#he wouldn’t have missed i will die on this hill

[howaboutthisblr]

I don’t see how he’s young for plot convenience unless you’re talking about how between PJO and HoO, the passage of time got a little funky. I will die on the hill that Will was aged down about 2 years of age in that transition.

Nico and Bianca were as young as they looked because they didn’t actually experience that passage of missing time. The hotel made them feel as if only a few weeks would have passed, and it said that Hades wiped their memories - likely of their Mom and post-WWI and pre-WWII of Italy. It’s also implied that he implanted them with some knowledge when he pulled them out if only because they wouldn’t likely blend into an American military school in the future otherwise. They themselves could understand something was off, just not what or why, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t still 10 and 14 respectively. They were just suspicious 10 and 14yos.

Both came out of the hotel feeling as young as they looked, because they never actually experience living a life that matched their chronilogical age. So yeah, he looks 12, and he genuinely IS still 12. He’s a traumatized pre-teen/teenager, but he’s still that same age. He didn’t experience being long-lived, and his emotional (im)maturity had more to do with his trauma of his lived experience rather than the gaps one would experience when they’re younger than they should be, like going into a coma a preteen and waking up when you’re supposed to be 20.

It’s more of an Aang situation than anything else, and Aang is still very much 12. I don’t think calling Nico being young as plot convenience/fanservice is fair if you don’t think something similar with Aang, unless I completely misunderstood your comment?

The only other plot convenience their age has would have to do with the prophecy. Kids of the Big 3, they would have been in the running for it, too, Bianca especially. That’s why she died - to make her ineligible for it, and Nico being younger than Percy and Thalia both is still meant to remind you that if anything happened to them, the prophecy would have fallen on him instead. That he was just as much of an option as Thalia was, and between him and his sister, she maybe could have done okay (ai don’t think she would have survived it like she didn’t survive the Hunters), but he likely wouldn’t have been well mentally and emotionally to have wanted to save the world at all. It’s all another way to reiterate why it had to be Percy to carry that burden.

So yeah, there’s a lot of good reason as to why he’s young.

OH MY GOD IT FINALLY HAPPENED

SOLANGELO GOT PUT ON ONE OF THOSE AGE GAP SHIPS SLIDESHOWS

I KNEW ONE DAY IT WILL HAPPEN

PEOPLE ARE FUCKING STUPID, I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN ONE DAY

AND IT DIDDDD!

This is the happiest day of my life

[drabbles-mc]

Different Now

Bucky Barnes x ExWife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst

For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: exes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: something about Bucky and an ex-wife really got me Thinking Thoughts. hope y'all enjoy!!! xo

The apartment wasn’t something that you had asked for when it was all said and done. Really, you hadn’t asked for anything. The only things that you wanted weren’t things that could be divvied up by overpriced divorce lawyers.

When you had tried to tell Bucky that you weren’t interested in keeping the apartment, he wasn’t having it. You tried to argue that it had been his to begin with, that you were the one that moved in with him. It only made sense for you to be the one to move right back out again. But he was adamant—he always was. His argument then had been that he had another place to stay in the meantime until he found something else. It felt like half of his life was at the tower anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to treat it like a long-term stay at a hotel until he found a new apartment.

You were so sick of arguing by then that you just gave in. If he didn’t want to have it, it wasn’t the hill you were preparing to die on. You slapped your signature and initials where the lawyers told you to and just like that, the apartment was yours and Bucky wasn’t.

He did you the courtesy of letting you know when he would be stopping by to move all of his things out. When the day came, he knew that it was no stroke of luck that you happened to be out of town for a few days. The realization stung but he supposed that he couldn’t really blame you for it either.

The first few weeks after he’d moved all of his things out, the apartment felt almost painfully empty. There was a sliver of time during which you were thinking about moving out anyway, Bucky’s final parting gift be damned. It didn’t feel quite like home without him, without Alpine and all of the chaos and mess that came with the two of them.

Eventually you started to fill in the gaps that he’d left behind. New books for the shelves to fill the space where his used to be. Art and trinkets to fill in the empty spaces where his small pockets of clutter used to reside. It was the largest the apartment had ever felt and it was strange to have no one to share it with. Slowly, though, you started to adapt. It slowly started to feel like home.

Redecorating the apartment was one thing. Adjusting to your daily routine without Bucky being part of it was another. It wasn’t as though either of you had been blindsided by the divorce—it’d been coming for some time. Still, even as the distance had grown between you, there were still those tendrils of connection that hadn’t been severed yet. Attachments that only form after years spent with someone day in and day out through all of the things that the two of you had gone through together.

There were times when you were lounging on the couch in the living room and for a moment you’d find yourself wondering when he was going to come home only to realize that he wasn’t going to. Or you’d be heading home after work and you’d almost go to find his name in your phone to call and see if he needed you to pick anything up on your way. Habits you hadn’t even realized formed until you no longer needed them.

Weeks turned into months. New habits formed to replace the old ones that no longer suited you and your life. If you didn’t think too hard about it, you didn’t feel the dull ache that still existed down in your chest. You stayed busy with work, with friends. The times when you thought about reaching out to Bucky, you made every effort to reach out to just about anyone else instead. The last time you’d had any sort of conversation with him was when he moved his things out. And even then, it had been a simple text exchange. Him saying, “All set. Let me know if I missed anything.” Followed by your brief response of, “Will do”. Something short that made you glad he couldn’t see the tears that were welled up in your eyes.

Not reaching out to him was difficult. It was hard not to sit and wonder if he was having just as hard of a time with it as you were, but it wasn’t like you could reach out and ask him about it. The closest you got to any kind of communication with Bucky was the rare text from Steve. He never asked about Bucky or anything having to do with the two of you. He kept it cordial, the way that you’d expect from any acquaintance, you supposed. Because that’s what he was to you now. You got the apartment in the divorce. Bucky got all of his friends. Painful but fair.

You were halfway to falling asleep on the couch when your phone buzzed on top of the coffee table. The groan of annoyance you let out was involuntary, arm still slung across your forehead as you contemplated whether or not you wanted to see what anyone had to say. It wasn’t terribly late—not what you considered emergency late, anyway. But it was still getting close to past the time most people would be reaching out to chat.

Your arm that wasn’t covering your face reached out from underneath your throw blanket. Blindly groping around, your fingertips finally grazed over your phone. You were forcing your eyes to open back up all the way as you carefully held the phone over your face. There had been enough instances of you dropping it directly onto your nose and forehead to dissuade you, but it never stuck.

Skimming the notifications on your screen, at first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you. Maybe you were just exhausted. Or maybe you were stuck in a very realistic if not boring dream. Or nightmare, depending on how you wanted to look at it. There just didn’t seem to be any other reasons that there would be a text message from Bucky waiting to be opened.

It got you to sit upright, at least. The blanket fell from where it’d been pulled up to your shoulders, piling in your lap as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa. There was no universe in which you would leave the message unopened, or delete it without reading it. Even though you knew that about yourself, though, you still sat there for a few seconds and entertained the thought of it.

You typed in the passcode to your phone with the second nature ease you always did, the only difference now was that your heart was in your throat as you waited to see what the message was going to be. It’d been months, and it was late, and you had no idea what you should be expecting from him.

“Feel free to say no but I need a favor” Your heart dropped to your stomach and then another message came through. “Not an emergency”

His messages didn’t leave you feeling like you had anything in the way of answers. If anything, now you just had more questions. “You okay?” Part of you knew that if things had really been bad, he would’ve called. Or he wouldn’t have reached out at all. One of the two.

“Need a place to stay” You couldn’t help the deep sigh that you let out as you read his message. Then, as if he heard you, he sent a follow-up message. “Just one night. Promise”

If you said no, he’d drop the topic. You knew that about him beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d let it go and realistically it would probably be the last time you heard from him. But you also knew that he wouldn’t be reaching out and asking you if he had somewhere else he felt like he could go. He had people he could lean on, places he could be. If he was reaching out to you there must’ve been something going on. It wasn’t your business to ask about anymore, though.

“Still have the address?” It was a lame pass at a joke, but you hoped it would at least convey that he could come over.

“Yeah, think I might have it somewhere. Thank you”

You didn’t reply, didn’t really feel like there was anything else that needed to be said. instead, you looked around your apartment and wondered if there was something that you were supposed to be doing. It felt strange, the idea of him being back in the apartment again. It was his first, sure. And then you shared it. But now it was yours and he was going to be a guest. However long it would take him to get there, you were sure it wasn’t enough time to unpack all of those feelings.

Bucky gripped onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing as he stood outside the door of your apartment. The halls leading to your apartment had been empty, which he should’ve expected with how late it was. He stared at the door, the same dark, mock-wood paneling staring him in the face that had each night for so many years. It felt familiar and strange to be standing in front of it again.

He adjusted his grip on his backpack, a brief distraction so he didn’t have to contemplate knocking or taking out his keys. It was later now than it had been when he first reached out. The amount of time that had passed had nothing to do with how long it took him to get from the tower to your apartment—that hadn’t taken very long at all. What made him so late was the amount of time he’d spent sitting in his car debating whether or not he was actually going to do this. The engine had been off, everything silent, and he just sat there staring at the symbol in the middle of his steering wheel as he weighed out every possible scenario, all of the pros and cons that he could think of.

But now he was here and he almost turned around and walked away again anyway. Before he could completely chicken out, he fished his keys back out of his pocket. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that he still had the apartment key—it was just such a fixture on his keyring by that point. But he didn’t have it in him to bring it back. It wasn’t like he ever used it, or even thought about using it. There was something about it that he just couldn’t throw away.

He had about three seconds of thinking this was the one singular time that his sentimental streak was going to come in handy. But then when he tried to slip the key into the lock, he found that he couldn’t. He double-checked to make sure that he’d gone to the right apartment on the right floor, although he couldn’t imagine messing that up.

Then it hit him. Whether you had asked the landlord to swap out the locks after he left or if the man had done it on his own because he didn’t trust any split to be as cordial as any couple tried to make it out to be, Bucky no longer could let himself in. Pulling in a deep breath, he shoved his keys back into his pocket and reached to knock on the door.

The speed at which you leapt off the couch at the sound to get to the door would’ve been embarrassing if he had been able to see it. Luckily your shame was just for you. Stopping in front of the door, you took a couple breaths as you smoothed out the oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts that you were wearing. Maybe you should’ve thought to change but it was too late now. Besides, it wasn’t anything that Bucky hadn’t seen a million times before.

You undid all the locks. When you had first gone over to Bucky’s apartment you’d thought that he was a little paranoid. You didn’t blame him for it, but it still crossed your mind. After he’d moved out, though, you found that you had no interest in getting rid of the deadbolt or slider-chain that he’d had put onto the door.

His face was all exhaustion and worry until he found himself looking at you. Then the worry lines on his forehead eased a little, his frown didn’t stretch quite so deep. Even so, you could still see the stress on his face and in the way that he was holding himself. You were sure that the current circumstances didn’t help, but whatever had happened that resulted in him reaching out to you was just as much of a culprit.

“Hi,” he finally said when he realized that it’d just been the two of you silently staring at each other.

The sound of his voice was enough to get you to smile despite the knot in your stomach. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his backpack as he did. “Thank you for this. I know I shouldn’t have asked…”

You shook your head as you opened the door and gestured for him to come in. “It’s fine.” Once he was inside you turned around and redid all the locks. You ignored the endearing expression on his face when you faced him again for the sake of your own sanity. “Everything alright?”

He started off nodding but then it dissolved into a shrug as his chin tucked down towards his chest. “Didn’t want to stay at the tower. Everyone’s been at each other’s throats lately so when we got back this afternoon I just…I didn’t want to stay there.”

“Your place far away now?” you asked as you took his backpack from him and set it by the couch. You started to walk towards the kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and follow suit.

“What?” he asked, toeing off his boots before he started to trail behind you.

“Your apartment. Or house. Is it far?” You were still trying to figure out why he had decided to come here of all places.

“Um,” he stumbled on his words as he stayed by the stretch of counter kitty-corner to where you stood at the coffee pot, “n-no. Not…really.” He kicked himself immediately. He was never able to lie very well to you at all, let alone so quickly on his feet. It said plenty about him, about how he felt about you, but there was no time to get into all of that.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Want a cup of coffee to hold onto while you tell me about whatever that means?” You kept your tone light and joking enough, but you knew that years of experience with you meant that Bucky knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of explaining himself.

He let out a small sigh of defeat as he nodded. “Please.”

Neither of you said anything as you made a cup of coffee for each of you. You could see him out of the corner of your eye. Any other circumstance would’ve made it seem strange that he was staring at you so blatantly, but there weren’t very many other things to hold his attention at the moment. Something told you he wasn’t really in the mood to try and count all the things you’d changed after he moved out.

You brought the coffee mugs over to the small table that was tucked off to the side in your kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to do the same, which he did after a moment of hesitation. He pulled his mug closer to him, cupping it between both his hands even though only one could really feel the warmth radiating off of it.

“So?” you asked before taking a sip from your cup.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the drink in front of him. “I’ve been staying at the tower.”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair. “Okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head. He still couldn’t make himself look up. “Since I m—” he tripped on the words, still not accustomed to saying them out loud, “Since I moved out.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky.”

He had no other choice but to look at you now. “I know.”

Gesturing briefly to the apartment, you said, “I told you to just keep th—”

“I know you did,” he cut you off. “I wanted you to have it. Still do.”

“You can’t just stay at the tower forever. It’s basically, like, a glorified frathouse.”

You both had a laugh at that before Bucky’s face sobered up. “I wasn’t planning on staying there. Just,” he took a sip of his coffee, enjoying it more than anything he’d concocted at the tower in the last few months “didn’t get to it.”

“Tony mention starting to charge you rent, then?” you asked, a joking lilt to your tone to hide the ache in your chest.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, a slight upward curl to his lips, but you could tell that he was trying to stuff down some of the same feelings that you were. “I’m sure he will once he figures out how much hot water I use.”

You let a beat pass before saying, “If you need help finding a place, I can—”

“No, no.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice but it wasn’t really directed at you. “Finding a spot isn’t the issue. I can do that.”

“Then why the fuck have you been crashing at the tower this long?”

“I wasn’t ready to get my own place!” he snapped, not meaning to. The answer came out quickly and much more honestly than he intended. He’d wanted to some up with something snarky to evade the discussion, but it was too late and he was too tired. Sitting across the table from you always left him feeling so vulnerable. He tried to ignore the sad frown on your face, the tears welling in your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to start over. Getting my own place? I just…yeah, no.”

“Sorry,” the word came out meek and mumbled. You hadn’t meant to pry open that particular can of worms, especially not on a night that he was just looking for a place to unwind and rest. Maybe it would’ve done the two of you some good to have some form of contact over the last few months, but it was too late to go back and fix that now.

“You still like it here?” he asked.

You could hear the hopefulness in the question. There was only one right answer to the question. Bucky needed to know that the one thing that he could really leave you with was something that had done you some good, something you could still enjoy even if he wasn’t around to enjoy it with you anymore.

You nodded. “I like it. It’s…you know…it’s different now. But I like it.”

He tried not to sound too relieved. “Good.”

Minutes ticked by with nothing but silence between you. Everything that either of you wanted to say, you felt like you couldn’t. every time you glanced over at Bucky, he was already looking at you. His face never really gave away much, but you could still see the sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t help but to think that this wasn’t exactly what he thought he was singing on for when he reached out needing a place to crash for the night.

Like he could read your thoughts, he spoke up. “Figured I’d just take the couch.”

“You sure?” you asked, like you had any real backup plan to offer.

He nodded as he stood up out of his seat. He picked his mug up off the table, and then yours before walking them over to the sink. You watched him as he quickly rinsed them out before setting them down in the sink basin. “It’s fine. I’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning.”

You frowned at that without meaning to. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Like I said—I just needed a break.”

There was no use in trying to turn it into an argument, so you nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

When you came back out to the living room, Bucky had already changed. He was in his usual sleepwear—an told tank top and loose shorts. When the two of you were together, he’d always just foregone the shirt half of the equation, but you assumed that he was trying his best to be courteous.

You offered him the folded-up blanket and the pillow resting on top of it with a weak smile. “Here you go.”

His smile wasn’t much more convincing than yours, but at least you were trying together. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You raked your fingers back over your scalp as you tried to figure out if there was something else you should be saying or doing. “If you need anything else, let me know. Or, you know,” the nervous laugh you let out let him know you were no more certain about this joke than he was going to be, “help yourself. Whatever it is, is probably right where you left it.”

Surprisingly enough you both chuckled quietly. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say or do but it still felt wrong to turn and head off to your room. Your standing there wasn’t doing either of you any good, so you crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

He nodded as he tossed the pillow onto the couch and started to unfold the blanket you’d given him. “Night.”

You took a small step backwards. “If I don’t see you in the morning, good luck. With…you know, everything.”

He gave a small smile as he draped the blanket onto the couch cushions. “Thanks, doll.”

The sharp silence that followed those two words permeated the entire room. Bucky froze, unable to look over at you. You froze, unable to look anywhere but at him. The tension in his muscles came back tenfold as he tried to figure out how to walk himself out of the minefield he’d just stepped into. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before over at you.

“Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how much he meant it. “Force of habit. It’s been a while.”

You wished that you’d felt nothing when he said it, but there was still the flutter in your stomach at the sweetness, the familiarity of the pet name that he hadn’t been around to call you in far too long.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You pulled your arms a little tighter around yourself, like that would stop you from reaching out and doing something stupid that you’d be kicking yourself for later. “I get it.”

He could see the tension in your body, could practically feel the waves of it rolling off you. “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

You laughed, the sound tired but still a little amused at the question. Your arms dropped back to your sides. “Yes. God. Please, it’s fine. Don’t, don’t worry about it. I’d be more upset knowing you were going back to the tower.”

He laughed, muscles in his shoulders loosening. “Okay.”

You reached out, fingertips just barely grazing against his forearm. “Goodnight.”

The touch barely lasted for a second but he could’ve sworn that he felt the warmth from your fingertips spread throughout his whole body in that moment. You were already turned away from him and making your way to the bedroom. Off to be alone in a place the two of you spent so many nights sharing.

