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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

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From Ashes to Pleasure

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female reader

Warnings : Language, squirting, degrading, choking, humiliation, & rough sex.

A/N : Y’all, I honestly have no idea what this is. I felt like writing, a thought came to me, but then it all just turned into this nasty piece of filth! It’s unedited/slightly edited (because I read it over after posting, and decided I needed to come back into the post and edit a few things), it’s dirty, but I felt like my old self again when writing this! I didn’t feel stuck! So, I’m a happy girl! ^_^

Just a warning, this is porn without a plot! Michael is a total demonic daddy, he’s rude, and the sex is rough! I don’t think I’ve written Michael as this dominant before? Think of this fic as an alternate/follow-up to this fic here!! The title is just one of my random combinations, haha. Hope y’all enjoy?! ;)

~*~

You feel his fingers snake down your back ; quick and biting, almost every touch a sharp, pinching ache. He doesn’t really give you want you want, not yet. You deem yourself a Queen in his court of games, but you’re still the fool to his every wild card. Michael Langdon plays dirty by avoidance - one of his many, many talents. With an angelic face, he sees through you with demonic eyes.

You open yourself up to him and his devilish massage, uncaring if all of heaven and hell can see what you’re letting him do to you.

“You’re just like the ashes of a forgotten world,” He begins, draped like a covered kiss of sweet death over your back. “At my mercy and weak. A pitiful, steaming pile that craves to be whole again.” Is his brief finish.

You can’t deny this, shrugging a shoulder that catches on your favorite ring he possesses. “I’m only human, wouldn’t you say?” It floats from you before you can stop it. Instinct and comfort becoming one with their affair in your subconscious.

“Only humans disgust me. You disgust me,” Michael tries, knowing how ignorant that lie sounds to you both.

“If hell has an audience that watches you, they probably laughed loud enough to cause an earthquake, Michael.” You don’t stop the snort that leaves your lips.

A strong shift has you breathless and damn near floating, the room spinning from the force of the demon’s grip on you. Michael slams your nude body into the cold wall, his leather clad knee forcing your legs apart to give himself some leverage. Your head sizzles on a static overdrive, ears prickling with the blood rush that he causes by gripping your cunt so hard that you arch onto the tips of your toes.

“Do you think they’re laughing at this, Y/N? Or...” He presses in two rough fingers, stretching them to slosh your wetness. It’s embarrassing how pitifully soaked that you know you are. “Maybe this?” He twists you around to face him, your lips immediately opening for him when he presents his fingers.

You suck them clean, watching his scenic blue eyes sparkle in awed amusement.

“Perhaps they laugh at how predictable you are for the pleasure I offer you? Doesn’t that make you want to hide this beautiful pink pussy from view, so that you think they can’t see,” He stops himself, that honey hot voice lowering as his mouth nips at your earlobe. “How soaking, fucking, humiliatingly wet that you are?”

“Michael...” You’re trembling into quaking jumbles now, putty in his sinfully satanic hands.

“My disgusting human gets my cock so fucking hard. Every single time.” He’s smirking, petting your hair affectionately, this rough play continuing with a mutual rush.

“Maybe it’s humiliating that a weakling human gets a big ol’ bad all hot and bothered? Doesn’t that make you a slave to your desires too, Michael? Just like all of humanity?” You’re gaining a smart hand in your end of the court.

He isn’t expecting it, judging by the low feral groan that tumbles off his deliciously plump lips. You give a reach and steal a squeeze of his thick cock.

“You want me on bruised knees, servicing you like a hungry human? Swallowing you down with a salivating tongue? Because you’re about to fucking burst from those pants, Langdon.” You give a cocky inclination to his midsection.

He silences your sass with a firm hold on your windpipes. He uses it to drag you over to his desk, depositing your dripping form to its edge. He doesn’t make you lean back, instead letting you have the honor of watching him disrobe himself. He smacks your pussy in a scold, using what he gathers to coat his dick. Your legs are lifted to fit around his lean and muscular form, his hand finally adjusting you to rest on your back.

You let him watch you, let him choke the air from you in steals. There will marks, you know, but remain uncaring. When his hips slam against your pelvis, his balls smacking your ass, you arch to him with a gravity that’s home to you both. He meets you halfway, moments later, to indulge in a violent kiss, your teeth sinking down onto his bottom lip, licking away the coppery substance.

“Fuck, Y/N. That’s it, my human pet.” Michael is starting to shake, stamina increasing to find the finish line.

You knot your hand into his dirty blond locks, pulling so hard that you feel him swell in your cunt, coating your walls with his sticky warmth. You don’t dare move, only taking what he gives you. You need his permission to receive. He’s panting in jagged puffs of air, finally seeing you practically purring in the anticipation of your desperation. He pulls out sloppily, his cum smeared to your inner thighs as some leaks out.

He nods, helping you get onto the desk on your knees, the backs of his rings cool on your abdomen, as he holds you in place, retrieving that familiar item. Your stomach swoops in elation, eyes watering in the depths of need.

“Please, Michael.” Your voice is silk with the slick unshed tears.

Michael smacks your ass with his free hand a few times for measure, then he spreads your cheeks apart, sending you out one word to heed. “Arch.”

His hand slides with your form as you arch down, cheek pressing into the desk, Michael’s hand trapped beneath and cupping your breast, fingertips pinching your nipple. He clicks his tongue in that particular way that you know he does, and brings the leather riding crop down on your pussy. It doesn’t take much, not with his strong hand stroking and teasing your chest, his other causing hits so hard you know you won’t be able to walk or sit after this is all over. You’re screaming his name, cursing him, a dizzying array of sounds leap from your caught throat. Your vision is whiting out to those shapes you see.

It’s hazy and you’re drunk on it. You can’t even use your vocal chords, that unique twist locking your muscles down and then releasing so rapidly that you hear the squelching splash of your own release. Michael is bewildered and proud, obscenities coming from him as his approval is given, and your ears begin to ring. He lets go of you to catch you, your spent bodies sliding into the floor and next to the discarded crop. When you come back to your senses, Michael is sampling your orgasm off his fingers so vulgarly, that you want to ride him into the ground. You don’t know why, but a laugh barrels through you.

“What’s so funny?” Yet, you find that Michael is grinning too.

“Jesus, we’re crazy.” You say, snorting as you relax against him.

He raises a brow, circling your mouth with his fingertips. A Cheshire grin follows moments later. “You’re crazy. I’m the antichrist.”

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breakyeol · 3 years

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— ALL TIED UP

┗ Pairing : Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: shameless smut

Words: 3k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, explicit sexual content ; light bondage, blindfolds, body worship, oral (m. receiving), edging, unprotected sex

A/N; plz this was supposed to be a birthday post for soo but I’m so late it’s not even funny. but blindfolded soo is too hot not to write so here you go lovers, enjoy!!

Lace looks good on him, you decided then, admiring the masterpiece laid out beneath you with a satisfied smirk. Black lace and black silk, a perfect combination. The lace, tied securely around your boyfriend’s beautiful eyes. The silk, around his slim wrists.

“Remind me why I agreed to this?” Kyungsoo grumbled, flexing his fingers experimentally from within their binds. You grinned to yourself, trailing your own lightly over the warm swells of his chest.

“Because you love me and trust me and know I can make you feel… so good.” Those final words were all but purred against the pink tinted shell of his ear, a sense of smug pride settling over you when he shivered in response, lips parting to let out a shaky breath.

You knew what he was experiencing. You knew how every sensation felt amplified. Without his sight, he was forced to feel, to hone in on each one of his other senses. He took notice of things he probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Unable to see what you were doing, he was on edge, left in thick anticipation of your every move. Every touch was a surprise. He had relinquished himself to you, body and mind, left himself completely at your mercy.

His head kicked back into the pillows as your mouth drifted to his throat, bathing him with slow, purposeful kisses. Each one fanned the flames of his lust, growing larger and greedier with every touch. From your peripheral vision, you caught the downward movement of his bound hands from where you had specifically told him to keep them above his head. You reached up, easily pinning them back against the mattress.

“You do trust me, don’t you, Soo?” The low, sultry thrum of your voice caressed his feverish skin, and he felt the weight of them in his blood.

“Yes.” He whispered, grunting softly when you sunk your teeth into his collarbone.

You smiled, laving your tongue soothingly over the afflicted area. “Good.” And then your mouth was on his. He groaned hotly into your kiss, and you giggled as his eager tongue licked at the seam of your lip. Was he already getting worked up? You’d barely even started. It was surprisingly fun seeing the usually so controlled Doh Kyungsoo unraveling beneath you just because of a little lacy blindfold.

It hadn’t taken as much convincing to get him into this position as you first thought it would.

Kyungsoo was the kind of man that took pleasure in taking things slow and dragging things out with deep kisses and gentle caresses. He liked to take his sweet time when he had his way with your body, nipping and teasing until you were squirming and begging and just barely hanging onto your ever dwindling sanity. And shit if those weren’t some of the best orgasms you ever had— you just wanted to return the favor.

“You know, you have the most amazing lips.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m very serious. I can’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you.” You pressed your thumb into the full flesh, drawing it gently down and releasing in order to watch it bounce temptingly back into place.

“That’s just because you have no self control.” He argued, nipping at the pad of your thumb.

You cocked your head, humming thoughtfully. “Valid point.”

His lips parted with the intention of teasing, but any playful comment was abruptly cut off when you redirected your attention back to his sensitive throat, attacking the sweet spot just below the corner of his jaw that you knew made him weak. “Y/n—”

“Shh, just relax, baby… let me take care of you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath from his nose, snagging his lower lip tightly between his teeth and nodded, allowing his body to melt into the mattress.

“Good boy.”

“Suck my dick.” He hissed, only to sigh blissfully as you began kissing hotly down the length of his neck, staining his honeyed skin in lovely shades of pink and red.

“I was planning on it.”

Kyungsoo laughed then, a deep bubbly rumbling that you felt vibrate against your lips. Truly, you couldn’t stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his adam’s apples as it bobbed in front of you all too temptingly. He growled softly in retaliation, but you could feel the solid heat of him pressing up gently between your hips. The subtle friction made the muscles of your thighs tremble in need, fierce desire licking at your veins.

The sight of him beneath you, bound and vulnerable and eager (despite trying -and failing- to hide it), glistening in sweat and practically shaking in anticipation, was affecting you way more than you thought it would. Something about having him like this set your blood on fire in an entirely different way than you were used to. Having such control over him, over his pleasure and desire, was giving you a total power rush. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a complex. Then your handsome boyfriend would have to put you back in your place. Not that you’d mind…

But those were thoughts for another night.

Sinking your fingers into his tight waist, you slowly descended his body; nipping, kissing and licking over every curve, every edge, every soft spot. “You’re so beautiful.” You breathed against his warm stomach, gaze flashing up to catch even the faintest of nuances in his expression. His brows curled, jaw opening around a silent gasp as your lips feathered over his hip bones, greedy touch traveling over the defined muscles of his thighs.

“Fuck, y/n—” the strained groan had you clenching around empty air, lust coiling in your chest.

“You’re so hard, Soo.” You moaned, sitting back on your heels as you admired his length. Thick and red and weeping, a heavy pool of precum collecting on the gentle slope of his belly. Lowering your head, you dragged your tongue through it, humming at the salty taste of him. His stomach flinched and tightened, his chest swelling as he swallowed lungfuls of hot air.

“Stop teasing and touch me.” It was probably supposed to sound demanding, but it came out as nothing of the sort. The way the words trembled and quivered from his gaping lips, thick and heavy in his throat, sounded nothing short of imploring. And damn you if you weren’t about to give him everything he wanted and more.

Kyungsoo gasped out a low curse at the first calculated flick of your tongue over his swollen head, veined hands curling into tight fights around the sheets above his head. Heat pooled in your stomach, even the subtle reaction enough to make you greedy for more. Humming, you licked a wet strip from base to tip, a violent tremble wracking his body in response. You could feel his self control already beginning to wane, a soft whimper breaking free from behind clenched teeth as you took him fully into your mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

His voice sounded so lovely, smooth and lustrous like the black silk wrapped around his wrists, breathless and light where it flickered through the air around your head. You teased the skin of his hips, digging your nails in each time they bucked. His spine curved, a deep groan pulsing from his chest as you hollowed your cheeks, skillfully tracing the thick vein lining the underside of his cock with the tip of your tongue.

“Careful, baby. Careful.” He seethed, head snapping back as his jaw clenched. The warning in his voice clear, the tension in his thighs telling you all you needed to know about just how near he was to the edge. You hummed in acknowledgment, but the vibrations it sent pulsing through his cock threw his entire body into a fit of violent trembles, the resistance he put up against his oncoming orgasm wrenching a broken sob from his swollen lips. “Y/n!”

You pulled off of him with a soft chuckle, resorting to pressing soothing kisses to the warm insides of shaking his thighs.

“Sorry, love.” You crooned, kissing up his body until you were level with his face.

For a moment, you were tempted to pull off the blindfold, just to see the look in those beautiful brown eyes. But some level of self restraint was necessary if you were planning to follow through. So you swallowed the urge, satiating the fire in your belly with the taste of his mouth instead.

“Fucking hell.” He growled roughly, kissing you back with a ferocity that you supposed was intended to take his mind off the desperate throbbing of his cock.

Kyungsoo was breathing hard through his nose, quick shallow breaths that rushed out against the skin of your upper lip. You tried to pull away, worried he might pass out from oxygen from deprivation if you denied him of air any longer, but he chased your mouth, sinking his teeth punishingly into tender flesh your lower lip once he caught up. It was the only thing he could think to do to keep you close.

You rolled your hips back against the hardness of his cock in retaliation, though unsure if it was meant to discipline or reward. Probably both. Regardless, he moaned, subsequently releasing you from the harsh bite of his teeth.

“Do that again. Fuck, I need to feel you. I need to feel you baby, please.” He gritted out, words rushed and jumbled as he rutted up against you. You moaned at the unexpected friction, bracing your hands on his silk-bound wrists to keep from doubling over. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth at the sound. “That feel good?”

“Mhm.” You hummed breathlessly, head tilting back as you rolled yourself over him again, reveling in the resulting rush of warmth. You could see the fluttering of his eyelids behind the lace, searching desperately through all encompassing the darkness for something, for anything— for you.

Then his fingers grazed your wrist and the corner of his mouth twitched triumphantly. “Hold my hand.”

The demand was so unexpected that you couldn’t help the sharp giggle of astonishment that spewed dumbly from your lips. “You want me… to hold your hand?” Repeating the words did nothing to hinder the sudden onslaught of laughter.

Kyungsoo smiled blindly up in your general direction, that dopey heart shaped grin that never failed to make your heart flutter stupidly in your chest. The one that made it feel like time itself was slowing down so that you could treasure it for just a few moments longer. “I want you to hold my hand… and fuck me like you love me.”

Another giggle, your nose wrinkling from the sheer absurdity of the request. “But I do love you.”

He pivoted his chin, cocking a sassy brow. “Then it shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Point made.” You acknowledged, smoothly intertwining your fingers with his and simultaneously sinking down on his length. He cried out, the suddenness of your walls around him stealing all of the oxygen from his lungs. So wet and tight and hot, squeezing in all the right places. He was goddamn dizzy.

A sound of bliss escaped your gaping lips, your eyes fluttering shut as your cunt stretched deliciously to accommodate his familiar girth. You didn’t move at first, remaining still as you adjusted to the intrusion, relishing in the mere sensation of being full. But then you heard a small plea, Kyungsoo’s grip around your hands tightening drastically, and you go pliant under the weight of his need.

You know how he likes it. Deep and slow, dragging out and savoring each precious moment until it feels like every inch of your souls has been set to flames. He likes it when every movement has intention, purpose, from the stroke of his hips to the flutter of his eyes. He likes the toe-curling passionate kind of sex that hits you so deep in your chest that you couldn’t fathom any other kind. The kind that makes your love for him sore like a burning phoenix through the night sky.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to do it as well as he did, if you’d be able to make his toes curl and his soul blaze, but you’d give it your best shot— and that was more than enough for him.

You move over him like liquid, with slow, languid motions that require a surprising amount of effort, drowning him in the dark depths of your desire with every deliberate thrust. Beneath you, Kyungsoo’s back bowed deeply off the mattress, his sweat soaked chest pressing flush against yours. Like that, you could feel the rapid thundering of his heart, each beat echoing through your bones.

Full lips caressed the shape of your name, stroking each syllable like it was his saving grace, his holy salvation. You felt yourself leaning into the sound, seeking out his voice between your own breathless moans.

Heady desperation gnawed at your self restraint, the deep burn gradually consuming the muscles in your thighs and core forcing a sloppiness into the previously controlled movement of your hips. But Kyungsoo made no complaint, whispering only praises against the raw flesh of your lips. Each sultry word fed the raging fire in your belly, pouring gasoline onto the flames created by the pressure of his cock gripped within your walls.

Dull nails bit into your knuckles and Kyungsoo let out a gasp of your name. “I’m close.” He warned between jagged inhales, but you could only cry out as his hips snapped up violently, burying the whole of his length inside your wet cunt.

“Soo— oh god—!” you went still above him, panting and gasping and shaking as he began fucking himself into you from underneath. Though the space was limited, he still managed to plunge into you with a force that fractured your sanity. The strong grip he had on your trembling hands was the only thing keeping you from collapsing on top of him. Each vicious thrust succeeded in hitting that vulnerable bundle of nerves, stars flickering behind your closed eyelids.

“You feel perfect. I bet you look gorgeous.” His voice was a hoarse snarl, searing against your throat and lashing across your tongue. You keened into the destructive sound of it, loving the way it ruined you. “Wanna see you, baby. Wanna see you when you come all over my cock. Let me see you, gorgeous, please. Please.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond, knowing any words would only fracture like glass on your lips. Instead, with quivering fingers, you clumsily tugged the lace off from over his eyes, casting it uncaringly onto a nearby pillow. Pools of pure blackness greet you; blown, unfocused pupils immediately locking on yours. There was nothing but pure, blazing, unbridled lust, so deep and intoxicating that it made your head spin.

The corner of his mouth curled dangerously. “Hands, too?”

