. Delaying worked only for so long. Sitting down beside Remus, you flipped open the menu avoiding everyone’s eyes. Especially the grey ones. He could always read you like an open book.

“So, did you all find anything interesting?” you said, scanning the menu like you had done a hundred times before. The group hummed in response.

Calling in the waitress, you gave your orders. You wondered whether any of them would continue some small talk, holding a glass of water to your lips. How were you even supposed to tell them? Sirius nudged you with his feet, making you look up at him. He raised his eyebrows wordlessly questioning you whether you were alright. Nodding carefully, you tried your best to hold your emotions in. Quiet followed, you could hear the cutlery being kept and people around your table chatting. It was as if everyone was anticipating a shoe to drop. Black spoke first.

“I know you like treating us and all,” he started as others leaned in. “But what’s the occasion for today? You’ve been so secretive about it; you didn’t even tell me.”

Your throat felt dry even though you just had some water. All of a sudden you felt as if you were exposed. Mulling over your next words, you pushed your nails into the palm of your hand. A habit you picked up as a child.

“I got a huge job offer, more of a promotion to be honest,” you began, watching their reactions. “The salary is quite something and the experience would step me up to a much higher position.”

“Whoa, that is so amazing” James said with widened eyes, cutting you off. Remus nodded along.

“And the way you were acting, we were afraid you were going to deliver a death sentence or something.”

“That is so great, congratulations!”

“It’s in Japan,” you whispered but no one seemed to hear you.

“You’ve been working so hard everyday—“

“We have to get ice-cream later!”

“It’s in japan!” you shouted, making the table fall silent again. Remus bit his lip, searching your face as Sirius just stared.

“It’s a five-year program,” you continued. “I talked to my boss and she told me this was a brilliant opportunity and that I should definitely pack up my bags.”

“You seriously aren’t considering to take up on that, are you?” James asked. Your jaw felt heavy. The silence must have been an enough answer, because no one dared to speak. Remus cleared his throat.

“Is this what you want?” he hushed as you felt tears prick your eyes. It wasn’t what you wanted; it was what you needed. You sneaked a glance at Sirius, who was still looking at you, dumbfounded.

You nodded slowly. James fidgeted.

“So this is your way of saying goodbye?” James remarked, a tad bit agitatedly.

“James—”

“Don’t James me!” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re talented. I know that, you know that. You can do without this program. And it’s in Japan for goodness’ sake! It’s miles away. Miles! Going there for five whole years means not looking back.”

“There are ways to communicate,” you said, your voice small. Even you didn’t believe that. James sat back, his arms folded.

“I hate you so much right now,” Remus said, picking at his napkin. You put your hand over his, squeezing slightly. He sighed. Sirius got up all of a sudden. You flinched. He turned to the group giving a random excuse about some work and left the table. Looking down at your hands, you heard the restaurant door close with a thud. Tears fell down your cheeks and you furiously wiped them off.

The rest of the dinner went in a strange calm. It was obvious to both James and Remus that you were just as much hurt as them. James gave you a small smile and helped brighten the mood at the table. Remus reassured you ever so often. You were grateful.

-♡♡♡-

Sirius didn’t contact you after that night. He was angry. Angry at you, angry for what you planned for yourself. It hurt you, more than you could care to admit. This playing around on your tip toes had been going for far too long. You knew your breakup with Sirius had been mutual, for both your goods but you didn’t have it in you to sit back and watch him fall into arms of people that weren’t you. Not anymore. Not when you still loved him. And you knew Sirius did too, it was how he still went out of his way to make you smile, how he loathed every single person you dated after him unable to realise that none of them could compare to him. None of them could compare to how he made you feel.

It left you to wonder at times whether the breakup was really the right decision. You reminded yourself that it was whenever the thought came up. Both of you wanted different things. Sirius never wanted to settle down and you did. After months of fighting and waiting for the other to give in to the other or come to a compromise, you realised it wasn’t going to work. You sighed. What were you doing reminiscing either way?

You checked all your bags and papers before putting on the coat ready to face the inevitable. Driving to the edge of the lake, you stopped and walked into the old abandoned warehouse. The grey walls didn’t seem haunting anymore, but inviting like an old friend. You smiled seeing a similar figure standing over the old table watching the ceiling.

“How did you find me?” he whispered, not sparing you a glance.

“I just felt the stench of complete and utter disappointment in me and followed it,” you jested but sobered seeing the look on Sirius’s face. You moved towards him slowly, gently placing a hand on his cheek cradling his face.

“Hey,” you whispered. He looked at you, his dark eyes making you lose yourself in them. “Don’t do this Sirius. You know I wouldn’t be able to leave you like this.”

“Then don’t leave,” he said simply. “I know you’re not doing it for yourself. You’re just running away.”

“You’re running away from me,” he hushed. You felt your mouth go dry. So he did know. There was no use beating about the bush, Sirius hated when people twisted up words.

“Well I am.”

“Why?”

“Why? You know why,” you pleaded. “Sirius I’ve been in love with you since I was a child. A child. We’ve been best friends all my life. Then we dated for five whole years. And now we don’t. I can’t be your ex and your friend simultaneously anymore, it’s been torture. Do you know how it feels knowing we’ll never be the same anymore? Just how much it hurts?”

“Do you think I feel good about it?” Sirius raised his voice, frustration from all those months pouring in. “Do you think I feel good about never being able to hold you close and see other men and women do it?”

“So maybe the job will do good to both of us,” you said after a beat.

“I did not say that—”

“Sirius—”

“No I didn’t. I’ll do anything for you. Give me another chance, just don’t go away,” Sirius said and you felt helpless. Sirius took your hands, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Tears pricked your eyes. You could remember all the time you spent with him together. Riding his bike to the sunset, singing and dancing nonsensically to songs, him kissing you softly telling you he loved you. The memories flashed before your eyes like a film reel. You could barely see anything through the salty tears welling up.

“That wouldn’t do justice to either of us,” you said after some time, your voice barely audible. “Some things aren’t meant to be. We’ll fight again Sirius, we’ll be angry at each other and we’ll end up hating each other more every day. And I won’t be able to live with myself knowing I spoiled the best relationship I ever had.”

Sirius gulped, breaking into sobs.

“Damn you,” he croaked. “Damn you for going away. Damn you for making me lose you all over again. As if it wasn’t painful enough the first time.”

You laughed through snuffles and squeezed his hand.

“You’ll never lose me. You’ll never get rid of me even if you tried—” you stopped as Sirius crashed his lips into yours, kissing you urgently. You pulled him closer by his shirt, as one of his hands went at your waist and the other held your face. Pulling away in a daze you sniffed and Sirius buried his face in your neck hugging you. Time seemed to pass by as neither of you pulled away.

“I guess I really can’t make you stay, can I?” he said as you shook your head, wrapping your arms around his body. “I’ll miss you. And I’ll show up at your door myself if you don’t answer my letters. Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”

You pulled back, wiping his face with your fingers.

“I promise.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#sirius black #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x you #sirius black x y/n #the marauders #james potter #remus lupin #from anu's quill

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

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Sirius Black as a Dad • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Warnings: Babies, children, the marauders being parents

Request: Sirius Black HC where he's like raising his baby? just really fluffy and no Azkaban :) could include reader as well but more focused on sirius being a dad — @msmb

A.N: No Azkaban AU! So more like Everyone Lives AU! This focuses more on Sirius being a dad, but the reader is present! (No Peter mention) These are lowkey kinda messy so bare with me lmao. It feels short?? Love you all ❤️

So ok I’m first thinking of baby name options

I am a strong supporter of the idea that Sirius keeps up the Black family tradition of naming kids after space things

Mostly because he wants to make the tradition his own—make a better, more loving, more accepting Black family that he can be proud of

So I’m thinking of Alphard (his favorite uncle), Regulus (because he found out that he was a hero and helped destroy Voldemort), and Andromeda (his favorite cousin)

You can obviously help with the name choices, he also lets you pick their middle names

Now that that’s established

Sirius is absolutely terrified about having children

He thinks he’ll screw them up and be a terrible father like his father was

Sirius honestly thinks it’s a Black family gene that they’re all terrible parents

He tries to channel his inner Fleamont Potter

But the insecurities always come back

You and James always try to reassure him

I mean—look how he is with Harry!

Sirius loves that kid and he’s not even his own

So he already has good practice

He says that doesn’t matter

Until he holds your first child in his arms

It all just melts away

He is 100% enamored with that little lump in his arms

He’s crying, you’re crying

“Merlin, they’re so tiny!”

Sirius makes a promise that day that he won’t be like his father

That he’s going to be better

And he’s going to love and care for this child

And he keeps that promise

This kid is spoiled

The second this kid is brought into this world, they have him wrapped around their little finger

And that’s a common theme

Sirius wants to be the cool parent so he buys them everything and more

Sirius willingly gets up in the middle of the night to take care of them

He’ll sit in the rocking chair in their nursery and sing a song

Hell yeah it’s “Killer Queen”

“Shh..it’s alright, my little one.”

Sirius never wants to let them go

Calls them his little pup and that’s a nickname that forever sticks

So obviously, this kid is going to be best friends with Harry

The two of you visit Lily and James all the time

Remus will come down as well and he’s just adorable with the two of them

You’re all just this big happy family

Sirius loves dressing them up in little outfits

Little leather jackets are a must

He’ll become Padfoot and just curl up with them while their asleep

This is a secret

But one time, he convinced James to strap his kid onto Padfoot’s back

Nothing went wrong

But it’s a secret

Until James drunkenly reveals what happened

Sirius wants to put the little guy in his flying death trap of a motorcycle almost right away

But after a few choice words from you, he puts that off for a few months

Extremely protective

Only James, Lily, and Remus are allowed to hold his little pup

That’s it

And also Minnie, but she isn’t around often because she works

Makes bets with your friends what their first words will be

He hopes it’s Padfoot, like Harry’s was

“C’mon, pup. Padfoot. Just say Padfoot for daddy!”

When it’s Moony, he almost cries and strangles Remus

Don’t worry though, Snuffles is next

Then mummy

He likes to brag that they said his name first before yours

“They love me more, love, what can I say?”

Fast fowarding a little bit

This kid is treated like royalty

Sirius knows when to be stern, he doesn’t want this kid to be too spoiled, if you know what I mean

But he never over does it

He’s very careful about that

Sirius and James teach little pup and Harry quidditch while you and Lily watch from inside the house

Sirius is genuinely interested in their interests

Reading? Sure! Sirius will read them to bed every night

Collecting bugs? Sirius will hike out into the woods with them to find all different kinds

Is so excited when they show signs of magic

When they finally go off to Hogwarts he gives them the talk about Houses

Sirius doesn’t care what house they’re sorted into

Even Slytherin

He knows there’s a good chance they’ll be sorted there

But honestly

He will never not love his kid

He won’t love them any less if they’re not in Gryffindor

Sirius doesn’t cry when he drops them off at King’s Cross

But he sobs when he gets home

He misses them so much

It’s too hard

Sends letters all the time

When he finds out what house they’ve been sorted into, he buys so much merch

House scarves, jumpers, banners, everything

He loves supporting them

Sirius would be a great dad because he’s the perfect mix of cool and protective

Big sayer of “I love you”

Wants more if you’re down for it

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black headcanon #sirius black fluff #the marauders x reader

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years ago

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 20: Doctor Visit/Checkup

Title: The Best Medicine

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post by me. (Sick doctor)

A physician leaves work miserably sick. His RN girlfriend takes care of him.

(Author’s Note: This breaks the rule I set of less than 2k words but I wrote it before I decided to do this challenge and thought it worked well here. I just needed a sick doctor having PE performed on them ok 😅)

Due to the fact that it was 6:30 AM and she was still more asleep than awake, it took her a while to realize the man she was dating was standing behind her as she waited in line for coffee. However, in her defense, she had never seen him in this coffee line at this time of day before (and she herself was here at this time every day).

It wasn't until she heard a familiar, sniffly yawning noise that she turned and caught his eye.

"Shane? What are you doing here? You're usually sleeping right now." She didn't go to greet him right away, mainly because she didn't want to lose her place in line, and only two people stood between her and caffeination.

He too looked startled, though happy to see her. "Molly, hey," he said. There was a squeaky rasp to his voice and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Had an early meeting that got cancelled at the last minute. Since I was already awake, figured I'd come into the office early and clear out my inboxes."

"Gotcha. Well cool, that means I get to treat you to coffee for once. You find a place to sit and I'll get the drinks."

He shot her a grateful look and stepped out of line.

Molly ordered, received, and paid for the coffees quickly, tipping generously, before going to join Shane. He kissed her on the cheek as he took his cup, and they shared a warm smile as they made their way to a little sitting area, sharing a bench against the wall.

"Kathy's coffee is the best in the hospital. You'll love this."

"So you've told me many times. I'm glad I finally get to try it. What did you get me?"

"A surprise. You'll like it, trust me."

"Cheers, then." With another smile, they tapped their cups together before taking long pulls of their beverages.

"This is delicious," he said after a moment. "Best I've ever had from here. Thanks, babe."

"My pleasure." They sat for a bit in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. However, Molly couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at her partner with increasing frequency. Now that she was next to him, she saw he looked quite unwell. He was pale and shivery, with a flush over his cheeks and ears, and looking overall rundown and uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual easy smile and warm, steady demeanor.

"Is everything ok, doc? You really don't look good."

"You're saying I look ugly today?" he countered teasingly, dodging the question.

She nudged him playfully. "You're just as handsome as ever. I'm saying you look sick. Are you feeling ok?"

He shrugged. "Think I'm just tired. Not used to being up so early. My head and throat are kinda sore I guess."

"Just tired, huh?" She reached out and placed her palm to his forehead, then his flushed cheeks, and finally his neck, where she could feel the swollen lymph nodes she had already seen. She clicked her tongue scoldingly.

"That's a fever, Doctor Mitchell, and a high one at that. Why in the world did you come to work today?"

"No kidding, really?" Shane leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and looking sheepish. "I can't even remember the last time I had a fever. Had to have been before medical school. Guess I forgot what it feels like."

"Hmm. Well regardless, you need to go home. You can't risk infecting your patients and staff."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now."

When he stood, she did as well, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Feel better. Get lots of rest and fluids."

"I know the drill," he rasped, smiling a little. "I am a physician."

"Sometimes I have my doubts, mister 'doesn't know what a fever feels like.' Sports medicine doesn't deal with the flu much." She kissed his shoulder fondly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away, running his thumb over her jawline. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Text me when you have time. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Will do."

She watched him go wistfully, wishing she was going with him.

Naturally he wasn't far from her thoughts for the rest of the day. The hospital OB-GYN clinic was as busy as ever, and the hustle and bustle kept Molly, an RN, quite distracted, but every moment of downtime found her wondering how Shane was doing.

She texted him a few times as he requested. The first time he replied right away, saying he had made it home safely and was relaxing on the couch. The second time he replied a few hours later, saying how tired he was and how he really was starting to feel unwell, but he was doing fine. The third time he never replied.

Her plans for the weekend had been solidified in her mind as soon as she felt how feverish he was. She practically ran out the door as soon as she clocked out. Her first stop was her house to change clothes, shower, and gather some supplies. Her second stop was Shane's favorite soup and sandwich place for two quarts of soup and two sandwiches to go. From there, she headed to Shane's condo across town.

She hadn't informed him she was coming because she had wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. Initially her plan was to leave the soup and sandwich on the stoop and ring the bell, then duck out of sight until the last minute. However, her plan changed when she caught a glimpse of him through the front door.

He was fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Bundled under two blankets and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by a nest of used tissues and dishes, he was the picture of illness.

She didn't have the heart to wake him by knocking, so instead she used her copy of his house key to let herself in quietly, being careful not to let the cold air in with her. He didn't stir even after she shut and re-locked the door. After removing her coat, she deposited the items she had brought in the kitchen, then returned to his side. Perching on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand over his face and through his hair to wake him.

He stirred weakly, mumbling and snuffling as he opened his eyes. His face lit up upon seeing her, and he quickly sat up, leaning all of his sleepy, overly-warm weight against her for a tight hug.

"Molly, you're here! I'mb so habby to see you," he croaked earnestly.