His body was moving faster than his brain as he stepped to go after you. He knew as he was doing it that it was a terrible idea from every angle but he couldn’t stop himself. You’d heard his footsteps, and you were turning around to see what he was that he needed. Your pause caused him to have to stop short, hardly a hair’s breadth between you. You were holding your breath in anticipation, waiting for whatever was coming next, Bucky’s eyes desperately searching yours.

He brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm rough but warm against your face. You sunk into his touch the same way one sinks into their bed at home after a long trip away. Your eyes fluttered shut but it didn’t stop the tears from welling and escaping onto your cheeks.

“Bucky…” even at a whisper your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name.

He waited for you to open your eyes, to look at him again. Your eyes were glassy, the tears that weren’t staining your cheeks clinging to your lashes. But you were beautiful. In that moment he couldn’t understand how or when it had all turned into such a mess. It seemed impossible that it had all fallen apart.

He was waiting for you to pull away as he leaned in, but you didn’t. You didn’t backpedal, didn’t try to push him away from you, didn’t ask him to stop or say it was a bad idea, even though he should’ve and it was. His lips caught yours for the first time in…he didn’t want to think about how long. When you kissed him back it felt like it erased all the months of distance and silence between you. Your hands rested on his chest and suddenly the mess disappeared.

Even when you came back up for air, your lips were still practically touching. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head. “Bucky.”

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, knowing where this was going. “Don’t.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. “But—”

“Please.” He brought his other hand up so that they were both cupping your face. It’d been a long time since the chill of the metal made you flinch. It still felt familiar, welcoming despite the circumstances. “Please.”

Another half-hearted protest was on the tip of your tongue but he kissed you again before you could get it out. It made your knees weak, the amount of desire that he was able to pack into one gesture, a gesture that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“I know,” he said with a tiny nod. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You knew that you were going to give in from the start, but at least now you could lie to yourself if you had to—you could tell yourself that you at least tried to put up a little bit of a fight. Satisfied with that, you nodded as you leaned in and kissed him.

Relief coursed through him as he wrapped his arms around you. With no hesitation he turned and started to walk you back towards the couch, not taking his lips off yours as he did. His hands slipped up underneath the fabric of your shirt dragging and mapping out your skin like he was trying to feel for anything that had changed since he last had you like this. Your hands slid up his chest and neck, briefly running over the stubble that was coming in along his jaw, before they wound themselves into his hair. He leaned into you, deepening your kiss further at the sensation of your nails carding through his hair and raking along the top of his head.

He pulled out of the kiss, only doing so long enough to get your shirt off, and to allow you to do the same to him. They landed haphazardly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. They no sooner hit the floor and Bucky had you lying flat on your back on the couch. Not even a second passed before he was on top of you, settled over you and in between your legs like he was always meant to be there. He kissed you with conviction as his hands ran over your stomach and chest. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation, missing the way that it felt when he touched you like this.

You felt the smooth metal of his Vibranium hand cupping the side of your face while his other hand trailed teasingly down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt the whine building in the base of your throat before he even reached your core. The way you felt him smile into your kiss let you know that he knew it, too. You missed him too much and wanted him too badly to care about that.

The second you felt his fingers give a teasing graze over your center, you were bucking into his touch. You felt the shaky breath he took in, like there was still some part of him that was trying to exercise some self-control. It was too late for that now as far as you were concerned. He dragged his fingers along your folds, feeling how wet you already were for him. The thought of you still wanting him so badly had him pulling his lips off of yours so that he could litter your neck and chest in love-bites and marks that would be there long after this was over.

You arched into his touch, the feeling of his teeth along your skin. His hand that had been cupping your face now had a firm grip on your jaw, keeping your chin angled in a way that gave him the most access to the sensitive skin of your neck. You didn’t fight it, helpless to do anything but whine and pant, hands tugging at his hair so that you could feel the vibrations of his moans along the column of your throat.

If things had been different, you could’ve spent hours doing just this—just the touching and teasing. The game and the chase of it all. But the invisible clock that hung over the two of you was ticking, and reality was going to set back in sooner than you wanted. You wanted him one more time in earnest before you lost him again.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

Then he was over you, looking down into your eyes. His expression was half-arousal, half-worry, like he thought this was going to be the moment when the other shoe dropped, when you decided that this was too bad of an idea to continue.

You pulled lightly down on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Your words, the desperation in your voice, it nearly rendered Bucky a puddle on the floor. He couldn’t conjure up a single word to say, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he quickly pulled your shorts down your legs and tossed them off to the side. He felt the way you were pushing down on the waistband of his and the breathy laugh he let out only lasted for a moment before he realized you got them halfway down his thighs. You were too needy to wait any longer, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you.

Bucky lined himself up at your entrance, sliding in as you wound your legs tighter around him. Your lips crashed against his in a bruising kiss as you reveled in the sensation of him pushing into you. Your moaned and gasped into his mouth at the return of the familiar sensation, your nails clawing at his back because you had to get it out of you somehow.

He left a trail of kisses along your jaw up to your ear. His voice was low as he egged you on, coaxing more out of you as he started to thrust into you. He missed this, the way you felt, the way you sounded. He missed your moans and the way you said his name, the way you asked for more, harder, don’t stop, like he was a man who would ever tell you no. He missed telling you how good you feel, like you were made for him. He missed telling you how pretty you look when he’s fucking you.

He missed everything else, too, but for now this was what he could have. And he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

Your legs were trembling around his waist and he knew that you were close. He wasn’t far behind you. He didn’t stand a chance from the start. Then your teeth sunk into the skin where his neck met his shoulder and the last of his resolve went out the window. His thrusts became harder, faster. His face was buried in the crook of your neck when you came, and he etched the way you cried out his name into his memory.

Even in your blissful daze, you could still feel that he was getting close. You felt the way his hips began to tense and stutter. You could also feel the way that has was trying to pull out. You were a pliant mess beneath him but you still had enough strength in you to grip onto his hips and pull him towards you.

He shook his head. “I—”

“Please,” you begged, words slurred with lust, “Jus’ wanna feel you again.”

The neediness in your tone and the pout of your lips did him in. He spilled into you, continuing to thrust until after he was spent. He collapsed on top of you, still buried inside you as he rested his head on your chest. Your heart was thumping at a rabbit’s pace against his cheek, and all he had it in him to do was close his eyes and soak it in.

Neither of you said anything as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid his arms underneath you, hands on your back as he kept himself pulled tight to you. You had one hand flat on Bucky’s back between his shoulder blades, the other toying idly with the messy locks of hair that you could reach.

This would usually be the time when one of you started the, “You okay?” conversation, but it felt like there was too much to unpack for that question now. Instead, Bucky tilted his head and looked up at you, giving a slight raise to his eyebrows. You got the hint giving a tiny nod to let him know that, given the circumstances of it all, right now you were fine if he was fine.

He relaxed then, letting his head drop back to your chest again. You settled back into the pillow that you’d originally brought out for him to use. Eventually, when you caught your breath, you’d head back to your own bedroom. But for now, there was comfort in the cramped quarters of the couch.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the light coming through your living room windows. You let out a tiny groan, wiping at your eyes as you tried to register your surroundings. You were on the couch, blanket draped over you. Alone. And that’s when the night before rushed back over you all at once.

Sitting up, you looked around the apartment. Your clothes were folded and left neatly on the coffee table, but Bucky’s were nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the kitchen, you saw the two coffee mugs from the night before washed and left to dry in the drainboard. Then you looked down at the floor beside you and noticed that Bucky’s backpack was gone. Just like him.

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

MCU Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @beardburnsupersoldiers @blackhawkfanatic

[aloesarchives]

JJK Headcanon: Megumi cockblocks Toji/Megumi "Menace" Fushiguro/ Toji having beef with his 15 yr old son

Warning: Swearing, Female reader, Mentions of sexual activities but not explicit, ooc on Megumi’s part, Toji being Toji

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader(romantic), Megumi x Mom!reader(parental/platonic)

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader is referred to as mom, mama, and mother by Toji and Megumi)

Word Count: 2.2K

(A/N: This is based on my one-shot I did and I wanted to expand on it because I just felt the need to. This headcanon went off the rails and is in different directions. Let me know if I missed any warnings!)

[Edited and Proofread! on 12/9/23 8:05pm. Forgive the strange format, Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit the post so I had to do it on the original doc and paste the edited version.]

Please enjoy!

So Megumi cock blocking Toji started out unintentionally and by accident. But as he got older, he did it more to annoy his dad and get on his nerves.

I will die on this hill but Megumi is a Mama's boy. Though it goes unsaid(by him at least), everyone knows it. Toji knows it, Gojo knows it, his classmates and friends know it, and everyone at Jujutsu High knows it. Hell, his own shadows know it.

Obviously you know it but you don’t want to embarrass your son. But it does fill you with love and contentment to know your son loves you dearly.

But that’s the problem, he LOVES you. Loves you more than Toji. Well, Megumi loves Toji as a dad and father. It’s just as he gets older, especially as a teenager, he often butts heads with Toji and gets fairly annoyed by his presence. All Toji has to do is breathe in Megumi’s direction and your son groans, rolls his eyes, and leaves.

When Megumi was younger, he was attached to you. You were always carrying him inside the house, when you were cooking, and even when folding the laundry. He didn’t like being far from you. All you had to do was be within 6 feet of your son or where he can see you and he will be fine.

So when Toji holds Megumi because you need to get or do something where you can’t bring your son, Megumi is all fussy and cranky. He doesn’t cry often but he is just all over Toji. Pulling at his hair, shirt, and cheek. Toji has been mostly successful with Megumi when putting him down for a nap, feeding or bathing him but sometimes it’s a struggle.

When you do it for Megumi, he is all cooperative and easy to handle. Toji clicks his tongue when he sees it happen and looks at Megumi as your son nuzzles into your shoulder. “I see how it is Megumi. All nice and easy for Mama but not for me.”

After successfully putting Megumi to bed, Toji gets frisky as wants some alone time with you. Since Megumi was born, your son has taken up most of your time. Leaving your poor husband with a lack of attention and affection. You want to make it up to him for lost time so you let him have his way with you.

However, just before Toji could go down on you and make you see stars, you hear Megumi’s crying. So out of instinct, you grab one of Toji’s shirts and make your way to comfort your son. Half the time, the mood gets instantly lost and Toji gets sexually frustrated. He was so close to boning you and your son just has to stop him from doing so. 

Toji gets blue balls so many times during Megumi’s youth, it’s a straight-up crime to him.

There are times when Toji doesn’t care if Megumi starts to cry in his bed. He read somewhere that babies just cry for no reason so at times let them cry it out. When he reads that, he’s not letting you out of his grasp when his son is crying in his crib. You feel the urge to comfort him but when Toji makes you wait a couple minutes and start to hear Megumi’s cries grow quieter, then they stop. That gives you two the green light to each other to yourselves.

75% Toji would have success with you but there was the other 25% he didn’t.

When Megumi was a toddler, he mostly would knock on your door in the dead of night either because he had a nightmare or wanted to sleep with you two. Luckily, this happens after your “nightly session” with Toji.

But Megumi would ask Toji to help him with stuff or pop up out of nowhere when wanted to have a piece of you. Toji hugging your front and cups your body while you cook? Megumi is by the kitchen table asking what are you making for dinner. Toji cages you against the wall as you put away the laundry? Megumi pops his head out of his room and asks Toji if he saw his dog plushie that was on his bed. 

But Megumi’s clinginess to you is genetic because Toji is the exact same to you. Way before Megumi was on the drawing board, Toji was either all over you or near you. No in between, it was one or the other.

You felt bad because it feels like your son and your husband are fighting for your attention. You know Megumi’s a child, who needs more guidance and help, but you know your husband has needs too. 

But as Megumi goes to school, it was easier for you two to have some alone time. Mostly easier for Toji to be inside of you.

But as Megumi gets the hang of summoning his shadows, it’s all over for Toji. This happens when he’s older as Megumi sometimes lets his dogs out and roam around the house. Like their user, the dogs and shadows love you too. One time, they saw Toji being too close to you and thought he was harassing you. So the dogs ran and pounced on Toji. One of them caught Toji’s wrists in their mouth and started pulling him away from you. Obviously, you called Megumi over to stop his dogs or to call them back. He does so but not without giving Toji a smirk, he definitely may or may not put his dogs up to it just to fuck around with his dad.

For the timely and observant boy he is, Megumi really is just popping in at the wrong times. He didn’t mean to do that to you, he’s well aware of how much you love Toji, both body and soul. He just doesn’t like how Toji isn’t quick and sleek with his intentions with you. Sure, it was Toji’s house and he can do whatever he wants in it. But Megumi also lives here too, so Toji should be more cautious and considerate of his son. Because everyone knows that they would rather bury themselves than see their parents try to give them another sibling.

Though Megumi now dorms at Jujutsu High because of missions, he does come home on weekends and breaks. But it varies from time to time, he would mostly tell you in advance when he would come home or visit. But he sometimes forgets and just drops by unannounced.  

Thus, that’s how scenarios like this occur. 

He will come home, sometimes knocking/ringing the doorbell but mostly lets himself in, then he walks inside, takes off his shoes, and goes to the living room. His heart slightly beats faster as he awaits the inevitable. It’s like a coin toss, 50/50 chance he’ll be safe or not. He relaxes when he doesn't stumble upon another eye bleaching but when he encounters the other 50%. He cringes inside so hard, he just blames Toji. Nah, he never blames you.

Yes, he’s well aware of men and women having… carnal desires… But you were never shameless about it in public or out in the open. He doesn’t know when it’s just Toji and you. But frankly, he DOES NOT WANT to know or find out. So he believes his father is just a dog in heat almost every time there is an OUNCE of spare time with you.

He either coughs, grunts or speaks to make his presence known. 99% of the time when this happens you are the one to push yourself away from Toji and try to make the situation less awkward for your son. It always ends up embarrassing you in the end.

Toji, in his head, lowkey wants to smack his son to another dimension. Way too salty in his mind.

‘Brat, let me have a moment with your mother, it’s not that hard.’ ‘IDGAF if you're my son, I’ll smack and give hands to my own son if you keep doing this.’

Like father like son, Megumi is doing the same thing in his head.

‘That’s a skill issue’ ‘This is an issue, not an iss-me’ ‘You fell off, what happened? Cause you’re too old?’ ‘Fucking cope, Old Man’.

Because of this, Toji literally has beef with his 15-year-old son. 

Should he be pressed about someone younger than him? No! Does he care? Also No. If this man can beef and fight Gojo Satoru and LIVE to see another day, he can have beef with anyone. 

Even if it’s his own son.

You should be a good parent and spouse and try to dissipate the fact your husband and son have an unspoken feud with each other. But you can’t help but watch everything unfold when they interact sometimes because it’s just funny and you get a kick out of it. 

Just to clarify, it’s never a shouting match or an actual argument. It’s more of petty insults, backhanded compliments, or brutal honesty minus the honesty. It’s like being a spectator at an event. You were watching for entertainment and you were getting your money’s worth. When you would come by Jujutsu High, you would talk about Megumi and Toji’s “interactions”. Saying something along the lines of “They don’t see eye to eye.”

One day, Toji and you decided to pay a visit to the campus because Principal Yagi needed to ask you about something in person. Since it was only you, Toji just wandered the halls and the school’s grounds, waiting for you to be done. As the odds were in his favor as he stumbled upon Megumi and his group doing some training. Toji just pops in and starts talking to Megumi. He acknowledged Yuuji and Nobara but he didn’t spare a glance at Gojo. In fact, he straight up looked at Gojo, gave a look of disgust, and continued talking to Megumi whilst ignoring him.

It didn’t take for some banter to rise between father and son, while no loud voices or malice was felt or seen. This was probably the few times Yuuji and Nobara had seen Megumi get heated, but this was the first time they saw Megumi beefing with his dad.

After a few minutes, Megumi summoned his shadows and Toji decided to change into his fighting stances. Yuuji thinks this is a bad idea but Gojo just smiles, saying that seeing them spar was a “learning experience”. Plus it would be good for Yuuji to watch Toji because Toji was a physical fighter considering his Heavenly Restriction. Though Yuuji has some curse energy, he must box it out with his opponents so he considered and the three watched the two fight it out. 

Megumi forgot his old man was an actual threat to the Jujutsu Society because Toji was straight up dodging Megumi’s shadows, their attacks, and even Megumi's own physical attacks. Though Toji wanted to have a little fun, he had to hold back so he wouldn't destroy/kill any of Megumi’s shadows. If he did, you would definitely find out and he would be a dead man for sure.

Anyway, it was so fast-paced that only Gojo was keeping up with the action. He was smiling but he had a shiver up his spine as he remembered that Megumi’s dad was the very reason for his enlightenment and Hollow Purple ability. It was obvious that Megumi wasn’t going to win but he wasn’t one to admit defeat. Then like a blur, Toji charged at Megumi from above and when he landed he created a decently large cater with Megumi at the center. Megumi’s shadows disappear since he is low on curse energy and is completely exhausted.

Both men were heaving and sweating like crazy. Yet out of nowhere, they suddenly hear your voice, LOUD and DESTRESS. You ran over to the two, eyes widening as the carter became bigger the closer you got. You see your son lying on the floor and help him up. You tried dusting off some of the dirt on him while looking concerned. You snapped your head towards Toji, whose smirk disappeared and then returned back again. You began to reprimand him for what he had done. Fighting his own son and damaging the training grounds, like wtf man.

You weren’t really raising your voice or yelling at him. But the firmness and seriousness in your tone about the small sparring session was enough to make someone straighten their posture and use very respective language towards you. There were moments where you tugged at Toji’s ear, pulled at his shirt so he was looking straight at you, or held his forearm tightly while you expressed your disappointment and concerns to him.

Ngl, Toji was a bit bricked up when you were all serious and angry at him. He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch if it meant he got to see this side of yours more often. 

Megumi reassures you that he is not physically hurt but his pride is wounded. You told him that if his dad pulled this again, to not engage with it and back off for his own safety. Megumi, because of his agitated mood, felt a bit offended that you didn’t believe your own son could hold his own. Let alone, go toe to toe with his own father.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Why don’t you trust me in fights even though I can handle myself.”

“Megumi, sweetheart, it’s not like that at all. I know you are a strong, smart, and capable person. You are my son, after all.”

“Then why don’t you want me to fight with dad?”