Nodding dumbly, you fumbled with the silk tie binding his wrists. The moment it went slack, his hands were on you, greedy and rough and everywhere; in your hair, on your throat, groping your chest, gripping your ass. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, suffocating on the fire he was breathing into your lungs.

In a split second, you were sprawled on your back, moaning and gasping as Kyungsoo pistoled his hips into yours.

“So. Fucking. Perfect.”

You wrapped your legs tightly around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as you gripped onto him for dear life. “I’m gonna come— Soo, I’m gonna come—” you were babbling like a fool, speaking clumsily into the skin on his shoulder. He groaned throatily at the pressure of your teeth on his collarbone, thrusts speeding up to a punishing pace. Deep and hard and passionate, you felt each one resonating through the very core of your being.

A hand slid between your sweat soaked bodies, skilled fingers making quick work of locating your clit. A violent tremor seized your body, a strangled whimper bursting from your chest. Hot pleasure pulsed through you, unrelenting and overwhelming. You squirmed and begged, writhing in bliss beneath his ministrations. Then all at once you cried out, spine arching, muscles tensing as your high crashed over you.

“That’s it. Fuck, good girl. That’s it.”

The world around you swam, blurry and out of focus as the force of your orgasms ripped through you like a wildfire. You felt Kyungsoo faltering above you, hiccuping moans shuddering past his swollen lips. Then he tensed, choked on a gasp, and you felt the warmth of his release pouring into you. Your muscles went slack, head falling back into the pillows as you surrendered yourself to the post-orgasmic bliss that draped itself over you.

A shiver rippled down your spine as he gently pulled out, before collapsing onto your chest. You giggled breathlessly as he nuzzled his face between your breasts, his damp hair tickling your throat.

“That was amazing.” He hummed contently against your feverish skin.

“I told you you’d like it.” You remarked with a smug grin, yelping in shock when he nipped at one of your nipples in retaliation for lack of a better response. You shoved at his shoulders playfully and he rolled off of you with a low grunt, providing you with the perfect opportunity to escape into your connected bathroom for a hot shower. But the second you were on your feet, a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. You spun with a gasp, falling gracelessly back onto the mattress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kyungsoo all but growled, crawling on top of you, an animalistic glint in his hooded eyes.

“To wash up?” You said slowly, though it came out as more of a question.

He chuckled, a low, devilish sound that made your thighs subconsciously squeeze. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

Your brows raised, and you were shocked at the spark of excitement that rushed directly to your spent core. “We’re not?”

He dragged the tip of his tongue salaciously over the full pink flesh of his lower lip and reached over to pick up the lace blindfold, dangling it tauntingly in front of your face.

“It’s my turn.”

#exo #exo fanfic #exo smut #kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfiction #kyungsoo smut #do kyungsoo #exo x reader #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 4 years

Text

Wait For Me (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: smut, pwp

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: yikes switch!reader, switch!Jimin (but mostly dom), needy!Jimin, horny-ass-mf!Jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, ruined orgasm, post-orgasm torture, dirty talk, overstimulation, 69(?), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, pet names, begging, dirty talk, omg so much dirty talk I’m going crazy

(A/N): Am I the only one that’s into dirty talk like this? Maybe. But did I enjoy writing this? Absolutely. Kinda for Jimin’s birthday but really just me needing an excuse to be a sl*t in writing.

“Please, (Y/n)?” Your boyfriend whines from his spot on the bed, the tent in his boxers already pitched to full height behind you.

“No! Wait until I’m finished.” You huff in frustration, trying your hardest to focus on the words in front of you. It’s a stuffy Sunday night like any other, you sitting at your desk doing your homework at the last minute and Jimin reclining on your shared mattress doing whatever the hell he wants. Except, tonight all he wants to do is you. You’ve been prancing around the house in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties all day, teasing him playfully and laughing whenever he would get worked up. You thought it was funny how easily you could get him hard without trying, but it doesn’t seem so funny now when he keeps begging to fuck you while you’re desperately trying to complete your homework.

“You promised we would fuck tonight!” His pout is evident in the tone of his voice but you refuse to look at him. If you do, you just might give in.

“We will, but I have to finish this assignment first. It’s due at midnight, so I really need to get it done right now.” It’s your fault for waiting until the night of to work on this, but you wrongfully assumed that Jimin would understand and let you work in peace. All you have to do is complete a short reading and take a 10 question quiz and then you’re free, but what should have been a 15 minute endeavor has now turned into an hour and a half of arguing and rereading the same 3 sentences over and over. It’s getting ridiculous.

“You said you wouldn’t take long, but I’ve been sitting here ALL NIGHT waiting for you.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up!” You snap, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. His mouth falls open before he frowns, puffing his cheeks out cutely for no one to see. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you don’t question it and instead take his momentary silence to speed through a page.

The silence continues for a couple of minutes and you swear you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your seat. There’s some shuffling on the bed, more silence, and just when you begin to think he’s found something useful to do instead of bothering you, you hear a groan. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

He’s closer than he was before— probably sitting on the edge of the bed facing you now— and it almost feels like he’s breathing down your neck with how clear his voice sounds now. You scoot your chair up slightly to escape him. The sound of friction fills the space of the room, the image of his hand wrapped around his dick floating around your mind even when you refuse to look at him. He pumps fairly slowly, his eyes still glued to your back.

“Mmm, I’m so fucking hard, baby.” Jimin moans to you, trying to coax you into turning your head to see him. “I’ve been hard all day because of you and now you won’t even look at me? Such a bad girl.” You roll your eyes, tuning him out as best you can. Yet, you can’t seem to ignore the wet squelch that fills your ears when he rolls over his head. He moans louder this time. “Since you won’t look at me, I guess I’ll just have to tell you what I’m doing. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything.”

At your sigh, he chuckles, the sound dark and mischievous in a way that makes you ball up your fists. “Jimin,” You warn, but he knows the threat holds no real substance.

“My cock is so red right now, just aching to fuck your tight little pussy, princess. It’s leaking already, can you hear it? All that precum just for you.” You close your eyes, envisioning the sight you’ve seen so many times, but your eyes snap open when you remember your objective and turn the page of your book. “I want you so bad, want you to lick it all up and take me into your throat. Fuck. My hand feels nothing like that hot mouth of yours.” His strokes are longer now, dragging breathy, rhythmic pants from him.

You’d be lying if you said his voice wasn’t making you wet, but you won’t let him know that. He’ll be at this for a while, you know how much he likes to tease himself, so you try your hardest to get used to his rhythm and make it background noise as you progress through the reading. But the words on the pages don’t seem nearly as interesting as the words he feeds you from his plump lips.

“My head is so sensitive, princess, I can barely even touch it without almost cumming.” He grunts, gasping every time his hand nears his tip. You lick your lips, shifting in your seat, an action he catches onto. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing me cum all over myself while fucking my hand? Calling your name as I make a mess all over myself and our bedsheets?” The bed squeaks and you can only imagine that it’s from his hips bucking into his fist, picking up speed as he speaks. Your clit throbs annoyingly, and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips between your legs to rub over your panties. Thankfully, he doesn’t see this, probably because his head is thrown back as he lets out a series of moans.

You’re sensitive. More sensitive than you realized. And you almost let out a sound of your own when he curses. And for a brief moment— a split second— you contemplate abandoning your work and indulging him just to end your suffering. But no, you can’t give in that easily, you have less than a half hour to do your assignment. You’ll keep your hand where it is, however.

“Feels so fucking good,” Jimin lets out a drawn out moan, slowing his pace and working his hand again so you can hear it slapping against the skin of his abdomen. It’s loud and wetter than before, making you gush in your underwear at the thought of how worked up he’s getting. “I know how much you like playing with my balls,” You hear the grin in his voice. “So I’ll play with them a little for you, baby.” The obscene moan that falls from his mouth makes your eyes roll, the material of your panties completely soaked now at how desperate he sounds. You can’t help but to rub yourself to him, willing yourself not to turn around. “I wanna feel that tight little pussy bouncing on my cock, princess. So wet that you drip and cream down my balls as you ride this big cock til you cum, and beg me to cum deep inside your hot cunt. Will- oh shit- will you let me cum inside you tonight, baby? Let me cum deep inside and fill you up so you’re dripping me for days?” His voice is heavy with lust, it’s tone dipping deeper as his moans pitch higher. You assume it’s a rhetorical question so you don’t respond. “Hmm? Are you wet thinking about my cock and cum filling you up, (Y/n)?”

“No.” You lie through your teeth, voice surprisingly stable despite how your fingers move rapidly over your clothed clit. You can feel your wetness through the fabric now, and you just know there will be a stain on your chair when you get up, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“No?” He asks teasingly. “You okay over there? You haven’t turned a page in a while.” Damn him for being so observant. You almost forgot you were reading, the words all jumbled up on the page as your focus is pulled away by the pleasure. Fuck it, you’ll just take the quiz now to get it over with and accept whatever score you get. Jimin watches in amusement as you turn to your laptop, clicking open the quiz hurriedly and starting the questions, zooming through the first 5. He lets out a short laugh at that. “You better hurry, I’m getting close.”

Sucking in through his teeth, you hear him speed up again, spitting onto himself to make the glide smoother, and your core clenches in want. You read question #6 four times before you comprehend what it’s asking, your body betraying you as it yearns for you to look over at your stubborn boyfriend who curses out your name.

“Listen to that sound, princess. That’s what it would sound like if I was fucking you right now. God, I should just bend you over that desk and take you right here for making me wait like this. Make you take every inch of this cock and see if you can ignore me then.” He nearly growls this, an inaudible whimper squeezing from your throat. You would love that. He’s done it before, pushed you up against the desk and had his way with you when you thought it would be funny to give him a strip tease after he ordered you to get on the bed one wine-laced night. But he doesn’t deserve to have you like that after torturing you like this.

Only 3 more questions left and he’s getting more needy, the whiny quality of his voice letting you know how close he is before his words. A noise that you’re all too familiar with fills the air and you freeze. It’s quick and sloppy, the sound of his hand focusing directly on his tip at an inhuman speed that not even you could reproduce. His moans follow the pace, each one getting longer and pitchier, and you can almost hear how his hips lift off the sheets.

“You better not cum.”

“You want me to edge? But I’ve been on edge all day, baby.” He complains. Against your better judgment, you whip your head around to look at him. There, he sits naked on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide as he leans back on one elbow, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other stroking slowly at his thick cock upon your request. It’s red and leaking just like he said, the glistening tip causing your mouth to water. Jimin’s head is thrown back to expose his sweaty neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, eyes shut in pleasure. But once he realizes that you’re looking at him, he snaps his head up to meet your gaze and sends you a shit-eating grin at the flushed look on your face. Then, he resumes working at his head, arching his hips up in the most erotic sight you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing. That’s the last straw.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum!” You growl.

You click random answers on the last few quiz questions, hitting submit and slamming your laptop shut before stomping over to him, slapping his hand away as you clamber up onto the bed, pushing him down aggressively and throwing a leg over his chest to face his erection. It jumps at you, so painfully hard that you almost feel bad for him. But Jimin doesn’t deserve your pity right now. Not long after your hand finds him, your mouth fits over the soft tip.

“Fuuuuuck.” He grunts, hands finding your ass instantly. The crotch of your panties are soaked all the way through, the dark spot causing a smirk to cross his lips. “Why did you lie to me, princess? I thought you said you weren’t wet?” For some reason, hearing him say this makes you even wetter, and you suck in a breath through your nose when his fingers come up to touch your core, a deep hum vibrating through his body that ends in a chuckle. “Absolutely drenched, baby. Were you touching yourself over there? Your clit is so swollen I can see it through your panties.”

His voice hitches at the end of his sentence as you sink all the way down on him, pushing yourself to take him all the way into your throat just like he wanted, the tip of your nose resting at his balls. It’s partially payback for his teasing, but you adore the response you get from him as he nearly chokes on air from the sudden stimulation. You bob a few times, a delightful lightheaded feeling overtaking you as you hold your breath and force yourself to keep him in your throat. Your reward is that you finally shut him up, Jimin now at a loss of words beneath you and shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck into your mouth. Smirking, you pull off of him, dropping your ass down a bit until your core grazes his lips, and he gets the hint immediately. Always the eager lover, he pulls the crotch of your underwear to the side, groaning at the strings of arousal that cling to it. The sight makes his mouth water, his tongue lurching forward to lick a long stripe up your slit, gliding back down to suck at your engorged clit.

Your moan is muffled around him, working the top half of his shaft while one hand accommodates the rest, and your jaw is already starting to hurt from his size. Although he’s generally a small person, Jimin’s cock is anything but. Your jaw fell to the floor the first time he dropped his pants, the girth surprising you pleasantly. He’s got an impressive width that left you sore for a few days and a length that is well above average. His balls always seem plump and heavy, ready for you to milk them dry, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching up and grabbing them, massaging the plush sacs for your own amusement.

“Oh f- you’re so good at this.” He cuts himself off with a gasp, kissing the inside of your thighs and biting hickies into them as his mind becomes cloudy. He’s close— if the slight movement of his hips is any indication— and an evil idea pops into your mind. His hips thrust upwards at a particularly hard suck at his tip and you gag at the sudden depth, Jimin nearly yelling out at how your throat closes around him. “Yesss, baby girl, choke on my dick.” You preen at his praise, but keep your composure.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Your hips push back into him, covering his mouth with your lower lips, and he continues his work enthusiastically to distract himself. You’ve switched to using just your tongue now, licking up and down the solid shaft and circling around the head, providing just enough stimulation to inch him closer to the edge but no longer giving him what he wants. What he wants is a hard and fast orgasm. You’ll make sure that’s not what he gets. His groans increase in volume and frequency as you work your magic tongue, flicking over that sensitive fold of skin where his tip attaches to the rest of him, and it’s not long before he’s trembling.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles out a shaky warning, and you have to push down his hips with one hand when they begin to lift off the bed, your other hand jerking steadily at his base while you tease over his slit with the tip of your tongue. The pressure builds, his balls lifting in preparation for his release, and you coax it out of him with a few gentle sucks. “Ah!”

Jimin lets out a high pitched groan sounding almost in pain when you pull off of him, squeezing at his base so hard that only a few short spurts of cum make it out. Your mouth has been completely removed from him, it’s only connection being the long strand of saliva hanging from your lips, and he bucks up frantically in search of stimulation to complete his orgasm. Still rock hard, he practically begs you to move your hand, to give him anything as the few lonely globs of semen sadly skid down onto your hand like tears from his one-eyed monster. His mouth is covered by your pussy so you can’t hear his pleas, but the vibrations they send to your core are absolutely delightful. Once you’re sure he’s finished cumming, you begin your evil plan.

It starts with a few slow pumps, lubed by his own semen from his length that’s still twitching in your hand, but it quickly escalates to firm and steady strokes that have him squirming under you. You aren’t even going that fast, but the sensitivity makes him thrash and cry out prettily as you hold him down with your body weight. Jimin’s into all kinds of freaky shit, so this isn’t the first time you’ve indulged in post orgasm torture, but it’s somehow very different when he’s not expecting it. Your hand moves at an unyielding pace, unbothered by the way his legs open and close only to be smacked apart by the hand that still holds his balls.

“I’ll stop when you make me cum.” You state, unsure if he can even hear you. But his tongue dives in with renewed vigor, flicking relentlessly at your clit as you grind down on him. It won’t take long to reach your peak, his technique is flawless, licking wide circles around your bud with the flat of his tongue and then raising up to plunge his long muscle between your walls. Your essence dribbles down onto his face, wetting his chin and cheeks as he eats you like a man starved. You haven’t been this turned on in a long while, you didn’t think you’d be so into seeing him suffer in pleasure like this— his body writhing under yours and cock still so insanely hard in your hand just from the light hold you have on him. His hands claw at your ass, pulling you down and spreading your cheeks apart, fingers bruising the flesh in his haze of sweet agony.

You moan for him and bite your lip, closing your eyes as he edges you closer to your peak, your hand starting to stutter on him. It’s easy to get lost in him and grind down into his mouth, the feeling of his tongue between your folds heavenly, the feeling of his lips even better. But what sets you over the top is when his fingers snake into your opening, first two, then three. The stretch causes you to throw your head back, and you go flying head first into your orgasm when he curls into that one spot, tongue still on your clit and fingers wiggling inside you as your walls spasm around him. With one last groan, you lift away from him, finally moving your hands to his thighs to grip the muscles as you try to catch your breath. Jimin does the same, relaxing into the mattress as a few more ticklish waves flow through him.

“Was that okay?” You spin around until you’re laid on top of him, chin on his chest looking up into his dark chocolate eyes. He cracks a brief smile at your cuteness before flipping you over, capturing your lips sweetly. But the sweetness ends before you can even enjoy it when he bites down on your lip, a whimper falling from you.

“You can’t ask for my consent after it’s over.” He points out, trying to hide his giggle in the crook of your neck as he sucks dark marks there. “But, yeah, that was fucking hot.” The tip of his erection prods at your ass cheek, nudging the fabric of your soiled underwear. Without pulling away, Jimin hooks his fingers into your waistband, snatching them off and chucking them across the room, next comes your shirt, which he damn near rips in his haste to get it over your head. He growls. “So fucking sexy. And all mine. Right, princess?”

“Yes, Jimin, I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me.” In an instant you switch roles, dropping the momentary dominance to cower in his presence. There’s a hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes that you provoked, the product of the teasing he faced all day, and you drip down your ass at the thought of him taking you however he wants. You suspect he’ll be eager to finally fuck you, but you underestimate how petty he can be. The tip of his cock runs through your wetness, but when he sees the way you jump when it rolls over your sensitive clit, his eyes narrow, seeing an opportunity to get his revenge. Dipping down briefly to collect more of your wetness, he glides the slick underside of him over your bundle of nerves, using his thumb to press down and add pressure, then he grinds his hips ever so slowly back and forth over you, forcing you to feel every ridge of him bump against you. “Oh fuck!” You gasp out, spreading your legs wider and lifting your hips into him. His length is hot, still burning and hard from not getting a full orgasm.

“You like this, baby? You like how my cock feels between these soft lips, rubbing that cute little clit?” He grins when your eyes roll back, thighs already starting to tremble. “Maybe I should just fuck you like this. Make you cum without ever even entering you.”