She hugged him back just as tightly. "Of course I'm here. When you stopped replying to my texts, I knew I had to come check on you. You look so sick, poor guy, and you're so stuffed up. Are you surviving?"

He shrugged, pulling away. "I guess. I'mb doi'g ok. So achy and tired. Just been sleebi'g all day." He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, which resulted in a grimace. "Budt you should go, babe. I don'dt wandt you to catch this. It's ndasty."

As if to prove his point, he turned away from her to cough productively into his elbow, thick and chesty. He followed it up with a honking nose blow that was far less productive. She watched this display sympathetically.

"I'm not leaving you all alone and sick like this. And anyway, if I do get sick, I think I know a doctor who could take care of me." She bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled wanly. "Now, have you taken any medicine recently?"

He sheepishly averted his eyes. "Umb… ndo. I… don'dt really have anythi'g to take."

"Ugh, Shane. Don't tell me you're one of those 'it only treats the symptoms' purists."

"Ndo, it's ndot thad. Like I told you, I just haven't been sigck in years. I've never thought to buy cold mbedicine."

"You're such a guy," she sighed. "Even if you are a doctor. You at least got your flu shot right?"

"Yeah. Budt they're already sayi'g it's probably ndot goi'g to be very effective this year."

"Of course they are." She sighed again. "However, I had a hunch this would happen, so I came prepared." She quickly retrieved a bag from the kitchen which rattled with medications, sitting down beside him again. She selected the ones she wanted and shook them into his hand, watching closely as he swallowed them.

"You're acti'g like you don'dt trust mbe to take care of mbyself," he teased, taking several gulps of water to chase the pills.

"That's not necessarily true. I just want to do everything possible to help you feel better."

He had to cough harshly again before he could answer, hard enough to redden his face. "I love thad you wandt to take care of mbe. Budt you should really go. I'mb so contagious right ndow, and I don'dt wandt to try to stay away from you."

"Then don't. I came here to be close to you. I don't care if I get sick. It's the weekend anyway. I'm here for you and only you. Besides, you were probably contagious yesterday too, and we still made out. So it doesn't matter anyway."

"You're too good to mbe," he mumbled, finally succumbing and leaning his full weight against her, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Budt I still don'dt approve. You're staying AMA, just so we're clear."

"Call me a rebel, then," she murmured, stroking his sweaty hair.

He sneezed suddenly, only once, but wet and laborious, catching it in his elbow. She quickly pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He took it gratefully, blowing his stopped nose as best he could before resting against her again. He sighed deeply as she resumed her petting.

"You're lugcky the desire to be taken care of when sigck is a deebply ingrained biological traidt," he continued to mumble, sounding sleepier by the second.

"I am, huh? Well you're talking an awful lot for someone who has no voice."

She felt him smile against her, but he did fall silent for a while, aside from his sniffling and soft coughing. She thought he was going back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know whad would mbake mbe feel even better thad mbedicine? Sumb soubp."

"Hmm, well it just so happens you have a girlfriend who thinks of everything." She gently shifted him off of her, going back to the kitchen and returning with a quart of soup and a sandwich.

"Sal's chigcken rice?" he rasped, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he sat up straighter.

"Naturally. We've been together almost two years. I know what you like when you're not feeling good."

"You're a lifesaver," he groaned, taking the proffered food and digging in right away.

"I'm glad you have an appetite anyway. I won't ever forget last year's stomach flu incident."

"Ugh, don'dt rembind mbe," he said with a shudder. "Bud other than thad one time, I'll always have an abbetite for this soubp. This is all I've wanted all day." He wolfed down the food with unexpected vigor.

"Well then you're lucky I think of everything, like I said. And to think you wanted to kick me out."

"I ndever *wanted* you kigck you oud. I'm just goi'g to hade mbyself whed you ged sigck," he mumbled, swallowing a mouthful.

"Maybe I won't get sick, did you think of that? And like I've been saying--" She leaned in to kiss him fully on the mouth, long and hard, until he pulled away gasping. "--I don't care. As long as you promise to take care of me if I do, I won't complain about a few days off. So stop worrying."

"Ugh, take it easy babe," he moaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This fever has mby blood flow all mbessed ub. You can'dt be usi'g your lips on mbe like thad."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to seduce you today. Unless you instigate it of course." She gave him a wicked look and he flushed.

"You're something else, Mol," he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

"Just eat your 'soob'."

He did what he was told while she tidied up his sick bed area. When he was almost done, she fetched another bag from the kitchen and began rummaging through it. He eyed the items she pulled out suspiciously.

"How much crabp did you bri'g? And whad are you doi'g ndow?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. And something I think will make you smile."

"I feel like I've been smili'g since you godt here."

It was Molly's turn to flush and smile. "Something that might make you laugh, then."

She sat close beside him on the couch with her stethoscope around her neck, placing a little tablet of paper and a pen in front of her on the table.

"Constitution:" she both said this out loud and wrote it on the paper. "Well-nourished. Unwell appearing today. Complains of malaise and myalgia. Lymphatics:"

She had been neatly writing everything down as she spoke. After the last word, she reached out to gently palate the visibly swollen lymph nodes in his neck. He moaned softly as she massaged them, the moan turning into a cough.

"Cervical lymphadenopathy noted. Lymph nodes tender to palpation." She wrote this down as well.

"Whad are you doi'g, Mol?"

"You get to be a doctor all the time. Today you're definitely the patient, so I'm taking my turn being the doctor and doing a physical exam on you. We need to make a diagnosis after all."

"Ah, of course. Mby apologies, please continue," he said with a little laugh, wiping his nose with a tissue.

"Thank you. Open your mouth please." Inserting a thermometer under his tongue, she also took his pulse with her watch as the thermometer calibrated.

"Resting heart rate is elevated at 86 bpm. Temperature is abnormal at 101.8 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I could've told you thad. I just toogk my tembp before you godt here."

"I find that hard to believe since you were sleeping when I got here. Now shh. Actually say 'ah'." She situated a tongue depressor in his mouth, peering in. "Throat erythematous and inflamed," she said and wrote. "Now lean forward a bit if you would."

He did as he was told, looking slightly put-upon and she slid the diaphragm of her stethoscope under his worn university tee shirt, placing it on his back as she listened to him breathe for a moment. "Minor ronchi noted. No crackles or rales. Minimal concern for pneumonia at this time."

"Well thad's a relief," he said, sniffling wetly.

"Shh, I still need to listen to your heart," she said, sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope around to his chest.

"Terrible beside manner. I'm leavi'g a ndegative review."

She gave him her sternest "doctor" look. He merely smiled impishly. She sighed, biting back a smile of her own, and listened again.

"Normal rhythm. L-1, L-2 heard."

Setting aside the instruments, she slid her hands under his shirt, feeling gently.

"Skin is overly warm or feverish. Abdomen is soft, non-tender and non-distended."

"You didn't have to go under mby shirt, you know. Abdominal exam cad be done over clothi'g," he said, smirking.

"I was being… thorough," she said with a wink.

He chuckled hoarsely. "Someone's godt the hots for their patiendt. Thad's trouble," he murmured, stifling a yawn as he pulled his blanket closer around himself with a shiver.

"Neurologic: grossly normal. Tremors noted due to chills. Psychiatric: patient is oriented to person, place, time. Behavior normal, but appears lethargic, fatigued and sleepy."

After writing down these final notes, she cuddled up beside him on the couch, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close as he started shivering in earnest. He nestled against her wearily.

"How did I do?" she murmured. "Did I make you laugh a little at least?"

"Very thorough and efficiendt," he mumbled sleepily, coughing. "And yes you did. Whad's your diagnosis and treadtment plan, doctor?"

"At best a severe case of rhinovirus. I'm more inclined to think influenza due to the fever, but we'll continue to monitor. No active intervention needed at this time. Bed rest at home, OTC medication as needed and adequate hydration recommended." At this she handed him his water bottle. He drank several big gulps before handing it back to her and snuggling in again.

"If that's what the doctor orders," he sniffled, closing his eyes.

She held him for a while, since that seemed to be all he wanted, just rubbing his back and stroking his hair. However, they were forced to move when Shane pulled away to break into one of his barking, painful coughing fits. He tried to settle again after the fact, making a face.

"I don't feel good, Mol," he mumbled pathetically. "This sugcks."

"I know, doc. But I'm doing everything I can to help you feel better. I didn't realize your fever was so high though," she murmured. "And that was after you took medicine. But you seemed just fine yesterday. You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

"Thad's one of the reasons you have the hots for mbe, you know id is," he croaked.

"The only thing with the hots around here is that fever. You're sweltering."

"Sorry," he mumbled, yet made no effort to move off of her. Instead he sneezed wetly into his elbow.

"Update, you're sweltering *and* gross," she said conversationally. Yet she made no effort to move away from him either, kissing his forehead instead. He yawned as she did. "And sleepy."

"Thingk I'm just sigck," he muttered.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Do you want to go back to sleep right now?"

"Ndo. Ndot while you're here. I'm too sigck to sleeb anyway."

"There's no such thing as being too sick to sleep. But if you don't want to sleep right now, I have one more present for you."

"You've already given mbe too mbuch."

"There's no such thing as that either." She carefully shifted out from under him again and attempted to head to the kitchen once more. Before she could take more than a step though, he caught her hand and made her turn around. Seeing his imploring look, she stepped back into the V of his legs. He wrapped his arms fully around her, burying his hot face in her abdomen.

"Thangk you mbuch for the soubp and mbedicine, baby. You really are a lifesaver. I just wanted to tell you thad."

She nuzzled her face into his messy hair. "Anything to help you feel better. I can tell you're still miserable though."

"Nodt miserable with you here."

"Just sick."

"Mhm," he mumbled, sleepily as ever. She let him hold her for another moment or two before speaking again.

"Seriously though, I have something else I want to give you. It'll just take a second to grab."

"Fine," he sighed. As he pulled away, she saw a hazy, pre-sneeze look cross his face. Sure enough, as she trotted to the kitchen, behind her she heard him emit a pair of messy, rough sneezes.

"That soup really got your nose going, huh?" she asked as she reentered the living room.

"Guess so," he sniffled, blowing his nose thickly. "Thad's the poindt though, right?"

"Indeed it is." She moved to the entertainment center and quickly plugged her laptop into the TV.

"Now whad are you doi'g?"

"Maybe you should stop asking questions and just wait and see."

"You know I hade surprises."

"That's not true at all in my experience, so I'm calling your bluff on that one. But you won't have to wait long for this one either way."

After a few setting changes to allow the laptop display to be projected on the TV, Molly popped a disk into the drive and started it up.

"Are we watchi'g somethi'g?"

"You and your questions." She tossed a thick DVD case into his lap. He picked it up, his eyes widening happily.

"The original Jurassic Park trilogy? Holy crabp, this is awesome!"

"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, stepping into his arms again. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I figured a sick day at home is an even better occasion."

"This is perfect, love. You're ambazing," he mumbled, squeezing her tightly.

"Anything for my best guy." She nuzzled his hair again fondly. "Anything to help you sleep."

"I don'dt wandt to sleeb while you're here though. I don'dt wandt to mbiss out on seei'g you."

"Well then you're in luck, because I'm planning on staying here all weekend. So I'll be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. No time wasted at all."

A grin split his face. "You'd do thad for mbe?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Doctors need to be looked after too, especially by their nurse girlfriends. So you stretch out and get comfortable and leave the rest to me."

"You're cooler than anadomy and dinosaurs combined, you know thad?"

Molly giggled happily. "I don't know if I'll ever come back from such high praise. You better quit while you're ahead, Dr. Mitchell."

"Only if you promise to make mbe coffee in the morni'g. Your good coffee."

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a grin and another kiss.

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 20

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batgurl1989 · 4 years ago

Text

A Hike To Remember

Summary: You are hiking when you come across Henry and Kal

Word Count: 1700

Warning: fluff

A/N: this was a suggestion from @henrynerdfan about a hiker meeting Kal and Henry while on the trails in the Pacific Northwest. If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know

Taglist: @rmtndew @princesssterek @cynic-spirit

My breath fogged out in front of me as I walked the trails, trying to keep a brisk pace. It was a crisp fall morning, and the trails were empty for now, so I was enjoying the sound of the early rising birds as I made my way down the dirt path. The leaves were changing colours, painting a beautiful picture of nature around me. I had been on the trail for maybe an hour, and still hadn't seen another human. Animals, however, were abundant as long as I didn't make too much noise.

I was just reaching the crest of another hill when I saw a black and white blur to my side. I looked, trying to figure out what animal would be black and white in the Pacific Northwest. But the blur was gone. Maybe I was imagining things.

Or maybe I wasn't.

When I crested the hill, I could see further down the path where a man was bent over, patting a black and white dog. The dog looked at me, and I felt like I should recognize him. It wasn't until the man turned in my direction to see what had caught his dog's interest that it clicked into place.

"Kal?" I scrunched up my nose in disbelief. That meant that Henry Cavill was hiking the same trails as you. In Washington. When he was supposed to be in the UK for some down time.

Henry's laugh reached my ears, snapping me out of my thoughts. My eyes snapped to his, going wide as I realized that I had acknowledged his dog before him. I'm sure I looked like a fish as I wracked my brain for an apology that seemed suitable.

"I'm a dog person." I ended up blurting out instead, instantly turning red as I realized I had practically shouted that.

"It's okay. It happens more often than you think." Henry was still chuckling as he walked back up the path toward me. Kal followed happily beside him.

"Do you mind if I pet him? If he will let me, of course." I couldn't help my eyes drifting to the fluffy dog. He was wagging his tail and it looked like he was smiling.

"I'm sure he would love a good ear scratch." Henry nodded, a huge smile plastered on his face.

I squatted down, and waited to see if Kal would come over to me. I didn't want to encroach on his space if he didn't want me there. My heart sang when the American Akita came trotting over, wagging his tail happily. He snuffled my hand that I offered him to sniff and then threw his weight into me for snuggles.

I would have fallen over had Henry not been there to grab my hand as I flailed it out for balance. Even through his glove, I could feel how warm his hand was. I looked up at him to say thank you, but Kal chose that moment to stuff his face in mine.

"Kal, come on. You are being invasive." Henry good-naturedly chastised his dog, trying to shove Kal off of me to give me space to get my balance.

What happened instead was that Kal pushed into me again, and toppled both Henry and I over. Kal lounged across us, nuzzling Henry for treats I assumed.

If you had told me when I started out on my hike that I would end up in a pile with Henry Cavill and Kal, I would have laughed at the fantasy you were trying to feed me. I was mortified as I tried to disentangle myself from Henry. His laughter was a balm on my soul and blushing, however, making me feel a little better.

Henry finally managed to shove Kal off of us, and helped me sit up. I brushed dirt off my arms, suddenly self-conscious. I froze in place when Henry reached over to brush my hair out of my face. His hand paused as he went to tuck the hair on the other side of my face behind my ear. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and he dropped his hand.

"Sorry about that. Here I am getting after Kal for being in your space, and then I go and do it." Henry cleared his throat. Once he was standing, he offered me his hand and helped me up when I took it.

"It's okay. It's not exactly like Kal gave us a choice about being in each other's bubbles." I dusted my pants off, trying to sound casual, but inside my stomach was filled with butterflies and my heart was beating hard against my ribs.

Images of him being flocked by fans had me stepping back, respecting his and Kal's space once again. I hadn't been expecting to come across another person out here, and I certainly didn't think it would Henry. Scooping up my backpack from where it fell during the ordeal, I adjusted the straps.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your hike. I'm sure you wanted to be alone when you came out here." I tucked my hair behind my ears, catching Henry in the acting of watching my every move. "I can go down a different path."

I took another step back, but bumped into Kal. The Akita had decided it was a good idea to stand behind me, blocking my escape route. Henry stepped forward to steady me, once again coming to my rescue.

"I swear, I am not normally this clumsy." You laughed, unable to keep calm now that his hand was gripping yours again.

"Kal has a tendency to get in the way when he wants attention." Henry assured you, letting go of your hand slowly. "And Kal seems to be really taken with you, so why don't you join us for the rest of the hike?"