“Oh Megumi, honey. You have no idea the strength and capabilities of your father. You do realize, my dear, your dad was holding back a lot when he was sparring with you.”

Megumi looks shocked at his Pops, who winks at him, before turning his attention back to you.

“Wait, what? Just how strong is he, Mom?”

You didn’t give him a full answer.

All you said was, “Ask your teacher, Megumi.”

Megumi and his two classmates look at their teacher to see what you were talking about all the while Gojo was sweating bullets. That’s a story for another day, now you are dragging your husband home and telling your son to call you if anything changes.

So Toji and Megumi have eternal beef with each other. Though it’s more of annoyance and for shits and giggles really. Toji really does love his son and Megumi loves and respects his dad a lot.

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Thank you for reading and hope you have an amazing day with your favorite drink!

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 

That gets you to zip your lips. 

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 

You nod instead of answering. 

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.” 

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 

You understand. It sits under your skin too. 

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) Spending a day off with your S.O.

Aaron Hotchner

Ok. So. First of all... Aaron's casual wardrobe is sinful and I feel like I need to mention it when talking about days off. After all, he's not going to turn down the excuse not to wear a shirt and tie, knowing jeans and his usual polo shirts are better suited to both relaxing and possibly chasing after Jack.

If you two ever got a rare day off then he would do his best to make you breakfast in bed, knowing that having an excuse to stay in bed is a luxury.

If Jack is with you, and not at Jessica's, then you know Jack would be right next to him in the kitchen, begging to help. I mean, if you watch Bluey, picture the episode where Bingo is trying to make that omelette for Bandit on his birthday... that's basically the vibe here.

Hotch wouldn’t try to force you out of the house if you didn’t want to go, as he’s perfectly happy to stay in and play with you and Jack. After all, you have the most recent lego set, which you bought him for his birthday, to finish building.

"You up for that buddy? Six hands are better than four, after all."

Or, if you don't have the energy or patience, then you three can curl up on the sofa together and watch movies and the backlog of tv shows you’ve missed out on whilst you’ve been away working. 

Fun Fact: Aaron would rather die than admit to the rest of the BAU that you got him hooked on reality shows like The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills or Below Deck -but he is. He finds them fascinating case studies in human behaviour... or that's his excuse anyway when you call him out on it.

However, if you do want to actually leave the house and get outside then he’d be pretty relaxed about whatever it is you wanted to do, as long as you could all do it together. 

He'd also love it if you both got the chance to go for a run, enjoying the rare opportunity to race you through the nearby park. You can just soak in the sunshine and watch the other people as they make their way through the world, before grabbing a coffee on your way home.  

David Rossi 

Rossi is a man who knows the value of creature comforts, as we've seen repeatedly in the show. You know this man enjoys having time off to indulge himself - and you too.

As soon as he knows he has the day off, you can bet he's driving you to the local farmer's market to buy all the ingredients needed for a home cooked feast. 

Despite promising to be there only an hour, you know he's the kind of person who would talk to each and every vendor, learning all their names and asking after their families as if they've been friends since birth.

You'd end up spending almost the entire morning - and part of the afternoon - shopping, sampling various treats and wares, and buying several bag's worth, before you're finally able to drag him back to the car.

As he's cooking, Rossi would definitely play his favourite records. He alternates between crooning along and telling you tidbits about the artists - and the many crazy memories he has about these records.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I first heard this? We were in this tiny little motel, in the middle of a horrific blizzard, and several whiskeys in..."

It's hard not to get distracted, drawn in as he pulls you close and starts dancing about the kitchen. You'd get so distracted that you almost let dinner spoil and only remember it's even there when you start to smell something burning.

"Ah! Merda!"

After dinner you know you'd end up outside on his patio, enjoying the view as the sun goes down, over a cocktail of his choosing.

Derek Morgan

You know this eager beaver would not be spending a day off with you doing nothing or letting the day ‘go to waste’.

He’d be at your doorstep bright and early, looking unfairly energetic for someone who has been running on minimal sleep all week.

Thankfully, he brings coffee and breakfast with him which is his way of bribing you to get your ass up and out with him. 

As for the day itself, he’d either have the day planned to a ’t’ or he’d have nothing planned at all. 

“Relax, sweetness, we’re letting the day take us where it may. Enjoy the ride.” 

He'd love having a reason to take you to whatever property he's renovating, hoping to share his vision for the place and getting your opinion on it all.

He'd even let you have a swing or two with a sledgehammer if there's a dry-wall that needs taking down. It's a great stress-reliever for you both, and there's nothing like hammering along in the time to beat of whatever playlist he's chosen.

He'd also order you a pizza, or whatever take-out you fancied, as payment for all your hard work.

You know he'd also been keen to help you wash up later, running you both a hot bath to soak in as you actually have the time to enjoy it.

And just between us - he knows Hotch and Rossi would have his guts his they found out - but he may or may not have left your cellphones on the bed-side table just to ensure you get an hour of peace, undisturbed...

Emily Prentiss

Ok. So. Emily loves having a day off almost as much as she enjoys working.

She doesn't require much in the way of plans. In fact, her ideal day off from the BAU involves you, a crossword puzzle, and your usual table by the window at the coffee shop around the corner.

It's right by the window, so you can bathe in the sun whilst you nurse your way through coffee after coffee.

The whole place reminds her of one similar that she spent her time in, in Paris. Just like then, she loves reading books, and completing the daily crossword with your help.

"Damn it. This is what time in Europe gets you - I forgot there's no 'u' in color. No wonder it wasn't fitting."

Emily also has a game she likes to play, watching the people around you, guessing what their stories are and imaging outlandish profiles for them all. It's a privilege to enjoy it when it's for entertainment and not out of a need to be aware of your surroundings or an ongoing threat assessment. 

Afterwards, you'd go for a stroll around the park and most likely visit the shops you rarely get a chance to.

You both spend ages going through the racks and modelling outfits for one another, knowing you need some new things to fill out your wardrobes other than work-attire. It's a like private treat for yourselves.

Once you're home again, I feel Emily would want to cook and would do a pretty good job when she has the energy. However, she is not above ordering takeout when you both can’t be bothered. 

After all, it gives you both more time together to lie in bed, with Sergio curled up between you, purring loudly as you take it in turns to pet him.

JJ

Depending on when you two got together (before or after Will), she would love to have a chance for the both of you to spend the day with Henry.

You're her family and the most important thing in the world to her. It's why she can't stop beaming as you spend the afternoon at the park together, running rings around the place and clambering all over the playground.

"I swear this kid is faster than most of the Unsubs we chase - and more sneaky too."

JJ would bring all your favourite snacks with her so you can all lie out on the grass and feast once your energy levels drop. She doesn't even mention the sugar content or how many E-numbers there are. You all deserve a treat, Henry included, so she's willing to put her 'mom hat' aside for a minute.

I feel like she'd also try and put her mom hat aside so you two can have some time without a child in tow. She'd try and make a last minute arrangement to get a sitter so you two can have some 'adult' time.

This normally involves making a reservation at your favourite restaurant, and insisting on you both dressing fancy just for the fun of it.

After all, you never get to play at being grown ups and just enjoy wearing something because it looks nice and not because you can run around in the field in it.

"I've had these heels for years and I swear I've only got to wear them like three times - and this skirt! I love this skirt."

Once you get to the restaurant, you spend hours just talking, drinking, and eating before taking a stroll on the way home.

You then curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of the TV playing your favourite movies, safe and warm in each other's arms.

Penelope Garcia 

This girl is the queen of relaxing. If she doesn’t have to be awake before noon then you can bet your ass she’ll be tucked up and toasty till 12:01. 

Once she's awake, however, she's a flustered mess, struggling to pick between her various plans for your time off together. There's just so much she wants to do with you and never enough time.

"What? I'm the queen of fun and I just want to make sure we make the most of our time together, sugar plum. I can't help it. I'm excited to have a day just you and me, not that I don't love the others too. I do, but you know, just having it be us is rare -"

You stop her rambling with a kiss, which of course makes her melt.

I feel like Penelope would always try and spend part of the day with you in the kitchen, baking a new recipe to take to work for the others to try.

She'd also love spending the day on the sofa with you, watching either a Rom-com or a Sci-fi marathon (depending on your moods).

Once the decision has been made, she'd insist on gathering supplies - AKA: onesies, takeout and face masks.

"It's the holy trinity of self-care," she explains, holding up your choices. "Now, do you want the tea-tree or coconut face mask?"

However, if you do feel like getting out of the house, then Penelope would take you on theatre trips - which are booked last minute but with amazing seats (courtesy of Penelope’s connections and slightly unorthodox know-how).

The others are still jealous after finding out she got you tickets to Hamilton, front row, with the original cast.

Dr Spencer Reid

You know Spencer is the kind of person that has a list of things the size of his arm that he’d love to do with you on a rare day off. 

You’d probably have to negotiate with him to figure out which ones you could reasonably do in just 24 hours - and you try to find a balance between appeasing his interests and yours. 

For example, you don’t mind sitting through a Russian movie festival if afterwards he agrees to let you wander around your favourite bookshop and spend as long as you want exploring the shelves - without him critiquing or spoiling the endings before you even have a chance to read the blurb. 

If you also happened to let it slip that you'd never watched every single episode of Doctor Who that's ever been made, then you know your future days off will be spent marathoning on the couch. 

"I'm just saying that he's underrated as the Doctor as arguably the narratives of his episodes are far better developed and reflect the point of the show, which is that the Doctor isn't perfect but rather a time-travelling refugee who acts as a healer, counsellor, and protector of the universe. It's why he calls himself 'The Doctor' ..."

He always looks so adorable when he gets excited about something he loves. It's hard not to fall in love with him all over again.

Apart from watching TV, you both also love spending days off on that couch, curled up together, reading your way through the stack of books you both had in your never ending ‘TBR’ pile. 

Spencer would love listening to you discuss whatever you're reading, doing his best to memorise the characters, plots, and your thoughts on both. It's the least he can do when you listen so patiently every time he starts rambling on about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is.

"Can I... can I borrow that when you're finished? I'm now curious - just don't tell the others, ok?"

Masterlist

[beomiracles]

HI SERENE!! i’ve been reading your works for months now and ive never sent in a request before but im on my period rn and im so so horny 😭 i was just scrolling on tumblr and i had this thought of beomgyu being a panty stealer. like beomgyu being your roommate would steal your underwear and masturbate and cum on then and when you finally piece everything together he fucks your brains out repeatedly all over your guys’ apartment and then would steal your underwear each time adding to his collection. and the thing is he’d probably buy you more just so he could steal them again lol

i can’t wait until next week when this torture ends 😭

⌞ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ⌝

DREAM RECALL it was no secret that your roommate was behind your panties going missing. You had just never expected to be so turned on by the whole ordeal.

wc -> 2.6k

pairings non-idol!beomgyu x afab!reader warnings big time perv!beomgyu, beomgyu steals readers panties, reader kinda watches him get off for a moment, oral (f. rec), face sitting, cum eating, hm think that's it !

#serene adds ✎... you guys are so freaky...I love it ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ I live for the perv!beomgyu agenda, and I will die on this hill. Praying your period will go away quickly because that shit sucks </3 this is not proofread I'm super tired heh

You don’t know when it started.. Actually it might have been around a month ago. It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable, but as time went on you started realizing that your underwear pile would shrink with each wash. In the beginning it was only the simple ones, the ones that didn’t stick out, the ones he thought he could get away with. It was almost endearing, how slick he thought he was being.

But last week is when the theft made your eyebrows raise. Your roommate had snatched your most expensive piece of lingerie, not to mention, your favorite. Honestly you didn’t know if you should consider him brave or stupid, but as you watched him try and act normal with you during dinner, you settled on the latter. 

Perhaps it should’ve creeped you out, your roommate that you’d known for less than six months, stealing your panties doing god knows what with them. But it didn’t. In fact you would be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on, just a little. And though you had never actually seen or heard him, you could only guess what he used them for. Your mind easily conjured images of him, sprawled on his bed with your used underwear hovering above his face, inhaling your scent as he fucked himself dumb on his hand. 

Choi Beomgyu and you had quickly become good friends after getting an apartment together not far from campus. You often helped one another with your studies and walked to class hand in hand almost every morning. — It was an acquaintance that had sparked out of pure convenience, fortunately blooming into a great friendship, but now it was slowly distorting into something far more intimate as Beomgyu seemed unable to keep his perverted antics at bay. You often went out with friends, leaving him to roam the apartment, which he did, your room seemingly his main target. And this night was no different. 

It’s well past midnight and in your tipsy state, you struggle to jiggle the keys into the lock. Finally stumbling inside the small hallway, you shut the door behind you, albeit somewhat louder than you’d aimed for. You tiptoe through the dark living room, almost hitting your leg on the dresses between the two doors leading to your bedrooms. With a hushed curse you reach for the door handle only to realize that you wouldn’t have to. Because your door was already open. 

That was weird, you always made sure to close it. With the nudge of your foot, it glides further open, revealing your dark and empty room. Thinking no less of the unusual occurrence, you strip yourself off your clothes as you get ready for bed. But then there it is again, another anomaly. — You could have sworn that you made your bed in the morning, yet the sheets were rustled, your pillow moved, almost as if someone had slept in here. And upon touching the flimsy blanket, you find that it’s still warm. 

Odd. Your room smelled an awful lot like Beomgyu. 

⋮

You thought that perhaps he might come clean, confess his perverted behavior or even his underlying feelings. But he never did. Another week passed and by now you were starting to run low on underwear. — You decided that if he wasn’t going to out himself, then you would simply have to catch him in the act. Easy enough, right? 

Your fingers graze across the smooth silk of the many pieces presented before you. Reds, pinks, even some blues, you thought long and hard about what to get; even asking a worker to colormatch you. In the end you decided on a white lace set, it was accompanied by a few pink bows. It was perfect. — You felt pretty in it, very pretty. And as you twirl in front of your mirror, your stomach tingles in anticipation. 

Beomgyu wasn’t very smart, at least not when it came to you. It was easy to trick him into believing that you’d be gone for the evening. What wasn’t so easy was squeezing yourself into the tight space of your closet. Crammed between heaps of clothing and a few boxes you had yet to unpack, it was uncomfortable to say the least. However, the sound of your bedroom door creaking open not even fifteen minutes after you heard the front door shut, made it all worth it. 

He’s quiet, funnily enough, you wondered why, it wasn’t like there was supposed to be anyone home. Yet he silently shuts the door behind him, carefully walking over to your dresser as he slides his fingers across the painted wood. — The small crack the closet allowed made for a narrow view but you could clearly make out the way he rummaged through your top drawer, seemingly familiar with where you kept your panties. “What a freak”, you thought, yet your heartbeat picked up as you watched him find a pair he liked, bringing the fabric to his nose as his eyes fluttered closed. 

You watch as he throws a glance toward your bed, the duvet neatly folded, just like you always left it. Then he makes his way over and your jaw slacks as you realize just what was going on. As if the scent of your panties wasn’t enough, he lets his head fall to the side as he inhales the fragrance of your pillow. Sprawled on top of your mattress, the sheets rustle beneath him as he shifts slightly. 

Your eyes remain glued to his figure, unable to tear them away as his hand slides down his chest, dipping beneath his sweats as he slowly strokes his cock. You knew that your roommate was up to some perverted shit when he thought you didn't know, but actually seeing it happen, and in your room, on your bed, it made everything so very real. — He traps his bottom lip between his teeth, emitting a soft groan as his thigh twitches. His free hand has your panties captured in a tight grip as he keeps them to his nose, inhaling your scent with each breath. 

Too caught up in the way Beomgyu was touching himself before your very eyes, you almost forget that you were supposed to catch him. Blinking, you give yourself a small mental slap for getting so distracted. He was a sick freak, that’s right, and you were about to confront him. With one final deep breath, you push the closet door open. It makes a creaking noise but he doesn’t seem to hear it. Too lost in his own pleasure, his head thrown back as his hand worked up and down his cock. 

“I washed those sheets yesterday.” 

The small comment echoes out through your room like that of a church bell and Beomgyu immediately freezes as his head jerks up. The hand down his pants quickly withdraws as he clumsily tries to hide your panties behind his back, pressing himself against the headboard to get as far away from you as possible. His prominent Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and you find your gaze lingering on the small movement as you bite your lip. 

“I thought you were… you”, he trails off, biting the inside of his cheek as his face flares up in all shades of red, beyond embarrassed over the situation in which you’d caught him in. You shake your head, biting back the grin threatening to spread across your lips. — “I wasn’t, it wasn’t.. I mean I didn’t..” He blabbers, trying to come up with excuses and lies to cover his evident crime. 

“I know you’ve been stealing my panties.” You shrug, feigning indifference as your eyes drop to the hand behind his back. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, “why didn’t you just tell me?” — You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I mean, isn’t the real deal better?” 

He frowns, sitting up straighter as he tries clearing his throat. “The real deal..?” He mumbles, though his words soon fall short as his gaze drops to the way you hike your skirt above your stomach, revealing the new lace set you had bought solely for this occasion. — Beomgyu lets out a strangled noise from somewhere in the back of his throat, squirming on the mattress as his eyes glue to the way your panties hug your figure. 

“What the fuck”, is all he says, his sentence coming out as a short breath, his gaze momentarily flitting back up to yours before drifting down again. You quickly realized that your plan didn’t exactly go further than this and that now you had absolutely no clue of what to do. Had it been a bad idea? Should you have just confronted him about it like a normal person? But his next words make all your doubts vanish. 

“Come here”, his voice is hoarse as he beckons you over. Your feet move on their own, and soon you find yourself crawling over the soft mattress in order to reach Beomgyu. You think that he might say something, anything to ease the tension between the two of you. — Instead he presses his lips against yours, albeit hesitantly, but it’s still a kiss, and an urgent one at that. The second he feels you respond against him, he pulls you closer, tongue pushing inside your mouth in a matter of seconds. 

His hands roam your skimpily dressed figure, bunching your skirt up high above your waist as his fingers twiddle the fabric of your lingerie. Resisting the urge to grind yourself onto his thigh, your legs rub together as you try to alleviate the ache building in your core. It was almost as if he could read your mind as he pulled back, his lips trailing along your jaw in a sloppy manner, his hair tickling your face as he went. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” 

You stilled at his blunt request, fingers halting on his shoulders as you swallowed. “S-Sit on your face?” You wondered if perhaps you had misinterpreted his words but Beomgyu quickly nods, pulling back as his tongue darts out to glide across his already glistening lips. “I…o-okay”, you meekly agree. 