“No! No, please, Jimin.” Your eyes pop open in alarm at the thought of him not fucking you tonight, though you know he’s far too wound up to deny both of you that. Still, he persists his humping, groaning along with you as you feel another orgasm creeping up embarrassingly fast.

“Hmm, seems like you’d like that though? I mean, you look like you’re about to cum again already.” The patronizing tone of voice he uses would piss you off in any other situation, but you’re not in your right mind currently. As he picks up pace you feel your mind slipping away, your clit throbbing and your empty walls clenching almost painfully around nothing. You try to hold back and prove him wrong, you really do, but your body betrays you and with every nudge of his tip you can feel yourself falling. The most you can let out is a desperate whine. “If you want something, use your words and tell me.”

“P-please...”

“Please what?” You can feel his eyes on your face, but your eyelids are sealed shut and your head is tossed back into the pillows. It takes everything in you to muster the strength to form a coherent sentence and push it past your lips.

“P-please fuck me, baby.” Your voice hiccups at a particular stroke, the hood of your bud now pushed back for more direct stimulation. You aren’t sure how long you’ll last like this.

“You want me to fuck you?” He coos, twitching against your lower lips.

“Yes please, I need your cock.” Asking in the sweetest voice you can, you peel your eyes open to bat your lashes at him, but they snap shut once again when he suddenly pushes inside your velvet walls, shoving you off the edge unexpectedly.

“That’s my good girl,” Jimin sighs once he’s bottomed out, hands roaming your torso as you shake uncontrollably. “So desperate for my cock that you came right when I put it in.” He clicks his tongue, but if you were cognizant at the moment you would have noticed his satisfied tone. You clamp down on him as your orgasm washes through you, and he rides the waves with shallow pumps of his hips and his fingers tweaking your nipples, grunting at the way you pulse around him.

He pushes in deeper as you start coming down, the sensitivity kicking in with every drag of his member inside you. He pays no mind to your whimpering and reaches around your back to lift you up, seating you in his lap with your heels on the tops of his ass. And your hips start moving immediately despite the tingling that shoots up your spine.

Though his body screams for release after his incomplete high, Jimin can’t help but guide you into a sensual pace of grinding and rocking, the intimacy soothing him. With your arms around his neck, you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you slide back and forth against his length, adding a swivel of your hips just to hear him groan. Your weight on top of his feels like the most natural thing in the world and he wishes you could stay like this forever. Running his hands up and down your back, he allows you to mark up his neck and collarbones for everyone to see. He always wears your love bites so proudly. Relishes in the slight tickle of your tongue and nip of your teeth that whisper to him ‘you are mine’. Rose petals bloom on the surface of his skin all the way up to his ear lobe where you nibble.

“Your cock feels fucking amazing, babe.” You whisper in that sultry tone of yours, noting how his hips twitch beneath yours. You’d never say it out loud but you’ve been thinking of this all day. Waiting to hold him close and just love one another. His lips plant a few stray kisses to the side of your neck before trailing downwards, capturing a pert bud between them. You lean back on your hands to give him more access, grinding down just a bit harder when his hips lift to meet yours to make sure you get every inch he has to offer. With your head thrown back like this Jimin can reach that delicate spot deep inside you with ease, humming at the shaky moan you let out. His lips curl into a grin when you begin to bounce with desperation, planting your feet behind him for leverage.

Jimin’s eyes peer up at you as you ride his dick, your breast bouncing in his mouth as he switches to the other to suck. Sweat has now accumulated on your forehead and neck, the droplets glittering against your complexion. Your eyes are screwed shut and the prettiest flush has overtaken your cheeks and chest as you work for your next high, lips bitten and eyebrows squinted together. Truly, you are gorgeous. It makes him impossibly harder to see you like this, his length already throbbing within you, but he holds back as much as he can simply because seeing you fall apart is almost more satisfying than experiencing it himself. It should be surprising that you’re getting close already, but it’s always been easy for you to cum quickly after your first orgasm, the sensitivity and connection you have with your lover making you as explosive as a lit firecracker.

“You’re so needy tonight, princess, is it because of how much you teased me all day? Did you like watching me suffer?” You don’t answer because, frankly, yes. You loved it. And it’s too embarrassing to admit, but Jimin already knows. “Well, let’s see how much you like it when I destroy this cunt until you can’t walk.” The gruffness of his voice makes your eyes roll, the tenderness he’d shown not even a minute ago gone completely as he lets his teeth scrape over your nipple.

Bringing you flush against his chest again, he hooks his elbows under your knees and starts pounding into you in earnest, your hands flying to his shoulders for stability. His core strength is a sight to behold, supporting almost all of your weight while sitting upright, pulling you onto his cock as though you weigh nothing. And all you can do is hang on for the ride, gasping and crying out at the way he repeatedly slams into your spot. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pull him closer and rest your face on the crown of his head, feeling your limbs go weak from the pleasure.

He grunts below you when you tug, bucking up harder when your walls start to squeeze. Wetness streaks down your ass, a string of curses tumble out of your mouth to accompany the lewd sounds of him pushing through your arousal. Each stroke is calculated, and you find yourself teetering very close to the edge.

“Please, Jimin, I’m so close. Please can I cum?” You mumble, barely coherent.

“My baby girl wants to cum again?” He coos into your collarbone, the ticklish skim of his lips sending a shiver through you. ‘My baby girl.’ That one word has you shaking.

“Yes!” You wail as his hands tighten on your ass, palming the globes harshly to slam you down on his length. You can just imagine how sexy his arms look right now, the muscles and veins bulging in his forearms and hands from how tightly he holds you, his biceps and shoulders on full display and glimmering with perspiration. His voice rumbles against you in that thick Busan accent and you almost cream right there.

“Beg for it.” He looks up into your eyes and you see something dark, a heady lust that lowers his eyelids and makes you feel like you’re looking at the definition of sex itself.

“Please please please let me cum, baby!” Your voice shakes with each jolt of your body against his. “I’m so greedy for your cock, I wanna cum for you. You make me feel so good!” Pleased, Jimin gives you permission and moves a little faster, pressing you down against him so your clit rubs against him every time, and you nearly scream from the feeling. You sing your praises into the room knowing how it motivates him, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried. Skin slicked with sweat, you let yourself fall into another breathtaking high, clinging onto your boyfriend who grinds you on top of him to savor the way you clench and throb around his tip when it’s buried deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You both swear at the same time, taking a brief moment to catch your breath as Jimin kisses his way up your neck, releasing your legs and squeezing you close with his arms wrapped tight around your back. Exhaustion dances through you and you sit limply in his hold, eyes closed and basking in his sticky heat. But the moment is soon over when you feel him twitch within your sensitive walls, growling as he shifts his weight until your back is pressed into the mattress with him kneeling over you.

“Keep those eyes open, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” You gasp when his hips begin to move again, your nerves rubbed raw and swollen from the three highs he’s already pulled from you. Still, your eyes roll in delight when he starts ramming into you again, pushing your legs as far apart as they will go and holding you open. “You didn’t think I would let you off that easy, did you, princess? You still need to be punished for today.” He coos, voice gentle despite his hard thrusts. You whine loudly and attempt to close your legs when he touches a sweet spot deep within you, the pleasure almost too much, but it’s like you’re addicted to him, unable to get enough even when your body begs for reprieve. “Shhh, I know you can take it, baby. I know how much you love it when I overstimulate this greedy pussy, so be a good girl and take it.”

He’s absolutely correct, you love the overstimulation and the twinge of pain and overwhelming pleasure that comes with it. And you know this is his payback for the post-orgasm torture you gave him earlier. You’re still incredibly wet, new arousal dripping out of your entrance every time he plunges in, the mess of your juices and his precum dripping down the crack of your ass and onto your bedsheets. Looking up at Jimin’s face, you see how entranced he is by the sight before him, eyes trained between your legs as he watches himself disappear inside you and re-emerge with a new coating of slick covering his shaft. Smirking, you reach your hands down around your ass and pull your lips open wider for him, biting your lip at the way his eyebrows crease together and his mouth drops open at the sight. His pace slows slightly, his breathing labored as he begins to slowly unravel for you.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy! God, you always take my cock so well, princess.” He hisses, licking his full lips when your clit throbs at his praise. He can see and feel when you tighten, his tip finding that spot again that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Jimin,” You mewl, your thighs shaking in his grip and fingers clawing the sheets. Tears build in your beautiful eyes. It feels so good, but would you be able to handle a fourth orgasm tonight? Your body feels pushed to the limit, but your lover says otherwise.

“C’mon, baby girl, cum for me one more time.” You shake your head in desperation, pleading with him with your watery eyes. “Yes you can. Just relax for me, baby, I got you. I want you to cum one last time, just one more, and then I’m gonna fill you up.” He encourages softly, yet you don’t miss the dominant undertones that tell that this is a command. With a huff from his nostrils, he pounds into you harder while fighting off his own release, staying deep right up against that spot making you cry out. His hands reach for your breast and you place your hands over his for comfort, moaning as he squeezes the bouncing mounds as you toss your head back.

“I- I don’t think I can...” You whimper, unsure if you can get there with your nerves feeling numb and worn like this. But Park Jimin is nothing if not determined, so he takes your statement as a challenge. Slipping one hand away from you, he presses his thumb to your lips, staring down at you intensely before you open.

“Suck.” On command, you swirl your tongue around his digit, coating it in your spit before he slides it out with a pop. Suddenly, he’s pressing against your swollen clit in tight circles and those special tingles shoot up and down your spine at the feeling. He hums at the sounds you make, eyes sealed shut because of the blinding waves of bliss coursing through your veins, building you up almost frighteningly fast. He feels you pulse, your jelly legs trembling on either side of him as they attempt to close, but his praises fall on deaf ears as you chase the sensations of his skillful hips and fingers, rocking into him with the last of your energy until you reach the brink.

“Oh my god-!” You shudder and shriek as you finally tense up around him. Your walls clamp down repeatedly as Jimin continues flicking your sensitive nub, and the tears that had been welling up finally spill over. He stops only when your breathing turns to pitiful snivels, wiping away your tears with caring hands and loving eyes. His hips are still fucking you through the aftershocks as he kisses his way around your face, planting his lips firmly on yours until your breathing evens out.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” He whispers out, resting his forehead against yours. “Will you let me cum in this pretty little pussy, baby?” You nod against him, staring right into his coffee colored eyes. “Mm, I want you to keep it inside all night, okay princess? So I can fuck it out of you in the morning. Will you do that for me?”

“Fuck, yes.” You moan. You can feel the way he gets just a bit harder, how his muscles start to shake just slightly, and you know exactly how to push him over the edge. Your fingers lightly caress the velvety skin of his balls, causing a surprised moan to leave his lips. “I want your cum so bad, Jimin. I promise I’ll keep it inside, I’ll be a good girl for you. Please fill me up.” Knowing how much your words would affect him, you use your sweetest voice and lock your heels around his back. His head swims with desire and his voice strains.

Sitting up a bit, his hands clamp onto your hips to stroke into you in earnest, face contorted in the sexiest of expressions. You want to shy away from his intense gaze but you can’t pull your eyes away from him, drinking up the sight of his clenching abs, sweaty chest and neck, and the pure hunger that overtakes his features. “Good girl. Don’t move. Enjoy the feeling of my cum filling you up.” With a few more grunts and groans, he allows himself to release into you, shuddering almost as hard as you were from the feeling of the full orgasm he had been waiting for all day. Spurt after spurt of his release covers your walls, and your inner muscles suck it in as if on instinct, throbbing around him to milk every last drop. You let him collapse onto you as he finishes, cock still throbbing while he gasps and pants into the crook of your neck. You can feel it already starting to leak out around him, but he won’t be too upset about it since he’ll likely have fun fingering it back into you later.

There’s a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath, pressing sleepy kisses to each other’s damp skin with rosy cheeks and smiles on your faces. Jimin moves first, groaning when his muscles scream out in soreness when he sits at the side of the bed to pull on his boxers. You giggle, commenting about how you were supposed to be the one unable to walk, not the other way around. He snorts passing you a pair of panties and helping you stand so you can make it to the bathroom.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you get ready for bed, grumbling about having an early class tomorrow morning. Which reminds you of the homework quiz you took tonight. Opening your laptop again, you check your score, only to have your face drop at what you see.

“50 PERCENT?!” You whip around to face your boyfriend, who was back to reclining against the headboard, the scene similar to the beginning of your night. “You owe me for this, Jimin.”

He waves you off. “Those quizzes aren’t even worth that much, you’ll be fine.” But you disagree because you’ve already missed 2 of them and only the lowest 2 scores are dropped at the end of the semester. He rolls his eyes when you tell him this, cutting you off with a dramatic groan. “Babyyyyyy, stop talking about school and come to bed.” His pout is unmatched, so you easily relent and shut down your laptop, huffing and puffing the entire time.

“You owe me cuddles and breakfast tomorrow morning.” You grumble as you climb in next to him, fitting your body with his.

“And shower sex.” He winks at you and you snort, turning out the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You laugh, snuggling up to his chest in the quiet of your stuffy room.

...

“So no shower sex?”

#Jimin smut #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #bts smut

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corpsedaydream · 3 years

Text

puzzle

corpse husband x reader

hi! i haven’t posted any writing in a while, i haven’t felt v musey lately and i think bc my life has kind of just felt like it’s at a halt right now. but then i started this and incorporated corpse and this is what came out of it.

kinda a comfort read idk, hope u enjoy!

lmk what u think

word count: 1.2k

_______________________________

puzzle

You know those fleeting times in life when everything seems to be falling into place so perfectly? Like you and your life were once a jumbled puzzle made up of countless pieces that could never be put together but then the universe suddenly flips a switch and your puzzle starts to form together so tremendously. It has you feeling a new sense of joy, one that’s a little unfamiliar because for the longest time, this all seemed so far away. It can pick you up to such a high position. You swear to yourself that life can’t seem to get better and then it does.

What a wondrous thing to experience.

It was during this peak of happiness, you’d also met your current boyfriend, Corpse. He’d been a wish on a shooting star that had been granted true to you by whatever cosmic guardians were watching over you. Yet another piece of your puzzle that had connected so naturally.

However, this type of happiness can be dangerous because the higher up you find yourself, the harder and faster you can fall. And fall you did.

Just as it was feeling as if your puzzle had been almost completed, the universe dropped you and you fell into thousands of new pieces for a new puzzle that would be even harder to complete. And it seemed that anytime you were active in trying anything to make progress through this complicated time, you were halted. It was an exhausting loop you were caught in, like you were stuck in quicksand and it wasn’t quite strong enough to suck you all the way under, but it was strong enough to keep you from making an escape.

One thing stayed consistent for you through this, Corpse.

And each day you spent him, he’d notice the changes that mirrored how you were feeling and with how each knock back you encountered, it diminished your light even further. Your replies were shorter when you messaged him, you’d laugh a little less at something that would normally bring you to tears from laughing, he’d catch your eyes slowly glaze over as you stared at nothing for prolonged amounts of time, you weren’t really answering your friends calls and you were even forgetting to drink water.

The only thing you had really been doing lately was playing Animal Crossing, after months of not going on the game, you’d decided to go back and it was one of the only things you could control when your life seemed to be out of your hands.

So when Corpse came out of his streaming room he wasn’t surprised to hear the faint tune of the calming game playing from your switch. And although you held the console in your hands, he noticed your eyes were trained out the window.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” He let his presence be known, but you didn’t even flinch, you didn’t hear him at all, he gathered that you must have really been lost in your own thoughts.

So instead of speaking, he stepped closer until he could bend over and interrupt your staring by using his own face to cut off your vision by forcing you to look at him. A small smile that was tainted with his sadness for you graced his face as he watched you blink multiple times and join him back in present time.

“Hi.” You greeted him.

“Hey.”

“Your streams done already?”

“What do you mean already?”

“That was a quick one.”

“I was in there for almost five hours.” His tone was heavy with concern.

“Oh.” You frowned in confusion and he lost your vision as you looked down at the switch in your hands. It had become nighttime on your Animal Crossing Island and last time you checked it was still daylight in the game.

“What were you doing?”

“I was...” You trailed off and moved your little character around, you were still standing in an overgrown flower field. “I was going to fix up my flowers, but,” you shrugged a shoulder, “guess I can’t do that right, either.” You sighed and Corpse felt his heart ache, how badly he wanted you to be able to see yourself the way he did.

“(Y/N)-”

“Corpse, please, I love you and I so appreciate you being here for me, but I don’t need another pick me up. Just let me be sad right now.” You cut him off, looking back up at him and it was his turn to sigh as he held your eye contact. He was paused on what to respond to you with, truth being told, he was feeling so powerless in ways to help you. He wished he could say a magic word or snap his fingers and turn your mood around, bring back the sunshine in you that was normally so present.

“Okay.” He simply responded, he just hoped in due time, you’d come back to him. He knew you weren’t completely overboard, you were normally so optimistic and he hoped that prominent trait of yours was strong enough to keep you afloat through this confusing period in your life.

So for a moment, he just watched you divert your attention back to your Nintendo Switch and he watched as you turned the joystick to move your character around the flower field that had grown so out of hand. You weren’t even holding your shovel in the game and he noticed the distress displayed on your face, he couldn’t let one of your only comfort things right now also add to the list of things that were causing you grief right now.

“Give it to me.” Corpse sat down beside you and took the device from your grasp.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you.” Briefly, he’d turn his head and press a kiss on your forehead and you’d smile back at him and scoot in closer to his side, leaning your head on his shoulder and watching the screen as he went to work in sorting out the flowers on your island.

On the third time of him filling up your characters pockets with flowers, you’d speak up again. “Corpse,”

“Hold on, I’m gaming.”

“No, Corpse,” you’d laugh and tug on his arm a little. “Look at me.” And so he did, a smile matching your own because he was so happy to hear you laugh. “Thank you.” You told him, looking back and forth between his eyes. “For everything.”

And he’d momentarily remove one of his hands from the switch, instead bringing it up to cup your cheek. “You really don’t have to thank me.”