The request blindsided me. Never in a million years would I have expected him to suggest that. He didn't even know my name, and he wanted me to join him on his walk. Was I off base in thinking that Kal's approval meant a great deal to Henry?

I realized as these thoughts ran through my head that I still hadn't answered him. When I met his eyes, his intensely blue eyes, I found myself floundering again for what to say.

"Y/N. That's my name." I blurted out, once again mortified that I was acting so off from my normal self. Taking a deep breath in a weak attempt to calm myself, I scratched Kal's ears absentmindedly. "And if Kal really wants me to join you two, then I guess I can't say no."

"You just made his day." Henry said with a twinkle in his eye.

We walked along the path, no longer trying to keep a certain pace. Kal romped around us, bringing sticks for us to throw, or pulling on Henry's arm to get him to examine a tree that had some squirrels chattering in the branches. We talked about nothing in particular, just enjoyed each other's company. I did find out that he was in Washington on vacation. A little trip to get away is how he described it.

When we got back to the parking lot, there were lots of cars, and people milling about. Henry had clipped Kal's leash on before we reached it, and they walked me to my car. I was glad I parked under the shade of a tree. Now that the sun had risen, it was getting quite warm.

"Look, I am in town for a few more days." Henry leaned on my car, watching as I settled my bag in the trunk. He opened the drivers side door for me, ever the gentleman. He reached for my hand when I made to get in the car, getting my full attention. He had taken his gloves off, and I could feel the callouses on his warm hand as it engulfed mine. "I want to see you again."

"Are you sure you don't mean Kal wants to see me again?" I teased as Kal gave out a little whine. I patted his head, but didn't take my eyes off Henry. I couldn't decide what I was seeing, but it made my stomach do flips. "But if that's the case, I would love to see you both again."

I reached into the car for a gum wrapper and a pen. I quickly but neatly wrote out my cell number, but paused before handing it over. There was something very surreal about giving a celebrity your phone number because they wanted it. Smiling, I handed it to Henry, who looked at, a line showing up between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the digits, as though he was committing them to memory in case her lost the gum wrapper.

I squatted down, petting Kal vigorously as I said goodbye to him. The Akita lapped up the attention, shoving himself into me again. Luckily this time I was ready, and leaned against the car door.

"I guess I will be seeing you then." I stood up to face Henry again. He smiled down at me, not hesitating this time as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

"You definitely will." Henry's voice was barely more than whisper as his eyes searched you face.

There was a brief moment--an insane moment--when I thought he would kiss me. But I snapped out of that fantasy, and cleared my throat. That seemed to snap him out his thoughts too, and he straightened. We quickly said goodbyes and I got in my car.

As I was leaving the parking lot, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I hit play on the steering wheel, expecting a text from my sister or mom asking where I was. I normally didn't hike that long, and cell service on the trails was spotty. I was pleasantly surprised when the automated voice of my car started reading the text.

"I hope this is your real number. It was so nice meeting you today, Y/N. And I can't wait to see you again, and possibly take you out on a real date. -HC"

#henry x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

Home Away From Home ~ Kim Namjoon

You quickly wiped underneath your chin; you could hear Namjoon’s footsteps walking up the staircase at the silence that came from the top floor of the house. You placed your laptop underneath your bed, watching as your best friend’s name disappeared from the screen.

The sleeves of your jumper were already damp from the tears that you’d shed throughout your long call with her, as for the first time, the two of you were in separate parts of the country to celebrate the holidays together.

Namjoon’s eyes peered into the bedroom door as soon as he heard you snuffle, noticing that your laptop was no longer beside you and that you call had come to an end. His heart broke at the sight of you suffering, unaware of his presence in the doorway.

It was only when he pushed the door open and it creaked gently, did your eyes look up and notice him stood in front of you. He slowly made his way over to the bed, taking a seat beside you, resting his hand against your leg gently.

“I’m gutted for you,” he whispered, brushing his other hand against your cheek to try and dry some of your tears. “I can’t begin to imagine how hard this must be for you.”

Your head shook, trying to force a smile onto your face. “The holidays are no big deal, spending them alone doesn’t matter, I’ll just treat is as any other day.”

“I wish that Y/F/N was closer, and you could have got to go and see her,” he frowned, smiling weakly back at you. “You don’t have to pretend to be alright about this if you aren’t.”

Another shaky breath left you as you tried to steady your watering eyes. “I’m fine about it. I’m happy that you get to go home, and I’m happy that my friends are all enjoying themselves too.”

“But what about you Y/N? You can’t always put other people’s happiness above your own. The smile will only last for so long before you eventually find yourself cracking.”

As hard as you tried to stop the tears from falling, Namjoon’s words quickly set you off again. “It’s stupid to get upset over, the holidays happen all the time, I can get over just missing one of them. I just need to get it together.”

“No, you don’t. It’s alright to admit that you’re struggling, I would be in your position.”

His heart was breaking as he watched you act so nonchalantly about the situation. He wasn’t sure how much of it was just an act to protect his heart, but Namjoon was very aware that you were masking a lot to not make him feel so bad.

“Why don’t I go and grab some blankets and we can stay up here and watch a movie?” He suggested.

Your head nodded, wiping underneath your eyes yet again. “I could do with a good distraction right now, it’s my last night for a while with you anyway.”

“Exactly, we might as well do something nice.”

As he left the house, Namjoon couldn’t help but let his head shake. His hand pulled his phone out once he was back downstairs. A missed text caught his eye from his mum, anyway, opening up her contact and replying to her message.

As he did, he couldn’t push the thought of you out of his mind. You were yet to meet his family, it felt like a pretty big step for both of you and had to be one that you were both comfortable with. But as big a step as it was, he couldn’t face seeing you alone for the holidays.

Before he gave himself chance to doubt his decision, he sent an additional text to his mother to see if there would be room for one more at home for the holidays. He left his phone on the side whilst he went around the house to dig up some blankets, returning a few moments later to see a response from his mother.

Of course, she can come! I can’t believe you were going to let her spend the holidays alone for so long Namjoon! I raised you better than that…

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her respond, making his way up the stairs with a smile on his face. You’d already made yourself comfortable on the bed, but as Namjoon walked in, he placed the blankets on the floor, rather than next to you.

“Aren’t the blankets supposed to be here to keep me warm?” You asked.

His head nodded, struggling to hide his excitement within his expression. He turned back around and turned the television off that you’d set up, walking over to his wardrobe. “There’s been a change of plan, I need you to pack a suitcase.”

“Why?” You absentmindedly asked, watching as he dug out one of his cases from the back of the unit. “Do you not want me to stay here whilst you’re away?”

“No, of course you can stay,” he laughed, throwing the suitcase onto the bed beside you. “But I thought you might be happier coming with me to stay at my mum and dad’s house rather than all alone here.”

“What are you talking about?” You continued to ask, struggling to understand exactly what Namjoon was saying. “You’re going tomorrow, not me.”

Your eyes almost felt like they were deceiving you as you watched Namjoon throw several items of your clothing into the case, without giving you much of an answer. Once he’d packed what he liked though, he was pretty stuck for what else to do.

“I can’t do all of this alone, I’m going to need you to help me out here Y/N.”

“It just feels like you’re trying to wind me up right now.”

His head shook, walking round to your side of the bed, holding his hands out for you to take a hold of. You let him pull you up from the side and wrap his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m not winding you up, whilst I was downstairs, I spoke to mum. She told me I was an idiot for even thinking about leaving you alone, which is why I asked her if you could come to ours for the holiday,” he informed you, “the last thing I could ever do was leave you alone for the holidays.”

Your eyes widened as Namjoon smiled down at you. “Why now? I was prepared to spend all of this by myself Namjoon.”

“I was worried it would be a big step for you to meet my family, but the holidays seem like the perfect time to do it,” he suggested, relieved when your head nodded back at him. “I know that it’s been a disappointment for you not to be able to escape me for a while and go and see your friends, but hopefully time with my family instead is a good enough second best for you.”

Your head nodded instantly, unwrapping yourself from around him to start packing up your things. “I don’t care about meeting your family, just knowing that I’m not going to be alone for the holidays is all that matters to me right now.”

“I know it’s not home for you, but hopefully it will be a good enough home for the holidays,” he suggested, “everyone will be so excited to finally get the chance to meet you too.”

“I just hope I live up to expectation, are you sure that none of them mind me coming?”

“They want you there, they’re more than happy to be your home away from home for the holidays.”

---

Masterlist

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dingoat · 4 years ago

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[So, @cinlat has been dabbling in a Sith au for her Fynta, with cameo slots available for various other characters to come hang out. And just the little bit of contemplation we had about where Ahuska might slot into this particular version of events, I wound up inspired enough to dabble with a scene! So welcome to an Ahuska who still wound up adopted into Mandalorian life, but has not forgotten/repressed her early years. Rather than their usual easy friendship, she and Fynta wind up butting heads more often than not and bumping into one another more than either would like. Apologies if I’ve gotten Fynta totally wrong, I will put up a disclaimer that I’m throwing this out here without any sort of proofing from Cinlat so she gets the final call as to the authenticity of this scene! I’ve also borrowed @askshivanulegacy’s Blakk for the ride, I think I needed a little cathartic fluff to counterbalance all the fluff-gone-wrong happening elsewhere hahahaha.]

‘Not on My Watch’

“I don’t know why you won’t just let me take a speeder…”

Ahuska lifted a hand to cut him off, raising a finger and shaking her head with a smile. It was no secret that the young bothan was soft for this particular Imperial Agent, even if her clanmates were quick to remind her that no self respecting human Kaas citizen would pursue anything more than a functional work relationship with her, a rudderless, stable-working alien.

She chose not to listen to what her clanmates had to say.

“Because a speeder won’t pull back when it feels the ice getting too thin or warn you when you cross a wampa’s path, that’s why.”

Cipher Blakk rolled his eyes and pulled the zipper of his insulated parka higher, but it still wasn’t enough to keep his face properly protected from the frankly absurd level of chill. “It’s not as though I plan to park on an ice sheet…”

“Uh huh, and you’ll know exactly what’s under the two inch layer of snow that’s just fallen…”

He huffed, and she laughed, opening the stall door against which she was leaning to lead out the young tauntaun buck she already had saddled and haltered. “Quit fretting. Thunder here is a solid ride and a soft touch, he won’t give you any problems, and I’d trust him over any autopilot to get you safely back to base if something goes wrong.” Blakk felt some unexpected warmth rise in his cheeks, and while he wondered for the thousandth time why she cared so much that he got back safely, the buck lowered his head to snuffle through Ahuska’s hair. She raised a hand to give the tauntaun a firm rub on the cheek and horn. “Yeah, you’re a good boy aren’t you? You’ll be good for the Empire’s elite, won’t you? Won’t you my good soft woolly buddy…”

Ahuska’s ears flicked at the same moment as Thunder’s twitched, and a heartbeat later Blakk’s head turned as well, hearing the heavy rasp of an iron gate lifting.

Ahuska had been stationed on the remote Hoth outpost for the last month and a half, more than enough time to get to know the sound of every latch and door in the stables, and the animals that spent their lives here knew them even better. Her sky blue eyes turned to ice as she squinted, staring down into the lower level. “Who… oh.”

Her lips turned to a tight, flat line as she recognised the figure down below, and the coolness in her expression was enough to prompt Blakk to lift a brow. “Ahh, is something the matter…?”

“We’ll see. What is she… oh, oh no, no no no…”

The Cipher suddenly found himself with a set of reins thrust into his hands, with Ahuska taking the liberty of closing his fingers around them and squeezing tight. “What… what are you…?”

“Hold him. Hold him tight and don’t let go for a second, distract him with this if you can…” She shoved a pinkish rock of some sort toward him, and with his hands full he was forced to stoop and hold it under his chin, expression nothing short of bewildered.

“I don’t… oh, gods no,” Blakk had the profound discomfort of realising then that it was a block of salt, as Thunder pressed forward with an eager little warble and began to lick at it. He made a tiny sound of dismay. “Ahuska…!”

But she was already gone, not even sticking around to have a snigger at his predicament, darting down the stairwell rather than waiting on one of the stocklifts. “Oi! Oi, di’kut, what’n Kad’s name do you think you’re doing---!!”

The object of Ahuska’s anger turned, unnaturally blue eyes flashing with irritation, and then immediately turned back to the stall door she’d been about to open.

“Don’t you dare touch that! Who the hell authorized you to be down here and what the shab d’you think you’re doing opening straight up into the yards?” Rather than heading straight toward the Sith, Ahuska veered to the far wall where a harsh wind blustered through the now gaping entry to the outdoor paddocks, and slammed her fist against a set of controls.

“This animal is… Shen-Four-Seven, isn’t it?” Fynta Wolfe, Assassin for Sith Intelligence and Infiltration, glared at the Bothan stablekeep who stood firm in the gateway, as though she could somehow block her passage while the heavy gate groaned back shut. She cut a strong silhouette against the glaring white world outside, framed with reflected light and fluttering snowflakes.

“Star, yeah, that’s her.” Ahuska’s tone was curt. She didn’t enjoy dealing with Fynta any more than she explicitly had to. Never mind that the Sith knew far more about her than Ahuska was comfortable with, but the fact that Fynta thought she could just slip on some beskar and mingle amongst the clans as though she weren’t an out-and-out Sith grated at her terribly. The nerves struck were just… a little too close to home.

“Then she’s the one I’ve been assigned while I’m on duty here. And since I’m not here to take riding lessons, I don’t see why I need to answer to you of all people, stablekeep.”

Ahuska bristled as the steel gate locked shut behind her, putting an abrupt halt to the chill wind. “Maybe ‘cause every last one of these animals has been assigned to me while I’m on duty here, and I don’t give a damn if you’re the Emperor himself, you don’t take one outside without my say-so. Not a taun, not a vulp, not a gods-damned arctic womp-weasel! So you can take your fingers off that latch and let me do my job, or you can deal with the shab’la stampede you’re about to let loose. It’s stable master, by the way.”

Fynta knew Ahuska wasn’t the type to lie for the sake of a power trip. The bothan’s conviction and ferocity at this moment was enough to give her pause and slowly arch a brow, though her tone was flat and unconvinced. “Stampede. You mean the whole three out in the main yard.”

“Mmm.” Ahuska’s tone was equally flat, but there was something smug about the way she lifted her chin and stared down the bridge of her muzzle toward the Sith. “Those three first, if Thunder up on the balcony doesn’t fling himself over to beat them to it.” She gestured upward and over her shoulder with a thumb, toward where Blakk diligently kept a firm but wary hold of the tauntaun buck Ahuska had left in his care. The agent swiftly averted his gaze when he realised attention had momentarily turned his way. “Then the seven in the exercise yards ‘cause let’s face it, those fences aren’t gonna stop a buck in rut, and maybe the dozen in the outer…”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse what?”

“A buck in rut?”

“I said what I said. I know it doesn’t look much like the seasons change here on Hoth, but believe me, there are seasons, and we’re in the thick of one right now. Your little Star there…” Ahuska dipped her head toward the stall door that Fynta remained precariously close to opening, though to her credit her fingers were looser on the handle than they had been moments before. “Is a very, very appealing little lady at the moment. She gets lead out through the back to be worked in the yards on the south ridge or not at all, and when she’s being groomed and treated in here this gate…” She slapped the metal surface behind her with the back of her hand. “Stays shut! I wouldn’t even recommend her for a mission today or tomorrow unless you were absolutely certain of no wild herds en route and let’s face it, you can never be certain of that…”

Fynta hadn’t exactly paled, but she was definitely looking less confident about taking her assigned mount out onto the slopes. She found herself feeling unwittingly grateful that the blasted bothan had been here to intercept her, and then an equal measure of furious at herself for feeling grateful at all. “Alright, alright, fierfek, just get me a more suitable animal ready as soon as you can, I’ve wasted enough time here already…”

“Of course, my Lord,” Ahuska’s grin was far too toothy, her flourished salute and bow far too exaggerated to be genuine. She enjoyed watching Fynta bite back her seething a little too much. “And let me know what shebs-for-brains gave you Star to begin with so I can have some words.”