That was how you found yourself hovering above him, gripping the headboard tightly as you bit the inside of your cheek. Beomgyu’s hands slid along your thighs, his hungry gaze unwavering as he eyed your drenched cunt, arousal seeping through the far too thin fabric of your new panties. — “Sit down, please”, he whispers, the hands on your thighs tugging you toward his face and you slowly comply. 

His mouth is warm against your clothed core as he practically kisses it. Teeth grazing across the wet material before he pulls it into his mouth. You hear him groan and for a moment you think you might be too heavy but he only urges you closer, his sharp nose prodding against your covered clit and you whine as your fingers on the headboard turn white. 

“You smell so good”, he grunts as he pushes your lingerie to the side, inhaling your now very prominent scent once more. His comment should not have made you throb the way you did, and you let out a small noise of surprise as his tongue drags across your folds, pushing between them to prod at your clenching hole. — It wasn’t like you hadn’t been eaten out before, but the way Beomgyu sighs against your cunt as he savors each droplet of your wetness feels new and foreign. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs with so much force that it might’ve hurt had it not been for his eager mouth that latched on to your clit. The squelching sound of him pushing his tongue as far inside of you as he possibly could fills your ears, it feels dirty, but at the same time you never think you’d felt more empowered. You glance down to where his face lay buried between your legs, his brows knitting together as he focuses completely on making you feel good, a sheen layer of sweat forming on his forehead. 

One of your trembling hands leaves the headboard as you reach down to gently brush a strand of hair from his eyes. The very same eyes that flicker up to meet your own as you do. Your mouth falls open at the recognition in his gaze and you feel yourself throb around his tongue as you fight to stay composed. — “You’re so pretty”, his words are muffled against your cunt, the movement of his lips making you squirm on top of him. 

His hands move from your thighs to rest on the curve of your ass, rubbing the flesh there before squeezing it softly as he tugs you closer. “Beomgyu I-I’m” your sentences come out jagged and interrupted by the breathless moans being pulled from your throat but Beomgyu seems to catch on, his tongue shifting to flick at your throbbing clit. — “Need to taste you”, he groans, his lips against yours moving with far more urgency than just seconds prior. 

When your orgasm hit it felt as if you were floating, your body weighed nothing but the world was also on your shoulders all at once. Beomgyu’s face almost became one with your cunt as he lapped up every single droplet of your high, letting you coat both his nose and chin in slick as he moaned against your core. 

Once your thighs finally stopped trembling did you try and move off of him, only to be stopped by his hands still firmly gripping your ass. “Wait”, he breathes, leaning to press a few feathery kisses to your inner thighs as his fingers hooked around the lining of your panties, slowly tugging them down. — He helps you strip out of the flimsy garment as he lays you down flat on your back. 

The white lace gripped tightly in his fist, he raises it to his nose as he inhales your scent all over again. “Fucking hell”, he mumbles gaze flitting between your used lingerie and your wide eyes as you peer up at him. “Mind if I keep these?” He asks, letting the piece of clothing dangle in front of your face with a small smirk. Quickly nodding, you gasp as you feel the tip of his cock rub against your already sensitive cunt. 

“One more?” He pouts before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. 

⋮

You lost count of how many times Beomgyu brought you to an orgasm that night, and the night after that, and the one after that. The days almost blended together as you spent the majority of them wrapped in his warm embrace. It didn’t matter where or when, the kitchen, the shower, on the couch, his bed, your bed… And Beomgyu would always make sure to get something out of each occurrence. 

“Open it”, he motions toward the small box currently placed on your lap. Your fingers pull at the small ribbon holding it together before carefully lifting the lid. Unable to hide the small huff of disbelief as your eyes fall on the piece of silk inside. — “Really?” You ask as you bring the dark red panties up. But Beomgyu only smirks as he leans closer, one of his hands sliding along your thigh. 

“Yeah, why not? You’re gonna look so fucking sexy in it.” — You raise a questioning brow as you snatch the lingerie from his reaching hand, “you bought this for yourself, didn’t you?” He only shrugs, a sly smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Can you blame me?”

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[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:16」 — s.changbin

» stray kids menu | changbin menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werebear!Changbin × fem!Reader wc: 4.1k summary: Changbin just wanted to have a nice camping trip with his girlfriend but she has other ideas. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: fishing, cleaning said fish, camping, storms, food & alcohol consumption; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: so this one is a follow up to last years (which I just posted and I’m sorry about that lol) but werebear!Changbin lives rent free in my head. I love the concept but tbh any werecreature concept for Changbin is so good and I will die on this hill. Thank you for reading! The next one is a Seventeen one with a certain maknae. So please look forward to that! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), outdoor sex (it's fucking in tents lol i'll see myself out), strength kink, oral (m receiving, f receiving), deepthroating, fingering (f receiving), protected sex (do this. Use protection like them), use of pet names (hers: baby, babe, etc.; his: babe, Binnie, bear, etc.), soft dom!Changbin, switch!Reader, that should be all but let me know if I missed something! kinks: Outdoor sex + strength kink dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my- ❜❜

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This wasn’t exactly how he envisioned his camping trip with his girlfriend going but Changbin wasn’t complaining, not when you looked so pretty on top of him, taking his cock like it was made for you and you alone.

The trip had started out innocent enough, driving to the national park where Changbin often went camping on his own. This was the first time he was taking you with him and he had been beyond ecstatic to show you around his stomping ground.

Your initial worry of running into something dangerous dissipated quickly when Changbin reminded you that it wasn’t the wolves, or the bears, or the big cats that were the scariest thing in the forest. It was him.

Not long after the fateful night you gave yourselves to each other, Changbin told you the truth. He was plagued with a curse that often left him irritable, standoffish, and withdrawn once a month: he was a werebear. It came as a shock and at first, you tried to play it off but the more he explained, the more everything started to make sense.

His terrible mood swings that always seemed to happen once a month, and always around the full moon. His unexplainable illness that also accompanied his irritability. The inexplicable display of strength he showed that night and ever since. It wasn’t until your first full moon with him that you truly understood.

He’d taken you with him, ensuring you would be safe as he locked himself in a shed, hidden deep within the woods, deeper than you thought anyone would normally venture and well off the beaten path. He’d shown you the truth and while the thought of it terrified you, there was an undeniable attraction to the raw show of strength he exhibited when he nearly tore the bars from the windows of his makeshift cell.

Since then, you’d been by his side, thankful he chose to share that side of him with you so that you would not only know what you were getting yourself into but also because it meant he trusted you with his secret. Your relationship with Changbin blossomed naturally, albeit not in the order most relationships did but you wouldn’t change anything about it.

After being together for nearly two years, he finally decided he was sick of having his own space and wanted to find a place you could share together. You offered to let him move into your apartment and as much as he liked your place and the memories it held, he wanted to find a new place for you to make yours, together.

It had taken nearly 6 months to find a place that met your criteria but once you were both on the same page, you found a cute two bedroom top floor apartment not far from your current building. It was another historic building in the quiet part of town, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. The move was easy when you had a boyfriend who despite his smaller stature could very easily lift boxes that would make any ordinary man buckle under the weight.

The furniture was easy as well. Your couch was moved in the middle of the night so no one would see Changbin singlehandedly carrying it up the stairs of the new building. Your bed, being bigger than Changbin’s and much more comfortable, was carried in the same way: under the cover of night.

Whatever didn’t fit in the new apartment was put in a storage unit until you could sell it, which Changbin graciously offered to pay for. The new apartment was bigger than both of your old ones but still cozy and comfortable.

The dark hardwood floors contrasted well with the lighter tone walls. The kitchen faced the small balcony with floor to ceiling windows that separated the two. Vaulted ceilings made the space feel much bigger and Changbin enjoyed living on the top floor with no one above him.

The other nice thing about this building was the walls were thick which meant you didn’t have to be quiet during your more vigorous activities, a quirk Changbin took full advantage of as he made sure to break in every new surface of the kitchen by either bending you over it or laying you back on top of it.

Only after being settled into the new apartment, did Changbin ask you to go camping with him. Fall was settling in, a distinct chill in the air as the leaves of the few trees in the city started to turn. Browns, oranges, yellows, and even reds decorated the branches before the leaves inevitably fell to the ground to be swept away by some street cleaner if the wind didn’t get to them first.

You were beyond excited to go camping with Changbin. You hadn’t been since you were quite young and the prospect of being alone in the woods with your boyfriend posed many new experiences for the both of you. The thought of sharing a tent in the middle of the forest with a campfire, so far from anyone, sounded equal parts spooky and romantic.

Changbin had most of the essential camping gear packed away in the storage unit and once retrieved and all things accounted for, there were only a few items you still needed to get. A trip to the closest outdoor good store fulfilled the rest of the items needed and after requesting time off from work, you were on your way out of the city to spend a week in the woods with your werebear boyfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

Despite how smooth things went from leaving to arriving at the forest, your trip seemed to be plagued by some dark cloud as not even ten minutes into your hike, you tripped over a downed log and fell, scraping your hands and knees. Changbin was ready with the first aid kit, cleaning and disinfecting the wounds before patching you up.

He kept a much more watchful eye on you from then on, making sure to help you over anything he deemed remotely dangerous. He jokingly offered to carry you, pack and all, if you kept tripping over things. You briefly thought about taking him up on his offer when you slipped over a moss covered rock but ultimately decided to just be more careful and cautious.

The first stop of your trip ended with you camping several yards from a river that wound through the entire forest. Changbin initially was going to set up right beside it but after noticing the sky, he decided higher ground was a smarter move. When you asked him about it, he said it was his intuition.

That night, you were eternally grateful for the extra blankets and even portable heater he brought, not that his body wasn’t a portable heater in of itself. The temperatures plummeted down near freezing as a massive thunderstorm blew in. Changbin’s intuition was right on the money. The torrential downpour made the river swell to twice the size it had been the day before and due to his smart decision making, you were safe from the roaring river that raged just a few yards from your tent.

Changbin made sure you were kept snug and warm, using the portable heater while he was awake before using his body warmth to keep you from freezing. It did the trick and once you got warm initially, you never got cold again throughout the night.

The next morning looked like the scene out of a disaster movie. Branches littered the shore of the river which had reduced in size almost back down to what it had been before. There were even some litter like old tires and even a torn up tent that had washed downriver. The last one had Changbin concerned and after leaving for a brief hike, he discovered an old abandoned camping site which he surmised the tent had come from.

Though you were ready to pack up and move on, Changbin assured you that the second night wouldn’t be as rough. You instead kept camp by the river, going for a hike with Changbin, following the river as it got faster and faster until the forest opened up and the river gave way to a fantastic cascade that plummeted down the side of a massive cliff at least thirty feet.

At the bottom was a deep pool where the water collected before continuing on into the river and snaking through the trees before disappearing out of sight. You wanted to climb down and check it out but Changbin promised next time, he would plan a course that included this spot.

After your hike, you returned to camp and Changbin surprised you by pulling out a couple of fishing rods. You’d never been fishing as you always thought it was kind of boring and the idea of skewering a worm on the end of a hook had your skin crawling.

Thankfully your boyfriend took over, hooking the bait before showing you how to cast. It wasn’t exciting by any means, waiting for the fish to bite but once you did hook a fish, you were so ecstatic, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Changbin had to take over, reeling it in for you until the fish finally flopped out of the water and danced for a moment on the end of your line.

It was a trout, he told you. The first one of the day and you caught it. After the initial shock and excitement wore off, you were ready to go again but you still refused to bait your own hook, something Changbin didn’t mind doing at all.

After several hours, you managed to catch quite a few fish. Changbin showed you how to gut and clean the fish, tossing the insides back into the water where he told you it’s actually beneficial to the ecosystem. Other creatures feed on the entrails like crawdads and other fish. It’s better to toss them in the water than leave them on the banks.

Dinner that night was the fish Changbin cleaned and fileted with some veggies and a few mushrooms he found on your hike. After dinner, you relaxed by the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided while drinking a beer from the pack brought on the trip. 

The next morning, you helped pack up and continued on past the river and further into the forest. The next stop was right at the edge of a clearing down the mountain from where you had stayed. Changbin was certain this was a good place to camp, taking note of the tall grass that looked wholly untouched by the rains from the other night. 

He found a nice flat spot in the shade of the trees to set up the tent as well as an old fire pit ringed in rocks. While he tried to set up the tent, you kept distracting him. You weren’t sure what it was about how he looked that morning when you woke up but you couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself. The extra attention you gave him made him blush but he couldn’t complain with all the additional kisses and lingering touches. He liked it.

After he finally got the tent set up, he entered to unfurl the mats to place under the sleeping bags. You followed him, helping him with the pillows until you couldn’t take it anymore and needed to have your hands on him. Changbin couldn’t help but chuckle as your hands wandered, feeling up his bicep as he flexed, pulling the sleeping bags from their stuff sacks one by one.

“I’m trying to set up our tent,” he said softly, grabbing one of your hands and kissing the back of it. “You’re distracting me,” he added, chuckling as your hands moved, sliding over his chest as you moved behind him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck. “What's gotten into you?” he asked as he laid out the sleeping bags over the mats. 

Instead of answering him, you placed light kisses along his neck, enjoying the way he paused, tilting his head to give you more access. “Seriously,” he sighed as one of your hands slid down his stomach to palm over his semi-hard cock. “What's going on?” he asked.

You nipped at the skin below the shell of his ear, hand massaging against him harder and making him groan as he paused, eyes fluttering shut. “Can’t even wait for me to finish?” he murmured, moving his hand over yours as he lightly bucked into your touch.

“Let me finish this and then I’m all yours,” he murmured, pulling your hand back as much as he didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than for you to have your hands all over him but he also wanted to make sure the tent was set up fully.

You whined, pouting at him as you moved your hand back, making him chuckle. His breath caught as your hand slipped into his pants, darting under the waistband of his underwear to firmly grasp his hot cock in your warm hand. “Fuck,” he groaned as you started to stroke him. “Baby, what has gotten into you?” he asked again as you started to stroke him faster.

“Am I distracting you?” you whispered in his ear as his hips chased your movements, bucking against your hand. “Why don’t you keep going?” you added, nipping at his earlobe. “I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my – hng!” he groaned as your hand squeezed him a little harder.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it steady as he rutted into your touch. “F-fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep doing that.” At his words, you pulled your hand from his pants, ignoring the glare he gave you until you pushed him back against the sleeping bags and grabbed the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down past his hips and quickly taking hold of his cock again.

Changbin let out a gasp, head falling back as your hand moved up and down his shaft before taking the tip into your mouth, your tongue warm and went against his skin. He let out a guttural moan as your head sank down, taking as much of his thick cock onto your mouth as you could, teeth lightly scraping against the skin.

His hands moved to the back of your head, pushing you down more. “Holy shit, babe,” he gasped as you took more and more of him in, relaxing your jaw and pushing until his cockhead was nestled against the back of your throat.

Letting out a shaky breath, Changbin raised his head slightly, taking in the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth. He groaned as he felt your swallow against the tip of his cock, aching for it to be buried in your throat. As if you read his mind, you forced your head down, the head of his cock pushing into your throat and he choked out a moan, hips bucking slightly as he held your head down.

Your lungs begged for air but you waited, saliva starting to spill from your mouth and drip down the small part of his cock that didn’t fit into your mouth. “Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you swallowed around him, feeling his cock throb and twitch against your tongue. “M’gonna cum,” he breathed out, fingers tightening their grip on your hair as he thrusted once more, thick ropes of cum shooting out of him and painting your throat.

You wait until the last of it finished spurting from him before you pulled back, his cock slipping from your throat and mouth and air finally invading your lungs as you inhaled deeply. You look at your boyfriend, watching as his chest rose and fell, head lying back against the sleeping bag. His eyes fluttered open taking in your triumphant expression. “Fuck that was so hot,” he groaned as you pulled his pants up over his now flaccid cock.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now,” he said as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “But I like it,” he said with a crooked grin. You wiped your lips on your sleeve, giving him another smile. You started to pull away but he grabbed your wrist. “Let me return the favor,” he croaked. You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you replied, voice slightly hoarse. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he replied, gently pulling you to take his place, lying down where he’d just been laying moments before. He quickly peered outside the tent, grabbing your packs and bringing them inside to set against the side of the wall. He zipped up the tent entrance and turned to you, moving to grab your leggings and pull them down, slipping your boots off at the same time.

He made quick work of your panties, pulling them off before settling down on his stomach, face level with your pussy. He licked his lips, spreading your folds before giving you a slow lick from your entrance to your clit, his tongue flat against you. He let out a groan as his tongue swirled around your clit, the vibrations making you gasp as your back lightly arched off the ground.

“Binnie,” you breathed out, fingers combing through his curls as he lapped greedily at your cunt, savoring the taste as he moved his hands, holding your hips in place. He groaned against your skin as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your thighs squeezed his head slightly as he suckled on the sensitive nub. “B-Binnie,” you moaned, your free hand moving over his on your hip.

You pulled his hand up, guiding it under your sweatshirt to your chest. Taking the silent plea, Changbin pushed your sweatshirt up, groping your breast as he continued to suck and tease your clit with his tongue. His hand slipped under your bra, palm hot against your skin as he kneaded.

Without breaking contact with your pussy, he moved his hand, squeezing under your back to undo your bra clasp with expert precision before pushing the cups up to expose your tits. Both of his hands cupped your chest as he kept his mouth trained on your pussy. You placed a hand over his as he kneaded your tits, lightly raking your nails against his scalp with your other hand.

You felt his teeth graze your clit and your hips rolled up into his face, grinding against him. He let you, holding his tongue flat against your clit as you continued to buck your hips, riding his face as your orgasm drew closer and closer. Changbin moved his hands down, sliding them under your ass as he focused all his attention on your clit, letting you grind against his tongue.

You moaned loudly, a firm grip on his hair while your other hand fondled your chest, pinching one of your nipples as you came, moaning a chant of your boyfriend’s name and a slew of curses as he helped you ride out your high. Changbin lapped up every drop of your release, his cock painfully hard against the sleeping bag. 