“But I want to.” You’d rebuttal and then he’d lean in to kiss you, your eyes fluttering shut as his mouth met yours. How much you loved him was made up of healing powers, how he knew exactly what you needed in this moment was his own magic. You might’ve been lost in life right now, with a new more intense puzzle that needed to be figured out, but Corpse was your skylight that could always be seen in the darkness. His perfect chaos stronger than all others. “I love you.” You’d tell him after the kiss ended, your nose still brushing against his.

“I love you, too.” He’d peck your lips one last time and then he’d say something that would make you laugh again, “now don’t interrupt me again, I’m a professional gamer, baby.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse imagines #corpse husband fanfiction #writing #mine

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7spaceace7 · 3 years

Text

These Thoughts We Carry

No one really knows about Sooga’s past. No one knows where he came from, or what burdens he carries. But Hylia damn them all, Master Kohga doesn’t let anybody go through that shit alone, especially when he knows what it’s like to deal with nightmares all the time. Especially when it’s the one he loves most.

Master Kohga x Sooga hurt/comfort fic that I churned out after like two days and a bad set of nightmares. I hope you enjoy! I’ll post it on AO3 as well!

Warnings: Implied physical abuse

Word count: 2387

In a desert, it is easy to forget that the sky can change. From early morning, it seems the sun is always burning down your back, clutching you in its comforting, yet suffocating, grasp. You almost forget that dusk is just hours away. The unclouded blue skies seem to go on forever.

Though, every resident of Hyrule knows that the desert night is even more unforgiving than the daytime’s blistering heat. You are placed at a disadvantage amongst your foes. Lizalfos and bokoblins settle in for unsuspecting prey wandering about the sands. Anyone who has the wit about them could surprise you, if you are unlucky. And of course, the frozen winds bring a chill that digs deep into bone when just moments before you might have been begging for such relief.

But none of those things were the reason Sooga hated the nights of Gerudo Desert. No, Sooga despised them for their unending silence. The vast emptiness. The endless searching for something besides your thoughts. Desert nights used this loneliness to stir up a past better left forgotten, and that is what Sooga hated most of all.

He stood at the entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout, just before the land dipped and delved into its rugged formations of rock. The inverted eye statues stood through the whistling winds. Their cloth counterparts strung up above blew with a disheveled intensity. This nuisance of a noise was the only sound Sooga could hear rustling through the valley. Well, that and perhaps his restless mind.

His thoughts were always loudest when he was trying to sleep, and often woke him up in the middle of the night. Tonight happened to be such a night where they were too loud to be kept inside the hideout. Certainly, they were too loud to continue resting next to Master Kohga, lest he wake him unnecessarily. Sooga would never dare to do this. Instead, he would resign himself to the chilled desert air at the beginning of the hideout when the memories became painful enough. If he could not sleep, at least he could be useful and take a nightwatch shift. His one good eye settled right on the valley’s opening.

Focus, Sooga. Do not let your mind drift.

But his memories would not be silenced. He remembered a broken picture frame from his dream that night. The frame once held a family of three, but had broken into a family of only cracks after a bout of rage from a man he once called a father. It might have meant nothing to anyone else, but to Sooga...the screaming of the drunken bastard entered his ears at the simple sight of it. Sooga tried desperately to shake it from his mind, but his memories of the nightmare shoved through.

A broken picture frame, pieces splintered around thatchwood floor. A broken picture frame, having been thrown at his person when he hadn’t the skill to protect himself. A broken picture frame, among other airborne objects, that he narrowly avoided by the miracle of perhaps Hylia herself.

The Yiga warrior let a shaky breath escape his masked lips. Fists clenched tightly, as if that man would be right behind him if only he found courage to look. A quick glance told him nothing was there, but his heart was not at ease.

Logically, Sooga knew there was nothing. He knew his father had left this world long ago. Sooga knew it so firmly because it was his own hands that finished him off. Simple strangulation, soon after he had only turned eighteen years of age. The warrior had made sure there was none of his father left in this world to haunt him ever again.

Yet here he was. Years later, still scared by ghosts he’d conjured up himself. The uniformed man sighed, and in a moment of weakness, pried off his white mask. Sooga was careful not to deepen the crack as his palm gingerly encased the object. Perhaps the cold air against his bare skin would be of use to his intruding thoughts. At least, he thought, it was nice to feel fresh air.

“There you are!” Came a familiar voice from behind his post. Sooga jumped and smacked the mask back onto his face in a panic. He blinked once from surprise, and once more from the shock he just gave his facial nerves.

“M-Master Kohga,” Sooga got to his feet and bowed automatically, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t able to be heard by his superior. “I had not thought you were awake at this hour.”

“I wasn’t, but then I rolled over and realized you up and vanished,” Kohga yawned, scratching an itch at his neck. He was without his uniform, but still donned a type of mask. This one was specifically for sleep, and made of soft, red fabric that held a sewn pattern of the inverted eye, closed instead of open. For now, this mask rested atop his forehead. “Yunno, for a big guy, you’re real hard to find. Took me forever to figure out where you went.”

“My apologies, Master Kohga.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, I was only a little worried,” This of course was a blatant lie, as Master Kohga had quickly woken up in a cold sweat after his hand fell upon an empty spot next to him in bed. He had grabbed only his robe in his haste to find where Sooga had gone. But of course, a dignified leader such as he would never have done a thing like that. Kohga took a spot next to Sooga’s post and sat down. “So what’re you doin’ way out here so late?”

Sooga was silent for a moment as he sat down next to his master. He contemplated brushing off the comment with a vague answer, but...something compelled him to confide instead.

“A dream demon made its attempt on my subconscious,” Sooga spoke. He hoped to retain at least a bit of dignity by acting professionally, but the facade was lost on Kohga. “I did not want to wake you with it.”

“Nightmares gettin’ to ya again, I see.”

Again? Had Kohga somehow already known of his recent night difficulties?

“Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been sleeping toge-- er, bunking --for a while now, and you get kinda squirmy when you aren’t dreaming well.”

Sooga hadn’t any idea of this happening. Shame sat upon his masked features and settled its way down to his throat. His tongue searched for something to say. An apology, perhaps? That was all he knew to do in a moment like this. Apologize for the inconvenience, apologize for the worries he must have induced, apologize for the disturbance of his master’s rest, apologize, apologize, apolo-

“You don’t have to feel bad, Sooga, I know you put all that pressure on yourself,” Master Kohga said. Sooga’s head turned towards the unmasked man beside him in utter surprise. Had he suddenly learned a new technique for mind-reading? “Nightmares suck. Real bad. I get it.”

Rather than questioning how he knew such an appropriate response, Sooga nodded, and dared to ask a different question.

“What...happens? When you are brought to notice I am not resting well, that is,” Sooga asked quietly, head turning away once more. It was no surprise that Sooga was soft-spoken, but that was out of his own self-discipline. His day-to-day tone was based on leadership and careful thought, but this...this was a tone Kohga had never heard from his friend before. This was laced with fear.

“Well, ah,” Kohga started. His brown eyes softened as he recalled one night waking to Sooga thrashing about their shared covers, murmuring something like a cry for help. To another night where Sooga had begun shaking uncontrollably. To a night just last week when he unmistakably heard a pleading for someone to stop. Stop what, Kohga didn’t know, and he knew even less of who it could be about. Even his best attempts to wake his second-in-command went without fruition. “Sometimes you say stuff. Sleep-talker nonsense, yunno, I usually don’t have a clue what you’re going on about. But you always seem so...scared.”

I always hold you when they get bad like that, Kohga wanted to say. The words were right there, threatening to spill out of him all at once in a jumble of messy worries and care that the Yiga master so desperately wanted to confess. But this wasn’t the time.

Kohga left out the part where he’d always wrap his arms around a nightmare-stricken Sooga to calm his shakes and trembles. He left out the part where he’d draped a hand across Sooga’s chest and gently adjusted his mask enough to wipe away the hidden tears. He left out the part where he’d discovered that nuzzling his face into Sooga’s neck would cause the larger man to remember he was safe and briefly find relief. At least, Kohga hoped he did.

“I am sorry you have seen me in such weakness, Master Kohga..” Sooga finally replied, bringing Kohga back to the present moment. Kohga was right next to him, but still, the man seemed so far away.

“Being afraid isn’t weakness. Everybody gets scared of stuff, even me,” Kohga nudged Sooga’s side in a lighthearted gesture, as they both knew just how terrified the ‘fearless leader of the Yiga Clan’ could really get. “This world’s full of some scary shit. You’re allowed to get scared, no matter how strong you are. And you’re, like, the strongest guy I know, besides me of course.”

“You truly believe that?”

“Course I do! I mean look atcha, you’re twice my size and a badass, dual-wielding blademaster. There’s no one in the world cooler than you and me, big guy.”

Sooga cracked a smile at that.

“My point is,” Kohga continued, “You don’t have to save face with me. Dream demons get to me too, yunno, that’s why I’ve got my big strong bodyguard next to me every night. That’s what makes me not so scared anymore. I know that nothin’s gonna get to me because if it tries, I’ve got you.”

Kohga paused, eyes drifting over to where Sooga’s own eye would be. “So, I wanna help you feel protected from ‘em, too.”

“But that is my job-” Sooga tried to protest, turning back to face his master.

“You deserve to feel safe, too, Sooga.”

Sooga was silent at this. They sat in the silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Master Kohga’s brow furrowed in the rare serious manner that it did. He was determined to get Sooga to see how much he cared. He would do anything to help him, if only Sooga would allow it.

The warrior next to him saw that determination in his chocolate brown eyes, paired with another feeling he couldn’t quite pin. Whatever it was, it was inviting. Sooga couldn’t help but want to see it more. He wanted to share moments like this more, where it was just the two of them and neither put on a show. Moments where he could see the bouncing curls that framed Kohga’s chubby cheeks up close, and feel the warmth from his gaze. Perhaps one day, even, Sooga could let go of his own mask.

Kohga sighed, which led to a loud, long yawn overtaking his features. The plump clan master gave a little stretch and sat back against the wall. If Sooga didn’t want to, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

“I’m not gonna force you or anything, I just-”

“I would like to feel safe with you,” The words tumbled out of Sooga’s mouth before he had the notion to stop them. Somewhere along the lines, his hand had grabbed Kohga’s and was now clutching it tight. He hardly knew what he was doing, but didn’t back down. It felt right. “There are many things I must atone for. I do not know how to achieve this peace just yet, but…”

Kohga squeezed his hand back, trying to ignore the blatant blush dusting his cheeks. If not for the dark, surely Sooga would have seen and fretted over his health, as he often did, but Kohga wouldn’t mind. He never minded.

“I’ll be here the whole time,” He assured. And he meant it. Whatever Sooga needed, Kohga would offer help. It was obvious that the masked man was holding onto something painful, and Kohga would offer his support in any way that he could. Even if it interrupted his sleeping schedule.

Another yawn bubbled up from Kohga’s chest, and when he tried to stifle it, it forced out as a hiccup anyway.

Way to ruin a moment, Kohga thought.

Cute, Sooga chuckled to himself.

“Perhaps we should return to bed, and continue this in the morning,” Sooga offered. Master Kohga’s shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he slumped his face into Sooga’s chest. It felt like two muscular pillows smushing against his cheeks, a blessing from Hylia probably. Er, Ganon. Totally meant Ganon.

“Yes please,” He whined pitifully. Another chuckle rumbled through Sooga’s chest, vibrating Kohga’s whole head.

This time, Sooga took to reading his master’s mind. His strong arms effortlessly picked up the stouter man and cradled him against his chest, as if Kohga were a bride. The night air brought a chill, after all, and Kohga had only dressed his robe over his undergarments. He looked down to the half-lidded face against him.

“I do appreciate your words, Master Kohga. I will always remember your kindness,” Sooga whispered above the wind. He looked down at the bundle of a man for a response, but only found soft snoring instead.

The stupendous chief of the Yiga Clan was asleep before his sentence was finished.

Sooga’s smile was soft. The winds of the desert night rolled behind him deep in the valley, and Sooga turned away from them feeling slightly freer. If any dream demons dared test his patience this night again, this time they would be answering to the courageous man in his arms.

#Master Kohga #Sooga #hwaoc #loz botw #age of calamity #yiga husbands #yiga clan #Master Kohga x Sooga #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #pre-calamity #Fanfics

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r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Text

✿D.K.- trying, and succeeding?✶☼⚠︎

Master list

Words: 1760

Warnings/kinks: fluffy smut, POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING {mentions of puking, mentions of being disgusted about yourself etc. Nothing super intense}

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x FEM!reader

Summary: Denki finally figures out you have an eating disorder

(I wasn't sure to write this as if y/n was underweight or not, so I opted for a neutral, average, build)

Just to preface, I do not have an eating disorder, so some details might be skewed. Please, please, please make sure you're in the right mindset to read this fic, I would hate it if someone got triggered by this :(

**posted on mobile, sorry for the format**

=== NSFW AND POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING UNDER CUT ===

It had only taken Denki what, four months, to become suspicious of your eating/puking habit. He wasn't the smartest fella, nor a very self-conscious one either, but after he found your 'calories diary', a book where you wrote down what not to eat, his brain finally slotted the pieces together. His immediate thought was 'why? You’re so beautiful?' and 'why would you do that to your body?'. But after some research, he had a loose understanding of what you had. He was now hyper aware of when you were refusing to eat, and how you were doing it.

"Oh, I ate an hour ago, I'm fine."

"I just have a stomach ache is all."

"I'm feeling sick. I have to go use the bathroom."

Denki was determined to 'make your sickness go away', but he really struggled trying to help you. He tried locking the bathrooms to prevent you from going in, (he failed to realize that you could puke outside, or in a bowl), he tried making you something himself (thinking that you couldn't refuse to eat something that he made. Turns out he was the one that puked that day). He even set alarms on your phone for every few hours telling you 'don't forget to have a snack :)'. Truly, he really was trying to help. Keyword; trying. He was probably better off just calling a doctor or something for you, (which you would've hated).

Denki finally decided to confront you, pulling out your diary as proof. You yelled at him about your privacy, but you softened your stance when he told you that he was concerned about your health, which was a lot coming from Denki.

"I just want you to be happy in your own skin," Denki pouted, a hand on your knee as he sat with you. His eyes glittered with concern, trying his best to not just shake you and yell 'BEGONETH, POISONOUS THINKING! THOU DOTH BAD!'

"I want to be, too," your lip quivered, holding back tears.

"Can I hug you?" Denki pleaded, pouting his lip. You gave him a stout nod, and he wrapped his arms around you. You turned and sat on Denki's lap, hugging him back.

"I can't describe to you how beautiful you are, y/n," Denki murmured. "I'll admit that I'm not the greatest at comforting, but I'll try my best for you."

The two of you sat there for awhile, tangled in an embrace, tears wetting his shoulder. He soothed his hand over your shaking back, trying to calm you. He didn't know what to do, currently. You had never sat on his lap and cried.

"Thank you for trying, Denki," you sniffled, curling your fingers through his hair. "I just feel so disgusted whenever I see myself in the mirror, or in pictures. I hate how I look, and I constantly feel like you're only dating me because you're desperate."

"Fist of all, you aren't disgusting, I love how you look," Denki began, "Second of all, hey, I wasn't that desperate. I actually had a crush on you all throughout middle school, and I was scared shittless asking you out. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, Buzzy," you sobbed, hugging him harder. "It's just so hard to believe when I have this body."

"Y'know you're not just a body, right?" Denki pulled back, looking you in the eye. "I would never date someone just for their body, despite what everyone thinks. But I have to admit-- Damn, you are one smokin' woman, baby."

A shy smile fitted your face, and you wiped away your tears, "I just want to be happy with myself and how I look."

You sat and cuddled for a bit longer on the bed, Denki whispering praise into your ear. He felt so content with you in his arms, feeling comforted from him.

"...Denki," you said firmly, turning to face him. "Way to ruin the mood."

He looked down to where you were staring, and blushed deeply. Oops, "I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!"

"It's alright, Denki," You giggled, "I get it, I'm just so smokin'"

You attempted to flip your hair while laying down, and winked at the golden haired boy next to you.

"You are," Denki protested, trying to hide his face in a pillow.

"I'll try," you sighed, turning to stroke Denki's hair. "I'll try and be healthy to my body. But god, is it hard."

"D'y'know what else is hard?" Denki said smugly, grinning dumbly.

"Denki! I swear, we can never cuddle without you getting horny," you giggled.

"I'm sorry," Denki replied, hiding his shame in a pillow. "Just making you feel better makes me feel good."

"Oh? Then feel free to make me feel much, much better," you purred, rolling on top of him.

"F-fuck," he whispered, hands catching your waist, "this- this was supposed to be a wholesome m-moment."

"Says you," you snorted, rolling your hips to grind on his erection.

"I-I know but," Denki bit his lip, "I- uhg. I dunno."

"C'mon, Denki-Chan~ please~~?" You hummed, batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes wandered down to where you were seated, and he felt his dick twitch, "ok. But, I wanna make this about you. So, uh, make sure you tell me if I'm being too selfish, kay?"

You nodded, smiling brightly before leaning in to place a fat kiss on Denki's lips. He whimpered under your touch, fisting your shirt tighter. He excitedly bobbed his tongue against your lower lip, initiating his favourite way to kiss you. Denki gently turned the two of you over, laying you on your back.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Beautiful," Denki mumbled, hurrying to remove your shirt. "Oh fuck, you're hot."

You were blushing underneath him and trying not to protest his praise, loosely holding onto his thighs. Denki continued to remove your bra, only taking a few tries, and threw it somewhere on the floor. His Cheshire grin made you wriggle in embarrassment, and you managed to grind up into his crotch.

"Babe, your tits are amazing," Denki drooled, leaning down and trying to grab as much flesh as possible. He attached his mouth around one nipple, sucking and nibbling slightly before moving on to the next one.

"D-denki," you gasped, knitting your fingers through his hair. "Just fuck me, please."

His whole scheme to have a nice, soft, all-about-you night, went out the window when he heard you say that. How could he say no to you? He leaned up again and gave you a sloppy kiss, "ok, baby. Remember, tell me if I'm being too selfish."