“I’ll try to find out,” Fynta lied. No way in hell was she going to let Ahuska know that, in a bid to get herself in and out of Hoth as swiftly as possible, she might have forged a signature or two on a requisition document here and there, and arbitrarily assigned the tauntaun to herself. She straightened, stepping away from the stall, and stared Ahuska squarely in the eye. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

She didn’t give Ahuska the opportunity to respond, making her way smartly off down a corridor. The bothan might come across as meek as a runt nerf calf most of the time, but Force be damned if she didn’t find a spine and a half where her animals were concerned. Fynta couldn’t decide whether she was impressed or irritated, and just found herself hoping that Ahuska would be able to find the same amount of backbone if anyone ever pressed her about matters that remained better left unspoken.

She really didn’t want to see another decent Mandalorian having their arm twisted into Imperial service.

Ahuska, meanwhile, had every intention of keeping Fynta waiting; she had another Agent of the Empire to finish dealing with first, and she wasn’t going to rush seeing Blakk and Thunder off soundly for the sake of a single agitated Sith. Her hackles were already smooth and the set of her ears fully relaxed by the time she made it back to the upper level, though the way Blakk’s wide-eyed gaze settled on her when she flashed him a grin threatened to dishevel her all over again.

“Didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“No, you were great- I mean he, he was great. Thunder was… great. Perfect. No trouble.”

Ahuska might have plenty of backbone when it mattered, but that didn’t stop certain moments making her utterly weak. She coughed into her hand, glancing aside as she took back the reins and returned the remains of the salt lick to her pocket. “Ahh, uh, right, good. Good! Where have you got your gear then? Better get him all loaded up for you.”

---

[And now a bonus for everyone who got this far, hahaha, have some zipped up Hoth geared little Imperials. Ahuska thinks they’re both ridiculous for complaining so much about the cold.]

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years ago

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Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bitsmasterlist

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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 4 years ago

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So last week was a particularly tough one for me, one of the rubbish things about getting older is that everyone I used to rely on now has their own lives. I’m no longer the practice baby because they all have their own so when life hits like a ton of bricks, I’m usually just left to crawl through it alone but this time I had help here. I could log in and there’d be a beautiful piece of artwork, a mind blowing gif, some incredible writing or a fun ask game going on and long story short it all just helped so much that I wanted to give something back, even if it pales in comparison its the thought that counts right? Anyway this little sort of AU idea has been floating around my head for a while so I decided to try to write it out as an ode to all the lovely blogs, just for being their wonderful selves. @yusufnicolo @ssungods @marwankenzari @nicolodigenovas @noenoaholi @aliceblakeart @ahkaraii @fereldenturnip @hachinana87 @luminarai @mannadraws @tiups @monicashipsnickyjoe @nico-di-genova @nilefreemans @quyhns @fantasticbeastsandheretofindthem @leanconnoli @pirateladyoftherbbc @spearmintthief @starsisbig @stuart-littles-gay-attorney Thank you so much and sorry in advance.

I’ve Been Dreaming Of You My Whole Life.

A Joe/Nicky tale.

When Yusuf was finally born there was no wailing, no snuffling, no hiccuping sobs, just silence. His mother wasn’t surprised, it had been a long and arduous labour and she was too numb to be sad or disappointed yet. No one tried to save little Yusuf, he was born in a different time, no one yet knew how or that it was even possible. Although a short time later when baby Yusuf not only started to breathe, but scream as healthily as any other baby, all on his own, they were all delighted by their miracle. No one questioned it, just grateful for their beautiful bundle of joy, especially when their first born turned out to be their only child.

Little Nicolò was a surprise, born as the third child to parents thought too old to have another, his elder siblings taking care of him when he would become too fussy and restless. Ten year old, Lucia would take her baby brother on long walks to entertain him, fashioning a sling to carry him on her back when his little legs grew tired of walking. Thirteen year old, Ermo on his way back from town, caught up to his younger siblings on the road leading back to their home. Nico was tiring of being carried, kicking and whining, but the sun was starting to set and not wanting to stop so close to home, Ermo agreed to hold Nicolò steady while he was released from his sling. Disaster struck, however, when the teen was distracted by their neighbours daughter waving enthusiastically and shouting his name, Ermo turned his back on his siblings to return her attentions and Nicolò fell from the sling hitting the ground with a dull thud. An impassioned argument started between the two siblings until they realised with horror that for the first time in his life Nicolò was completely silent and frighteningly still. Ermo sprinted home to fetch their parents but by the time the family arrived back to where the accident had happened, Nicolò was up and wandering around, babbling to his sobbing sister. Their father checked Nicolò over and they went home, not thinking too much of it, just happy that the littlest member was unharmed but the two older siblings learned to be much more careful with their baby brother.

Yusuf had always dreamed of three people, always the same three people, until one day he started to dream of a little boy as well. Unfortunately for Yusuf he didn’t have any real friends, other children were always mean to him even though he was always kind, he didn’t understand why but he didn’t mind much. Instead he kept the people from his dreams close to him, taking them into his heart, they became his friends, hoping one day the weapon wielding ladies and their battle ready companion would come and rescue him from his ordinary and lonely life. The dreams of the boy with the sky coloured eyes and the wild mop of hair started just as life became simultaneously better and worse for Yusuf, better for his new friend, worse in the way he was treated, although the other children’s scorn at a growing boy having imaginary friends did have one advantage in that, in his attempt to explain how he saw the world, Yusuf became a highly adept artist.

The dreams were interpreted differently by Nicolò, when he saw a tiny baby or a little boy with a head full of tiny ringlets, kind eyes and a dazzling smile mixed with images of three adults, always together, smiling even in battle; Nicolò thought them a calling. Visions of a numinous little boy mistaken for the Messiah and, depending on how old Nicolò was, either disciples or those known as the Three Wise Men. His family encouraged this hypothesis when he told them of the dreams, especially after a few years of the same recurring characters, even if the dreams themselves sometimes differed, no one questioned the theory that there were bigger plans for their Nico. The dreams fuelled his belief, strengthening it all throughout his life, thinking he’d been chosen for a purpose, especially as his morals wavered over a choice between leaving the priesthood or joining Ermo in going to battle. Nicolò wasn’t sure he was as brave as the three friends he saw every night but by his late teens he was sure his visions were guiding him in the right direction so he set off with his big brother.

Once word of invaders reached Yusuf’s people he suddenly became less enamoured with the idea of people who fought so easily. Images of the blue eyed boy, slowly becoming a man, were always fewer than those of the three unlikely best friends but he now woke in a cold sweat whenever he saw them. Their laughter once joyful, now seemed taunting rather than comforting. Yusuf began to wonder whether he’d known of the invasion all his life and had never heeded the warning. He offered to take night watch, learning how to fight in the day, readying himself to defend his home until bone deep exhaustion took over and he didn’t dream, just slept. He repeated this behaviour until the battle came, although he almost missed it, running into the fray in time to see sky blue eyes, that he knew better than he knew his own, staring back in disbelief.

Nicolò’s shock was quickly taken over by anger, deep rooted fear that maybe what he’d been seeing for as long as he could remember wasn’t what he thought after all, that he’d blindly walked into this life. The trust he’d put into his assumed visions shattering as he stared back into the face of the young man he should hate but knew all too well, leaving deep betrayal and visions of the horrors he’d seen since he started his journey bubbling in his mind's eye, fuelling his rage like a lightning storm, death, destruction and his big brother’s broken body and lifeless eyes causing a red mist. Nicolò was unseeing with it, could barely breathe and trembling with the need to do something.

Yusuf couldn’t quite believe his eyes, rubbing at them trying to clear what he presumed was a sleep deprived haze, those distinctive features, the azure eyes staring back, it just seemed impossible, especially when they mirrored such recognition. Surely such a kind and brilliant person couldn’t be a part of this, couldn’t be a part of the death and destruction of the reputation that preceded the invaders, eyes so beautifully blue that crinkled just so when he smiled, couldn’t hate so deeply that he would join such an unjust cause. It had to be a hallucination or maybe he was still asleep and dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamed of battles, only those dreams were usually filled with laughter whereas now all he could hear was the clangs of metal and the rage of men.

Nicolò charged forward not really sure what he was doing, what he really wanted to do was run away, far away, all the way back home. He didn’t know why he was running into the mess that surrounded him, he certainly didn’t realise he was holding his sword until it was sticking in the boy he’d been dreaming of for as long as he could remember, who seemed equally shocked to have instinctively reached for his own weapon slicing blindly but precisely. The choking and lack of breath wasn’t as scary as Nico had assumed it would be. The rage he’d felt not moments ago draining from him in an instant was replaced by a deep disappointment that he’d never get to find out what the dreams meant or who the boy now in front of him was. It was a little late to ask even if they had the capacity to do so and as he sunk to the ground watching the light fade from the familiar brown eyes and from around his vision he wondered if they’d meet again, wherever it was they were going now.

Waking alone in a field full of bodies but the one you died with felt bizarre to Yusuf, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming but he was quite sure his imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure the sights and smells that surrounded him, his only comfort being that there seemed to be more dead invaders than those of his people. He realised that he now had a choice, he could go home and wait for the next battle or he could leave in the hopes of catching up to the blue eyed boy, in the hopes of getting some answers. Maybe he knew that they dreamed of each other, maybe he dreamed of the three friends too and maybe he knew why they dreamed of each other. Although right now a more pressing question seemed to be why did you just stab me? but somehow Yusuf instinctively knew that he’d not really meant it, or maybe that was wishful thinking. As he checked himself for the wound he realised it was missing, he wondered again if he was just dreaming but decided either way he was going after his friend. Yusuf chuckled to himself as he realised that he still classed his murderer as his friend, maybe there was something wrong with him like the others had always said after all.

It was three days after the battle and Nicolò had never felt so alone, his brother and his battalion dead, the person he dreamed of was too. He wondered if this was his punishment for questioning his purpose, being left to roam the world alone, maybe he’d get home and find his mother and sister gone too. Nicolò just wanted to sleep but he couldn’t, images taking over his mind, the resonating metal, the taste of blood, tiny matted ringlets on a lifeless body that usually exuded vivacity, he was almost certain he’d only stopped being ill because his body had nothing left to give. At this point he really didn’t care, he would either finally get some rest or his body would give up altogether but the footsteps coming towards him had him instinctively on his feet, weapon in hand and he was reminded that he came from a long line of warriors, it’d take more than a little brooding to change who he was, who he came from, they were all a part of him whether he liked it or not.

Yusuf shuffled to a stop, three days he’d walked and now here he was with a blade sticking out of his chest, he supposed by now he shouldn’t be surprised but surprise was one of the emotions reflected back at him in the sleep deprived, manic blue eyes of the one person he was determined to find, though Yusuf’s slowly staling brain wondered if this one was real, maybe the other three were too. Consciousness flickered as he fell to his knees, concern, confusion and, going by the little crinkle in his dark eyebrows, annoyance pouring out of the blue, washing over Yusuf along with the warmth of the campfire that had led him in the right direction, the yellow light causing some of the flecks to appear green adding an ethereal aura to the one person he simultaneously knew and didn’t, who he fervently he hoped he’d wake again to see.

Present Day

“I thought you said you’d killed each other many times” Nile asked

“Oh, we did! Not always on purpose, of course,” Joe laughed

“We didn’t speak the same language, communication was difficult to start with,” Nicky elaborated, turning back to the stove.

“It sounds like there’s a story behind that!” Nile exclaimed, excitedly banging her hands on the kitchen table.

“Oh there is,” Andy sniggered, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Please, no,” Nicky whined, refusing to look at the group.

“Tell Nile what the first thing you learned to say was,” Andy tittered, Nile turning her full attention to Nicky’s back. Joe reached out to hold Nicky’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth as Nicky mumbles inaudibly.

“What was that?” Nile asked giddily.

“I’ve been dreaming of you my whole life,” Joe and Nicky repeat in unison, Nicky turned to look at Joe, a soft smile crinkling his eyes.

Neither man notices Nile’s revering gaze or Andy silently gaining her attention and them both sneaking out the kitchen leaving the lovers to their reminiscing.

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years ago

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Delusional (Ch.1)

Okay, so this is something that won't be for everyone. It's a trope that me and my friends got into while RPing so this was born. I think this will be one of those fics that I'll only continue if there's enough interest. Let me know what you think!

Tony had been pissed when his parents told him that his mother was pregnant. He had no idea what possessed them to think having another kid was a good idea when they could barely pay attention to the one they already had, and he even said that. It ended up turning into an argument between him and Howard and Tony gave them both the cold shoulder for the entirety of Maria's pregnancy. Whether it was because of her age or possibly because of Tony's ongoing silent treatment stressing her out, his mother went into labor a month early. Tony couldn't even bring himself to visit his parents or the new baby at the hospital, but they eventually came home with his new baby brother that he almost considered ignoring completely.

But then he realized that would make him exactly like Howard.

So when his parents went gallivanting off to some party one day, leaving their preemie baby in the hands of the maid, Tony finally decided to properly meet his brother. A seventeen year age difference wasn't unheard of, but it still felt weird to walk into the nursery with the knowledge that the baby inside was a sibling. He decided he would make sure the baby was still alive and then go back to his bedroom to study for his physics final, but when he approached the crib the baby was sleeping in...he softened.

His baby brother slept peacefully on his back with his arms stretched out on both sides of his head and every so often snuffled in his sleep. He wasn't covered with a blanket and he vaguely recalled hearing that he shouldn't be at his age, but he was at least dressed warmly in tiny blue footie pajamas. He had wisps of dark hair that looked like they would be soft to the touch and Tony was tempted to reach out and see but he refrained. He didn't want to disturb the baby.

Tony had been so focused on ignoring Howard that he had to wrack his brain for his brother's name, which he knew his mother had told him. He was pretty sure he had been studying at the time and was only half listening, but it eventually came to him.

Scott.

Scott Harris Stark.

It was barely seconds later that the baby started to fuss and Tony looked around a little lost before finally giving in and leaning down to scoop him up. Tony was a goner after that. Scott's hair was just as soft as it looked and Tony was worried he could break his brother if he so much as sneezed. It didn't stop him from taking over most of the responsibilities of caring for Scott from that moment on though. Tony did his research, watched his mother, and even asked the maid for advice, but soon he was changing diapers. He fed Scott, stayed up for hours on end when he was colicky or sick, dressed him, played with him…

Tony was determined to make sure Scott had the love and attention he was deprived of. At least Maria tried with both of them.

But when Scott was just under a year old, tragedy struck. Both their parents died in a car accident on the way to a party, leaving Tony alone with his infant brother. Fortunately he was freshly eighteen so he could have legal guardianship over Scott and Tony had Rhodey and Obadiah for support and help with the company he now had control over. Scott always came first though. Tony made sure he had a decent childhood despite the fact that he easily got sick, and the adorable smiles he got in return were well worth it as Scott grew up.

So was the boy's first word. Dad. Tony never corrected him since he did raise Scott, and his brother never knew their parents. So as far as Scott knew, Tony was his father and Tony made sure to hide away the truth. As far as he was concerned, the lie wasn't hurting Scott and it was partly true in a sense.

He didn't expect it to be easy and it wasn't. Because Scott was born premature, he had special needs in the form of allergies (both food and environmental), asthma, and he even got sick constantly. Most days found Scott in Tony's room because the boy whined whenever Tony tried to put him in his own room, and he was terrified Scott would stop breathing in the middle of the night. Scott slept in Tony's bed until well into his grade school years when he finally started to grow out of his need to be near his father. Tony was still nervous and checked on Scott before he went to bed and at least once in the middle of the night when he woke up.

When Tony first found out Scott was allergic to peanuts, he was a wreck. He threatened the doctors to help his kid when he heard Scott wheezing for breath, and when the boy was finally recovering, he demanded they do whatever they had to do to check for any allergies he might have had. Tony didn't think he could handle seeing Scott as sick as he was again. The wheezing, the hives, the overall misery his little boy had been in…

It turned out Scott was severely allergic to all types of nuts. Peanuts, cashews, almonds, walnuts...if it was a nut, Scott couldn't have it. That was easy enough to plan meals around but then there was also shellfish, sesame, parsley, and pineapple. Whenever they went out to eat, Tony scrutinized every ingredient on the menu if it was available, and if it wasn't, he demanded to talk to the chefs. Fortunately once he learned what food Scott could have, it became second nature.