You gasped as you came down from your climax, Changbin wiping his mouth with his shirt as he crawled over you, kissing up your stomach and chest, stopping to run his tongue over your nipple before he enveloped it with his mouth, suckling softly. He pulled back, letting it fall from his mouth before he took you in a sear kiss, tongue invading your mouth quickly.

You felt his cloth covered cock, hard again, against your crotch. “Binnie, baby,” you whined, rolling your hips up to meet his. “I need you.” He chuckled against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. “Is my baby impatient?” he asked softly, his hands pulling your sweatshirt up over your head and pulling your loose bra off, leaving you completely nude under him.

“Yes,” you breathed as his hands cupped your chest, squeezing the supple flesh and moving to roll your nipples between his fingers. “Needs me to fuck her immediately?” he whispered, kissing along your collarbone to your shoulder. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up his back as you begged him with soft pleas. Changbin obliged, sitting up to pull his shirt off.

“Binnie,” you whined, hands moving to his waistband and tugging to pull him closer. “Please, bear,” you moaned as he grinded his hard cock against your soaking cunt, wetting his sweats. “Please baby, please.” His cock twitched in his pants and he moved to grab his pack, unzipping one of the inner pockets where he kept the condoms.

He pulled one out, setting the bag back against the wall of the tent. You watched him with wide eyes as he pushed his pants and underwear down in one go, shimmying out of them with the tip of the condom wrapper in his teeth. You licked your lips, eyes drinking in his naked body hungrily as he tore open the packet and carefully rolled the latex down his length.

He didn’t need to ask if you were ready, his fingers moving to your entrance and pushing two into you with ease. He still wanted to make sure you were properly stretched before he even attempted to fill you with his thick cock. Your hips moved against his hand as he fit a third into you, pumping steadily in and out of your walls. Your back arched, moaning wantonly as he curled his fingers against your inner walls. “Binnie,” you whimpered, grabbing at his arms and tugging him.

“Please fuck me,” you breathed. “I need you, baby.”

Changbin withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock and pushing the head into you with a sigh. You let out a content moan as he slowly slid into you, stretching your cunt as you accommodated his girth. Once he was full inside you, he started a slow, steady pace, holding your hips in place as he rutted into you.

“Feels so good,” you gasped. “Feels so f-full.”

A groan escaped Changbin as he fucked into you more roughly, hands spreading your thighs as he held you down. Your hands grabbed at him, pulling him closer as your walls sucked him in over and over. Taking the silent plea, he repositioned, putting your legs over his shoulders as he leaned over, folding your body in half as he thrust down into you roughly.

He learned quickly that this was your favorite position. You had called it the mating press and told him you loved how it made you feel like you were at his mercy. You always complimented his strength in and out of the bedroom and it always made him feel a surge of pride.

“How’s that?” he grunted, pinning you down as he rocked into you, cock filling your cunt with each harsh thrust. “S’good. Fuck, baby!” you cursed, brows knitted together in pleasure. “So strong, Binnie. Love it when you pin me down.” A deep growl emanated from Changbin’s chest as his pace increased, slamming into you roughly, the sound of skin against skin filling the tent.

You cried out as his cock hit the spot deep in you that had your toes curling. “Fuck, right there, baby,” you gasped as Changbin continued to hit the same spot. “Right there?” he asked in a low tone, holding back a moan as you clenched around him. “Right there!” you moaned. “Fuck, yes, keep doing that!”

Changbin slammed into you harsher as your walls clamped down on his cock, an orgasm ripping through you unexpectedly as you came, coating his cock in your release as you writhed in pleasure, screaming his name repeatedly.

Changbin fucked you through your orgasm before he carefully let your legs fall back down. He stilled, kissing your face as you came down slowly. “Think you can ride me for a bit, baby?” he whispered in between kisses. You nodded eagerly, sitting up as he slipped out of you, taking your spot on his back as you hurriedly climbed over him.

He let out a chuckle at your eagerness, groaning as you lined the tip of his cock with your pussy and sank down on him, a moan escaping both of you as your walls welcomed him back in. You gave him only a second to adjust before you started moving, bouncing on his cock and making him groan, hands grabbing your hips as he helped you move.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned. “Slow down or I’m gonna cum.” You placed your hands on his chest as you rode him harder, faster with a smirk on your lips.

“That’s the idea.”

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[hedwig221b]

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

Stiles knew the moment it happened that something was terribly wrong. It was the middle of the night when he was woken up by a scorching hot fire, running up his entire body. It took him a full minute of panicked breathing to realize it wasn’t a nightmare, but the pain of his mate he felt through their bond. It stopped rather abruptly, but that did little to calm him.

He didn’t feel Derek. On the other end of the bond, blessedly still existing, there was no usual warmth and steady presence. There was nothing but agonizing emptiness.

Stiles knew, he felt that it was wrong to let Derek pick up their son from Beacon Hills alone. Eli whined all week that he missed his grandpa and Derek, who couldn’t for his life say ‘no’ to their son, volunteered to drive him over for a mini-vacation.

Stiles should have listened to his gut, tell his boss to fuck off and go with them.

It took one wave of a shaking hand to open the portal. He didn’t care about the magic exhaustion. He wanted his husband.

To say that BH residents were shocked to see the empty space in front of them tearing apart in a strobe of lightning…

“I couldn’t do anything,” Scott shook his head, looking up at him remorsefully. Stiles learnt long ago not to believe him.

“Papa!”

Eli.

Stiles raced to his son, who was sitting on the cold ground, reaching with both of his hands towards him. His entire face was red and wet from tears, though his eyes shined beautiful gold.

“Oh, pup,” he murmured, taking Eli into his arms. The boy put his forehead on his shoulder and sniffed silent tears. It was obvious he was in too much of a shock to tell anything — Eli clutched at his father’s back, digging into the skin with the claws, but Stiles paid them no mind.

As Stiles shushed his pup, scratching the back of his head, he looked up at Scott with murder in his eyes.

“Where is he?”

“Nogitsune,” Stiles’ father rasped. He looked almost as awful as his grandson.

“He sacrificed himself,” Scott interrupted him, clenching his jaw. “For the greater good. For the pa—“

Stiles shut him up with a growl he learnt from his husband.

“We have our own pack!”

“He helped kill the nogitsune,” Scott insisted, stepping closer, but then immediately flinching backwards at Stiles’ glare. “He died as a hero.”

Eli’s anxious and terrified breathing grew heavier.

“Shh,” Stiles muttered in his messy hair. “He didn’t die, pup, it’s alright.”

He didn’t know what the fuck happened that brought the fucking thing back, but apparently it had something to do with Derek’s disappearance.

Oh, he would never allow them to take another step in this forsaken place anymore.

“Nogitsune can’t be killed,” he grit out, taking Eli’s hands from him and standing up. “Dad, look after him. Take him to your house, make a mountain ash circle — he’s not in control yet.”

“Stiles…”

“Our bond is alive,” Stiles shouted, making everyone shut up again. “I don’t see a body, and I bet you didn’t scream, either,” he thrust an accusatory finger at the banshee, who just looked away in shame. “If I’m not back in an hour, call Kira.”

---

“Papa?”

“Yes, pup?”

Eli stomped in one place near the bedroom door, glancing nervously at Stiles. He was afraid to look at his dad’s scarred face.

“Is he gonna live?”

Stiles looked up from his husband’s burnt red skin on his torso, but didn’t stop moving his glowing golden-white hands in an intricate pattern of healing magic. Derek already looked better than fifteen minutes ago. By the morning, Derek wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain and all his scars will be gone.

“Of course,” he smiled tiredly. “You know dad’s a tough cookie.”

Eli shuffled towards the bed and fell on his knees in front of it, putting his chin on the bed. He leaned on his side, putting half of his weight on Stiles’ legs. His big eyes didn’t leave his dad’s still body.

Stiles wanted to hug his little boy so much, but it will have to wait. For now he just nudged Eli with his toes, making him look up at him.

“I’m proud of you, Eli,” he said quietly. Eli squeezed his eyes shut and put his temple against Stiles’ knee, breathing harshly. “You shifted. That’s amazing.”

“Lot of good it did,” Eli muttered. “If I was faster…”

“Nuh-uh, the guilt wagon is stopping right now,” Stiles shook his head. “Dad wouldn’t have risked taking you with him back to that inside-out place. None of this is your fault, kiddo.”

Eli sniffed.

Suddenly, Derek grunted something under his breath. All attention instantly zeroed on the wolf, both his mate and his son waiting with bated breath for another sign of consciousness. One of Derek’s hands, lying closest to the edge, moved bit by bit, until it reached Stiles’ knee.

Eli sniffed once again, then carefully took his dad’s hand, mindful of still healing burns, and put it on Stiles’ knee, then laid his head on top. Clever pup, letting his Alpha know his pack was here.

“Eli,” Derek breathed out, his eyelids fluttering.

“Shh,” Stiles shushed immediately, lightly caressing his cheek with his glowing hand. “He’s alright.”

“Stiles.”

“I’m here, love. You’re safe.”

Derek relaxed once again, falling into much needed sleep.

“See,” Stiles said with a relieved smile, looking down at Eli, who finally had some hope in his puppy eyes and a wobbly smile on his lips. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

ao3

[gotskamstuff]

“Why didn’t JJ say I love you back?”

I’m sorry, did you all miss the way his eyes softened right away while stepping into her personal space and going in for a kiss, never breaking the eye contact and then staying attached to her when she pulled away and immediately touching his forehead to Kie’s???????

THAT WAS HIS “GOD, I LOVE YOU TOO”

Personally I loved Jiara in S4 so far, I think it’s perfectly balanced in a way you would expect a couple that’s been best friends for all their lives to be.

They absolutely had their sweet moments of vulnerability when they were alone and I’m sure part 2 is gonna have even more of those with all the things JJ is going through, but I found them to be exactly like I expected.

I don’t think JJ and Kie would ever be the type of couple to hold hands, say sweet things, call each other sweet names and declare their love in front of their friends, I found it to be very on point for their characters. I actually would have found it weird the other way around and for them to be clingy, it’s so not who they are.

They’re both free spirited people who value independence and freedom so much, it’s very clear in the way they have been dating for a year and a half and lightheartedly said “have we even been on a real date?” without any real weight to it that they’re both very much living their love freely and happy to live their relationship without any hurry or pressure.

Also I appreciate the fact that we still see JJ have those little moments of surprise in front of an “I love you” and be more prone to show love rather then declare it, I’m glad they didn’t make all his insecurities go away in the snap of a finger like “oh well, a year of relationship cured all his issues and he’s a new man” ‘cause NO, it wouldn’t be realistic and I’m glad they make it clear that his traumas are still something he needs to heal from and it’s happening slowly, little by little.

And yes he’s vocal and physical about his affection with his friends, but friendships and romantic relationships are two very different things and what he has going on with Kiara not only is requiring a different level of vulnerability and commitment but it’s also something new to him. You can keep a certain distance and be casual about showing affection with friends but with your lover is different, it’s literally wearing your heart on your sleeve and there’s no escaping or closing down allowed.

Last season JJ was literally running away from Kiara not accepting a single grain of her love for all the fears he had and dealing with them all alone exploding…now he’s receiving her love, showing her his affection, voicing his fear of almost losing her, taking in her request for romance and acting on hit (their date) and standing up for her when she needs support, THIS IS ALREADY SUCH A HUGE DEVELOPMENT FOR HIS CHARACTER.

I think they did an amazing job at showing JJ’s growth into accepting their love and allowing himself to live it freely but still having those traumas that he’s slowly healing from and sometimes still get to him and at the same time for Kiara to be there for him and being proud of the man he’s becoming and the progress he’s making, but still being patient and understanding, pushing him when he needs that little push and accepting the boundaries when it still gets a bit taken aback by it.

I’M GONNA DIE ON THIS JIARA HILL AND GLADLY SO!!!

[firsttimewriter92]

Schilling for your thoughts Part 1

König x f!reader

Summary: You meet a peculiar man at your favourite bookstore and after talking to him a little bit, you wonder if you´ll ever see him again

Part 2 here Part 3 here

Word count: 2.538

Warnings: bit awkward, lots of fluff, German speaking, light cursing, pining König, military talk

Authors note: Yes, I am one of those who believe that König is a ginger, freckled, mighty sweetheart. (I was trying to find this amazing fanart I saw of him that basically started this fic, but I can´t find it again!! I´m sad; It´s so good) Only slightly awkward but he knows how to let someone know he´s interessted. He´ll only unleash the beast on the battlefield, that´s it. I will die on this hill!! Social anxiety, yes. But he´s not completely incapable of interacting with a person<3

Happily you skipped through the door of your favourite little bookstore. Bell chiming over your head, you saw the owners head appear from underneath the counter, instantly smiling at you.

“I just put them on the shelve,” she winked at you. “Shelve 12, row 10.” Rushing by her you squealed a thank you in her direction and hurried into the back of the store. You had been waiting for this book for ages. When you found out your favourite author was releasing a new book after almost 6 years of abstinence, you immediately let Lucy the owner know. This morning she called you excitedly, telling you the book finally arrived.

You made your way over to the back of the store. It was packed with ceiling high shelves, little tables and armchairs scattered across the room, most of them in front of the three large windows. You loved spending your time in this controlled area of chaotic furniture choices, colours and smells of coffee, old and new books and slightly dusty air.

Usually you favoured this establishment not just because of the atmosphere and Lucy´s motherly warm nature but also because most of the time, it was pleasantly empty and quiet. Quiet it was this time as well but you couldn´t help but notice the man sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the windows. A huge volume in his hands, his face almost buried in it. Something about the way he was sitting seemed odd to you. Not being able to put your finger on what it was exactly you shrugged mentally and made a beeline towards shelve 12.

Grumbling a little you remembered the row number Lucy gave you. 10. Great, you thought. You didn´t have to hide them that well so I could be the first one to get a copy, Lucy. Craning your neck you looked for the bright red and silver book back you knew your newest little treasure would have. There! You grinned and hopped a little as you whipped your head around the room, looking for the step ladder you knew Lucy kept here somewhere. Not being able to find it immediately your impatience took over. With a little grunt you began pushing one of the armchairs towards the shelve. “Damn it, Lucy. Why do you have such an obsession with antient furniture?” You cursed quietly under your breath. “So heavy!”

“You need help with that, Miss?” A quiet voice asked behind you. You whipped around and saw that the man you noticed before had lowered the picture book and was looking at you curiously and maybe a little amused. You weren´t that short but it was undeniable that you wouldn’t be able to reach your object of desire unless you managed to move the heavy chair. Grinning a bit flustered you stopped pushing the piece of furniture and sheepishly you answered. “If you wouldn´t mind. This chair is really heavy. I don´t know where Lucy put the ladder and without it, these books up there are out of reach.”

The man’s eyes twinkled for a second as his gaze fluttered upwards towards the last row. “Not necessarily” he said with a friendly, tight lipped smile. The next moment you found out why you thought his sitting looked so odd in the plush chair. He bent his knees to get up and they definitely rose above the angle of his hips. You tried not to stare, really, you did, as the man rose, rose and rose higher and higher until a massive body unfolded from the chair, standing, stretching for a second and then slumping in on itself almost comically. His shoulders hunched and head slightly bent downwards he made his way over to you, observing your reaction with a careful glance. You understood why immediately. 6´10. That was your best guess. With a warm feeling in your belly you noticed that he was trying to make himself smaller.

Don’t comment on his height, don’t comment on his height, you thought and tried to school your features. He´s probably heard it all!  He seemed to appreciate your silence and little smile.

As he stood next to you, you noticed that your head didn´t even reach shoulder. He was looking at the books at the highest point and you got the chance to observe him a little closer. His hair was a fascinating colour. A rich auburn glow leaning heavily towards red. He had tied it into a low bun at the base of his neck. Little whisps of it escaping and curling against his temple and forehead. Fascinated you saw that his eyebrows and even his long lashes were the same shade. They framed slightly droopy eyes the colour of…Blue? Green? You couldn’t really tell from your angle. His nose was long and slightly curved, accentuating a full upper lip and a strong, stubbled jaw. He had an almost regal look to him. That was if he didn’t stand there slouching.

You hadn’t realized while appreciating his features that he had slightly turned his face towards you. Smiling shily he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for one of the comments he was definitely used to. When he realized you weren´t going to comment his smile stretched into a boyish grin you just had to reciprocate. Doing that you quickly noticed two more things about him. His canines stood out sharper than you had ever seen on a person, giving him a bit of a wolfish look that for some reason made you heart stutter in your chest. The other thing was a faint white scar reaching from his plump upper lip up to his nostril. You recognised the scar of an early on fixed cleft lip and knew that they tended to pull the lip slightly upward on one side. In his case though, especially when he grinned like that it wasn’t that noticeable. It gave him character.

He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and snapped you out of your little stupor. Catching his eyes you saw how an adorable dust of pink covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears, making the scattering of freckles around his nose even more enticing. Stop. Staring. At. Him.

He nodded his head towards the books and reached out one of his surprisingly bulgy arms. A long finger tapped the back of a black and grey one. Looking down at you questioningly and not saying a word he quirked an eyebrow. Biting your tongue and smiling mischievously you shook your head. He nodded and studied the books again, his finger gliding over the spines of them. Halting again at a brown, faux leather bound massive copy, he again gave you a quick questioning look. This time however with a playful smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. Liking his little game more and more you crossed your hands behind your back and began to lean back and forth on your heels, again shaking your head. He hummed and huffed in mock annoyance making you honest to god, giggle. You weren’t the giggling type! What the hell was going on?!

You had already realised that he wasn’t a man of many words so you played along for another two attempts of his until he finally tapped on the spine of your desired book (he damn well knew which one you wanted from the start). You nodded excitedly and he chuckled deep in his throat awakening goosebumps all over your arms as a result. He pulled the book out and slowly handed it to you. You took it in your hands carefully and full of awe, eyes sparkling as you brushed your fingers over the name of your favourite story teller. “Thank you very much” you breathed and gave him a brilliant smile. Again the tips of his ears went bright red but his voice was strong when he said “No worries. Happy to help you.” Only now you noticed the slight accent. Interesting, you thought.