You nodded excitedly, readjusting your position. Denki pulled down your pants with ease, groaning at the sight of you in just your panties. You were amazing, and he couldn't believe that he was on top of you, about to make you feel good. He peeled off your panties and threw them beside him. He licked his hand and reached down to your pussy, giving your clit a quick rub before he put a condom on.

Denki sighed with delight as he rubbed his cock between your folds, lubing himself up with your juices, "can't wait to fuck you, y/n."

"Just do it, Denki~" you chided, rolling your hips impatiently.

"Fffuck, you're so hot," Denki hissed as he inched himself into you. "M' so lucky."

You bit your lip through a moan, and guided your hands to your boyfriend's shoulders. You could feel your face heating up, a red hue igniting your cheeks. You were too focused on Denki dipping into you to realize that, oh god, the lights were fully on.

"—wait. The lights..." you mumbled, tempted to push Denki off of you so you could flick them off.

"Nuh-uh, babe," Denki tisked, leaning closer to you. "I hardly ever see you like this with so much lighting. Makes me so much more turned-on for you."

You let out a small moan at his embarrassing words, Denki quickening his pace. You could only groan and tighten your grip on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Denki's breath was ragged from the way you clenched against him whenever he went deep enough, trying to trap him inside of you.

"D-denki~~ feels so good," your eyebrows furrowed, bucking with his rhythm.

"Y-you deserve—," Denki struggled, sweat dripping from his forehead, "you deserve to f-feel good, baby. You deserve to feel amazing."

Through your stupor you could tell that he was on the edge of his orgasm, his jaw clenching, and his words coming out jumbled. Denki started rutting into you harder, with more intensity, and tried to swallow his groans.

"Thought you weren't gonna be greedy and cum before me, hm?" You ribbed as he fucked into you wildly.

"It's—," Denki huffed, "—hard when I haven't had sex with you for awhile."

Your pleasure came back to you as Denki struggled to rub your clit, lurching his hips faster. You brought your hand down to do it yourself, saving Denki from a very sore left arm. The mix of the penetration and touches to your clit made you moan out pleas, encouraging Denki to fuck you harder.

"Oh god, oh fuck. Oh fuck your so attractive. Shiiit, you're so sexy, babe," Denki blabbered as he grabbed one of your tits. "Shitshitshitshitshit I'm close—."

"I-I'm gonna cum," you whimpered, failing to give yourself slow, sensual rubs. It was almost vicious how you were touching yourself, desperate for release.

"God, cum for me, y/n," Denki choked as he drooled.

"Yes, yes... yes!" You chanted, throwing your head back and yelling out Denki's name.

"Oh my god—," Denki groaned, eyes rolling back as he filled the condom with his semen. "You are... the bestest thing."

"Thank you, Denki," you smiled, sitting up weakly as he dropped the used condom in the trash. "Thank you."

"Of course!" He yelled, skipping back to you and giving you a hug.

"Denki Kaminari, don't you ever skip towards me naked ever again," you scolded, shoving a finger to his chest.

"What?!" He grinned. "What's wrong with a little flippy-floppy?"

"Kaminari!!"

#anime #bnha #mha #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki #denki kaminari smut

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spc4eva · 3 years

Text

Star-Burned: Chapter One

Ok, honestly, I couldn’t stop myself.

So this is my first reader insert. I am hella nervous. There will be no Y/N included, but pet names (and nicknames) given out by Paz that will act as Y/N. Additionally, feel free to imagine yourself in the shoes of the character, but I am going to include a few features that she has - to include very, VERY Merida curly red hair. Honestly, I'm gonna treat her more like an OC, but since it's a reader insert - imagine yourselves how you want QUEEN.

There's gonna be smut. But plot. I promise.

Summary: A Mandalorian crash lands on your planet with severe injuries. You're a moisture farmer who's handy. It's been a long time since you've had company other than your massiff, Jumbles. You take the Mandalorian in because you're a bleeding heart, not realizing what danger you've put yourself in. But the Mandalorian doesn't forget and he's more than willing to repay his debt and protect you.

Word Count: 5,398

Rating: M (18+) explicit sex scenes

| Chapter Two |

Cross Posted on AO3

Someone had crash landed.

Which, for this quiet hovel a planet, was the most action you'd seen in foreverrrr. Maybe ever to be honest. You were used to dealing with Jawas, the occasional drifter, and patching up your moisture farm as best as possible. Was honest work, pretty lonely since your folks had passed away, but it was all you had. Not entirely of course, there was the local wiley massiff that you'd feed scraps and talk to, as if it were a kindred soul, eying you with those beady little eyes before salivating over its disconcertingly large maw. Yeah, you should have been worried that it might've been sizing you up in case you didn't come out with a meal for it, but at least you did have a blaster. Would've been a sad day to have to put Jumbles down - yes, that's what you had named it. For no particular reason other than it had spontaneously fallen out of your mouth and the creature seemed to listen to it.

So when Jumbles trotted up with its spines quivering, baying and leaping around, you half expected it was going to lead you to another rotting womp rat corpse. What you were not expecting was to see smoke peeling from between the canyon walls, dark and sulfuric. Your years patching the farm up, making repairs to any scraps you had laying around - to include droids at times - had made you rather handy. You had to be when the nearest town was a two day ride on your speederbike. Self sufficiency was necessary, because it cost credits to get fuel and to ride out that far. Additionally, you had to plan for it... months ahead.

Jumbles sprinted ahead, wagging a tailless rump before glancing back at you with bounce in his paws. Follow. Come quick.

Now that you had an idea of what it was, your strides lengthened until you were chasing after the massiff. Between the terracotta walls and around a bend, until you were face to face with a crashed starship that had smoke rolling off the main engines. You winced at the carnage, a good portion of the hull smashed inward and splattered open, storage containers and supplies dashing the sand like organs splayed from a chest wound.

Jumbles woofed, approaching the wreckage.

"Not a good idea, boy," you started to say. Even if it was a dangerous wild creature, you still worried about it and this mess was still smoking. Who knew if it was about to explode, there could be fuel leaks in tandem with hanging wires and-

Jumbles went inside the ship.

"Ah!" Your legs churned after it. Even if you had to drag the massiff out of the carnage, you would. Jawas would find it soon enough and have their way with the supplies. Could be a good amount of things to take, but even if you were friends with Jawas, you didn't really like picking the bones of others.

Wires snapped and hissed like tiny snakes around your ear, threatening to singe your barely restricted hair as you ducked. The ship was in an abysmal condition, but the upper echelons of the craft were still intact... Warped, but intact. Your mechanic eyes began discerning the issues, locating the biggest issues first, which was-

Jumbles barked, your neck snapping fast enough that you thought you pulled a muscle. Palming your neck, you trailed forward and saw what... no, who the canine was standing over. Maybe he thought it was a droid. Hell, you thought it was a droid for a moment until you bent down to get a better look and saw that it was breathing. Jumbles yipped again and you blinked, realizing that the massive armored creature was a living person and looked hurt.

"Hey," you started, poking into the man's shoulder where the blue steel didn't meet. "Hey, you need to get up. This ship might go-" Maker, he felt like metal underneath all those layers. Could be a droid then and you were just wasting your time. "C'mon get up!" But you couldn't leave someone here to die on their ship as it leaked fuel and ignited itself. You rarely saw people as it was and what if the last person you ever saw with this guy and you let him become a toasted human inside his armor?

Hooking your fingers into the pauldrons of the armor, you made a valiant attempt at trying to drag the figure out of the ship. He didn't budge. Face down, unconscious, and weighing an absolute ton. Your heart was pumping by now and panic made your hands shake as you desperately glanced around for a solution. Just... anything, a repulsor lift, a speeder... a speeder? Jolting to your feet, you spotted the storage area, having been thrown haphazardly around like a pinball during the crash landing, but still intact.

Now, the issue would be getting this man onto the speeder. You couldn't even drag him, how in the Maker's name were you going to hoist him over? You brought the speeder over and chewed your lip at your plight, hopelessly glancing from bike to fallen warrior.

"Hey," you tried again, hoping that maybe you'd get an answer this time. "Hey, c'mon are you in there?" You knocked on the helmet as if it were a door, your knuckles screaming in immediate protest. That was the least of your worries, because a hand flew out, grabbed your ankle, and ripped you off your feet. Back smacking on the steel floor, you groaned as the metal giant finally stirred. Despite the brazen display of insane speed, the figure was barely able to move more than a few centimeters... but he was alive, so he had that going for him. "Maker-" Scrambling back to your feet, you gave him another look over. "If you can hear me, I'm going to try and get you on your feet. I need your help though, can't pick you up myself."

You positioned yourself around him, finding his arm and slinging it around your shoulders before popping a squat. Now, you weren't very big or very strong. Just strong enough to lift things when you needed to, but you had lifts to do the heavier jobs back on the farm. Your knees quaked as you tested the pressure before sucking in a greedy breath. "Alright, one, two, three-" Exploding upward - or making an attempt to explode upward - you made it about a foot and a half before your calves died on you and your back buckled forward. "AH!" It didn't feel good, the absolute loss of control over your body as you expected to fly face first into the side of the speeder. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have a helmet protecting your face.

But it never came and you chanced opening an eye to look. The man was trying to stand, alleviating a brief amount of pressure as you widen your eyes. Swallowing the huge lump in your throat, you quickly thrust him forward and unceremoniously onto the bike. He grunted, but didn't manage any words before lolling, stomach first, onto the seat.

There would be no comfortable way to ride this bike, you saw that now as you tried to shove him over the tail a little better, squeezing yourself tightly into the thrusters, almost off the seat entirely as you kicked it into gear and backed out through the massive tear in the hull. Jumbles ran along dopily as you very carefully - at almost a gruelling pace - brought the bike through the ravine and up the ride toward your moisture farm. Now came the second issue.

Getting him inside.

"We have to walk again," you warned him, the light of day revealing the color of the man's armor - a deep ocean (or from pictures you’d seen of oceans) blue accent with marigold yellow. Didn't quite strike you when you were panicking, but you saw it now as the haze of strife cleared. A Mandalorian. You had pulled a kriffing Mandalorian from the wreckage of his ship. Fuck. That ship definitely had carbon scarring on it - indicative of a dogfight.

Too fucking late now.

"6PO can you get the lift?" You shouted for the protocol droid, an old rusted out piece of crap that you'd reprogrammed to help around the house. There was too much for you to do with just your own hands. The droid could manage the more mundane tasks, but still made a piss pour cup of caf.

The droid stuttered out - having never learned to talk properly - gave you a blank look, and then started waddling toward the work shed where the lift would be.

"Alright, mando, can you hear me?" you bent over, turning his helmet so that the visor was sort of looking up toward you. "Your ship crashed. Where are you hurt? I can't see that much with all that armor on." Part of you was asking this so you could tend his wounds and then send him packing. "6PO?" you raised your voice irritably, Maker that droid was always slow right when you needed it to be fast.

"W-where?" Finally he spoke, his strangled voice translated through the modulator in his helmet, breathy and in pain.

You told him the planet, pretty backwater and without much activity. There was a spaceport on the other side of the planet, but nowhere near where he was now. Finally, 6PO came over with the lift, cocking its head as you sighed. "About bloody time," you grumble, dragging the lift up and devoting your attention to your charge once again. "Gotta get up again."

This time the Mandalorian was more receptive, putting weight on his legs as you eased him onto the lift, which sagged until his weight. By the way he was cradling his abdomen you were guessing there was some sort of trauma there, but it was hard to tell. You weren't a medic, you weren't even pretending to be as you brought him into your home and slipped him onto your bed since it was the biggest one in the house. But what you did have was bacta, because if something happened to you where you crushed an arm or broke a bone, you needed to be able to fix it. Wasn't often that you had to use the concentrated shots, but it was always better to keep one on hand (even if it cost a fuckton of credits for it). Better to spend the money than die with it in your pocket.

Should you use it on the Mandalorian? That was the question, wincing as he drew rattled breaths in the bed, holding the shot in your palm as you really considered how many credits you had spent on this last year.

"I need to take a look. Can I remove your armor?" Very carefully you approached like a womp rat before a nexu, almost afraid that one of the very many weapons on his belt might soon be tilted toward you. Of course you knew the stories about Mandalorians and having a behemoth one in your modest home didn't make you feel much better. But he was still a person.

"Not... not the helmet," he grunted eventually.

Everything but the helmet. Alright, that could work. You didn't know how armor worked, so removing the armor was a shitshow of fumbling, your fingers catching buckles, pinching flesh, and other times was fastened so tightly that you had to put some weight into getting the kriffing things off. Took the better part of an hour, but you managed to remove the armor - aside from the helmet - and leave the Mandalorian in just his flight suit and boots. Now this next part felt a bit intrusive, but you convinced yourself that this was in for the better health of the mando.

Unbuttoning the top of the flight suit, you started to peel it down, a rush of heat playing across your cheeks as you revealed the muscular and well hewn figure of the ailing man beneath the beskar. You looked a little too long, but doubted the fellow was even conscious enough to catch your ogling. Biting your lips, you pushed the undershirt up and took your medical scanner to the constellation of bruising against his ribcage. Oh, it didn't look good and the scanner came back with a result that made your legs weak, but not in a good way.

"You've got three broken ribs, lacerations to your spleen and kidneys--" ok you didn't know medical stuff, but the device was blinking indicating that he needed treatment immediately or face going sepsis. Your brain nearly exploded with panic as you tripped over your own feet and sprinted for the bacta infusion, which jumped between your nervous, sweaty hands. "Th-this isn't g-gonna feel good," you stammered, uncapping the three pronged syringe. Maker you hated looking at it, the thing looked like a torture device.

Or go sepsis---

You shanked him with the infusion, pushing the plunger down, expecting him to recoil in pain. Actually, he didn't, which made your head turn slowly and a cascade of fiery curls follow as you just stared, in more distress than the severely wounded mando. "I-I will leave you to rest."

---

The infusion had been enough to stave off sepsis and repair the Mandalorian's organs, but he was still recovering from the broken bones. From your readings, the bacta had set them back into place, but he required more time to naturally heal the rest. What that meant was that you had suddenly become his caretaker, which consisted of feeding and helping him over to the fresher because he couldn't take his full weight on his injured side. For a Mandalorian, you didn't think he was that mean or callous. If anything, he was pretty gracious that you'd put the effort into struggling to get him back to your ranch.

But work didn't stop. In fact, you still had to run the farm while periodically checking in on the Mandalorian. Despite it, you tried not to seem bone weary when he asked for him. Wasn't his fault. If anything, it was your fault for helping him in the first place. He did answer a few questions, rumbling in a deep voice that sounded like thunder hinting at lightning on the horizon.

"What's your name?" "You can call me Paz."

"Why did you crash land?" "I was shot down."

"Why though?" "Made some Imps upset."

"So you can't take your helmet off?" "Not in front of anything living."

"Oh so, it's fine if they're dead." "I try not to remove it unless I'm alone."

"Why is it blue?" "Why is what blue?"

"Your armor? Why choose blue?" "It's my favorite color."

“Mine’s gold. Kind of like the yellow there on your armor.” “Your what?” “My favorite color.”

"You think those Imps are going to come looking for you?" "My ship crash landed, so I doubt it."

That ship, you had actually gone back to one afternoon to cordoned off from the Jawas. You knew them and decided that you liked the Mandalorian enough you weren't going to let his belongings get looted. Since it was close to your farm, laying claim to it - by Jawa code - was not difficult. You left them signs in their tongue, warding them off, before finding yourself taken aback that the thing hadn't exploded while you were gone. It needed a lot of work and probably a proper spaceport where it could be hoisted up and repaired from underneath.

Your stupid bleeding heart meant that you went and fixed a few wires in your spare time, soldering them off, and cleaning up the worst of the wreckage. The engines would take more time, but they weren't too dissimilar from what you'd worked on in other vehicles, including your speeder and tractor. Peeling open a few holobooks, you would hum yourself to sleep at night in your childhood bedroom, blinking away sleep as you contemplated how else you might help this... Paz. Being generous was not forlorn to you. You'd helped drifters passing through, offered to lodge them up for the night, fill their bellies before sending them off... This planet wasn't that bad aside from the arid landscape and mischievous Jawas.

Not like you had to worry about raiders or skugs. So your tenderheartedness hadn't come to bite you in the ass yet and aside from wanting a replacement to the bacta shot, you weren't expecting payment. It was called being a good human being and you pride yourself on the fact that you'd done something so nice. Plus, the added bonus was you didn't only have Jumbles to talk to. Now there was a living, breathing person who could hold conversation with you. Course, wasn't really to his will, but you tried not to pester him too much even though you were incredibly curious about what he did. Plus he seemed to get bored being pent up in that room.

"Tranyc," he'd taken to calling you that in some mysterious language you didn't know, as you hummed into the bedroom after knocking, carrying fresh caf and breakfast. Weeks had passed and he was almost well enough. "I think I might be able to walk on my own. Do you mind-"

Mind keeping an eye out for him? You nod, setting the tray down on the nightstand before preparing yourself. Now, you were a master of helping the blue Mandalorian on his feet, keenly aware of where you fit and could support him from without being crumpled like tin foil. He threw his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the floor as you stood guard, poised like a goalie ready to catch the ball in front of a net before the big shot was made. Admittedly, you were a little too silly for your own good, but being on your own for so long had done that. You would talk to yourself, make funny gestures, and do ridiculous things just to chase away the loneliness. Those mannerisms hadn’t really faded in light of your new acquaintance.

Paz pushed off the bed and stood there, towering over you at full height. You relaxed, glad to see that he was able to hold his own, but also sad about that. A pit welled in your belly, the realization that these few weeks had brought you a lot of happiness in having the company of another. And... you kind of liked him. Not in a companionable sort of way. No, you thought he was attractive --- from his voice, to his sturdy body, to the calm manner he'd talk to you. Despite all the stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, he was very warm and patient. Even if there was no face to place with all of that, attraction was more than just appearances, wasn't it? Then again, you'd been shocked by your sudden arousal on the first day of his arrival after just brushing his muscular chest.

Living alone didn't help your touch-starved addled brain.