Tony always made sure to carry an inhaler and epipen with him, had extras held for Scott at school, and more in the boy's backpack. He taught Scott as early as possible what he couldn't eat because it would make him very sick and for the most part, things went well enough. There was only one incident at school when Scott unknowingly ate something he wasn't supposed to, but he was quickly treated with one of his pens and sent to the hospital. Scott was quick to bounce back from that since the school staff had been prepared, so the only constant issue was his asthma.

Scott never let it slow him down and Tony swore he was going to either go gray at 25 or suffer heart failure. The little boy was constantly climbing everything, and Tony once had to pull him off the bookcase that he managed to climb up to the fifth shelf. The fifth shelf. Rhodey had his fair share of retrieving Scott from high places whenever he visited too.

Before Tony knew it, Scott had grown into a young man with a talent for hacking and engineering and had a penchant for tacos, oranges, and lollipops. He helped Tony with a lot of his projects but absolutely refused to help with anything related to weapons. Scott never liked violence and always hated that Stark Industries was solely based on weapons making. Tony never faulted him for it.

"Scott, have you seen my--?" Tony stops mid sentence when he looks over at the young man and finds him at his computers with his feet kicked up on a small part of the desk, dozing with a lollipop in his mouth. "Oh, that's safe."

He walks over and takes the lollipop out of Scott's mouth and he jolts awake. "Hey! I was eating that!" Scott complains.

"Yeah, you were very proactive about it. I didn't raise you for 21 years so you could choke and die because you fell asleep with candy in your mouth." Tony rolls his eyes and sticks the candy back in Scott's mouth before he could protest. "Now have you seen that little screwdriver you like to steal?"

"You had it last, and I've been busy updating Jarvis's code." Scott answers.

"I saw that. I guess you're so good you can do it in your sleep."

"It was uploading!" Scott drops his feet to the ground with an annoyed huff. "And I told you I wouldn't help you with your stupid weapons. That includes finding misplaced tools."

"Fine, fine."

Tony tries fixing the cow lick in Scott's hair and rolls his eyes when it only floofs back into place. He learned very early on that his kid's hair was untameable but that didn't stop Tony from trying. Hair gel, pomade, hair spray...none of it could contain and style Scott's hair. The cow lick worked for him though so Tony wasn't too obsessed with trying to find something to keep it in place.

"Well while you wait for your new code to upload, why don't you make me a sandwich?" Tony says. "I gotta get the Jericho prototype finished tonight."

Scott frowns. "Why do they want you to fly all the way out to Afghanistan? What's wrong with how you usually sell this stuff?"

"It's just for a couple of days volpino. Now where's my tuna sandwich?" Tony asks.

"Probably in the fridge. It's deconstructed." Scott says as he leaves the lab.

"Oh, haha. Funny. I like mine constructed so get on it. Chop chop."

Tony smirks when he hears Scott mumble something under his breath along the lines "slave driver", but with no heat. Things had gotten easier as Scott got older but he never really grew out of his physical problems. He still had his food and environmental allergies, his asthma, and even his tendency to get sick, but that had mostly been remedied when Tony moved them to Malibu. The warm weather helped with that and Scott didn't get sick nearly as often as he did in New York, and that had been a huge relief for the both of them. Tony only wished he had thought of it sooner.

When Scott comes back with the sandwich and sets it nearby for Tony, the man looks up at him and rolls his eyes when he finds the younger man drinking out of a juice box. "You know you can have beer now right?"

"Juice is better." Scott says. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"You'll probably still be asleep. Even if I leave late." Tony grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. "So try not to blow up the lab while I'm gone." He adds around his mouthful.

"That's no fun." Scott says sarcastically. "Pepper called by the way. She said she has some paperwork for you to look at before you leave."

Tony groans. "Tell her I'm not home."

"It'll be true in a few hours anyway."

"Don't underestimate Pepper. She'll be waiting on the tarmac for me to look at those papers if she has to." Tony grumbles and then looks up at Scott with a suspicious smile that makes his son narrow his eyes at him. "You're 21. Maybe it's time to start giving you some responsibility with the company."

"I do. It's called making sure my dad doesn't blow himself up because he writes codes when he's half asleep. How are we still alive?"

"Rhodey and Happy." Tony replies dryly before whapping Scott upside the head. "Don't sass me."

Scott rubs the back of his head as he walks back over to his personal workstation to check on the progress of the code. When he had shown an interest in engineering and computers, Tony had immediately set up Scott's own work area with age appropriate equipment that he either replaced or updated as Scott got older. He was good at it too. Tony couldn't count the number of times he got calls from the FBI asking him to get Scott to stop leaving them viruses with laughing cat videos or something. They were always harmless and easily fixed, so Tony's response was to tell them to update their security so Scott couldn't get in.

Apparently they had yet to find a way to keep Scott out and Tony wasn't about to take away one of his son's very few joys in life. As long as it all stayed harmless, Tony would look the other way. He knew Scott was very capable of hacking into pretty much anything, and he was glad his kid was a pacifist. Because Scott was definitely very capable of getting his hands on nuke codes.

Tony actually wouldn't be surprised if Scott had already gone in and changed them.

Some whirring pulls Tony out of his thoughts and he looks over at the kitchenette to find DUM-E making smoothies again. A quick glance told him that there was at least peanut butter and almond milk in it so it wasn't safe for baby boy consumption.

"Hey! Are you trying to kill your little brother with that?" Tony asks and DUM-E beeps sadly when the blender goes off. "You know he can't have nuts!"

"There goes my social life." Scott says and Tony makes a face.

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Says the man whose one night stands I had to chase away."

Tony laughs. "To be fair, it was funny to see them get creeped out when you just stood in the kitchen and stared at them while drinking your juice box."

"...yeah. That was pretty fun." Scott admits.

"Sir, Miss Potts is on her way down." JARVIS says and Tony groans.

"Ugh the dreaded secretary with her paperwork."

There's a few beeps before the lab door hisses open and then the sound of heels clicking across the linoleum.

"Tony-"

"I know," he sighs. "Paperwork. Give it to Scott."

Pepper places the small stack next to his arm. "He's too busy making sure you don't blow yourself up."

"You know I had to teach him how to do that right?"

"And now he's better than you." Pepper says and Scott cackles.

"Ouch. My pride." Tony clutches at his chest in mock hurt.

"Please just look at this and sign. It won't even take you ten minutes." Pepper sighs.

"I trust you."

"Nice try."

#tony stark #scott lang #pepper potts

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: exactly 7777 words how sexy is that || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, filmed sex, public sex/outdoor sex, oral (f receiving), jin being a little shit just because he can, vmin mxm scene, bath sex, unprotected sex, fingering/anal play, anal sex, creampie, the most tender smut scene in this whole fic goes to these fucking boys

ᴀ/ɴ: banner designed by @jamaisjoons, thank you to my sfhs girls who help with brainstorming every week xx, i’m so sorry if this feels rushed or too short, i didn’t want to leave you hanging for three weeks : (

DAY NINE

One thing you learn the morning after, is that Hoseok is a deceptively bad cook.

Of course you’re grateful for the breakfast in bed he kindly prepared you and Jungkook - the latter still half-asleep and unable to go more than five seconds without yawning - but it’s hard to comprehend that the man in front of you now, eating cereal with a fork, is the same one that wrecked you so elegantly last night.

“Why is the toast chewy? Are we still being punished?” Jungkook moans sombrely around a mouthful, eyes dazed.

Hoseok sets his fork back in the bowl with a clatter, reaching out to poke Jungkook with a foot. “Be grateful, brat. I made that out of love.”

The younger man stares bleakly down at his plate. “I’d love to have a pancake right now instead.”

You wince at Hoseok’s disappointed expression, taking a mouthful of the strangely floppy toast. “It’s… nice and warm,” you offer up, failing to find anything else to compliment.

Hoseok beams. “Thank you. While I was doing my cereal, it got a bit cold, so I heated it up in the microwave.”

Your heart sinks despairingly into your stomach, which roils at the prospect. “Ah,” you muse hollowly.

“Eat up!” the dom cheers. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Still smiling proudly, he digs his fork into the almost full bowl of cereal and begins chowing down.

Jungkook shares a silent stare with you, and you turn back to your plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Hoseok,” you sigh, and brace yourself for the meal ahead.

After breakfast, you get dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt, planning on spending the day inside relaxing. But the moment you see Jin and Taehyung running around on the gravel outside, a small darting form evading their flailing arms, you realise how foolish you were to expect that a day in the villa could be anything remote to uneventful.

Rushing out the front door still in your socks, you step down to the base of the concrete entryway, staring in shock at the two men.

Taehyung’s face is bright with a boxy grin, laughing maniacally as he rushes to and fro, still in his version of pyjamas - loose boxer shorts and a Celine Dion t-shirt. “Hyung, that way!” he hoots cheerily to Jin, feet crunching noisily on the gravel.

The other man, considerably less happy (or perhaps the frown was one of absolute concentration), huffs at the command. “It’s your fuckin’ dog, Tae, why isn’t it going to you?”

Between them, panting and grinning, is a small dog with short fur, nails clicking on the gravel. It can’t be taller than knee-height, with wide eyes and a small black nose. It probably is white or cream coloured, but the thick crusting of dirt all over makes it hard to tell.

“It’s not my dog, I just found him!” Taehyung insists, before crouching down, clicking his tongue. “Mango, c’mere boy! Come to daddy.”

Jin comes to a stop with a groan, chest heaving. “Well, now you’re just going to scar the poor thing.”

Taehyung glares, but doesn’t stop cooing at the dog, who’s now eying him up suspiciously. “Come on, boy, daddy just wants to help, he’ll give you a nice, warm bath and some treats. Sound nice, Mango? C’mere!”

With the cool disdain that you’ve never seen in a dog before, Mango lifts his chin and turns tail, gracefully trotting over to Jin, rubbing his face against the man’s shin.

Taehyung gasps in abject horror at the betrayal, sinking fully onto the rough gravel of the driveway, but Jin just grins and bends down, gently scratching the dog’s head.

You let out a disbelieving laugh at the scene, drawing their attention. “What is going on?”

Immediately, the two men point at each other accusingly, the dog - Mango - snuffling at Jin’s hand when he realises his petting has ceased.

Jin calmly resumes stroking the mutt with a mellow expression. “Taehyung kidnapped a dog.”

“I did not!” the younger man protests vehemently. “I found him wandering around all by himself and I put out some food for him.” Taehyung turns to you with desperate eyes. “Jin called him filthy!”

“I did,” the therapist admits easily, “‘cause he is.” Crouching down, he gets closer to eye-level and pouts. “All this mud and dirt on you, hm? Not nice, is it? Poor bo-” Jin cuts himself off as the dog rolls over on its back, wiggling against the gravel happily. The three of you stare in silence for a few moments at Mango, before Jin slowly pans up to stare at Taehyung. “You thought Mango was a boy this whole time?”

Taehyung scratches his head with a helpless shrug. “Well, I didn’t think to check his dick for confirmation! I mean, her dick. No dick. Uh…”

Jin’s ignoring him, however, in favour of giving Mango tummy rubs, grinning at the whipping of her tail as it wags. “Oh, Taehyungie is so mean to you, isn’t he? Poor girl. I wouldn’t trust him with a cactus,” he admits in a mock whisper.

“I resent that,” Taehyung shouts lowly, voice getting louder as he gets worked up, “Cactuses don’t even have dicks, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Neither does Mango,” Jin quips sharply.

“Hey!” the younger boy yells, pouting at the sight of Mango snuggling up to Jin so willingly.

From behind, the sudden bang of a fist on glass makes you jump. Whirling around, you watch in bewilderment as Jimin rushes outside, eyes wide and mouth rounded at the sight.

“What the fuck is all the racket about?” he exclaims in bewilderment. “We’re trying to watch a movie but we can’t hear a thing over the sounds you’re- is that a dog?”

“Mango!” Taehyung chimes. “H- She’s my dog!”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier,” Jin begins, and Jimin tuts loudly to break off the bantering.

“Goodness, she’s a skinny little thing,” Jimin says with worry, passing you to go crouch beside Jin. He holds a hand out and smiles softly as Mango presses her nose into his palm. “Dirty, too. There’s a hose out back that does warm water, let’s clean her off and get her some food.”

Your heart warms at the same fond tone in his voice that you’d heard at Mrs. Park’s house. “I’ll go get some soap and towels,” you offer, “I need to go get my shoes on anyway.”

Jimin, already fully dressed in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt - the most casual you’d seen him yet - turns around to nod at you. “Thank you,” he chirps, “we’ll be around back.”

By the time you get ready and come back with the supplies, Taehyung is already manning the hose, running his fingers through the stream to wait for it to warm up as he chats away with Jimin. Clearly a fan of the oldest, Mango is still happily hanging around Jin’s ankles, whole body wagging as she gets her ears scratched.

Jimin glances up when you round the corner, and rushes forward to take the items from your hands. “Thank you, let’s hope-” He pauses, staring down at the bottle. “Is this my hand-soap?”

You suppress a sheepish grin. “It says mild and unscented, I thought it would be better for Mango than body wash.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin allows, before turning back around to the other two. “Alright, let’s hope Mango likes water.”

As it turns out, Mango positively thrives with the water, panting happily as her fur is soaked with the warm water. Crouching to your side, you squirt some soap out onto her back, and you and Jimin begin massaging it in on either side of her while Jin holds up her head to keep it free from suds.

It takes a while, but Mango is patient, and you’re determined to make sure all the grit and dirt accumulated from a life of sleeping rough is washed away. Beneath the matted filth is beautiful white fur, the palest brown in places. With tiny feet and delicate ears, she may be a mutt but she’s a beautiful one, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Jin’s fond smile as he stares into her baleful eyes.

Taehyung rinses her down, the suds collecting on the back lawn, and before any of you even think to get away, Mango braces herself and shakes, spraying droplets all over the four of you.

Closest to her body, it’s you and Jimin that cop most of the downpour, and you hiss at the feeling of it soaking your shirt and running down your neck. Taehyung gasps and ditches the hose to chuck a towel over her wet body, but the damage has been done.

Across from you, on the other side of Mango, Jimin’s pink lips are rounded gracefully in a gasp, eyes clenched shut. You can’t help but grin as he slowly blinks away the water in his eyes with a low moan of disappointment, the delicately-applied makeup now smudging, a watery layer of mascara ringing his eyes. When he stretches up into a crouch, his pants are spotted with water though mostly okay, and it’s clear his shirt displays the majority of the water.

Clinging to him obscenely, the thin white cotton is made see-through with the effect of Mango’s shake-off. It exposes the harsh black lines of his tattoo, which winds around his ribcage, nevermind. You’d seen it laid bare twice before, but you’d been too wound up from his teasing to even really look. Now, though, you admire the way it stands out so starkly even behind a layer of fabric, the edges blurred but still strong and pure black.

As he huffs and wrings out the fabric, Taehyung cackles behind him, and Jimin’s face darkens. Without any time for the younger man to react, Jimin’s grabs the still-running hose and turns it onto Taehyung, drenching him with a triumphant yell.

“Hey!” Taehyung screeches, hair covering his eyes heavily as his pyjamas sag against his body. “No fair!”

You jump away as Taehyung begins to wrestle with Jimin for the hose, the two grinning like idiots even as they scrabble.

Jin, calmly patting down Mango, chooses to instead lift her into his arms bundled in the towel. He crooks his head at you. “Let’s go down to the pool and dry off a bit in the sun,” he suggests. “Save getting caught in the middle of this battle.”

You squint against the glare of the late morning sun that glints off the pool. You’ve never been there yourself or seen anyone swim in it, and its lack of use is clear by the uneven layer of leaves that floats across its surface. “If you dunk me in that dirty-ass pool, I’ll kill you.” Even with the venom in your words, you follow him over, the chaos of the two boys left behind growing quieter and quieter.