Pressing the book happily to your chest you looked up into his face. “I see you like medieval blacksmithing” you said and pointed to the huge book that he left on one of the tables. He stood a little more erect and nodded his head quickly. “Yes” he said excitedly as you both walked over to the pair of soft chairs. “It´s so fascinating. Hardly believable what they accomplished without modern technology. Beautiful craftsmanship too. Look here”, he opened the book and pointed at the depiction of a beautiful Viking sword. His enthusiasm warmed your body and something in your chest began to pull yourself towards him. Without realising it, you both had sat down next to each other, the huge volume in the middle. Turning page after page, he showed you many more fascinating facts and pictures, all the while talking animatedly.

It seemed like you had to revoke your statement from before. He was a talker. Once he was comfortable.

Time seemed to stand still. From time to time you glanced at him as he spoke softly about different types of iron compositions. Although his height was intimidating, he was far from that. At least here with you. You guessed he was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. When he showed you a particular picture he moved the book closer, leaning over the arm of the chair closer to you.

He smelled divine. Musky, yet sweet. Earthy and somehow crisp. A serene scene developed behind your eyes. An early spring morning, wet with dew clinging to sweet smelling crocuses. Only the heavy fog wafting over the ground an indication that winter was still holding on. And while you looked at his profile your skin erupted in pleasant chills as you imagined the first clear rays of sunshine breaking through said fog, illuminating the delicate process of nature’s awakening.

It was like his presence and voice opened the floodgates of your own imagination. You felt yourself becoming helplessly attracted to him. The pull in your chest becoming stronger by the minute.

Suddenly you weren’t looking at his profile anymore. He had turned his head, looking into your eyes. Silence spread between you. A comfortable one. Enamoured you tried to figure out the colour of his eyes. Blue, you noticed. With a hint of green. Seafoam. Or maybe not? Jade green with a dusting of light blue. Maybe that was it. You found it impossible to look away. And so did he. His gaze was on you. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your eyes again. They looked curious and gentle.

None of you realised how much you had leaned into each other. With your noses almost touching, a blaring alarm suddenly made both of you jump back into your seats, hearts hammering wildly. Almost panicked he fished through the pockets of his jeans until he pulled out his phone.

His eyes went comically wide and in a flurry of powerful limbs he clambered upright. “Oh verdammt, verdammt” (damn)he cursed as he pulled a worn leather jacket over his broad shoulders. Your heart fluttering when you recognized the words. “I´m so sorry. I´m terribly late. I have to go.” You felt your stomach drop in a weird way. Walking towards the front door he gave you an almost pained look full of hesitation. You stood there almost as helpless, not wanting him to leave.

“Wie ist dein Name?” (What´s your name?) you asked a little hesitant. His jaw went slack and he gave you a look of surprise and pure adoration before showing you his lovable canines again in a grin and answered. “Du kannst König zu mir sagen, Maus.” (You can call me König, mouse)

You gave him another beautiful smile, touched your chest and gave him your own name. He rolled it around on his tongue and you were sure he could see the tremor in your hands. Your face felt like it was on fire, your knees weak. With a lift of his hand and a small wave he opened the door to the store and turned around one last time. “Ich hoffe wir sehen uns wieder, ___ -Maus.” (I hope we´ll see each other again, ___- mouse)

True to the little nickname he gave you, you squeaked beyond flustered but nodded your head enthusiastically. His eyes blitzed happily and then he turned and began jogging down the street in a hurry.

Your mind an absolute mess and head swirling you turned towards the counter and swallowed.

One elbow parched onto the wood, her head leaned into her hand, Lucy tapped the acrylic nails of her other hand slowly on the counter giving you the most shit eating grin you had ever seen on her.

“Don´t” you said with a sigh. She blew a disbelieving raspberry and started laughing. “Are you kidding me?! Of course I will!! What in the shit was that!? Since when do you speak German and who´s horse was that?!?!?! My sweet child, you two were so into each other you didn’t even notice me over here!” Her wide brown eyes stared you down while you tried to hide your flustered expression.

Walking over to her you leaned over the counter and lay your head on it. Lucy still tried to control her giggles. “I don´t know, okey? He was just…he got my book off the shelve and then…medieval blacksmithing…Grin...EYES!” you groaned out almost exasperatedly.

“Oh deary, I noticed. You were back there for almost two hours. I thought for a moment you ditched me without paying.” You stood up straight again and gave her an unamused look. “You know I´d never do that.” Lucy nodded good naturedly. “Of course I do but seriously, how is it you speak German?”

“I don’t speak that much, honestly. Most of it is self-taught. I just…like it” you shrugged. “Well, HE obviously did too” Lucy winked, her impossibly white teeth shining. You groaned again but couldn’t hide the massive grin.

“You need to come into the shop every day now in case he comes back” your friend said while pouring you a cup of coffee.

With a huff your heart sank again. “I can´t,” you said in a small voice. “I don´t have any more vacation days this year and they really need me on base.”

Lucy tutted and looked a bit miffed. “You know, one would think that a military base would have more than one chief mechanic for their helis and shit.” You snorted at her offended tone and your heart grew several sizes for your friend.

“Tell you what” she said in a determined voice. “Next time he comes in, I´ll give him your number. NO buts!” she held her finger in your face and swirled it, crunching up her adorable button nose. “It´s not like he´s easy to overlook.”

You grinned and nodded your head in defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him to have your number. Of course you did. But with all your duties on base, you didn’t know if you would have the chance to give it to him personally. So you just hoped that the man named König would somehow stumble into your life again. As adorably as he did this afternoon. 

_________________________________________________________

Weeeeeeell? What do we think? Part 2? I do have an idea for a mini series so let me know if you woul´d like to read that ;) There will be smut if you like. Let me know if you´d like to be tagged and check out my account for more spicy and fluffy stories.

Thank you very much for reading <3 If you´d like please interact with this post. Comments, liks and reblogs always make my day. Your opinion matters greatly. Only with feedback can I improve :) I´d also like to thank TikTok for feeding me König content so religiously that I had no other chance than to write this

[minhosbitterriver]

hi it’s 👽 i saw that you wrote about a reader that smokes weed in your felix oneshot and i was just wondering what type of potheads you think skz members would be

POTHEADS — stray kids

스트레이 키즈 ⨳ genre/s: headcanons (?) ⨳ warnings: obviously the members of skz are stoners, mentions of anxiety, stress, feeling overwhelmed, let me know if i missed anything please i’m high ⨳ rating: 18+ ⨳ word count: 1.8k ⨳ summary: green decides what kind of stoners the stray kids members are. 

💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ IN PROGRESS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED

🍃 방찬 — BANG CHAN. 

I feel like he started smoking weed after he heard it helped relieve anxiety and stress as well as  insomnia. He keeps a bong in his bedroom right under his bed so he can give it a few hits right before bed. Chan also seems to me like the kind of person who would walk around with a handful of neatly-rolled joints in a small tin box that also carries a lighter. It’s often that Chan would excuse himself and walk towards his car just to smoke a joint to calm his mind as soon as his anxiety started to get the better of him, and he would return to work red-eyed and freshly sprayed cologne that everyone pretended to not notice. 

When he’s high alone he almost always finds himself staring at the ceiling with a blank expression for a long while, just feeling the blissful emptiness of his own mind. He also just sleeps heavily, like sometimes he’ll be immediately knocked out after a hit of his bong or two. If he’s high while working he finds it easier to focus and really get into the zone of the most routine parts of it, and sometimes being high really helps him think better when it comes to writing. It’s mostly just a hit or miss. 

However, when he’s high along with friends, it becomes a different story entirely. He’s just so energetic, so talkative and giggly — there’s a reason he’s so popular amongst idols. He treats the world like a wonder that delights him every single time. Whatever story you tell him, it is received with great enthusiasm and it’s the very thing most like about him. 

On the downside, smoking as much as he does really causes memory loss for him, and it’s a struggle he accepts if it means a good night’s sleep. He actually did try to stay sober for at least a month and found that he hated who he became without weed since he didn’t have anything to console his anxiety or to knock him out for the night. 

🍃 리노 — LEE KNOW. 

Minho doesn’t exactly give me stoner vibes, but I do think he enjoys eating edibles (a.k.a. Felix’s brownies) every once in a while to take the edge off or to relax with the boys. If he’s feeling a little more adventurous, he’ll smoke from whatever the others are smoking from — bong, pipe, joint, whatever. Generally speaking, though, I wouldn’t consider him to be a full-blown pothead since I don’t think he’s the kind to enjoy the feeling of not being in control of his awareness often. 

Regardless of if he’s alone or not, I think he would be the kind of guy who would just eat constantly. As a matter of fact, don’t even talk to him if you don’t have something to feed him. It’s ridiculous, honestly. When he is eating, though, he’s so giggly. Jokes that he wouldn’t laugh at, he finds to be the funniest damn thing in the world — just no thought process going on, just giggles. 

🍃 창빈 — CHANGBIN. 

Changbin started smoking as a teenager and this is a hill I’m willing to die on even though there’s literally nothing that I could say to justify this opinion — I can just picture him sneaking out of the house and school to smoke joints with his buddies and then enjoying the nauseous thrill of getting away with it when he’d return to where he’s supposed to be. I think this might be when he discovered his passion for rapping, I think he was goofing around with his friends singing and rapped a little too well. He probably became curious about it and started doing research and trying to write some verses for himself. 

Perhaps he tried to quit around the time of his debut, though, since he wanted to remain sober and sharp during this extremely crucial period of his career. He did so well for a long time, you’d never tell he used to get high all the time back in his teenage years. But then he recognized the familiar scent of weed in the dormitories with the other members and quickly found out it was because of Chan — that was enough for him to return to his old ways, his leader was doing it while being the company’s golden child. 

Presently, I believe Changbin only smokes out of a bong. He’s at that point in life where he doesn’t really care about leaving something so obviously related to weed out in his room, so he keeps it in the bathroom cabinet that he uses by himself in his own apartment. There’s not a moment he’s home but not high, it’s the first thing he does when he wakes up, comes back home, and goes to sleep. That bong is always packed, and he genuinely loves it that way. It just makes him feel like he’s traveled back to the days he was young and naive, writing only for himself and rapping in exchange for the laughter of his friends. 

While high, he’d also feel starved all the time. It’s not uncommon for him to be eating so much after getting high — which explains the constant jokes the other members make about him loving to eat so much, he’s always high. He’s also very loud and giggly, and just loves making other people laugh. However, if you catch him alone, he’d likely rope into you a very intense conversation in which you confess your darkest thoughts and feelings though he never judges and keeps it to himself. 

🍃 현진 — HYUNJIN. 

Being such a devout artist and enjoyer of the arts, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he stumbled upon like-minded people who happened to also spend time smoking weed. He’d love it from the first puff of smoke, freely allowing his mind to fog up as he melted into every tingle of his skin that seemed to follow the beat of the music playing in the distance. This would be the moment that would forever change the course of his life as he soon found himself obsessed with perfecting the art of rolling a flawless joint. 

He would often add various types of flowers into his joint just to enhance his experience. The beautiful mixture of the very different types of flowers was absolutely intoxicating, and it always inspired him with an abundance of creativity that he always spilt into either the blank canvases he’d buy in dozens or the hundreds of half-filled notebooks he collected everywhere. 

I feel like Hyunjin and Changbin would enjoy smoking together a lot. Changbin already likes having deep conversations when he’s like this, and I feel like Hyunjin would also enjoy having these types of conversations as well as the philosophical ones. And I think Hyunjin would like smoking with Felix, too, since they’d always end up listening to soft music that makes them feel like they’re levitating while describing every thought that crosses their mind. 

Sometimes he would accidentally get too high, which then causes to become very anxious. For this, he always carries various crystals in his pockets for him to fiddle with as a way to ground himself. But overall, I’d kill to smoke with him so we can be artists together and then maybe even share our works and have a whole discussion about it all. It just sounds so peaceful to me. 

🍃 한 — HAN. 

Han was encouraged by Chan to start smoking, that much I would say. He’s just so overwhelmed with anxiety, constantly feeling as though he were a cup full of water that is just about to spill over. So Chan invited him into his world of soothing serenity as he’d smoke him out for a while. Eventually Han just started getting his own pipe and his own weed. 

His memory is absolutely shot as of now, but it’s okay because he’s not so overly-conscious of the fact that he’s constantly perceived by other people so he’ll consider it a win anyway. He would constantly smell like weed, which the other members find irritating because they’d panic about someone finding out they all smoke. He just always gets a little too high and forgets that he’s not supposed to be a pothead. 

🍃 이용복 — FELIX. 

I’m not sure when exactly he would start smoking, but I do know he would be the kind of guy to mindlessly always be smoking people out when he smokes. He just enjoys having company when he’s taking the edge off, he definitely sees socializing as smoking and vice versa. It’s very rare to catch him hanging out with a friend and not smoking with them. 

Whenever he finds out about a tour or a long trip away from home for work, he’s always sure to bake some treats so he can still get high without drawing too much attention to himself with the smell. He’s just paranoid, but it’s fine. Felix also just likes bragging about his baking skills since nobody ever really tastes the usual twinge of weed, it could really pass as a normal brownie until it hits you an hour later. 

Yeah, he’s always high, I’m so certain of it, he’s just very good at hiding it. 

🍃 승민 — SEUNGMIN. 

Seungmin was probably very bewildered when he found out his members smoked weed, always watching them get high while he sat in a corner quietly. He’d be so curious to know what it felt like, but the members didn’t let him even hold a lighter before he was old enough to. That doesn’t mean he didn’t constantly irritate the members while trying to take a puff whenever they smoked together. 

As soon as he was considered an adult, he bought himself so much weed along with a brand new bong as well as a whole box of prerolls to celebrate. He did stop smoking it pretty soon after, though, because he realized the risks of damage to his throat if he continued so he now settles with the edibles. 

He’s very goofy when he’s high, too, always throwing sly jokes left and right as if his life depended on it. He just likes making others laugh since the silence feels too loud. I’d also dare say he becomes very sleepy easily as well, so he’d probably be the first to knock out in the middle of a smoking session. 

🍃 아이엔 — I.N.

Jeongin definitely had mixed feelings about his members smoking when he found out. He was raised with the very emphasized idea that smoking and doing drugs will definitely lead to your own demise so he was definitely very concerned for his members. However, everyone was very surprised when he actually asked to smoke for his birthday to celebrate his becoming an official adult — he just wanted to at least try it out before he condemned something. 

Him getting into the sticky world of potheads was probably even more surprising. Jeongin is mostly a social smoker, but sometimes he enjoys rolling very uneven joints for himself to smoke when he’s particularly overwhelmed. Overall, he’s very much quiet when high, always observing everyone else with an occasional laugh every now and then. It almost feels like he’s watching a scene from a movie, he’d say. 

posted: 06 • 30 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

This was honestly so much fun to do while stoned myself, I genuinely want to smoke with all the members of SKZ so badly. I’m also so psyched to find fellow stoner stays on here, let’s all smoke together please and thank you. Thank you so much for the request! Sending you all the love!

( 🏷️ ) permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx

[hawkeyetrained]

Run. Get to Stiles.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Hale sister!reader

Other characters: Noah Stilinski, Derek Hale

Warnings: Hunters?, blood, gun shot wounds, fear, let me know if I missed something

Summary: Hunters catch her off guard and she has to run for her life

Word Count: 1,955

Run. That was the only thing screaming out in my mind. Run or you’re going to die. Run or they are going to chain you up and torture you for information on your pack. Run or others might die.

Get to Stiles. Get to Derek. Get to Scott. Those were the next statements playing as I pushed myself as fast as I could through the woods. Get to Chris, or anyone.

Blood trickled from a wound on my shoulder, coating my jacket and soaking into the cotton of my shirt. Thank god the bullet that tore through my skin was normal, a simple hollow point that had hit and expanded into my skin, making sure my healing wouldn’t start with the offensive metal still lodged in my body.

The sky was pitch black, the moon shrouded out by dense clouds that blocked any possible light. If I didn’t have my heightened senses, I surely would have been running in circles and tripping on roots. Branches from trees were barely blocked by my hands as I ran, keeping any from scratching my face so I could focus on getting away.

“This way!” I heard a voice shout, probably looking at the messy footprints and blood drops from where I had just been a moment ago.

BANG

A scream ripped it’s way through my lungs as another bullet lodged itself into my leg, this one searing more than the last. My steps fumbled and I crashed down a drop off in the woods, tumbling my way through fallen leaves and over huge stones that sliced into my jacket, hands, and head. The bottom came all too quickly, stopping me in my place almost instantly and knocking the breath from my lungs.

I pushed back my messy hair from my face and pulled myself back onto my feet, eyes flashing as I tried to figure out what way town was. Lights flickered at the top of the hill I had just fallen down, and without thinking I just headed off in the direction that would take me away from them.

Dawn had to be approaching. My legs ached and my lungs burned from running for hours. My head swirling with everything I was telling myself. Run. Don’t stop, run. Get to Stiles, get to Derek, get to someone.

Street. You’re running on a paved road. You’re back in the city and the sun is coming up. Go, run, Stiles isn’t too far away. Get to him and call Derek. That’s his house. There’s his car, and his dads. Scream. Wake him up. Draw attention.

“Stiles!” My voice was no where near as loud as I wanted it to be. Exhaustion and the burning in my lungs from running taking its toll. My skin had to be pale in color by now. My jeans and shoes clinging to my body from the blood that never seemed to stop pouring from my wounds, hair sticking to my head from my sweat dripping down. “Stiles!” Again, I called out for the boy who was always at my side.

His front door opened and out came the sheriff followed closely by his son. “Y/N?” Stiles voice called from the front step. “Oh my god.” His dad had made it to the bottom of the driveway, stood with his hand on his hip, his gun, as he watched the road and woods behind me as I slammed into the chest of his son. My arms wrapped around Stiles, clinging to the boy as tightly as I could while trying to calm my racing heart.

“I can’t-I can’t run anymore.” One of his arms held my waist to him while the other rested on the back of my head, helping me realize I was finally safe.

Soft golden rays of sunlight began to strike through the dark sky, giving light to just how bad a condition I was actually in to the two Stilinski men.

“Honey, what were you running from?” Noah turned from the woods to look at me

“Hunters.” My voice shook as exhaustion began to seep into my body. “So many. Never seen them before.”