And then he took a step forward and your spine jolted, darting forward as he winced for his side and wobbled. "Ah-hee!" a strange noise came out of your mouth as you tried to stop the tower of a man from tumbling and honestly, he tried too. But the result was still a mess of limbs, and you tried to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning him so that he didn't hurt his ribs again. Maker, that was your first mistake, thinking that you could take the weight of his body.

All air was crushed from your lungs, vision spinning as you made impact with the carpet. And it wasn't coming afterward, your throat bobbing but the pressure on your ribcage still too much that you were suffocating and unable to see at the same time. "Maker!" it wasn't your voice, but at the sound of it, the air whooshed back into your lungs and you sputtered hoarsely as someone sat you up. Not someone. There was only one other person on this farm. "Tranyc? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Y-yup!" you squeaked, the frayed edges of your vision swimming hazily back into focus as you saw that Paz was sitting on the floor with you, propping your semi-noodley form up. "A-are you ok?"

He sighed, the noise crackling out of his helmet as you trembled, sensation returning to your muscles. "I nearly crushed you. What were you thinking?"

"T-trying t-to he-help," you stammer, taking big gulps of air in between each word. Now you could feel a bit better, rolling your neck as you took account of what had happened. You had jumped to his side before he fell, taking the brunt of the fall directly on top of you. Not very smart at all. Then, he'd turned, picked you up and you were --- you were on his lap. "Wha--" Lancing like wildfire across a dry field of brush, blush erupted up your neck and face. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I fell on you," Paz pointed out, his helmet tilting to the side as your ears began buzzing. "Are you certain you're ok? I nearly flattened you."

"C-couldn't b-b-be be-better," your tongue was betraying you, thick and clumsy as you pushed against his chest -- oh Maker, the chest without the armor and only the flight suit. You could feel the grooves of his strong pectoral muscles beneath, the color on your face heightening to as bright a red as your hair. "I should... I should leave you to eat. Breakfast is on the ta-table."

You got to your feet, the weak wobbly limbs shaking, but not because you had been used as a pillowy landing for the Mandalorian. No, a heat radiated around your tummy and laddled lower into the abyss between your legs. A very, infrequently ventured area that had been visited once or twice by drifters, but never for much longer than an evening. Anyways, the Mandalorian wouldn't be interested in anything like that. You were just being hormonal and touch-starved. A little alone time could help you with that, right?

Pushing back your mop of hair, you trotted into the kitchen, glanced at the time and then rolled over onto the couch from behind. You flopped onto the cushions, hair flying everywhere again before you stared blankly at the ceiling, wishing you weren't so terribly horny right now after just grazing a man's chest. How pitiful was that? You were an adult, had been for a good amount of years, and all it took was a deep voice and strong body to make you lose all sense of yourself?

A soft whimper parted your mouth, the ache so desperate and painful that you gripped the fabric of your coveralls over your crotch and pressed into the sensation. Well, he couldn't walk anyways and you were the only one who lived in the house, so there was no risk in just relaxing here, was there? Despite it, you grabbed the nearby blanket and kicked off your overalls, returning a hand to the ailing point between your thighs.

Cheeks flushed, neck cocked against the arm rest, you spun circles on the fabric, your pads picking up the wetness through the material. Maker, you were absolutely dripping, soaking through your panties, and making your fingers tacky. Hooking underneath the textile, you run your fingers along the warmth, licking your lips and closing your eyes -- the first thing coming to mind being Paz. The mystery of the man beneath, the muscular pillars of his body, the golden blonde curls against his broad chest.

Your fingers move up to the bundle of nerves so desperate for attention, nearly screaming at you as you finally lavish attention. His voice, the deep rumble and attentiveness as you talk from where you sit in that chair beside the bed -- your bed. He was sleeping in your bed. Would it smell like him after? Would you ever wash the damn blankets after he left? Probably not. Edging yourself closer, you imagined his thick fingers plunging into your heat, reaching up into your molten core and--

"Tracyn?"

You nearly fell off the couch, clutching onto your sex for dear life as you froze. Your whole body vibrated, muscles stiffening as you fought off the white hot surge of an orgasm. How the fuck had he gotten out of the room?

Tufts of your long hair were sticking out from the couch. No matter how far you slumped down, tried to hide beneath the edge of the blanket, your fucking hair was a blinding curly beacon and fluffing out as an admission of betrayal.

You couldn't hold your breath any longer, the guttural whine hitching as the orgasm pittered into a woefully unsatisfying leap -- like a bird that had flung itself over a cliff with a broken wing, somewhat flying before it plummeted to the earth below. He came around the couch, still clutching his side, and paused. Now, the blanket was in the way, but your coveralls were crumpled on the floor and your face was deliciously flushed.

Oh, stars you looked awful. You absolutely knew how dirty you felt by assuming that he'd not walk out and find you, hand slicked with your own wetness and too embarrassed to move.

"What are you- Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching down to snare the blanket away.

"N-no!" you gripped it with your free hand, but half of it was pulled away to reveal the outside of your bare leg, and the arm that was still hiding down there.

"Were you...?" his helmet tilted as you both just remained where you were for a beat. Heart racing like fathiers on a track in Canto Bight, your lower lip trembled in shame, waiting for him to throw the blanket back over and return to the room. He was walking. He could just leave and let you wallow in your own miserable chagrin -- drown in it at this point... "Did you finish?"

"W-what?" you squeaked, face managing to deepen another shade of crimson.

"Did you finish, mesh'la?" he repeated, sitting down on the couch by your feet, a tanned palm tracing the top of the foot. His skin was calloused, rough, and sandpapery. The foreign sensation made you shudder in his grasp, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, you liked the way his hand slowly coasted your calf in a soothing manner. "All alone on this big farm. Not another soul aside from Jumbles."

True, not another soul. You gave a quivering nod in agreement as his hand reached to graze the back of your knee. Still so gentle, with no insistency or malice.

"Doing everything all on your own. The farm, helping me, taking care of yourself," his hand moved higher, framing the outside of your lower thigh, which caused you to jump. "You haven't once asked me for anything. No repayment or deal despite using that bacta... Couldn't have been cheap. This is just a moisture farm, you're not raking in credits..." He paused, grazing your upper thigh now, daring to push the blanket over a bit more. "For weeks now... Helping me... Did you finish?"

You had, but it hadn't been any good. Your stupid head bobs anyways, sending a few curls tumbling into your face.

"Maybe-" he was drawing his hand back, the warmth of his scratchy fingers receding and you actually whined because of it, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. "Maybe," he was stronger now. "I can repay you a little for all you've done."

Maker, not a word came out of your mouth, you were nearly gnawing on the blanket from how nervous you were, but also from how much your core began aching again.

"Do you want me to, mesh'la? I won't touch you unless you want it. I don't want to overstay my welcome, I just thought that-" he trailed off and you wondered what he had thought. Had you been so obvious about liking him? You didn't think so, you thought you had been your usually, dorky but polite self.

"I want you to," you insisted, releasing the blanket so that the rest could slip off and pool on the floor. You still had your shirt on, but you were nude from the hips down, fronds of hair curling over your mound that matched the drapes. This felt oddly... exposing, even if it was only the lower half. And the fact you couldn't read him didn't help, just a blank mask of a face that was drinking you in and you had no idea if he liked or disliked what he saw. What if you were not at all what he had been hoping for? What if he didn't like what he saw?

He groaned, his palm returning to your leg, sliding up and burning a blistering wake of fire before he curved into your hip and jerked you toward him. "Oh, mesh'la," he moaned. "A desert gemstone hidden in these canyons. How did I get so lucky? Of all the planets and places-" he touched you down there, the very sensation of hands not your own making you jolt and your neck tense. Fuck --- it really had been a long time. "Wh-when the last time... have you ever... ?"

"A fe-ew ye-ears now," you admitted as his fingers scissor up between your folds. "Be-been on m-my ow-own for si-six. N-not ma-any t-t-travelers."

"So wet," he muttered, bringing the slick up and pinning two fingers on your aching bud. Back stiffening, you bucket at the sensation, grounded by his other palm pressing into the hollow of your hip. You were halfway tugged onto his lap as he watched on with fascination, the curve of your left leg hooked against his hip. "What were you thinking of? Before I found you?"

You blush deeper, if that were at all possible, turning your face away from him as he continued to draw lazy circles on your clit. "Y-you."

His groans again, a growing hardness against your leg -- a hardness for you. It's hard to decide what is more startling -- the fact that Paz is here getting you off or that he's aroused by the fact that you'd been playing with yourself while envisioning him. "I'll take care of you. You deserve it mesh'la. After everything you've done for me. I'll make you feel good," he promised, increasing his pace, dipping in his ring and pinkie finger while he continued to oscillate against your bundle of nerves. His fingers stretched you, just as thick and delicious as you'd imagined -- no, it was better than you imagined because it was real. Pumping into you gently, reaching so much deeper than your own small fingers can. "Tight. Maker, you're so tight."

Squirming on the couch, you grabbed onto the cushioned as he pleasured you, coaxing you toward the end of days, making you see stars beneath your closed eyelids. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, a warbled cry strangled completely as your legs locked out and walls tightened to vice grip his fingers.

"Cum on me, mesh'la. Let it all out, come on," he encouraged, his fingers quickening over your clit, your soul absolutely rending as you as ecstasy drowns your senses, your muscles clench, and the scenery of the house falls away. You're floating, physical body panning away from you as you bliss out and disconnect from your breathing and deflating heart rate. You'd never had an orgasm this heart stopping, so utterly piercing that you couldn't even tell where you were anymore.

Finally, you blinked out of your stupor, expecting to be left laying cock legged and messy, but instead you're in bed. Your actual bed, not the twin one that you had been sleeping in the past few weeks. Rolling your head to the side, you didn't see him, but you heard him in the adjoining fresher. You had underwear back on and a pair of pajama bottoms.

What the heck was happening? Did it matter? You just hoped it wasn't ending anytime soon.

#paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla x fem!reader #paz vizsla smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #star-burned

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butmakeitgayblog · 3 years

Note

Hello

We need another sneak peek *PLEASEEEEEE *😀

You know how much we love the demon give us some mercy *pleaseeeeeeeeee *

Have a nice day please..

Ps : love your ff dude

I know you weren't trying to be rude, I do. So far I've been really fucking lucky in not having any legit rude anons or readers. But I just... sometimes it can start to feel like I'm this work horse, ya know? And sometimes things are like "... Hey 😔, I know it's taking a while but ya coulda asked a little more politely here man I work hard on this stuff." When someone post a 1k snippet you have to realize that represents a couple hours of work they put in instead of doing other things because they want to make these stories great for readers. So just, yeah. Please keep that in mind. But yes, here's a little snippet but nO MORE I GOTTA FINISH THIS DAMN THING 😩

////////////

She had this.

Raven was right. It was just a friendly dinner.

A friendly dinner where Clarke could possibly see what it might feel like to live out the mortifying ordeal of being seen as half of a… something.

A something with Lexa.

Clarke pushed the thought down as she twisted the handle, taking a minute to herself to breath and calm her nerves.

Which was all shot to shit the second the door swung open.

"Hey, gorgeous."

The smirk that greeted her sent a flutter through Clarke's belly, her eyes doing a quick route down the length of Lexa's body. Gone was the skirt and skin tight blouse from earlier, all vestiges of the office wiped clean.

The usually wild mane of brunette was pulled back in a ponytail, an exquisitely messy one that hung over her shoulder and draped across the curve of a sharp collarbone. Clarke's gaze wandered along the waterfall of it, sliding to the cleavage that peeked out from the unbuttoned dip of a low-cut navy Henley. Her leather jacket stopped just shy of distressed jeans that clung to her thighs, calves, and ankles and stretched down to a smart looking pair of black boots.

Clarke shook her head at the deeply pleased look painted across Lexa's face.

"How did I not foresee you managing to get yourself invited here?"

Lexa's smile slipped into a frown, head tipping to the side as she spoke. "... You didn't know I was coming?"

"No," Clarke sighed. "I was not made aware until about five minutes ago. We've been set up."

"Ah," Lexa breathed in understanding, shuffling awkwardly on her feet on the front stoop. "I should've known when Raven told me to hurry up. The texts felt very urgent."

"Don't know how you don't know this by now, but you can never trust Raven. And I'm saying that as someone who also fell into this trap."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I can't uninvite you from someone else's house, Lex."

"That's not what I asked," Lexa murmured, throat bobbing with a swallow as her eyes strayed to her shoes.

Clarke licked her lips. Thumped the door twice with her thumb. Weighed the conversation from the kitchen that still felt fresh on her tongue.

"You really weren't in on this?"

"I would tell you if I had been. She just texted and invited me. Said it was dull with just the three," Lexa shrugged. "Felt rude to say no."

"I'm sure that was the reason," Clarke snorted, shaking her head with an exasperated smile. "Not at all like you wanted to spend the evening with me or anything."

"Well you already know how I would've preferred tonight to go."

Clarke's smile weakened when Lexa wagged a devilish brow.

Right.

Sex.

There it was. Why she hadn't wanted to do this to begin with. Not this way. Had questioned ever even fucking confronting the jumbled mess of thoughts that had been churning in her skull for the past few days. Because she'd set up these boundaries and didn't know why she'd begun questioning them to begin with.

Something in her face must've given her away. A glimpse of her hesitance. The stab of something sharp and unpleasant at Lexa's admittedly innocent words sobering the smirk on Lexa's face.

Lexa stepped in closer, one foot on the threshold, the other firmly staying outside. "I can go if you want me to," she said so quietly Clarke wouldn't have heard if she weren't that close. Wouldn't have seen the sparkle in Lexa's eyes from the porch light above them. "But I'd like to stay. If you want… You know I'll take any time I can get with you."

Never mind.

That was why she'd been having those jumbled mess of thoughts.

It sent her stomach flipping and chest aching with something else entirely. Clarke smiled more genuinely, throwing in a cursory roll of her eyes for good measure. "At least you're getting better at being smooth."

"Just like making you smile, gorgeous."

"Mhm… in that case, I guess you can stay."

"Lucky me… So are you gonna invite me in now?" Lexa asked, the silky hum of her voice causing Clarke to sway a bit on her feet as Lexa lifted her hand to reveal a 6-pack of imported beer. "I came bearing libations as peace offering. Just on the off chance you were a little… cranky. For whatever reason."

Clarke eyed the bright label as she reached out to grab a fistful of Lexa's shirt, stepping aside to make room as she yanked Lexa inside and shut the door. "How did you know what beer I like? You're a wine girl."

"I asked Raven," Lexa said as she set down the case and shrugged out of her coat. "She's a very helpful secretary… Sometimes."

"She's a goddamn schemer," Clarke corrected with a grunt as she shot a glare in the direction of the kitchen.

"Don't be mad," Lexa soothed and hung up her coat on the wall before sliding back into Clarke's space.

Her hands settled low on Clarke's waist, thumbs brushing over the swells of her hip bones that peeked out from beneath her shirt.

Clarke felt a rush of heat flare through her as Lexa bent down and kissed her. Kissed her slow, and full, with the careless intensity that left Clarke spinning. That languidness Clarke had been struggling so hard to describe. She felt a moan against her mouth as Lexa pulled back with a smile. Barely reigning in a pleased smile of her own, Clarke worked to keep a straight face as she poked a finger to the flat of Lexa's chest.

"Hello to you too, handsy."

"What?" Lexa whispered, eyes twinkling in the dim light filtering from the doorway a few feet away.

"We're in Raven's front hall."

"And? I don't see anyone else with us."

"Ya can't just cop a feel every single time someone isn't looking."

"'Cop a feel?' You mean like this?"

Clarke sucked in a breath as Lexa surged forward again, the length of her body pressing along Clarke's front as hands wrapped around her backside and squeezed.

"Lex--"

"Lexa, hey, you made it!"

A reproachful yelp died in Clarke's throat as the new voice called from around the corner, her mind working just fast enough to thrust her hips forward to send Lexa a few stumbling steps back.

Clarke shot up off the wall and turned as Raven emerged from the kitchen, an inviting smile on her lips even as sharp eyes slid between the two.

"Here I am," Lexa said without missing a beat, bending down to retrieve the all-but-forgotten drinks. "Complete with alcoholic party favors."

"Oooo. A woman after my own heart," Raven leered as she drew even, taking the pack from Lexa's hand and bussing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm gonna go pop these in the fridge, but make yourself at home. Clarke knows where everything is if you want anything. And dinner should be done any minute. Sound good?"

Lexa nodded as Raven flashed her another smile and turned to leave, Clarke barely resisting the urge to throw a middle finger up when Raven mouthed a silent 'lock it down, bitch' on her way out.

"Okay, new rules," Clarke sighed as she tugged Lexa by the elbow down the hall. "Since apparently my very well thought out guidelines for us around people are apparently useless, let's just get through tonight unscathed, please? Yes, obviously Raven knows we're…"

"... Fucking?"

"Lexa."

"Friendly fucking."

"This is gonna be a disaster," Clarke mumbled to herself, reaching up to rub at her temples. "Yes, Raven knows. Yes, I'm okay with it. Just… please try to at least keep your hands in appropriate places. And no offering up details about… this. Us. I know you think it's hilarious to embarrass me to the point of wanting to run screaming from any given room, but in reality, Raven wouldn't let me live it down for weeks. So. Behave... Behave-ish. Aim for like a three on a scale of one to... you."

"I promise, gorgeous, don't worry," Lexa whispered, leaning in to nuzzle a spot beneath Clarke's ear as they rounded the corner into the front room. "I'll be such a good girl for you."

"Jesus Christ, Lex."

Quickly pulling back, Lexa shot her a devious smile, lip firmly planted between her teeth despite Clarke's shove to her shoulder. A throat clearing stifled the flustered rebuke that teetered on Clarke's tongue as the crack of a book closing sounded through the room.

"Sorry, I would've met you out there, but Raven said to give you a minute," Anya said airily as she tossed the book in her hands onto the table with a thunk and turned. "I'm Anya, Raven's…"

Anya's words seemed to die in her throat as she ground to a halt halfway around the far end of the couch.

Clarke watched as the bored set of her eyes sharpened. Widened.

A paleness slunk over her features as Anya stared at the woman at Clarke's side, Clarke's brow furrowing as she glanced between the startled look of her friend's wife and the relaxed grin on Lexa's face.