“Don’t worry,” Jin assures you sweetly, “I’ll clean it first.” With that, he steps up onto the concrete patio that surrounds the large rectangle and makes his way over to the three haphazard pool chairs beside the edge. “You and Mango can relax here.”

Eying him suspiciously, you sit on the gauzy canvas of one of the lounge chairs and lean back, letting out a sigh as the warm of the sun settles onto your skin like a blanket. “Fine,” you sigh out, too comfortable to protest, “just while Mango dries off.”

Jin works quietly, without haste. All you hear as you throw an arm over your eyes is the occasional tinkling of water and the snuffling of the dog Jin sat down beside you.

With the sun beating down on you, warming your soaked shirt, you let your mind wander lazily. You hadn’t really had a chance to properly think after the elimination. Or lack of, you suppose. All of Monday had you feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt, until Hoseok served your penance and allowed you to put your mind at ease again. Now, though, you take a chance to think over how the game has changed.

It was moments like earlier, when groups of you were together and laughing, that made you happy to be here. The thought that you were no longer evicting one contestant a week felt like a hundred-year burden finally being lifted off your shoulders.

Though of course, with all the good, came bad, too. The guys said they wouldn’t take you personally, and at least now everyone would know the decision was based on sex alone, but it didn’t take a psychic to see how bad things could turn if someone took it wrong. Already you can picture fights, sulking, resentment, and the thought scares you.

And then the punishment for you touching them. It was something you hadn’t seen coming for a second, though all of Sejin’s twists had gotten you off-guard. The thought that the other guys would have control over what you wore if you ever slipped up gives you pause. You’re confident in your body, but they would be well within their rights to make you wear something humiliating. You bite down hard on your tongue. Just don’t fuck the outed members, you hiss at yourself. Easy as that.

Not so easy, perhaps, when the thought of every one of them made your heart ache and shift in your chest.

“You aren’t asleep, are you?”

You shoot up in fright at the sudden exclamation, startled out of your train of thought. “No, what?” your tongue fumbles, before you squint in front of you to the poolside and your mouth drops open.

As casual as ever, Jin stands on the far edge, leaning his weight on a long leaf skimmer, the net resting on the end of the pole, above his head. That isn’t what has your attention, though. As you raise a hand to block the sun, you feel your mouth water at the sight of him standing in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers, hand on his hip casually like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“What the fuck are you doing?” is the only thing your mind can think to say.

Jin chuckles, the motion making his broad shoulders jump up and down. Your mouth drops wider open, eyes roaming his figure. Basking in the attention, he smiles broadly. “Cleaning your pool,” he answers easily, “Miss Y/n.”

Your brows knit together. “My po- Oh.” You take a moment to analyse the situation - single lady on the pool chair watching as a hot and scantily-clad young man cleans it for her. Pool boy. A bemused giggle bubbles up your throat as you remember Jin’s disbelieving reaction when he drew the card. “Really?”

Jin just shrugs. “I’m just here to do my job, Miss. Saving up money for college. But it’s so hot out here that-” Jin breaks off with a pout as you begin to crack up, curling over your own torso with the force of it. “Hey! Why are you laughing at me?”

You try to let your laughter die down enough to speak, still giggling wetly as your eyes tear up a bit from it. “Sa-saving up for college,” you make out before cracking up again. “You don’t have to pay to be a professor, Jinnie.”

His mouth drops open in offence at your quip, letting the leaf skimmer clatter onto the concrete dramatically. On the chair beside you, Mango wakes up with a start at the noise and flees, scampering off in the direction of the villa. Still offended, Jin turns and makes his way around the edge of the pool towards you with a huff. “The disrespect these days,” he declares, “I’m just a poor uni student trying to make a quick buck and all you’re doing is insulting me.”

You sit up, watching him keep your gaze step by step. The sun is beautiful on him, honeying his brown hair and bronzing the smooth skin of his chest, shoulders and arms. He’s beautiful, but of course he doesn’t need you telling him to know that. “You shouldn’t talk back to your employer, Jinnie,” you quip as he nears.

As intimidating as someone can be wearing nothing but underwear - you can spy his clothes haphazardly strewn on the concrete on the other side of the patio - Jin steps in front of the lounge chair, blotting out the sun with his broad back. “Luckily for you,” he answers smoothly, “I just finished. I’ll just collect the cash and get out of your hair.”

You stare up at him, eyes aching now that they’re not fighting against the glare of the sun. Even though you’ve never been in this situation before, and certainly don’t have much experience with role-play, the words come easy to you. “But I don’t have any money.”

His grin turns wolfish, like he’d been hoping you’d say that. Your stomach flips as he lifts one leg over the end of the lounge chair, straddling it. “I suppose I’ll just have to claim my payment in some other way.”

Your heart races as he sits down, boxers doing nothing to hide his straining erection. “Like what?” you ask weakly, breath hitching as his fingers stretch out to brush over the button of your shorts.

Jin’s eyes are hot on yours, twin points of heat everywhere they roam. First between your legs, then up to meet your gaze. “Will you let me taste you?” he asks, previous humour completely evaporated. He stares at you intensely, like nothing else is as important as this, and you find yourself nodding before you even process it.

“Wait,” you gasp as he slips open the button, zip sliding down smoothly, “out here? The others-”

“Have gone inside,” Jin cuts in easily, fingers dipping below the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches, hips lifting to help him slip them off your legs and onto the concrete beside, shoes and socks following. “We’re alone.”

The warmth of the chair’s fabric below you is strange on your skin, but Jin isn’t content with just your core being exposed. Tapping your arm, he guides you to raise them as he lifts your shirt, tossing it away in the same direction. Almost bare for him, the only thing that remains is your bra, and without hesitation his fingers find the clasp, leaning forward to capture your mouth with his suddenly as he slips the bra down your arm.

Naked beneath him, you whimper into his mouth as he presses his chest against you, arms caging you on either side. It’s been a long time since you’ve kissed him, and it feels just as heady as last time, his lips soft but so firm and thorough as they claim you.

Jin kisses with all his energy, like it’s his only purpose, and the intense way he works your mouth open and licks up into it, swirling his tongue dizzily over yours has you hooked on him, needing more even as he gives you more than you feel you can handle.

After a time, you feel him shift, and you groan past swollen lips as he slides down your body, trailing an unbroken line of kisses down your throat and chest until he’s cupping a breast in his hand, hot mouth descending on a stiff peak. You cry out, back arching with the delicious stimulation as he suckles on it needily.

“Still so sensitive,” he remarks with a chuckle, and any protest at his teasing tone is lost under the indulgent way he flicks his tongue over the bud, circling it deftly. It’s sinful, the way you watch him, watch his eyes close in bliss and your peak roll under the ministrations of his tongue, like a show of what’s to come.

Once he gives a final wet suck to bring it to its full stiffness, he moves across to the other one, thumbing the first lazily to keep those hot coals of pleasure burning inside you.

Sensing you can take it, he’s rougher with the second nipple, tugging at it with his teeth, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over it when you whimper at the sting. “Perfect for me,” his voice makes out in a gravelled tone, “you’re like a fucking four-course meal.”

You chuckle airily, though it’s cut off by a hitched whimper as he ventures lower yet again, letting his tongue and lips lead the way over the skin of your stomach, until you can feel the warmth of his breath where you need to feel him most. “Jinnie,” you breathe pleadingly, toes curling as he dips out his tongue to wet his lips.

“Will you be good while I taste you, hm?” Jin questions lowly, voice silken like his lips.

You nod with a swallow, but your throat has gone dry just watching him. The sight of his fingers digging in to the flesh of your thighs, his lips pursing, his eyes swirling with mischief and lust. “Need you, Jinnie,” you find yourself pleading again.

He hums in bemusement, and you unconsciously hold your breath as he finally dips his head down. The first contact isn’t his tongue at all, but his lips, pressed to the upper seam of your thigh. You gasp, core clenching, but he pays no mind, laying a delicate trail across your thigh, until he jumps over and begins the other side.

With a whine, you part your legs wider, bare feet grazing on the sunbaked concrete. The rough texture reminds you of the fact that you’re outside, bared to the world, and you whine again. “Jinnie, hurry.”

“Patience,” he chastises lowly, pinching the inner of your thigh between two fingers to make you jump. “I cleaned out the pool for you, the least you can do is let me enjoy you.”

You swallow down your needy moan, head falling back against the lounge chair. “Sorry,” you gasp out instead, hoping he appreciates your manners and takes mercy on you.

Instead, he just grins. “So polite,” the therapist muses, “I wonder how long that’ll last.” One at a time, slow like he’s drawing out your anticipation, he lifts your legs onto his broad shoulders, tilting your hips up to expose you to him better.

The moment he touches his tongue to your core, you know you’re fucked.

Languid, exploratory, he delves the muscle through your folds, swirling once around your sensitive clit before dipping back down again. You sigh out, enjoying every motion, but it’s far too slow, and he knows it.

As you glance down, his lips are stretched in a slick grin, which he makes no attempt to mask. Obscenely, he wraps his lips around one of yours and sucks, slurping at your juices without shame.

You sob, thighs tensing, but he holds you open calmly and gives the same ministration to the other side, collecting your arousal on his tongue like he’s savouring it. More and more leaks out of you at the feeling of him going down on your for his own pleasure, and he groans in approval.

In his grasp, you attempt to cant your hips down to angle your clit closer to his roving tongue, but he deftly ignores your attempt, devouring you at his own pace.

After the clouds pass, the sun pierces your eyes again, and you throw an arm over your face to block it out, body writhing under his slow stimulation. “Ji-Jinnie,” you hiccup, but he doesn’t even reply, fingers clutching tighter at your thighs and ass to latch you onto him firmer.

When a breeze picks up, it wafts over you, cooling the spit on your nipples and peaking them even more, and you shiver at the feeling. Hearing a distant swishing sound, you lift your arm up and glance towards the source, only to go stiff once you see.

About ten metres away, the outdoor dining area is not as empty as it was before, Yoongi pausing with two plates full of cooked meat and potatoes, eyes directly locked on you. With a flip of arousal and dread, you watch as more members of the house file out; Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok joining him and gawking when they see you and Jin.

Cheeks flushing violently, you push at Jin’s head. “They-they’re out here, Jin, you need to stop-” you break off as he pulls back and glances over, chin and lips shiny with your arousal.

“Lunchtime,” Yoongi calls out with a wry grin, and you groan as he continues to set the table outside, the younger ones following suit. Namjoon seems the most startled of the four, but not one of them has looked away. Jungkook’s eyes are so wide you can see them rounded from here, a hand pressing to the front of his crotch.

You make another effort to wriggle out of Jin’s grip, but without even looking at you he keeps you locked in, spread for him. “Thanks, but I’m already eating!” he quips proudly, and you sob in embarrassment at the pun, covering your hands and scrunching your eyes shut.

Unable to see, however, you’re taken off-guard when Jin suddenly descends on you like a man starved. You go stiff and shriek at the sudden strong suck on your clit, before clapping a palm over your mouth. The distant sounds of the guys having lunch just makes you drip more, and Jin doesn’t miss it.

“You like that, dirty girl?” You sob at the question, but he just chuckles lowly. “Acting all shy, all coy, but this pussy of yours just loves being watched. Shall we give them a show?”

You barely have time to muster a wordless cry in response before his tongue, lips and teeth are ravishing you with only one intent: to bring you to a screaming orgasm.

You writhe as much as his grip allows you, overtaken by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, but it’s inescapable. While you can muffle your moans with your fist, biting harshly on your knuckles, there’s no denying the four men dining outside can see the way you tremble and arch, and the thought just makes you cry out more.

Your high arrives quickly as you squeeze your eyes shut, not bearing to look towards the voyeurs or even Jin as his tongue delves deep into you, nose nudging your clit as he goes.

Risking a glance over to the dining area quickly, it’s the sight of all four men sitting down, eyes heavy on you as the food remains untouched that sends you over the edge.

You reach out desperately for Jin; one hand buried into his hair and the other clutching at his hand. He holds onto you tightly as he works you through your orgasm until your thighs are shaking and your chest is heaving with the force of it.

When the tremors finally subside, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, and then lets your legs down. You pant quietly as he sits up and pats your pussy playfully with a grin. To your confusion, he then stands up and rubs at the red texture marks that the gauzy fabric of the lounge chair has imprinted, and begins to walk off towards the house.

You frown, sitting up with a still-racing heart. “Where are you going?” you question incredulously.

With a shit-eating grin, Jin sends you a wink, not even bothering to go collect his clothes or hide his straining erection. “Lunchtime.”

“Will Mango be okay?” Taehyung asks worriedly.

Jimin tsks, but his tone is warm as he levels a stare at the younger man. “She’ll be fine, Tae, she’s a big girl. Besides; Hoseok looked like he’d fallen in love. I bet she’s getting treated like a queen right now.”

Taehyung glances down the stairs morosely as they turn the corner. “Good,” he muses, “she is.”

Jimin doesn’t notice Taehyung following him until he steps into his room, only to see the masseuse still behind him. “Do you need something?”

Still in pyjamas soaked from the water fight, Taehyung looks nonetheless beautiful. Jimin takes a moment to look over the tanned boy, his lithe frame exposed by the clinging fabric and his hair hanging long with the weight of the water. His lips are delicately sculpted like from marble, and he can’t help himself from starting at the slight pout as Taehyung asks softly, “does your room have a bath? Jungkook said you did.”

Jimin blinks. “How would Jungko- Oh.” The already-faded memory of Jungkook barging in on his morning routine sharpens back into colour. Of course. “Anyway, yes, I do. Why’s that?”

“Just wondering.” Taehyung shifts, a ring of dark grey on the carpet around him from the water that drips off his body.

Jimin dares a glance at the cameras in the corners of the hallway. If the two of them soak the carpet much more, Sejin will have their heads. Sighing he steps further into his room, opening the door wider. “Do you want to use it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taehyung brightens up, grin so broad it exposes his back teeth. “Yes, please, hyung!”

Jimin takes a deep breath to stop himself from mirroring the smile, simply shutting the door behind them both as Taehyung rushes into the bathroom, skidding on the floor with his wet feet. “Careful,” Jimin scolds quickly, “you’ll fall.” Avoiding Taehyung’s imploring gaze, he steps past him to put in the plug and begin running water, shivering at the feeling of his wet clothes cold against his skin. “Do you like it hot?”

“Always,” Taehyung answers without hesitation. Though Jimin can’t see his face, the low timbre of the masseuse’s voice gives him pause. “Can we have bubbles?”

Like that, the moment of tension is broken, and Jimin straightens up with a laugh, turning to him. “We?”

Taehyung pouts again, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You aren’t gonna shower while I have a bath, are you, hyung? That’s a waste of water.”

Jimin feels his eyebrows rise, but the motion catches his attention in the mirror. He gasps at his reflection behind Taehyung; with the liner and mascara around his eyes smudged like a racoon and his foundation patchy, he looks like a mess. “Goodness,” he sighs, “why didn’t you tell me I look like this?”

Taehyung’s eyes are wide with uncertainty as Jimin rushes to the vanity, hastily fishing in the drawers for an oil cleanser to remove the dregs of pigment on his face. “You still look beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung offers softly.

“I look like a teenage girl that just got dumped.” Jimin scoffs a laugh as he viciously rubs at his skin, rinsing it off in the sink with a sigh. Straightening up again, he winces at the reflection that greets him. Red nose and chin, cheeks round without the illusion of contour, eyes looking too small in his face. Every flaw makes him bite down on his tongue harsher, until he whirls himself around, unable to look longer. With his jaw tense, Jimin tugs off the silver rings that adorn his fingers. “Fuck it, I’ll have a bath.”

Instead of cheering like Jimin expects him to, wants him to, Taehyung just eyes him with quiet concern. Over the loudly gushing faucet, his voice is barely audible as he repeats, “you still look beautiful.”

“Do you want vanilla or peaches and cream?” Jimin offers instead. “For bubbles, I mean.” Busying himself with picking out the bottles from the shower, he misses the frown on Taehyung’s face.

“Peaches, please, hyung,” the younger man requests warmly, shivering at the strange tension in the air. “Peach is my favourite scent, you know?”