“I got you now.” Stiles hugged me tighter, brushing his fingers through my hair.

“You’re hurt.” Noah noticed the blood soaking nearly everything I wore. “Bad.”

I shook my head. “Jus’ need the bullets removed. I’ll be fine.” My arms wrapped tighter to Stiles, eyes dropping closed as I finally got my breathing under control. “Need help.”

“I got you now. We’re gonna help you. You’re safe sweetheart.” Stiles pressed a kiss to the side of my head before unwrapping one of his arms and helping me into his room upstairs. “Umm, ok. I’m gonna go grab the first aid kit, and some clothes you can change into. Give me a sec, ok?”

I nodded at him before he took off for the things he needed. I took this time to start pulling my blood soaked clothes off to make pulling the metal from my skin easier. My shoes and jeans were the first things to go, being tossed into the corner of his room that held an empty laundry basket. The jacket was a bit harder to pull off with how badly my shoulder burned as I pulled the fabric away.

“Woah woah.” Stiles threw his supplies down on the bed and helped pull the jacket off my arms when he saw the pain in my eyes. “Let me help.” His hands were gentle to trail up my sides and bring the cotton over my head, leaving me in my bra and underwear, both slightly red stained in a few spots. “You wanna lay down for me? So I can get the bullets out?”

A hum escaped my lips as I crawled into his bed and rested my head on his soft pillows. I could feel his hands shake and hear his breathing pick up when he caught sight of my wounds and all the blood that covered my skin. “Hey, I’ll be ok. Wanna grab your dad to get the bullets out?”

“No.” He denied, fingers of one hand resting gently on the inner side of my thigh to turn my leg towards him. “I can do this.”

“I know you can.” I reassured him. “Take a deep breath.” He did, then moved the tweezers into the small hole in my leg. I gasped in pain as he moved the metal around a little, apologies falling from his mouth as he worked. As quickly as the pain started, it was over and the bullet was pulled from my leg.

“Ok. I got one.” He pressed a handful of gauze to my wound to stop some of the blood from running down my skin. “Got one more to go. You’re doing great.”

“So are you.” A small smile crossed my lips as I caught a glimpse of his shoulders relaxing and his hands staying steady. “This one’ll be a little harder. I could feel it trying to heal around the bullet so it might need more force.”

“I-yeah, ok.” Stiles took another deep breath as he slid up the side of his bed to get a better look at the wound on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath sweetheart.” He was the one telling me to calm my heart rate now.

Just like the last wound, it burned just as much if not more. My hands fisted into his sheets as he dug for the bullet, my mind pleading with my claws to stay away and my eyes to not glow from the pain.

Stiles fingers slipped on the tweezers and pressed into my skin, a growl rumbling in my chest from the pain and remaining fear from running all night. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Finally he pulled the bullet out and pressed another mass of gauze to my skin, a sigh leaving my lungs as the healing finally started pulling my skin back together. “I got it. You’re gonna be ok.”

“Thank you.” I smiled tiredly to him. “Can you call Derek? I gotta warn him and I’m sure he’s worried sick.”

“Yeah. I’ll call him. You wanna take a shower?” He pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “You’re kinda covered in blood.”

I took a quick shower, blood running down the drain and being replaced with the smell of Stiles from his few products now coating my skin. His hoodie and sweatpants were sat on the counter when I stepped out, allowing me to change and bush my hair before I joined the Stilinskis in their living room.

Just as I sat down, the front door slammed open. Both Stilinski men jumped from their seats and turned towards the door looking ready to fight off any possible hunters, only for my brother Derek to be stood in the threshold.

“Oh my god.” He mumbled, rushing towards me and pulling me into his arms. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” His hands pulled my face to look at his, his bright blue wolf eyes staring into my golden ones. “What happened?”

“Hunters.” I stated, pulling away and sitting back beside Stiles, his hand coming to rest on my thigh as I pulled my legs up and into my chest, practically curling into his side. “Found me as I was leaving work. Pretty much ran through the woods all night.”

“Are you hurt?” He questioned, sitting to Noah’s side.

“Not anymore. Stiles pulled the bullets from me. Saved my life.” I smiled up at the boy I was hopelessly in love with.

“I can’t thank you enough Stiles.” It was one of the few times I had seen my brother look a little helpless. Knowing Stiles was able to save my life lifted a weight even he didn’t know was on his shoulders.

“I’d do anything for her. You all know that.”

“We need to warn the others, about these hunters in the woods. I don’t know how they are doing it, but I didn’t hear them come up behind me or even smell them before the bullet hit my shoulder. I thought they did something at first, put something in the air, but they managed to completely surprise me.” My hands wrapped around the one Stiles had on my leg, my head resting against his shoulder. “I can’t take anyone else dying. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Losing each member of the packs ripped at my heart until it was a shredded mess in my chest. That is until Stiles came to my side and mended the tears. Sure, he had been there from the start, just like I had, but we only just realized how in love with each other we were when he was possessed last year.

“I’ll get the word out to the pack, let everyone know to not be alone and to keep an eye out for absolutely anything.” Derek had his phone in his hand already. “No one goes anywhere without someone else with them.”

“They need to know about the surprise part. Can’t be cautious if they don’t know I couldn’t hear the hunters attack.” Stiles gripped me a little tighter. “Can I stay here for a little while? I really don’t wanna be too far from you at the moment.” My eyes glanced up at Stiles.

“Of course.” He looked to his dad and then Derek. “You can stay as long as you want.” I cuddled into his side tighter. “We’ll protect you.”

It may not be easy, this fight against the people who know of us and are scared of us. But I knew one thing, as long as I had the pack, my bother, and Stiles, we’d be able to handle anything.

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1 @bellabadacadabra

[bouncybongfairy]

I love your evil morty fics so much! Not alot of people write for him so I was really happy when I found your account haha

I was wondering if I could request an evil morty x reader fic where it takes place in s7 ep 5 (unmortricken)

reader and morty both work to make the planet their "home," killing aliens, taking crystals, bulding their house, etc (morty is mostly the brains though, we're just there as a sort of bodygaurd/we watch his back so he doesn't get surprise attacked by some alien)

and if possible could you add some smut before his force field gets compromised? preferably where he starts rough due to all the stress from fighting aliens all day then when he finishes its softer and fluffier

hope my request made sense haha, thank you so much! 💖

Hard Feelings

Evil Morty x Fem Reader

Summary: After breaking through the central finite curve, Morty and you have been having some tension building up because of the stress. Things come to a head during a mission which leads rough words and hands exchange between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.0k+

(!Spoilers from Rick and Morty Season 7 EP 5!)

(!This fanfic contains rough and dark depictions of sexual content!)

Shout out to @kaionyx whose account I used as a reference. Not super familiar with.. all that kinda stuff, his blog really helped so, I'll give credit where it is due.

Shout out to the person who sent the request. Hope I did you concept justice.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Morty’s plans to break through the central finite curve were completed. Finally able to be in a dimension where Rick isn’t the smartest asshole in the galaxy. Even though he was free from the shackles of being at Rick’s disposal, he still seemed to try filling some unknown void. It was never your place to say but there were times where Morty’s morals were becoming less and less clear. You were still grateful that he brought you along. He could have left you in your original universe but he saw something in you that couldn’t be replaced. Right now you guys were in the middle of an adventure, trying to find a certain rare type of crystal that Morty wanted to try using to power the planet's force field. He still hasn’t been able to find a crystal that can sustain his tech longer than a couple hours. The mixture of stress of constantly crystal searching and the insecurity that was caused by not figuring out exactly how to fix the problem was eating away at him. If that wasn’t enough fuel to the fire, he also was dealing with his feelings of arrival fallacy. Despite your warnings that getting away from Rick wouldn’t just magically take away the trauma, he chose to die on that hill. At times you thought it caused him to resent you when he was in a grumpy or insecure mood. 

Right now the both of you were in the ship; following the target of a crystal score Morty was pursuing. The ride was silent, it was 29 hours into the mission and the both of you were sleep deprived. As you dissociated, your mind wandered to the events that occurred two days before. Morty was working on the plans for the current mission, sitting at their kitchen table. He’s built the bunker to look like an average home on earth in order to make you feel more comfortable. You were in the kitchen making dinner for the both of you. It may seem like stereotypical domestic bliss but you didn’t cook for Morty because you had to. Simple things like cooking or reading a book in the lazy boy that helped block out the horrors from adventures and missions. Everything was ready and you were making his plate when you heard him let out a deep breath from frustration. His face was bright red and was letting his head hang off the back of the chair. You set his plate on the table and came around and stood behind him. While you kissing the top of his head in order to comfort him, you noticed that he missed a step in the formula of an equation, 

“Look, you were supposed to subtract 0.836 before multiplying by the distance and speed,” you said. He pushed back his chair and led you into the living room before going back into the kitchen and started smashing his chair against the floor. 

You immediately ran back into the kitchen and asked him what the fuck he was doing. He completely ignored you and continued his rampage. It was pointless trying to stop him, he was too far gone in his frustration. Grabbing his blueprints to make sure they didn’t get ruined, in case he wanted them when he sobered up from his anger. By the time he was done, he was practically panting. He’d smashed all four chairs that had previously surrounded the dining room table. He pulled his shirt off and wiped the sweat off his face. Throwing his shirt over his shoulder, he ran his fingers through his hair to keep the damp strands off his face. He pulled the portal gun out of his waistband and opened a portal underneath the pile of broken wood and cushions. Letting it drop into an unknown location, so he didn’t have to clean it up. He grabbed the plate and kissed you before walking into the living room to watch tv on the couch while he ate. For a while you stood there, feeling confused and frozen. You’d seen Morty go crazy while hunting and stuff but never inside at home. 

“Come eat with me!” he called out, not in an aggressive way but that just made you even more confused. The fact that he was acting like nothing happened. You made yourself a plate and joined him on the couch, trying your best to appear unaffected by the event. 

“Were here,” Morty said, breaking you out of the dissociation. 

Following Morty as you exited the ship, carrying a gun in each hand. Looking out for any monsters and he was collecting crystals. It could be the lack of sleep but you could not stop thinking about his freak out. It bothered you that he wasn’t communicating his feelings to you. It also made you insecure about how he felt about you. Painfully obvious that he wasn’t happy with himself and as his girlfriend that has to be partly your fault right? Not to mention you were tired, running on literal injections of adrenaline. The fact that you both hadn’t had sex in a while like literally since he broke through the central finite curve. It just made you feel like he didn’t care anymore or that he had much more important things to do other than well… you. Bringing this up to Morty made you insecure, he rarely showed emotion even before all this shit. So it just felt like you’d be bothering him with something that is so juvenile compared to what he’s dealing with. 

“If you have something to say you should just say it.” Morty stated, as if he was in your mind as you were overthinking. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked flatly. 

“Do you think I can’t tell when you’re bothered by something?” he asked as they walked through the dense foliage. 

“Oh that’s rich,” you practically laughed. 

“Excuse me?” he asked. 

“Are you on fucking crack? You literally went completely feral when you were making the plans for today. Then acted like nothing happened at all, so it’s weird as hell that you’re projecting that shit on to me,” you said, shooting at a large cat-like species that was running towards the two of you. 

“All I said was that I could tell something is bothering you,” he said. 

“No you also said that if I had something to say then I should just say it. Just in actuality I can communicate my feelings in a mature way without smashing shit like a child,” you said.

“Oh yeah great notes, i’m glad you have so much free time on your hands that you can categorize what icks I give you,” he said flatly.

“Please, do me a favor and get your ego in check. We both know if you didn’t need me I wouldn’t be here. I have free time the same way you have your mental health under control and we both know neither of those things are true,” you said, now not masking the irritation in your tone. 

“For sure let me just check that out, last time I checked my ego is backed up by the fact that I can do anything. Should I dull down my ego and aww jeez myself asleep every night? My ego is the reason why we're here,” he said, you could tell he was getting more irritated. 

“Fuck you! Ugh you’re such a fucking dick some times, what the fuck is your problem?!” you screamed, stopping dead in your tracks.

“I'm sure you would love that but still have work to do,” he grumbled.

“Careful their buddy, the God complex you got from your fucking grandaddy is showing!” you said, throwing one of your guns at his back. He stood still for a while, rubbing the back of his neck. Even though he wasn’t facing you it was obvious that his anger was through the roof. He turned around and walked towards you in an aggressive manner. Due to your sleep deprivation and frustration you didn’t let your body language show any weakness like you normally would have. You had your arms crossed over your chest and a wide foot stance. The other gun still in your hand, he was now as close as he could be without being pressed against you. His eyebrows were furrowed and sweat dripped down his forehead. Red in the face and breathing heavily. 

“Am I supposed to be intimidated? Cower down? Beg and plead to stop fighting? You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d beg for shit! Fuck you for real like fuck you.” you hissed. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked as he backed you against a tree. You didn’t know what to say, you were mad but at the same time you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the sexual tension. When you didn’t respond he continued, 

“You said you wanted me to be more open about my feelings right? So let me take my feelings out on you right now, I'll show you exactly how I feel,” he said. 

You knew a deep red blush was painted over your cheeks. His eyes were glazed over and every time his breath hit your face, you could feel your cheeks prickle and tingle. He looked feral and had the same look in his eye from when he smashed the furniture. Part of you felt like this was a Catch 22; on one had been in a dry spell for two months and you were just about as sexually frustrated as someone could be. On the other hand, it kinda felt like giving into his advances would be a sign of you admitting defeat. Morty could tell you were weighing out the pros and cons of the situation. His hands began to wonder, running up and down your back. Goosebumps covered your skin as he did, you could control your facial expressions but couldn’t help how your body reacted to his touch. You managed to keep the same unaffected facial expression as he pushed his limits. Somehow he manages to take a step closer, pressing his groin against your crotch. Feeling how hard he was made your core burn and throb. He moved your hair and moved his lips so they were hovering over your ear before whispering,

“I want to build and destroy you over and over again,” he growled in ear.

You were losing the mental battle of maintaining your stubbornness. Giving into him would be admitting weakness and defeat in the mind games you were playing. There wasn’t anywhere to go, you were completely smashed against his body and the tree. He moved his mouth from the ear to your neck. He was breathing against your skin, rubbing his nose up and down. You held back a shiver, leaning over to the side in hope to give your skin a break from the sensitivity. Running his hand up your back, he gently tangles his hands in your hair. Slowly tightening his grip on the soft strands. Grabbing your gun he kills another animal that was running to attack. The loud crack of the weapon was similar to when the gun goes off in a race. You smash your lips against his, fully letting your body melt into his arms. He pulled away from your lips and sunk his teeth into your neck, hard enough to break skin. Squirming away from the burning and stinging but every time you did, he got more aggressive. Every once in a while you’d hear a couple of strands popping. 

“Is that why you’re being so difficult today? You wanted my attention, hmm?” he asked, his tone was ragged and low. 

“Holy fuck.. okay,” you half mumble half moan. 

“Can’t even hold a conversation because the only thing on your mind is being pounded, such a dumb little whore,” he said, pushing you down to the ground. 

It was a lot more aggressive than normal, ripping your shirt exposing your tits. His eyes were wide yet he still kept his eyebrows furrowed and angry. You went to reach for his belt but before you could reach it, he slapped your tit so hard it made you gasp. It’s not necessarily that you weren’t into how dominant he was being. It was making you nervous because this was the first time he wasn’t holding back. You could feel your body shivering in excitement and anticipation. Again you reach for his belt again and in return his palm and fingers smacked against your face. Whipping your body to the side due to the force and the fact that it was completely unexpected. You were laying on your back and before you could finish reacting to the slap, he was on top of you. Using his knees to pin down your things, his legs digging painfully into the muscles of your thigh. Pulling out a dagger from his waistband, it was long and curved kinda like a claw. Using it to cut a hole into your cargo pants, ripping at the fabric. The tip of the knife nicked you, taking in a sharp breath mixed with a gasp. Instinctually you got to sit up and investigate the wound. He pushed you back down into the dirt, a couple of sharp rocks digging into your back. Looking up and staring at him; the sun was beginning to set creating a glow of burnt orange and red illuminating his figure from behind. Now that it was starting to get dark, more creatures from the dense forest were waking up and getting hungry. Every once in a while using his laser gun to kill anything that gets too close. Eventually growing tired of the constant monitoring he puts up a force field. 

“Now: you can take my belt off,” he said, still gripping the blade menacingly.

At first, you were nervous to make any sudden movements. You sat back on your knees, the dirt and gravel on the ground was becoming increasingly bothersome. Slowly you reach up and start to undo his belt, he raises the knife up and starts gently grazing the sharp tip against your jaw. Your hands were shaking from adrenaline, excitement and a little fear. The belt was now fully undone, he was still looking down at you. His silence was making you nervous, you didn’t want to provoke him by doing or saying the wrong thing. After a couple moments of waiting for instruction, you become impatient and reach up again pulling his boxers down. He lets you expose him but then uses his other hand to grab you tightly by the jaw. 

“How dumb are you? What is it going to take for you to learn to do as you're told?” he spat, creating a small scratch on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, becoming mentally exhausted. This was your 31st hour without sleep and it was starting to affect your patients. 

“Not yet,” he laughed. 

He flipped you over and immediately crawled on top of you. His exposed member pressing against you from behind. Your thoughts were becoming foggy, like you were intoxicated by your arousal and desire. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he pinned your head to the dirt. Every time you exhaled the dirt would fly up a little, like a plume of smoke. You were bucking your behind against him, trying to initiate some type of contact with your sexes. He took this as a sign of defiance, almost humoured that you thought you’d deserve his cock yet. 

“Did you really think you’d get your cunt touched without begging?” he growled. As soon as the words fell from his lips, fire and ice began running through your veins. You were accepting your fate, he was right and you were wrong. He was relishing in the fact that he was breaking you down piece by piece. After you had played a big game about essentially being immune to his mind games. 

“I’m sorry, okay. Please!” you cried out, trying to press your ass against him but couldn’t. He adjusted his position, his tip now pressed against your entrance. Using his head to spread your moisture around your lips and clit. 

“Being treated like this gets you off? Having to beg for it makes you this wet? I thought begging was beneath you, say it, that you’re too good to beg,” you were panting and drooling, part of you wanted to hang on to that stubbornness. That maybe your dignity could be somewhat salvaged, you stayed silent trying to figure out what to say; whether to give in or keep fighting back. He was getting irritated waiting for a response and began slapping his dick against your pussy. 