Throat bobbing through a few dry swallows, Anya's ribs expanded and released as she breathed in deeply.

"You're Raven's boss?"

Lexa gave a quiet chuckle, Clarke's heart jumping at the dark timbre of its sound.

"Guilty as charged."

//////////////

#anon #demon!lexa

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konglindorm · 3 years

Text

The Frog Princess

So today we're going to talk about "The Frog Princess." This is a completely different story from "The Frog Prince"; literally all they have in common is an enchanted frog. The Frog Princess is found in a lot of different cultures, but I first encountered it as a Russian fairy tale, so that's the version we're going with today. Also, like. I just finished my post about "King Thrushbeard", and I feel like I've learned my lesson about the disappointments of actually rereading fairy tales instead of just going off my memory. Today we are going to tell fairy tales the way they were meant to be told, the way they were told in the days of oral tradition: however the teller happens to remember them. (So don't anybody be coming in here and telling me I'm wrong, don't tell me I botched the details, don't tell me I just left out the entire second half; dude, I know. That's the point.)

We open with a scene sort of like the end of Robin Hood, where he shoots an arrow from his deathbed and tells the Merry Men to bury him wherever it lands? The king has his three sons shoot arrows, and they're supposed to find their brides wherever the arrow lands.

Now, how could that possibly go wrong?

Miraculously, no one is killed in this fun little bride search, and two of the three arrows actually happen to land somewhere in the general vicinity of an unmarried young woman.

Unfortunately for our third prince, the only living thing anywhere near where his arrow lands is a frog. So he goes home and explains the situation to his dad, probably hoping for a reasonable response, like, "Oh, that sucks, try again," or maybe even, "You know what? Bridal acquisition via a literal shot in the dark was a stupid and dangerous idea. Forget it. Go meet a nice girl the normal way."

But our king is not a reasonable man, so what he tells the prince is "Well, I guess you're marrying a frog."

And then he says that whichever son has the most impressive wife gets to be the next king. Like, dude. Just come right out and say you hate prince number three.

First task to impress the king: make him a shirt.

The first two girls work hard to sew nice shirts. And prince number three, he goes home and tells the frog what's up, but he's not really expecting anything, because she's, you know, a frog. In the morning he has to go and not present his dad with a shirt, and before he leaves the frog gives him an acorn, and she's all like, "Look, I made you a shirt," and he just sort of says "Thanks, honey," and pats her slimy little head, because, I mean, what are you gonna do? She's a frog. They don't even wear shirts. Why should she know the difference between a shirt and an acorn?

"You have to open it," she says as he leaves.

"Sure, honey," he says, humoring her.

So he gets home. His dad looks over the other two shirts, makes his judgement, and then it's our dude's turn. He takes the little acorn cap off, and--there's fabric in there? Okay, weird. He pulls it out and it's a beautiful shirt made of the finest linen. Round one goes to our now very baffled third prince. Round two: bake some bread.

Now our prince isn't super quick on the uptake here. I'd think that the combination of talking frog and beautiful human-sized shirt folded into an acorn without even wrinkling would naturally lead to the conclusion that something magical is going on. But instead, he decides that the shirt must have been a fluke and, woe is him, there's no way his frog wife is ever gonna produce a loaf of bread. Frogs don't even eat bread. And how will she operate an oven?

The prince's new sisters-in-law are a little smarter, and have worked out the magic angle by now, so they go to spy on the frog. They watch her just sort of pour the dough into the oven through a hole on top, and go home to do the same thing. But, like, they don't have magic. So that backfires.

Frog presents prince with a second acorn. He pats her slimy little head and says "Thanks, honey," because he's sure she did her best. You can't fit a lot of bread in an acorn; bread isn't nearly as foldable as linen. But it's the thought that counts. And if he had to marry a frog, well, out of all the frogs in the world, he figures he's pretty lucky to have wound up with this one.

The first two princes show the king their very, very sad loaves of bread, and our prince is thinking, okay, maybe I have a shot. My loaf of bread might be incredibly tiny, but the shirt was good, and this other bread is pretty crappy. So he takes the cap off the acorn, and a beautiful, full-sized loaf of bread. They cut it up, and it tastes great. Round two goes to our prince. Third round: impress the king at a banquet.

Now our prince is thinking there's really no way his wife is going to perform well at a fancy party, because, again, she is literally a frog. She tells him to go ahead to the banquet, and she'll catch up later. He goes, thinking he's probably going to be stood up, because how is a frog going to get herself across town?

His brothers tease him about his frog wife and how she stood him up, and he just sits there and takes it because he knows his frog wife does her best, and at least she produced an edible loaf of bread. There's a commotion outside; a frog is riding up the driveway in a cardboard box pulled by mice. Which is, okay, all kinds of embarrassing. But the prince loves his frog wife, he's sure she's doing her best. And as she reaches the palace, she transforms into a beautiful woman. At which point the king declares our boy the winner of this bizarre little contest and the heir to the throne, and he and his frog wife, now de-frogged, live happily ever after.

Okay, fine, I can't just not read the original story. So just to let you know where I got it wrong: can't find evidence of that acorn detail, don't know where I got it. Possibly from a German variant called "Puddocky," in which the second task is to find a dog that can fit inside a walnut shell. And the entire last scene with the frog arriving is from the German version, not the Russian one, as well. Having jest reread them both, I can see the story that exists in my memory is a very jumbled combination of the two.

Also, like, the frog doesn't do anything for herself in the Russian version? She has attendants the prince can't see who sew the shirt and bake the bread and everything, which is totally lame, and also cheating; the king said he'd leave the kingdom to the prince whose wife did the best job, not the one whose wife had the best servants. And there is a second half, in the Russian version, though the German version ends with the banquet. After that scene, in the Russian version, when the prince realizes his wife doesn't have to be a frog, he burns the skin, which in his defense, seems like the thing to do, based on folkloric precedence. But it doesn't pan out this time. Ends up being a more "East of the Sun West of the Moon" style screw-up, and he has to go on a quest to get her back. Which is actually kind of fun; you don't see a lot of gender reversal on the "I screwed up my SO's transformation spell and now I gotta fix it" quest. Anyway, he does that thing where he spares the lives of a bunch of animals and in return they help him out later. (I think the only time I've talked about that before is in "The Sea Hare".) Baba Yaga tells him our frog girl is now with Kaschey the Deathless, and how to kill him; it's one of those "you have to stab him in his heart, but instead of being in his body it's in an egg in a chest in a tower underwater or whatever" situations, like in "The Troll With No Heart In His Body". The animals help out with that, and then we live happily ever after, for real this time.

#folklore #fairy tales #grimms #russian folklore #the frog princess #grimm brothers #puddocky

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Title: Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide [Livestream] Summary: Luke has a Space Youtube Channel and Leia watches his videos to de-stress from a terrible day. Mouse droids are named and the Empire and its terrible quality are dragged through the sarlacc pit. AN: Anyway, did somebody said TIE-Fighter story prequel? No? Too bad.

Leia was a well-composed and well-behaved serene princess right up until the doors of her rooms closed behind her. The moment she was out of sight, she kicked off her shoes with such a force that they soared half across the room and crashed against her wardrobe with a loud crack. She took the pins keeping her braids in place out of her hair and threw them onto the dresser. Then as graceless as a regular fifteen-year-old girl, Leia dropped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

Today had been terrible.

Leia hated all the pointless festivities that only ever served to make everyone there feel important and powerful but did absolutely nothing for the people they were supposed to govern. She couldn’t understand how her parents managed it. They were good and selfless people, always calm and serene even when the newest governor was basically spitting one insult after the other at them. Leia always wanted to shout back, it was her first instinct. Idiots who couldn’t be bothered to contribute anything productive or kind, should shut up and stop hindering others from doing their job. Leia had kept her mouth shut of course. She had smiled pleasantly as her mother had taught her and acted as expected from her.

But that didn’t mean that she hadn’t wanted to strip the gloves off her hands and show him how much of a bloodthirsty royal she really was. She shouldn’t have desired it, but it annoyed her so much when others purposefully misunderstood her. It had been a year since she picked her coronation color. When would people finally stop commenting on it?

Yes! Princess Leia Organa had chosen white! She’d forgone five-hundred-years of tradition and picked the color of the snow on Alderaan’s mountains, of ice so cold it burned, of the sheets upon which they wrote the names of their dead.

Leia wore the color of war, mourning and remembrance and she wore it well.

How could she not when the Empire was murdering innocents, subjugating whole worlds and waging an unjust war? Picking green or blue would be an insult upon the suffering she had been forced to witness. She didn’t want to be remembered as another impassive royal, bowing to the whims of the Empire. Leia hadn’t been meant to live in a tyrannizing Empire in which she had to watch her every word and step. She wanted to speak her mind and missed the Republic she never got to experience.

Her parents, while displeased she out herself in such danger, had understood it. Most Alderaanians understood it and supported her, but not that stupid new governor. Instead, he went on and on about her image and character flaws – and worse! Talked about marriage.

Leia was already dead set on staying unmarried. Her parents had been lucky. Despite their marriage being arranged, they’d loved each other. Or maybe they had been in love first and the political advantage of the marriage was just a bonus. Leia didn’t entirely know, but she knew to one hundred percent that all her potential Alderaani suitors sucked. They were arrogant and petty or worse, both of that but way older than her as well. She could marry somebody from a different planet, but the Old Houses would frown upon that and then she’d have to deal with more in-fighting and risk losing control of Alderaan’s society and give the Empire even more access to her planet. It was bad enough as it was.

Groaning, Leia rolled onto her back and got up from her bed again. She’d hate herself in the morning if she didn’t dress out of the fine robes completely. She fetched herself her sleeping clothes and washed the make-up off her face. It felt like taking off uncomfortable armor and she was more than glad to get rid of it. Leia didn’t mind dressing up. As a child, she had loved trying on her parents’ much too large clothes and she still loved picking out dresses together with her mother, but sometimes she wished it all wouldn’t take so much energy.

Redressed, Leia returned to her bed, ready to pretend to fall asleep when she knew that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes now. Her mind was too unfocused, her thoughts all jumbled up. She laid still and waited until another moment had passed before reaching for her bed stand and pulling out her secret private comm.

Leia had three of them. One for official business, one was the officially private secret comm – the one every important person in the galaxy was supposed to have and hide – and then there was her own, which she used to stay up-to-date with activities unbefitting on an Imperial princess.

She checked the holonet, skimming through articles that made her blood boil and delightfully bright art that called for resistance. She was pleased to notice that more and more Alderaani artists were choosing lighter colors in their barely legal paintings and downright joyful when she saw an account post images of white flags. Those posts would probably be taken down once the meaning behind them spread a little more, but Leia was proud nonetheless. She had caused this, this was her contribution to the Rebellion.

In a better mood already, Leia went through her notifications. She had a few replies to articles she had written and- oh.

[Notification: Scrap Hunting has started a livestream – 1 Min ago]

Smiling widely, Leia clicked on the link connecting her to the video. The livestream had indeed only started recently, and not even properly. Leia had missed the last one sadly because she’d been in the Core, too far away for Scrap Hunting’s terrible holonet connection to reach. Alderaan was just close enough to Tatooine for Leia to watch them.

She couldn’t quite recall how she had stumbled upon the channel. She had just been clicking through some random videos one day and there it had been. Leia wasn’t all that knowledgeable about ships – her parents had kept a keen eye on her since the Speeder accident she’d had when she was ten – and didn’t really have much access to the hangers either. Droids, on the other hand, Leia knew plenty about. They were everywhere and nobody wanted to live without them, which made them the perfect spies with the right adjustments. Leia knew how to wipe a droid’s memory so clean, it was shinier than any crystal and how to hide protocols upon protocols in their storage. Her favorite droids were C-3PO and the R2D2 unite serving on the Tantive IV. Artoo especially had a lot of personality. Leia needed to sort out her Binary so she could catch all the colorful curses the astromech liked to inflict on people.

The two boys running Scrap Hunting – well, only really Luke actually – were sympathetic. They didn’t talk about droids like they were simple tools and they were proficient in fixing them up. Therefore Leia was very pleased to see that the title of the livestream was Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide. This would be fun, the right kind of distracting noise she needed after such a long day.

“Alright, we’re all set up now,” Luke said. “Hello everybody! I’m Luke and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting!”

He waved at the recorder and then picked up a small back droid from his table. “This is what today’s livestream will be about! An MSE-series droid! A lot of you guys said you’d like more livestreams and the weather’s been pretty good recently and I fixed the signals so I hope this works out just fine.”

Luke smiled and reached for the first tool lying in front of him. “I decided that fixing up this little guy here should be fine for a shorter video. I don’t have to think so much about what I’m doing and can talk at the same time.”

He began taking off the outer casing of the droid and carefully set it aside. “I know, I know, I’m always talking, but nobody complains about it.” Luke stopped spinning his wrench for a moment to think. “Okay, alright, maybe my uncle complains about it sometimes but that’s what he gets for making me check all the vaporators on my own. Anyway, I talk a lot and so does this chat. Lots of people joining in here! Hi!”

Luke looked through the chat, returned greetings and explained how he had gotten the droid as payment for helping out in a repair shop.

“And I know the owner thought he was just giving me so boring little plaything, but do you know how versatile these MSE droids are?”

Leia definitely knew how useful they could be. She grinned when Luke comically shook his head when people began sending in question marks and began belittling the tiny Mouse droids. They made excellent spies, infiltrators and guides. Underestimating them just because they were cute was fatal. Leia was happy when Luke reacted as outraged as she was and began elaborating on what the droids could be used for.

“And like, I get sending the droids back when they trigger your instincts, I wouldn’t keep around a droid that reminds me of a womp rat or a krayt dragon.” Luke paused, the half-open mouse droid lying on his lap, and apparently considered his suggestions.

“Okay, maybe I would actually want them. Could you imagine a droid krayt dragon? So cool.”

Luke reached for the nearest datapad and took a few notes, then put it next to him on the table and returned to working on the MSE.

“But yeah, point being: Why did the Aar’aa sell them to the Empire so cheaply? Add some extra software and boom, you can sell them for twice the price. Then you’d even make a bonus. Oh, well, I suppose the Empire at least made a good deal there.”

The MSE droid laid bare now and Luke could easily access its memory. He took his datapad once more and connected it to the droid. After a few seconds, he had access to its memory and immediately frowned.

“Or it did not. What is this programming? I researched what I could find before, downloaded some protocols-“ Luke looked away from his datapad to point down, “-links in the description as always. But just- honestly. Who wrote this protocol?”

He gently knocked his head against the droid’s frame. “I’m so sorry, don’t worry, I’ll speed up your processors.”

The next hour, Leia spent listening to Luke ramble on about what changes he made and why. Once or twice she even threw her own suggestions in the chat and watched contently as Luke picked up on them and began to work with them. She wished she didn’t have so many duties and could spend her days doing things she actually wanted, take a more active role in the rebellion. But she supposed that as long as she could escape annoying politicians for a while, she’d be fine.

Leia glanced at her chrono. While it appeared to be midday still on Tatooine, it was already early morning for her. She should head to sleep soon.

Thankfully, the livestream was also wrapping up. Luke had reassembled the droid and screwed the last bolt down.

“And done!” Luke said and helped up the repaired Mouse droid. “A Quick And Easy Guide to Mouse Droids. Now, the only thing left is repainting and naming it. Same rules as always, highest donator gets to choose the color and the name.”

Leia watched as a lot of people began donating. Some just threw in five credits, just to support the channel. She’d done so before as well. It was only right to help somebody else and give him a thanks after cheering her up. Leia typed the first one, then stopped.

She was tired, had been for at least thirty minutes now, but her mind was finally calm as well. She was still and upset, but not so that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Leia shouldn’t waste her allowance on this, but Leia had also had a terrible horrible no-good day and wanted to name that Mouse Droid.

“And that was it!” Luke announced. “Many thanks for all your donations. I’ll keep you posted on what my next project will be. Hopefully something a little more interesting than this little buddy here. Now let’s see… The highest donation is one- one thousand credits from @rebelroyal!?”

Luke’s voice was awfully high-pitched, shock visible all over his face. “Is this real- oh gosh. Thank you so, so much! I’m not sure- Many thanks for supporting this channel! You may name any future Mouse Droids I come across, oh Force. Right. Uhm. What is your suggestion?”

Leia eyes her discarded white dress on the floor and chose.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

Paint it white and name it Emmy! Many thanks for all the lovely content you provide.

Little Emmy, it turned out, look much better in white than it did in the awful black so representative for the Empire.

[Notification: Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot has mentioned you in a new post]

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

[Foto: Five Mouse Droids standing in front of Luke, who was sitting on the ground, smiling cheerfully. The droid in the middle was Emmy. It was a little banged up and had a couple more scratches. On its right were an orange and a blue droid, freshly painted from the looks of it. On Emmy’s left were two black ones]

@ rebelroyal The orange and blue ones have been painted and named already, care to do the honors for the other two?

Leia smiled fondly at the picture and began to type.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

How about yellow and green? Benny and Penny so it rhymes?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Done :D

[Foto: The two previously black mouse droids have been painted as well and are furiously cleaning the floor of a ship]

#star wars #leia organa #Luke Skywalker #emmy the mouse droid #fanfic #im back on my social media mess

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thousandsunnywrites · 4 years

Note

Hi there! First off, I wanted to say that you have an absolutely wonderful blog! I was wondering if you could maybe do some headcannons for Kid and Killer liking the same girl? Keep up the good work you beautiful human being!!!❤️

Hello! Thank you so much 😩💘 I really liked this idea so I incorporated it into a college au! that I just posted haha. hope you don’t mind, but the course of this ends with Killer/reader :-)

—-

artist unknown

Kid & Killer

Part 1 here

Kid was the cool boisterous kid in the engineering program, while Killer was the silent, homebody studying in the psychology department. When the two worlds collided, they became good friends--hell, best friends maybe.

When Kid found out that a small fry like y/n wrote an article about him, he was flattered; but when he found out you analyzed the shit out of his love life--without his permission b t w and don’t let me get started on the barbaric descriptions-- he decides to pay the little journalist.