“Is it?” The thought brings a smile to Jimin’s lips, as he discards the other bottle and begins drizzling body wash over the stream, bubbles frothing immediately. The bright yet sweet scent begins to fill the room, and Jimin’s smile widens. “It suits you.”

Once the tub is aptly full, and bubbles cover the surface, Jimin caps the bottle and peels the fabric of his shirt off himself with soapy hands, sighing as the weight is removed. He spares a glance to Taehyung, who still stands motionless in the middle of the room in a puddle of water. “You can get in now,” he provides, “I don’t bite.”

The blatant lie tugs a grin from Taehyung’s lips as he obediently begins undressing. “You forget I’ve seen your videos,” he quips wryly.

“Oh, I certainly haven’t forgotten, Taehyungie.” It takes more effort to strip himself from his blue jeans, totally waterlogged, but Jimin kicks off his shoes and does it one leg at a time. Naked, he seeks out the warmth of the water, sighing as he steps in and sinks below the bubbles, glancing over to Taehyung, who avoids his gaze as he slips off his boxers, the fabric slapping wetly on the white tiles.

It’s the first time Jimin’s seen Taehyung fully naked, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming. Smooth chest leading to a narrow waist and soft stomach, Taehyung’s cock standing at half-mast like he’s still unsure whether he should be aroused or not. Hastily, he steps into the bath, facing Jimin on the other side, and Jimin watches those delicate, slender fingers flex on the side of the tub as he settles in. Those fingers that played Y/n like she was an instrument. Those fingers that relaxed Jimin more than he’d felt in years, without even needing a release.

“I did what you suggested, hyung,” Taehyung says lightly, knees poking out of the water as he sticks as far to his end of the tub as possible. He pokes his chin forward, running a finger over his jaw and lower cheek. “I’m growing it out.”

Jimin smiles at the younger man warmly, the warmth of the water relaxing his muscles and softening him more than he’d normally be. Or perhaps it was the earnest, non-judgmental air Taehyung always held. Either way, he finds himself leaning forward slightly to brush his fingertips over the bottom of Taehyung’s face. The slightly sharp texture of exposed hairs and beginnings of a dark shadow evidence that he hadn’t shaved since Monday morning. “It’s growing in fast,” he comments, eyes darting to see the way Taehyung’s pulse thrums visibly on his neck.

Taehyung swallows, eyes locked on Jimin. “That’s why I usually shave everyday,” he explains lightly. Perhaps unconsciously, the masseuse’s legs part slowly, water rushing in to fill the void.

Shifting closer again, up on his knees, Jimin continues to inspect the 5 o’clock shadow on Taehyung’s face. “It looks nice,” he says softly; “handsome.”

Taehyung’s eyes blink widely. As Jimin’s tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips, he wonders if, had there been no bubbles, he’d be able to see Taehyung’s cock stiffening to a full erection below the water. The thought sends blood rushing down to his own dick, and Jimin sighs.

Sensing the silence has extended long enough, Taehyung swallows. “Do you think she’ll like it, hyung? What if it’s too rough?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jimin points out, voice coming out breathier than expected, and his hand snakes around the back of Taehyung’s neck to drag him into a kiss.

The black-haired boy squeaks in surprise at the first contact, but quickly he’s melting, reaching up to grasp blindly at Jimin’s shoulders with a whimper. The reciprocation simultaneously relaxes Jimin and sends him into a frenzy, and he slides himself closer, between Taehyung’s parted legs to deepen the kiss.

If Jimin angles his head just right, his chin feels the slight prickle of Taehyung’s unshaven face, and he makes a noise of approval low in his throat, nipping at the lips that have swollen under his ministrations. Of course the idea wasn’t for kissing Y/n, but if Taehyung could kiss that good with his scruff, Jimin couldn’t imagine what a joyride Y/n was in for when she’d feel that between her thighs. Jimin grins into the kiss at the thought.

The air is thick with arousal and peaches, and the heady combination has Jimin needing more, tongue slipping out to lave over Taehyung’s lips. The younger man whimpers, and Jimin takes the opportunity of his open mouth to run his tongue along Tae’s, leaning further and further forward until their chests are pressed together.

With a needy gasp, Taehyung pulls away, turning his head just slightly to the side to suck in some air, eyes blown with lust. “Are- Jimin?” he stutters out incoherently, the sound of his panting rivalled only by the sloshing of the water that their movements have stirred up.

Jimin’s heart races; thrill on top of arousal on top of concern, his grin falling. “Do you not want to?”

Taehyung narrows his brows like he doesn’t comprehend, and glances around the room. “But there are no cameras?” he supplies, voice lilting at the end like a question.

“I know,” Jimin explains, feeling his own brain struggling to keep time, “I don’t want the cameras.”

“Then…” The lost look on Taehyung’s face breaks Jimin’s heart, and he resists the urge to press a kiss right between his brows, where a crease has formed.

Jimin wills his heart to slow, taking a deep breath. “I- I think for once, I want to have sex not because it’s my job, but because I want to get closer to someone. I know you watch my videos, but… Taehyung, would you want to have sex with me? Just… just me? Not Park Jimin?”

Taehyung tilts his head, a confused smile beginning to tug at his lips. “But you are Park Jimin-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin cuts him off, leaning back to get out of the tub. “It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Minnie.”

Jimin freezes, eyes finding Taehyung’s with a wide stare.

The younger boy’s gaze is soft behind black curls, imploring. “I like you, you know? It was never the videos or the persona. Just you. Whether we have sex or not, you should know that.”

The backs of Jimin’s eyes sting. He ignores it, instead settling back down into the now-lukewarm water. “I-” But it’s too much. He doesn’t know what to say, how to deal with the words he hasn’t heard for years and years. So instead, Jimin just cracks a shy smile, heart easing. “I do still kinda wanna have sex with you, though.”

Taehyung laughs, wide and squared, his eyes little crescent moons. “I want to have sex with you, too,” he assures. “Shall we continue?”

Jimin feels his lips stretch instinctively into a smile, before he’s leaning in and pressing them to Taehyung’s again.

Kissing Taehyung feels good; it’s more addictive and heady than he’s ever felt it in years, bar that night with Y/n. Letting his own want and desire take over instead of worrying about camera angles, lighting, viewers - is this why people like it so much?

Taehyung seems to enjoy it, too, gasping into Jimin’s mouth. The blue-haired man can feel the tickle of Taehyung’s lashes as his eyes flutter with every stroke of his tongue, and Jimin swallows a groan wondering what he’ll sound like later if he’s this responsive now.

Testing it out, he runs a hand up Taehyung’s side, seeking out a dusky brow nipple, wet with steam from the tub, and thumbs at it. Back arching suddenly, the masseuse moans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching both hands up to bury his fingers in Jimin’s hair to anchor him.

Jimin continues to circle and flick at it until Taehyung is positively squirming under his touch. Only then does he let his hand slide down again, this time delving beneath the warm embrace of the water, seeking out the hard length between Taehyung’s legs.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps out when he feels fingers wrapping around his cock, not stroking yet but with enough pressure to make him need more. “Want you inside me, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” Jimin confirms breathlessly with a grin. Fingers trailing lower, he easily locates the tight ring of muscle, making the younger man groan as he presses gently at the rim with a single fingertip. “Have you done this before?”

“Bottomed?” Taehyung questions. “Of course. I’m fine, hyung.”

Instead of responding, Jimin takes a moment to lift up one of Taehyung’s knees, unfolding it so that it rested over the edge of the tub. Wide-eyed, the masseuse lets Jimin give the same treatment to the other, until he’s spread open, ass no longer quite reaching the bottom as he floats in the water.

Though he can hear the spatter of water on the tile, dripping off Taehyung’s legs, Jimin ignores it and begins to work a finger past the boy’s rim, drinking in his groans as it sinks inside.

Water isn’t the best lubricant, so Jimin goes slowly, and it’s only once Taehyung grows restless with just one finger that Jimin starts to use two. It takes a moment, but as he crooks his fingers just right, Taehyung lets out a shaky cry, clenching down suddenly. “Just there?” Jimin questions with a wry smile.

Taehyung’s thighs tremble. “Right there, hyung, fuck.” The black-haired boy fusses so beautifully as Jimin continues to stretch him out, pads of his fingers focussing on that sensitive bud of tissue inside. “I-I’m ready, Minnie, I need you.”

Jimin’s heart hitches at the nickname again, and his cock throbs at the thought of finally being able to fuck him. “Are you sure?” he checks one last time, receiving a hasty nod.

The moment Jimin slowly bottoms out, hips flush against Taehyung’s ass, he knows he’s not going to last long. Luckily, Taehyung seems to share the sentiment, groaning obscenely and clutching at his own length, hissing at the contact.

“Fuck, Tae-tae, you feel so good,” Jimin sighs as he begins to set a languid but deep pace. It was natural for his tongue to run during sex; dirty talk was huge in his industry, and sometimes he felt like part of him ran on autopilot during his scenes. Slutty pussy this, dumb cock that; but this didn’t even feel like dirty talk to him. As he buried himself in Taehyung over and over, it felt closer to a confession.

“Ah, Minnie,” Taehyung whimpers, beginning to stroke himself in time, chest arching out of the water, “kiss me.”

His eyes are dark with lust but puppy-soft as he blinks up under his lashes at Jimin, and it’s impossible to resist. Not that he wants to, when Taehyung’s lips feel so perfect on his.

The younger boy whimpers delicately into Jimin’s mouth when they’re joined again, and Jimin feels his high creeping up on him. Embarrassingly fast, he’d think normally, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed now.

“I’m close,” he whispers quickly to Taehyung, picking up the pace so that the water sloshes loudly around them, bubbles dissolving.

Taehyung groans, wraps his free arm around Jimin’s shoulders to hold himself closer, and speeds up his hand. “Me too,” he confesses, “cum inside, Minnie.”

With a low curse, Jimin is spilling inside Taehyung, hips stuttering their pace. Taehyung chases his lips through his own orgasm, gasping so much that he can barely reciprocate. It feels dirty and exquisite; the way their lips and tongue join so messily together, shuddering in unison as pleasure wracks their bodies.

Once Jimin finally comes down from his high, he’s panting. Hair damp from the steam and face hot, for once he doesn’t worry about if his o-face was attractive or his voice gravelly enough. He feels beautiful.

---

Taehyung’s nowhere to be found by the time you and the other boys finish lunch, and so there’s nobody to protest when Jin suggests the two of you can look after Mango.

Although not trained, Mango is nonetheless polite, and it’s far past sunset by the time Jin and you finish up your photoshoots and online shopping, Jin happily spending a fortune on a dog bed, pedigree food and enough toys for a whole kennel. He insists it’s because Sejin would have his ass if he asked the producer to spend more of the show’s funds, but that doesn’t stop the therapist spamming Sejin’s personal cell with pictures and messages, determined to make a point.

The two of you are exhausted from a day well spent as you snuggle lazily in Jin’s bed, a laptop propped up on your lap as you yawn away to a documentary on squirrels.

“We can go to sleep if you want,” Jin reminds you as a deep baritoned narrator explains the child-rearing techniques of female squirrels. “It’s past midnight.”

“You’re past midnight,” you retort sleepily, before your brain catches up with you. “Ah. No. Maybe you’re right.”

With a teasing smile and kind eyes, Jin takes the laptop away, plugging it in on his desk before returning back. “I’m glad, you know,” he muses as he slips under the covers again, your arms and legs immediately latching onto his frame.

Once he settles, you place your head on his chest, the internal beating of his heart a soothing metronome. “Glad about what?”

“Glad that this week’s challenge was you sleeping in different beds. I never got to sleep beside you that first night.”

“You could’ve,” you point out.

“It was only the first night,” he allows, voice rumbling in his chest, “I didn’t want to cross any lines and you fell asleep before I could get an answer.”

You hum, snuggling closer even as your whole body is pressed against him. He’s just so warm, and he feels so safe when he wraps his arm under and around you, holding you there. “I was gonna seduce you,” you whine with a yawn. “Tonight, I mean. You didn’t fuck me before so I was gonna seduce you. But you smell so good. I just wanna sleep.”

Jin seems to share the sentiment, muffling the yawn he caught from you. “You can seduce me in the morning.”

“Promise?”

Jin laughs, wincing when it jostles you violently on his chest. “Fuck, sorry. But yes, I promise. Now go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Your hand unconsciously finds the collar of his pyjama shirt, clutching at it. You feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around it, flipping it over to lace his fingers through yours. You think you could stay here forever, but perhaps tonight is a good place to start. “Goo’night,” you mumble.

Jin’s voice is barely audible, naught a whisper, but you feel it in his chest. “Night, sweetheart.”

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inthelonelycoolbeforedawn · 4 years ago

Text

tw: mentions of past animal abuse (nothing graphic and not portrayed in the fic itself)

Harringrove April Day 10: Peaches

Steve couldn't contain a smile as he stepped out onto the deck. Billy was sprawled in their double lounge chair, sunglasses on, Lemmy and Cookie flopped next to him.

"Hey," Steve said. "You gonna sleep all day?"

"Got bored waiting for you." Flashing a grin, Billy hooked his arm around Steve's waist and tugged. "C'mere. Celebrate with me."

"Nuh-uh," Steve said, planting one hand on the chair to regain his balance. "Dogs in the house, then I'll celebrate with you."

Billy heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Hurry up."

Laughing, Steve called Lemmy and Cookie inside and slid the door shut. He felt a bit guilty about disturbing their nap, but he and Billy hadn't had much time to themselves in the last couple of weeks.

Besides, they had a lot to celebrate.

After eight years in L.A. they were both ready for a change. They weren't sure exactly what they wanted, but when they found a house away from the city on three acres of land, with a big yard for the dogs and an easy drive to the beach, they decided to buy it. They cashed in their savings and the last bit of settlement money from Starcourt, signed the papers making the house theirs, and officially moved in two days ago.

"Sorry, guys," he said, scratching the silky black-and-white fur between Cookie's ears. "We'll make it up to you. You want some treats?"

Both Lemmy's and Cookie's ears perked up at the word treat. But where Lemmy's bright eyes and barely wagging tail were his only indications of excitement, Cookie was practically bouncing up and down on her three legs, her entire body wriggling. Steve laughed and gave them both another pat before reaching for the box of dog biscuits.

A flash of movement by the window caught his eye, and his grip on the box instinctively tightened as he looked out to see what it was.

There was a small brown-and-white pony in their driveway, its thick mane flopping into its eyes as it snuffled at the ground.

Steve watched it for a minute, then went back to get Billy. "Um, Billy? Come see this."

Billy pulled his sunglasses off. "What?"

He hurried after Steve, and Steve pointed out the window.

"The hell?" Billy said.

"We should try to catch him," Steve said. "He could get hit by a car or something if he's running around loose like that."

"Yeah," Billy said. "I guess we can get him tied up somewhere and call animal control."

They went out the side door so they were ahead of the pony. It ignored them, taking a few steps and dropping its head again to mouth at some weeds.

"Here, uh - " Steve frowned. "Boy? Girl? Horse? Here, horsey, nice horsey."

"It's not a dog," Billy said. "Let's just try grabbing him. He doesn't look very fast."

They took a few cautious steps towards it. The pony lifted its head, nostrils flaring, but didn't move.

Steve and Billy inched closer.

The pony snorted and broke into a trot. Steve and Billy lunged for it, but that made it run faster. They stopped so they wouldn't chase it onto the road and watched it.

"Maybe he's hungry," Billy said. "Do we have anything he would eat?"

"Oh, yeah!" Steve spoke louder than he'd meant to. The pony looked up and moved farther away. "Oops." Lowering his voice again, he continued. "Carrots. I think horses like carrots. Go get them, babe."

Once Billy returned with their longest dog leash and a bag of carrots, they each took one.

"Here, pony," Steve said.

"You hungry, little guy?" Billy said.

The pony looked at them, tail swishing.

They crept towards it, getting closer than they had before. The pony was watching them intently.

"Nice pony," Steve said, almost whispering. "Who's a good pony?"

"Steve," Billy said, his own voice quiet. "Go right."

They split off, approaching the pony from both sides. The pony stomped its foot but didn't move. They were almost close enough to grab it.