“Say. It.” He ordered with a low yet strong voice.

“I’m not t-too good to b-beg,” you whimper out, a tear of humility streamed down your face. 

“What? You sounded so sure earlier though.. Say it again, just so I know you’re serious,” he growled, running the blade down your back. As bruised as your ego was, you couldn't lie and say you weren’t equality as turned on. Part of you felt a little ashamed that you’re enjoying this level of domination and humiliation. 

“I’m not too good to beg you! J-just please I can’t-!” you practically shrieked, not being able to take the anticipation and teasing anymore. 

He then lined himself up and slid into you. You tighten yourself around him, fully enjoying the feeling of his throbbing member filling your needy hole. You’d learned your lesson and let him take the lead, using your body however he wanted. His hip bones were stabbing into your ass but you didn’t care. Being sexually frustrated for weeks mixed with being teased mentally and physically made you overly sensitive. Your walls were burning but from a mix of immense pleasure and slight pain from how fast the friction was. His body was fully pressed against yours, fucking you into the ground. Your head was between his elbows and forearms. The side of your head was fully pressed against the dirt, tears turning into mud and sticking to your face. His lips were pressed against your ear, groaning and whispering vulgar nothings. 

“I- can’t, please, it h-hurts,” your words came out garbled and hoarse. 

“You want me to stop? Can’t take it? That’s okay, just say so,” he groaned into your ear. It wasn’t like you were lying, you didn’t think you could take much more. You wanted more though, so you shut your mouth and continued enjoying being stretched. 

“That’s what I fucking thought, silly little cumslut,” he growled, pounding into you harder than you thought possible. 

The force field was beginning to fail, getting smaller and less protective. He pulls you up, putting you in doggie position. Your knees were being scrapped by the rocks and gravel. He spit on his dick as he continued pounding into you. Using the gun to kill creatures trying to break through the force field. Both of you were getting close, his thrusts were becoming more erratic. Feeling you pulse and tighten around you. The gun was getting hot due to rapid use, noticing this: he remembers when you threw it at him. So he pressed the hot barrel against your lower back, right where a tramp stamp normally would be placed. This intense pain combined with the pleasure and overstimulation was enough to send you into climax. Even though you were nearly passed out, you could tell he was cumming into you. It was like he cock pressed deep enough into your spasming cunt. As soon as you were done riding out the high, you passed out.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 27-28

Prompt: Stabbed (alt)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood; Injury

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

You had seen some great plans in your time after the apocalypse. Majestic strategies that led your group to victory and survival. 

And you had seen some terrible plans. Inefficient calculations that brought more wounds and heartaches for the lot of you. 

This? This was neither of those. 

This was a fuckery. A terrible horrible no good very bad fuckery of epic proportions. 

So as you wrestled a living man wearing the skin of the dead for control of your knife, you couldn’t help but wonder how many of you were going to pay for this monstrosity of fucked-upness. 

When you couldn’t seem to get the upper hand, you went for the lower blow, bringing your knee up into the man’s groin and rolling him off of you just in time for the incoming walkers to take over. “Fuck.” You breathed, struggling to your feet. You needed to find the others, to find Daryl. Wiping away the blood from your nose on the back of your hand, you made your way further up the hill. The walkers were occupied but they wouldn’t stay that way long. 

Daryl was fighting two whisperers, kicking one off balance to send them tumbling down past you and into the herd below. You picked up the pace, aiming to help so that the two of you could regroup with the rest of your party. 

It happened so quickly that you weren’t sure you had time to take a breath. The archer’s knife sank into the skull of the man he fought, not seeing yet another rounding the tree. 

“Daryl!”

He pulled his blade free, his arm still in motion but his midriff was unprotected. You could have sworn you felt the pain in your own stomach. You were running, wishing to hell you had your gun. Too far, I’m too far. 

His own knife had been dropped, both hands around the wrist of his attacker. If he held him there, the blade wouldn’t go any deeper. But the fatigue on his face was evident even from the distance that still separated you. 

Stopping, you took a breath and flipped your knife, calling upon every lesson Daryl had given you. If you missed— no, you wouldn’t miss. 

The weapon whipped through the air and met its mark, the whisperer dropping and pulling the knife with him. 

“Fuck!” It took much longer than you liked to finally reach him, his black shirt already saturated before you pushed your hands down on the wound. “I’ve got you. Keep your eyes on me.” Daryl didn’t respond, sweaty and panting, but watching you as you snatched the radio from his belt. “Carol? Aaron? Fucking anyone?!”

“Y/N!”

“Michonne! Thank go— Daryl’s down! The herd’s too close! I need help!”

“Where are you?”

“Fourth mile east from the rendezvous point. Please, Michonne!”

“We’re on our way.”

“Hear that? They’re coming. So don’t do something stupid like die, okay?” You peeled off the flannel over your tank top and pressed it against the wound, wincing at Daryl’s pained groan. 

“Nah…ya have… all the stupid. Ain’t none…left for me.” He coughed, but there was no blood. You refused to believe anything else other than taking it to mean there was no internal bleeding. 

“That’s right. So, you gotta stick around and make sure I don’t do anything stupid, okay?” He clenched his teeth and grabbed your hand over the flannel, the blood making his skin slip across yours. 

“‘M sure as…hell gonna try, sunshine.”

You laughed wetly, the taste of your tears salty on your tongue. “Have you met me? Not a damn thing sunny about me.” 

Daryl grunted and moaned but then settled again. “Shuddup. Eye’a…the beholder…an’ all that shit.” You leaned forward with another laugh, pressing your forehead against his. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you saying I’m pretty?” 

His hand shook when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, dampening it red. “Eh…you’re alright, I… I guess.” His eyes were closing even as you called his name. You could hear your friends raised voices and knew they’d be able to help. Saddiq was with them. He’d save Daryl. You had to keep him conscious. Biting your lip, you pressed hard against the wound until he arched with a shout. 

“Sorry.”

“What’s a guy…gotta do to…get a nap ‘round here?”

“How’re you feeling, Bowstrings?” You beamed at him from over the back of the couch. Daryl was benched for at least a couple of weeks— even if you both knew you’d be saving his ass in less than one. 

“Like I got stabbed in the gut.” He replied flatly, fingers tapping anxiously against his chest. 

“You could almost pass for a real person in a t-shirt and flannels.”

“S’ comfortable.” He grumbled. You rounded the couch and sat on the arm, just above his head. 

“Good. You deserve comfortable.” He tilted back his head to look up at you while you swept back his hair. “What?”

“You deserve comfortable too.” 

Why did he look so adorable when he blushed?

“Would you still think I’m pretty in flannels and a t-shirt?” You stood up to go grab his antibiotic and some water, almost missing his muttered reply. 

“Wear a garbage bag an’ I’d still think ya was pretty, sunshine.”

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47 @easystreet07

[omgrachwrites]

A Girl in The Valley - Sirius Black

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You are called to the enormous house on the hill to tutor the Lord’s son who longs to see his father. It’s there that you soften the Lord’s heart of stone.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, slow burn, ooc Sirius,

A/N: I loved writing this so much! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

The mist was settling in around the carriage as it trundled up the bumpy country lane and you sighed as you stared out onto the rolling hills and you tightened your arms around your sleeping daughter, Emily. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to be in this carriage or on the way to the house on the hill, it was amazing how far from the village it was.

Your mother had told you to stop being so ungrateful and that you couldn’t have wished for a better post. You glanced at the Housekeeper McGonagall who sat opposite you. You thought that you’d better learn a little about the boy you would be tutoring along with your daughter.

“What can you tell me about the boy?”

McGonagall merely shrugged as she looked up at you through her spectacles, “there’s nothing much to tell, he’s a smart boy, an inquisitive boy. You’ll certainly have your work cut out for you,” she almost smiled.

You nodded, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, “and his father?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about him, Miss Y/L/N, you’ll hardly see him. He spends most of his time in France. He’s there now as a matter of fact and he won’t be coming back until Friday.”

But you wanted to know, you wanted to know if the rumours about him were true, that he was a grizzled old hunchback with a heart of stone. When McGonagall realised that you weren’t going to let this go, she sighed and glanced out the window, clearly trying to buy more time.

“He’s a tortured man, married his childhood sweetheart only for her to die in child birth. I didn’t think much of her,” she spoke hesitantly as if she didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, “but he loved her.”

You nodded as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders, it was clear that you weren’t going to get anything else out of her. But you still wondered about that little boy and why his father wouldn’t send him to the prestigious boarding school up in the Scottish Highlands.

The winter mist was swirling so low that it was almost like a blanket of clouds. You could barely see anything in front of you, not that you particularly wanted to, you guessed it would be more of the dreary countryside. You were looking forward to a nice long sleep when you got back to the house, you’d been travelling for half a day now and you still had hours to go, you wouldn’t reach the house until nightfall. Sirius Black really did live in the middle of nowhere.

After a couple more hours, McGonagall let out a satisfied noise, “we’re finally here, look.”

Your eyes followed where she was pointing and an enormous grand house came into view. If you weren’t here for the foreseeable future, you would have thought it was beautiful. Snow covered ivy crept up one side of the house and as the carriage came around the bend, you could almost see how far the grounds stretched.

You remembered the letter that McGonagall had sent when she wrote to tell you that your application had been accepted. Sirius Black would let you go where you wanted on the estate if you would only tutor his son. Though, you couldn’t feel too happy about your freedom at the moment.

As you woke Emily up you both climbed out of the carriage and you sighed as you stretched your legs and you both followed McGonagall to the front door. However, before she could open the door, the door was pulled open from the inside and there stood a little boy of about ten in round spectacles blinking up at you.

“Are you going to let us in, Harry?” you could hear fondness in McGonagall’s voice as she looked down at the boy.

Harry seemed to think for a moment before he deemed you worthy to be let into the house. As soon as you walked into the Entrance Hall, you heard Emily gasp and your own jaw almost dropped but you controlled yourself. The floors were marble and the staircase was lined with glittering suits of armour. It was exquisite but you couldn’t help but feel the house was cold and empty.

Standing in front of the staircase with a radiant smile there was a beautiful woman and three other men standing behind her. The boy – Harry – was at her side and you could only guess that this woman was his mother.

“Y/N, and Emily,” she smiled, “welcome. I’m Lily, one of Sirius’ friends, this is my son Harry and my husband James,” she gestured to the man behind her who looked like a grown up version of Harry. She nodded at the two other men, “that’s Remus and Regulus, Sirius’ brother,” all three men waved at you and you smiled back.

“I do hope your journey was alright?”

“Yes,” you smiled, finally finding your voice, “it was fine but tiring wasn’t it Emily?” you smiled down at your daughter who merely nodded, she was shy around new people.

Lily smiled, “how about I show you to your room and you can meet Orion before he goes to bed?”

You smiled and nodded as you followed Lily up the stairs, she led you down a long corridor lined with portraits. She opened a door on the left.

“Sirius thought you would both be quite comfortable in this room. He thought you might want to stay together.”

You gaped as you walked in, the room was huge, one wall was lined with a tapestry, and the other had had a bookcase built into it. There were two comfortable looking beds and a fire was roaring in the centre. You smiled at Lily as you put your bags by your bed and Emily gasped as she ran over to the bookcase and picked up a leather bound book.

“It’ll be perfect.”

Lily nodded, “I’ll leave you to get settled, when you’re ready, do come down to the parlour to meet Orion. It’s on the left of the Entrance Hall.”

You thanked her as she walked out, your spirits being lifted considerably as you warmed yourself by the fire. After a couple of moments, you decided that you’d better get downstairs to meet your student.

You glanced at Emily who was sitting at the window seat with her nose in a book already, “do you want to come and meet Orion? He’s your age.”

Emily pulled a face as she shook her head and answered without looking up from her book, “no, I don’t,” with a sigh you nodded and left her to it.

Regulus grinned at you as you walked into the parlour and he ran a hand through his long hair, he was so handsome.

“Orion, come and meet your new teacher, Miss Y/L/N,” he said to the ten-year-old who was sitting at the table drawing.

You smiled at Regulus as you approached Orion and knelt to his level, “it’s nice to meet you, Orion, you can call me Y/N, no need for formalities.”

“I don’t need another new teacher,” the little boy commented, refusing to look at you.

“Orion, don’t be so rude!” Regulus scolded.

Orion looked up at his Uncle with a defiant look on his face, “well, it’s true! I want to go to Hogwarts with Harry next year!”

“Your father doesn’t want you to go to Hogwarts,” Regulus sighed, “go and get ready for bed, I’ll be in to say goodnight in a moment,” without saying another word, Orion left the room and Regulus looked at you apologetically, “he’ll warm up to you.”

Dinner was an unusually quite occasion, you made small talk with the others but you didn’t ask what you really wanted to know. A million questions were flying around your head, personal questions, mostly about the mystery owner of the house. In the village there had always been a rumour going round that he was an ancient grizzled hunchback but you knew that can’t have been the case, not when everyone else looked so young. Nobody in the village had seen Sirius for years so they liked to talk.

After dinner, Lily invited you into the drawing room for a drink but you declined, itching to get into bed. The bed was incredibly soft and it was so warm as you slipped inside, Emily had fallen asleep quickly. Despite, how tired you were, you couldn’t find sleep. Whether it was because of the new surroundings and the excitement of the day or the howling of the wind you didn’t know.

In the end, you decided to go down to the kitchens to make some tea, that always helped you sleep better. As you were bustling around the kitchen you heard a soft voice come from the corner. A voice that frightened the life out of you and you almost dropped the teacup you were holding.

“You must be Y/N.”

“Oh my gosh!” you yelped and turned around to see who had spoken.

He was sitting at the table with a glass of scotch lazily dangling between his fingers. He was so devastatingly handsome that you had no idea where the rumours surrounding him had come from. Though, the frown on his face almost ruined his beauty. Almost.

“I’m so sorry, My Lord,” you gasped.

Sirius waved away your apology, “please, call me Sirius and you have nothing to apologise for,” he regarded you with cold grey eyes that weren’t unkind but you knew that he was waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is your bedroom not comfortable?” he raised an eyebrow and you could tell it was a genuine question.

“It’s not that at all!” you said quickly, you didn’t want him to think that you were ungrateful, “my bedroom is beautiful, thank you. It’s the wind, it sounds like,” you trail off biting your lip.

“It sounds like someone is crying,” Sirius finished for you and you nodded, “you get used to it.”

“McGonagall told me that you were in France until the end of the week,” you blurted, you were nervous and when you were nervous you tended to say stupid things.

Sirius shrugged as he leaned back in his chair and took a swallow of his scotch, “I decided to come back early.”

“To see your son?” when Sirius didn’t reply, you knew that you had said too much, “excuse me, Sirius,” you stumbled over his name before you quickly left the room.

You lingered in the doorway when he called your name, “Y/N, don’t forget your tea.”

You flushed and walked into the kitchen, forgetting why you were there in the first place, “thank you,” you said to him as you glance over your shoulder to offer him a small smile.

Sirius nodded before he stood from the table before he strode out without another word.  

[trentsambuccus]

21: “Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

26: "[name]? [name], this isn't funny. Stop... please..."

Future Leo + Future Donnie

@promptsbytaurie

Leo, wasn’t a perfect leader. In fact, he was far from it. He made mistakes in his lifetime, some having even led to a full-blown apocalypse. Now here he is running, not away but to the battlefield, or should he say what’s left of it. Something felt wrong, so very wrong. *He* sent Donnie to the west. *He* should have known the kraang was coming from that end. *He* should have known that it was a set up. The purple, pink, and red explosion from the east was sudden but devastatingly large. His twin was there. His *brother* was in there. He can’t even be bothered to think of all the other troops he had sent with Donnie. He had already lost Rapha. He lost his big sister so he can *not* lose another sibling. He *swore* he wouldn’t lose another. His legs move as fast as they could, he needs to make it, he needs to move faster. His legs push limits as the burnt and torn ground crunches under his feet.

He begs, as though it would help. Pleading for his sibling to be safe. He can’t lose his closest individual. The one who knew him the most. Understood him the best. Stood by him and supported him through it all.

“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

Donnie’s bo staff was broken, practically shattered, on the floor. This was all wrong, this all felt wrong. There was a bloody trail leading behind a large rock. He couldn't move, he didn’t want to see- *no*, a ninja should have hope, no giving up Leon, not when your twin could be waiting for you. Tensely he moves his feet, one step then another, a continuous pattern as he follows the blood trail. The shear amount of blood making him sick to his stomach. A genius tech branded wrap- Donnie’s wrap is laying on the ground covered in the blood.

“Dee. Donnie? Donnie?!”

His mind is racing as he turns the corner. What if he was too late? No, he can’t think like that, he *has* to have *hope*. Donnie has kids so he wouldn’t just die like that, especially after he saw the effects Rapha had on everyone. He has to have faith.

“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

He’s cut off by the horrid sight in front of him. Once green scales are now covered in dark red. Pieces of his brother missing, his face stuck in misery, and his eyes lifeless.

"Dontron? Donnie, this isn't funny. Stop... please..."

Leo’s knees give out under the heavy grief. The pain in his soul weighed down on him. This- *this* is what felt wrong. Guess the twin thing really was real. Not just another one of Leo’s fantasies to feel closer to Donnie. But now, the bond was snapped, Donnie was gone, and it felt so *so wrong*.

All he could do is shake his twin in a half-assed attempt of getting him back. Whispering disbeliefs even though he knows the truth. He tries CPR once, twice, 40 times. His hands stop and body shakes as he holds his sibling close to him. Tears he was holding back now flow down from his eyes freely. Leo’s sobs raked through the eerie silent battleground.

This was it. He did it again. He’s the reason another of the four is dead. First was Rapha’s sacrifice, and now it's his poor intuition that lead Donnie right into a trap. He picks them up in his arms, walking to the new base in silence. His shaky breaths and the crunch of the ground plays like a background to his loud thoughts. He has to keep face, for Mikey, The Resistance, Casey, and… Donnson. How is he supposed to tell the kid his dad is dead? And that his ‘favorite uncle’ is the one at fault? I guess when that hill comes, he’ll climb it.