Holding his breath, Steve stretched his arm out a little farther. The pony snorted again, then reached out to take the carrot from his hand. Billy grabbed its halter while it was chewing.

"Got you," he said.

The pony flinched and quickly backed up a couple of steps, but when Steve grasped the other side of its halter, it stopped and stood, trembling.

"Hey, it's okay," Billy said. "You're okay."

"Good pony," Steve said.

Slowly and carefully, they looped the leash through one of the halter rings and secured it with the clip.

Now that it was caught, the pony seemed willing to follow them. They led it to the deck and tied the leash around a post.

Steve gave the pony a tentative pat on the neck. "One of us should probably stay here. Keep an eye on him."

"I will," Billy said. "Just, maybe grab some water for him? And the carrots?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "All that fur, he's probably thirsty."

Billy grinned. "You know, he reminds me of Henderson, with all that hair in his eyes."

"He does not look like Dustin," Steve said, although he secretly agreed.

He retrieved the bag of carrots, then filled a big cooking pot at the kitchen sink and managed to carry it outside without spilling any. The pony stood quietly as Billy worked at a tangle in its shaggy mane.

"Wow," Steve said. "He's really calmed down."

"Yeah," Billy said.

"Well." Steve paused, not sure why he suddenly felt like he was doing something wrong. "I'm gonna go call. I'll be back soon."

Lemmy and Cookie crowded around him, and he petted them absently as he flipped through the phone book.

"It must have an owner," he said. "I bet it belongs to some little kid who'll be really happy to see their pony again, right, guys?"

Cookie licked his hand and Lemmy's tail beat against the floor.

Steve sighed. "Right."

He lifted the receiver and dialed the number for animal control.

A few phone calls later he headed back outside. He found Billy sitting in front of the pony, stroking its nose, a soft smile on his lips. The pony's head was lowered almost to his lap, its eyes half-closed.

It reminded him of the times he'd come home to find Billy and Lemmy, napping or reading or watching TV, Billy's hand resting on Lemmy's scarred side and Lemmy's massive, brindled head resting on Billy's scarred chest.

He stood there a minute, watching, before sitting down next to them.

Billy glanced over. "I gave him more carrots. Guess he's happy."

"Yeah, looks like," Steve said. "Oh, and uh, it's actually a girl horse. Her name's Peaches."

"Peaches?" Billy repeated. "Figures it'd be something stupid."

"I don't know, it's kind of cute," Steve said.

Billy stopped petting Peaches and turned to face him. "So. I guess that means you found her owner?"

"Yeah." Steve picked at the hem of his shorts as he spoke. "Animal control said there was a missing horse reported, and put me in touch with her, and - anyway, she's coming to pick her up."

"Oh." Billy looked away. "That was fast."

They sat in silence until the dogs barking and tires crunching on the driveway alerted them to Peaches' owner's arrival.

Steve squeezed Billy's hand, then got up to greet her. He came around the corner of the house just as a young woman climbed out of a pickup truck with a trailer attached, holding a halter and a thick, neatly coiled rope.

"Hi," the woman called. "I'm Nina. I'm here for Peaches."

"I'm Steve." He shook hands with her, then gestured towards the yard. "She's out back."

"So, you're new here?" Nina said as they walked.

"Yeah," Steve said. "We just moved, actually. How'd you know?"

"It's been empty for a while." She smiled. "I drive this way a lot. Our place is only a couple miles from here."

Billy was still sitting with Peaches when they rounded the corner, but he stood up when he saw them. Steve hurried to his side as Nina introduced herself to Billy, then turned to the pony.

"Peaches!" she said. "Hi, sweet girl. Oh, you scared us."

She gave the pony a quick once-over. Satisfied, she clipped the rope to Peaches' halter and handed the dog leash to Steve.

"Thank you for taking such good care of her," she said with a warm smile. "We were worried sick when she got loose. She's had such a tough time, poor girl."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

Nina's smile faded, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Her last owners weren't very nice to their animals. She developed back problems and couldn't be ridden anymore so they just threw her out in a pasture and left her to fend for herself. Luckily someone called us before it was too late."

"She's a rescue?" Billy said softly.

"Yes," Nina said. "Honestly, I'm surprised she let you catch her. She's still skittish around strangers." She patted the pony's shoulder. "She must like you two."

"Well." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "At least she's safe now, right?"

"Oh, she'll for sure have a home with us if she needs it," Nina said. "But we're a horse rescue. New horses are always coming in and space can be a problem. So ideally our goal is to get all our animals adopted out." She gave Peaches' shoulder another pat. "It might be difficult to find a good home for Peaches, though. She's a sweetheart, but most people want a horse they can ride."

Steve glanced at Billy, who was fidgeting with his ring and staring somewhere past Nina, jaw clenched.

"Hmm." Steve tried to sound casual, fighting to hold back an eager smile. "You know, I think I might know a place."

Steve and Billy stood at the fence, arms crossed over the top board, watching Peaches graze while Lemmy and Cookie frolicked in the far corner of the pasture.

Nina had agreed to let them adopt Peaches on the condition they volunteer at the rescue to learn how to take care of her properly. Nina, her family, and the other volunteers were glad to help with everything from answering questions to building the fence and a small barn on their property. They'd made several new friends by the time they were ready to bring Peaches home.

She'd settled in quickly, making friends with the dogs and spending her days grazing and playing. She loved being groomed, and Steve had teased Billy a few times about him spending more time on Peaches' hair than his own now.

Steve and Billy had settled in too. They'd used some of the extra land to plant a garden. Steve converted the garage into a woodworking shop and with a bigger space to work in, he started experimenting with larger pieces. Billy still surfed whenever he could. They took the dogs to the beach and discovered a few new favorite restaurants. It was everything they'd hoped for when they bought the house.

"I was talking to Mrs. Cooper today," Billy said, breaking the silence. "Her goats are having their babies, and I guess there's a lot of them this year. She said we could have a couple if we want."

"Goats?" Steve was so surprised he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Yeah," Billy said. "We've got room. They'd be buddies for Peaches, and we could sell goat milk and stuff eventually."

"Huh," Steve said. "Goats." He shrugged. "Why not?"

Billy grinned. "Great. I'll tell her we'll take 'em."

Steve grinned back, and surrounded by their dogs and their pony and their own happily-ever-after, he and Billy kissed in the soft spring twilight.

#harringrove #my writing #ficlet #harringroveapril #tw: reference to past animal abuse/injuries #but don't worry they are all safe and loved in the fic itself #original female character #original animal characters #peaches the pony

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haikyuu-drabble · 5 years ago

Note

can i request a scenario where oikawa's best friend falls for him?? thank you!!!

thank you for requesting!!

______________________________________

oikawa x reader | always love you

word count: 2041

“You know, I’ll always love you, right?”

“What do you want now, Tooru?” you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t just tell my best friend that I love them?” Oikawa smiled.

You closed your laptop and spun around in your desk chair, “Not if it’s from you.”

“Can you please go with me on this group date? There’s someone who I really like, but there’s not enough girls.” He begged.

You groaned, “Are you serious?” you focused your attention back to your laptop, “Can’t you ask anyone else?”

“No.” he replied, “If I ask any other girl I know, I’d either get slapped in the face by some girl I’ve been to a group date with or the other person I invited would get in the way of me and my actual target.”

You held up three fingers, “I have three things to say to your statement. One, you probably deserve every slap. Two, don’t refer to people as targets. Three, I’m not going.”

Oikawa grabbed your wrist and cried, “Please! Please! I’ll do anything for you. Just go to dinner, nothing else. There’ll be other guys there for you, you know. They’re really good guys, I swear!”

You looked at him and frowned, “The puppy dog face. Check mate, huh?”

Oikawa’s frown turned into a bright smile, “Does that mean you’re going?”

“On the account that the other boys there will be cute.” You replied, “When is this thing anyways?”

Oikawa looked at his phone to check the date, “In two hours.”

You threw the stuffed bear on your desk at Oikawa, “You’re kidding me, you jerk!”

“Mr. Snuffles!” Oikawa protected his body with his arms, “Don’t mistreat my gift to you.”

“You mean your last apology for getting me into one of your messes before?” you crossed your arms.

You stood up from your chair and walked into your bedroom. Oikawa asked, “Where are you going?”

“What does it look like?” you answered, “I’m getting ready for your stupid date thing.”

“Yes!” Oikawa cheered, “You won’t regret this!”

You were digging through your drawers looking for something to wear and mumbled, “Nope. I definitely think I will.”

When you and Oikawa finally left your apartment to head to the date, you asked, “So, how did you meet the girls going on this date anyways?”

Oikawa tilted his head, “Aren’t you more interested in the guys I’ve invited?”

“I’ll get to them, too. Don’t worry.” You replied, “So, the girls?”

Oikawa pulled out his phone and showed you a picture of a girl. You scanned the photo and nodded to yourself. Definitely looked like Oikawa’s type. He explained, “I met her in one of my classes.”

You raised a brow at him, “You know class is for learning, right? Not picking up girls.”

“Why not both?” Oikawa smirked.

You looked at him with a disgusted look. And he cried, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Then don’t say things like that.” You shivered.

When you two arrived at the restaurant, two other boys and two other girls were there. You were quick to introduce yourself. You’d been friends with Oikawa long enough to see how girls react when they see you around him, so you had to change how you treated him at times like these. You’d pay a little less attention, and you’d be sure to not sit next to him or be the first to talk to him.

When you were all seated, you started talking to the guy who seemed like he’d be the most entertaining to talk to. You asked, “Hanamaki, how’d you meet Oikawa?”

“We played volleyball together in high school.” he answered.

“Oh!” you grinned and with deep voiced to mimic Oikawa said, “I believe in all of you.”

“No way!” Hanamaki laughed, “You know about that, too?”

You laughed along with him, “I guess, Oikawa really has been saying that since high school.”

“How about you?” Hanamaki asked, “How long have you known The Great King?”

“We met our first class together at University. If you told me that he and I would still be friends to this day, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.” Hanamaki replied, “From what I’ve heard from him, you guys are really good friends.”

You looked over at Oikawa who was entertaining another girl, “Yeah. The best.”

Hanamaki watched you look at Oikawa and despite there being a smile on your face, your eyes told him something else.

You looked back at Hanamaki and smiled, “Enough about that guy, though. What are you taking up at your university?”

The rest of the dinner was spent talking to Hanamaki and learning more about him. He was a really funny and nice guy, and you could actually picture yourself spending more time with him. When you all finished eating, your group were standing outside the restaurant. Oikawa asked, “What are our plans for the rest of the night?”

You looked at Oikawa with wide eyes but faked a smile, “I thought you only said that this was going to be dinner.”

He threw his arms up in the air and shrugged, “Plans can change, right?”

“Well, I actually made plans for later tonight. So, I think this is as far as I can go.” You smiled.

“Okay.” Oikawa pouted, “Well, I’ll take you to the station.”

You saw the glare coming from the girl that Oikawa had spent all night with and grabbed Hanamaki’s arm, “You don’t have to! Hanamaki said that he’d walk me home actually, so it’s fine. Stay out with the rest of the group!”

Oikawa looked at Hanamaki who was wearing perplexed look on his face. Oikawa warily nodded, “Okay, if you say so. Makki, I’m expecting the best out of you.”

You scowled at Oikawa, “What are you? My father?”

Hanamaki gave his old teammate the peace sign, “See you later, Oikawa.”

You and Hanamaki watched the rest of the group split off, and you apologized, “Sorry, Hanamaki, for forcing you along with my plans. I just didn’t want the others thinking I was getting in their way.”

“It’s fine.” Hanamaki looked at you and smiled, “You really do a lot for Oikawa.”

“A little too much.” You sighed.

“So,” Hanamaki started, “how long have you been in love with him?”

You looked at Hanamaki with a shocked expression, and your shoulders dropped. You quietly asked, “Was it that obvious?”

“No.” Hanamaki answered, “I just asked to test my hypothesis. It just turns out I was right.”

You looked down at the ground and asked, “Well, then can I ask you if you want to hang out with me for a little longer? I don’t think I have to explain why I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Hanamaki stuck his hands in his pockets and gave you a friendly smile, “I have time.”

You two ended up at a nearby café, and you took a sip out of your drink. He was the first to talk, “When did you start liking him?”

You scoffed, “Getting into the hard questions already, I see.”

“Might as well.” He chuckled.

“Well,” you thought, “I’d never had an issue with him before despite Oikawa being as annoying as he is. But I didn’t think he had much to him if I’m being honest. I thought he was another pretty boy who was good at sports. I mean, I’m not wrong about that. But you’ve had to have experienced it for yourself, Hanamaki. He’s annoying and whiny, but Oikawa really can be dependable. He’s been there for me at times, when I really thought I was alone. He was there for me when I really had no one. So, when you ask when… I don’t think I could give you a solid answer.”

Hanamaki leaned his head into the palm of his hand and gave a breathy laugh, “Sounds like you’re in deep, my friend.”

You rubbed your temples and sighed, “Trust me, I know.”

“Why haven’t you done anything about it?” Hanamaki questioned.

“You’re kidding right?” you laughed, “I’m not his type at all. You saw the girl who he was talking to all night. I’ve seen some of his past girlfriends from high school and all the ones from University, I can tell you right here, right now, that I’m not… them.”

Hanamaki leaned back in his chair, “You may be right, but in my opinion, I think you’re better.”

You felt your cheeks warm, “Thanks, but… it doesn’t matter. I’m happy with how things are.”

“If you say so.” He breathed.

Hanamaki walked you back to your apartment and before you went in, you smiled, “I had fun, Hanamaki. Even though, we talked about the literal last thing I thought I’d be talking about with you, it was therapeutic.”

Hanamaki grinned, “Don’t worry about it. I had fun too.”

You traded numbers, and you waved at him while he walked back to the station. And before parting, you said, “I know this seems a bit obvious, but please, don’t tell Oikawa anything about tonight.”

Hanamaki gave a lopsided smile, “Your secret is safe with me.”

You smiled one last time before entering your apartment, What you weren’t expecting to see what someone waiting by your door. Oikawa had his hand on his hip and was tapping his foot. You laughed at the sight of him, “You really think you’re my dad, don’t you?”

You walked past him and put your bag on the counter before planting yourself on your couch. Oikawa was looking at you with his mouth agape and stuttered, “W-where have you been?”

“Sorry, dad.” You sarcastically replied, “I’ll be sure to call you next time I’m out late.”

“That’s be much appreciated!” he stressed.

You looked over at him and rolled your eyes, “How are you home before me?”

“For your information, I was worried about you and ended my date early.” He sat down next to you, “I thought you were going to be all alone in your apartment, and my little heart just couldn’t handle the idea of you being lonely.”

You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television, “You know, I only gave you my spare keys for emergencies.”

Oikawa looked at you intently, “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Tooru, I’m fine.” You looked at him, “I was just hanging out with Hanamaki. You really don’t have to worry about me.” you smiled at him, “Anyways, give me a review of your date tonight. What did you think of her?”

Oikawa grinned at you and started, “She’s just as cute as I imagined! We agreed to go…”

Oikawa and you had always been friends. Your personalities complimented each other, and like you explained to Hanamaki, you slowly fell for him.

In the beginning, you didn’t know what compelled you to open up to Oikawa. It could have been his carefree attitude, but it also could have even been something as simple as the timing.

Back in your second year of university, you became scared of everything. You weren’t sure what had triggered any of it, but you were constantly in a state of exteme discomfort. And no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t. Before you knew it, your anxiety had become debilitating, and you had trouble maintaining any of your friendships. You managed to go to class and do the bare minimum to pass, but that was it.

For some reason, Oikawa was the only friend who tried to keep in touch with you. He would always invite himself over to your apartment and would stay over for hours. Whether it was working on homework or watching a movie, he’d just spend time there. You’d asked him one day why he kept coming over. He never gave a solid answer each time you asked and would simply shrug and smile at you. Before you knew it, you really fell for him.

But he was your best friend, and you were his. In your heart, you knew that was all it was ever going to be. Each time you forced yourself to remember that never hurt any less, but you just hoped that one day it would.

#oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #seijoh #aoba johsai #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #Anonymous #maybe therell be a part two maybe not lolol idk

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