Killer shot you a text message, asking to meet at a bubbly tea cafe to work on some assignments from Ms. Robin, to which you said sure, sounds like a great idea.

Kid spotted you first.

He backed you against the English building, figure completely looming over your seemingly small frame. “I-I a m s o s o r r y,” exasperated, knowing he was fuming over the bad article Robin decided to publish under anonymous, which didn’t work bc everyone knew about Kid’s bad litany of lovers. Your knees bucked underneath you, his face near yours to the point where he was breathing down your neck. This is how I’m gonna die h u h.

“Take it down. Who the fuck gave you permission to slander my name huh? Think you fucking know me because you know some of the girls I fuck? Huh? Which bitch told you?”

His string of questions and insults continued, your mind jumbled with ways of escaping the metal head. Maybe if I slip from under his arm. No, crap he can grab my neck. Maybe if I fake a phone call? No, he’s a druggie, not a dumbass. Maybe just lie. Yeah, that should do it.

“You even listening to me dipshit?”

Snapping out of your trance, you stood tall. No, I shouldn’t be scared of this fuckboy. If anything, he should be scared of me. Why should I ask Ms. Robin to take down my work? I worked hard on that and hell I’m proud of myself.

“Listen up here, goth wannabe.” The change of aura threw him off for a few seconds. As you stepped closer and closer to him, you jabbed your pointer on his chest with every phrase. “It’s not my fault you’re a fuckboy, alright? I did my analysis based on the prompts my professor wanted and I refuse to take crap from a privileged arrogant ass like you.”

You dusted off your jeans and brushed the hair back from your face, “Besides, my report doesn’t even mention your name, how sure are you that it’s really about you? If you felt attacked by my analysis, then that’s a personal problem. Now if you excuse me, I’m late to a meeting.” You shoved passed by him, leaving him gritting his teeth with his head hung low, knowing he lost. But, just because you lose doesn’t mean you should give up.

Something about you-- the sassiness, the boldness perhaps— draws him towards you. From that day forward, the tables have turned. From you stalking him to him stalking you, he turned to the mutual that helped create it all—Killer.

Killer did n o t want to be in the middle of this, should he help his best pal get closer to the girl he wants or should he be in love with the girl of his dreams and leave his best friend heartbroken? This is the first time Killer sees Kid genuinely interested in a girl, and not for a quick fuck.

Yardy know what Killer is gonna do— he meddles with his best friend’s love life. Kid, ignorant to Killer’s feelings, merrily goes along with the advice dished out. It’s not like you’d like him, right? Kid was a better choice between the two of them, and you should always be with the best.

You noticed the sudden change with Killer’s attitude— his sudden interest with Kid and his distance really made you wonder if your crush was gay. Well, that’s not good!

Kid frequently drops by your dorm to drop you his home cooked food, that’s really good btw, and self-care packages. Killer comes by and leaves by a flower with anonymous love letters attached to them. Genuinely believing Kid and Killer were a thing, you thought the gestures were very sweet. Still not the man you wanted, but sweet.

Kid and Killer frequently text you, Kid still unaware that Killer contacts you consistently as well. He’d gush and brag about the interactions you shared together to Killer, who just nods along quietly.

Kid takes you out on dates too. Pays for the movie, the snacks, even the dress! What a fucking simp.

Kid decides to confess to you, not before consulting Killer first.

“Imma tell her today after class. ‘M gonna bring her a whole bouquet too.” Kid nonchalantly packs up his shit, preparing his stunt.

“What?? Today today?”

“Yuh,” responded Kid, swinging his bag over his shoulder and cooly waving his hand as he exits the room. No, if Kid was doing it today, Killer decided, me too. I wanna see what happens if I try.

Killer was done pushing his feelings to the side. Why should he have to subdue his feelings for someone else, even if they’re his best pal? What if you like him back?

“Y/n! I have something to tell you!” Killer screamed across the empty halls, knowing the exact spot the metal head was taking you. Just in time, he saw Kid confess.

“We’d be such a power couple if you were my girl.”

A sweet, gentle giggle left your throat, a hand covering your bashful face. “You’re cool dude,” your hand outstretched to pat his shoulder, “but I don’t see you like that... more like a friend, you know? I hope we can still be friends. And if you want, we can act like this never happened.” You spouted options to alleviate the embarrassment and disappointment written on his face.

“Bitch just kidding,” flabbergasted, but trying hard to keep his composure, he punched your shoulder. “I was just saying, not like I’d go for a small fry like you.”

“Bitchass.”

Killer felt relief in his chest— wow, his friend got rejected and he felt relieved? Best Friend of the Century.

Later that night, he snuck into your dorm by the window like Spider-Man, effectively scaring the shit out of you. After calming down, he worms his way to your bed with a tiny smile across his features.

He studied your face in the moonlight— softly parted lush lips with glossy eyes that matched the slightly disheveled hair atop your head. It was perfect. Killer wringed his hands together painfully, working his courage.

Mumbling, he slipped a very rushed confession from the tip of his tongue, inaudible to the ear.

“Huh?”

“I mean... you don’t have to accept my feelings. I wanna let it off my chest but I really like you y/n.” He sucked a breath while shutting his eyes, anticipating rejection.

Holding his chin and delicately bringing his eyes to meet yours, you leaned in and planted his lips against yours, and fell backwards due to his sudden jolts.

He pulled away, frantically trying to process if that was real or just one of his hyper realistic wet dreams again.

“Y-you like me back?”

“Duh, why else would I kiss you?”

“O-oh.”

“Be mine then?”

“I already am.”

#one piece #One Piece headcanons #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #kid x reader #eustass kid #literally a eustASS kid

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ahgastae · 4 years

Text

phantasm (pt.1) – namjoon x reader

➥ word count: 1.6k | fluff

➥ m.list

➥ a/n: this is a wip i’ve been saving for a while lol. it’s *technically* a rewrite of an extremely old one-shot i had that didn’t quite turn out how i wanted it so here we are!! i’m thinking of making it a series that i kinda just update whenever i feel like/have time to work on it but idk. feedback is always appreciated, and thanks for reading! ♡

An aggravated sigh leaves your lips, giving up on yet another failed attempt to force the basement door open. The metal handle remains stuck no matter what you do or how hard you push, and at this point you’re starting to run out of ideas.

Part of you wonders how you managed to get yourself into this situation; locked in the basement of some musty, old abandoned hospital. It’s not exactly everyday people willingly wander into places like this, and you would normally be one of the ones who stayed as far away as fucking possible.

So what changed? What made you take the risk? And how the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?

“Why in the hell would I ever want to do that?” You quirk a brow at your best friend, popping another fry into your mouth as you do. “Actually, scratch that, why the hell would you ever agree to that?”

The unamused look on Hoseok’s face makes you want to laugh, but you cover it up with another sip of your chocolate shake.

“Because,” Hoseok grumbles with a roll of his eyes, “those little shits can be very persuasive when they want to be. I didn’t want to be the only one in the group who didn’t go, you know?”

You nod your head understandingly, “So you didn’t want to be the one to pussy out.”

“Y/N!”

You burst into a fit of laughter, barely dodging the onion ring he throws your way. Hoseok rolls his eyes again, and the furrow in his brow makes you realize he’s a lot more serious about this than you first thought.

“Okay, okay.” By the time you manage to contain yourself, his scowl has softened slightly. “But if all the guys are going, why do you want me to go so badly?”

Hoseok scoffs, “Uh, are you kidding? That place is going to be creepy as all hell, and I need my best friend there to provide some serious emotional support. And to keep Jungkook from posting videos of me freaking out on Twitter again.”

You both cringe, clearly remembering the last time he got sucked into one of these “adventurous” outings. Jungkook got the silent treatment for a solid three weeks because that clip of Hoseok screaming at a pigeon went viral. The kid still apologizes to this day, but you have a sneaking suspicion he’s behind some of the (admittedly hilarious) edits that have cropped up.

It makes sense for that reason alone as to why Hoseok would want you to tag along, but you’re honestly just as much of a scaredy cat as he is. You’re a lot better at keeping it under wraps, though, always coming up with some excuse for why you can’t go exploring whatever creepy abandoned place his friends want to check out next. But Hoseok has never been the one to ask until now, and you’re more than a little conflicted about it.

“I don’t know, Hobi,” You sigh, glancing down at your half eaten burger. “This has always kinda been your guys’ thing, you know? I’m not really into any of that.”

“Honestly, most of us aren’t, either,” Hoseok shrugs. “The only ones who really like it are Tae, Yoongi, and Kook. The rest of us are kinda just along for the ride.”

“You mean the ride through every possibly haunted, definitely dangerous place in the area.”

“Yeah…”

A small silence falls in between you, and you briefly wonder how in the hell he ever thought this was meant to convince you. Sure, he took you out to lunch, said you could get as many milkshake refills as you desired, put on those heart wrenching puppy dog eyes that you always have to struggle to ignore. But is it really worth getting the shit scared out of you with him and his six friends? One of whom might “accidentally” post a video of you losing your mind over something stupid?

You aren’t ready to become a Twitter meme!

With that terrifying thought, your mind is finally made up. You’re just about to open your mouth and tell Hoseok you just absolutely cannot–

“Joonreallywantedtoknowifyouweregoingtocome!”

The words leave his mouth in a jumbled mess, but you make them out clear as day. You should’ve known that’s the game he was playing. There’s no way Jung Hoseok would come to you with a request like this without having some kind of backup plan. And, unfortunately, his role as your best friend means he knows all about your little crush on the de facto leader of his friend group. You just never thought he’d be so prepared to openly exploit it.

“So what do you say?” Hoseok bites his lip from across the table, and you have a sneaking suspicion he already knows what your answer is going to be.

“...Fine. I’ll go on your stupid ghost trip,” You grumble, a bright smile appearing on Hoseok’s face as he starts to thank you rapidly. “But I’ll break that kid’s phone if he so much as tries to record me!”

Your threat falls on deaf ears, Hoseok already whipping out his phone to presumably tell the other guys. Part of you wants to be mad that you let yourself get played so easily, but does it really count if you knew that’s what he was trying to do?

Eh, whatever. At least he’s happy. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually end up enjoying yourself after all.

So that was a fucking lie.

You haven’t even been out of the car for five minutes, and you’re already starting to regret leaving your apartment this afternoon. Hoseok said you guys were going to check out some old hospital on the outskirts of town when he picked you up, but you had no idea he meant this far out.

The woods surrounding the “hospital” aren’t particularly thick, but it’s just enough to where you know it’ll terrify the shit out of you when the sun starts to go down. You’re honestly not sure if you’d rather be stuck out here or in the creepy ass building in front of you when that happens. But, if all the guys currently standing around Taehyung’s truck are anything to go by, that decision might be made a lot sooner than you think.

“Y/N!” One of them suddenly calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Stop being a weenie and get your ass over here!”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself off from your spot leaning against Hoseok’s car and make your way over to the truck bed. The three younger ones are huddled around some sheets of paper in the bed while Jin and Hoseok fiddle with some flashlights and batteries near the open passenger seat. You head over to Hoseok first, curious about the two missing from your party.

“Hey, where are Joon and Yoongi? I thought you said everyone was coming.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be here,” Hoseok laughs. “Joonie just had to finish up some stuff at work real quick. I’m sure they won’t be long.”

You nod, crossing your arms and scanning over the building in front of you. It definitely looks old. What used to be white paint has faded to a dark, muddy grey, and the windows are either smashed to bits or boarded over with moldy planks of wood. There’s stray graffiti scattered all over the place, the parking lot barely distinguishable from the overgrown weeds and shrubs surrounding the area.

Honestly, everything about it just screams “Danger! Stay the fuck away!” to you. How in the hell did the guys even find this place?

“Ah, fucking finally!”

You’re jolted out of your thoughts once again by one of the boys shouting from the truck bed. It must have been Jungkook, since he’s the one who jumps out and starts running towards the car pulling into the clearing.

Wait, a car? That could only mean-

The car slows to a stop behind Taehyung’s truck, and sure enough, you can just barely see the two boys you were asking about waving to you all inside. Well, one of them is waving. The other seems to be focused on parking without running over the energetic Kook jumping around the car.

You can kind of relate to the younger boy’s excitement, but the butterflies in your stomach are for an entirely different reason.

“What took you guys so long?” Jungkook whines, greeting the two newcomers as soon as they step out of the vehicle. “We were supposed to get into the building before it got dark!”

“I know, I know,” Namjoon apologizes. “We would’ve been here a lot sooner, but-”

“But someone kept insisting on grading ‘one more spelling quiz’ before we left.”

Yoongi’s grumpy pout is as evident as ever as he wholeheartedly throws his roommate under the bus. The three of them have joined the rest of the group now, the other two youngsters leaning over the side of the truck bed.

“You weren’t thinking of ditching us for some second graders, were you, Mr. Kim?” Taehyung teases, quirking an amused brow.

Jimin falls into giggles, “That sounds exactly like something he would do!”

“Hey, I promised the kids I would have them all handed back by Monday!”

Namjoon’s desperate attempts to defend himself are ignored, and you can’t help but smile at the small pout that crosses his face. It’s short lived, though, as Jungkook soon calls everyone’s attention back to him as he hops back up onto Taehyung’s truck.

“Alright, losers, now that we’re all finally here,” A mischievous grin grows on the maknae’s lips. “let’s get down to business.”

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts namjoon x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fic #bts fluff #my writing #look at me still having no idea how to tag things lmao

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muchadoaboutbucky · 4 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbor - 2

Set post-Endgame: Bucky’s got a crush on the girl next door.

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: slow burn, minor anxieties, eventual smut

read the rest of this series on patreon

Friday passes in a blur. Bucky skips his usual morning run and can barely focus on anything relatively important, and it’s only when Sam gives him a nudge about deadlines when he pushes thoughts of his impending date out of his head and fills out his mission report.

Saturday comes in a hail of rushing thoughts and a rolling stomach. Bucky can’t remember the last time he was this nervous to go on a date. He starts getting ready at seven, standing under the shower for several minutes and scrubbing away every inch of grime. He even conditions the ends of his hair (something Sam would never let him live down if he saw the expensive-looking bottle) and twists half of it up into a bun to keep it out of his face.

He used to wear suits on his dates, back when he’d take his girl of the evening dancing. Now, men are more casual, and he digs through his minimally-filled closet to find something nice. He settles for a pair of dark jeans, a gray tee shirt, and a black jacket. It’s probably the nicest thing he has, and when he finally takes a quick look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of his door, he concludes that he doesn’t look half bad.

Now, if only he could get the deer-in-headlights look off his face…

He doesn’t bother taking much, just his moneyclip of twenties and his phone. He’s called the private car again, and the buzzing on his phone lets him know that the driver is ready and waiting in the parking lot.

Sam’s stretched out on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn, and he gives Bucky a teasing whistle.

“Lookin’ good.” He sits up as Bucky walks by, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here, I got you somethin’.”

He tosses something small and shiny, and Bucky catches it. As soon as he realizes what it is, his cheeks go flaming hot again.

“I don’t need this.” He holds the condom up between two fingers. Truthfully, he doesn’t. Hydra had taken that option away from him—chemical sterilization was the easiest choice to ensure that, should he ever get released, his altered genetics wouldn’t be passed on. The only person who knows about that little factor in his life is Banner, simply because he oversees all the medical files for the team. “It’s the first date,” he covers.

“Dude, some people do it on the first date.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Just take it.”

Grumbling, Bucky stuffs the foil square into his back pocket and heads out the door. It’s 8:01 when he knocks on your door, and when he hears your footsteps on the other side, he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

You’re wearing a deep yellow blouse and skinny jeans. You’ve done your hair in this beautiful touseled style that frames your face… oh, so perfectly.

“Hi.” You sling your purse over your shoulder. “You look nice.”

Bucky swallows and holds his arm out for you to take. People still do this, right? “You look pretty.”

Your cheeks flush as you loop your arm through his and follow him down into the elevator. “So… I can drive, if you want me to.”

“I got a ride,” he explains, smiling almost bashfully as the heavy metal doors slide back to reveal the glossy black Mercedes. The driver sits patiently in the driver’s seat, plotting out the route to the movie theatre, and Bucky holds the door for you to slip into the backseat. You take note of the thick glass divider between the backseat and the driver. “We can talk privately,” Bucky assures you.

“Oh.” You gaze around the luxurious interior of the car. “This is probably the fanciest car I’ve ever been in. Do you get to use this all the time?”

“Only on missions.” Bucky chews on his lower lip. “It comes in handy.”

The drive to the theatre takes a good twenty minutes, and when you finally walk through the tall glass doors, it’s a relief. Bucky offers you his arm again, and you gaze up at the movie selection together. Since everything had gone to hell with Thanos, a lot of classics are being replayed. The only movies that have come out recently are a cheesy slasher film and a buddy comedy. Neither of you do those, so you settle for a running of The Prisoner of Azkaban and fill your arms with popcorn and candy.

Following Bucky’s direction, you sneak to the very back row, where it’s deserted and nobody will see you. You go through half the popcorn during the credits, and Bucky mocks a pout when you tuck the Sour Patch Kids into your purse for safekeeping until you’re halfway through the movie.

Bucky almost tunes out when you tentatively rest your head on his shoulder. He can smell your shampoo… raspberry and something else sweet… vanilla, maybe. Your arm loops back through his, and he has to fight the urge to pull you right into his lap. He’d done that before, when he was twenty-two and he dragged Penny Williams into his lap in the back of an empty cinema and made her grind on him until she was shaking… but he can’t do that now. You’d probably slap him if he did.

When the lights in the theatre come on, you wait for several people in the front rows to leave before lifting your head from his shoulder.

“How was that?” you ask. “Good movie?”

Bucky smiles. “Might be a good idea to see the others. Some bits got a little jumbled.”

You grin, cheeks dimpling. “Maybe we can make a thing out of it. One movie a week?”

Oh, Jesus, he’s fallen so hard… “I’d like that very much,” he replies.

He takes your hand in his and stands, leading you down the steps and out into the main hall. It’s late, and the only moviegoers are a couple groups of teenagers. “Do you want to do anything else?” he asks tentatively? “Another movie?”

You giggle. “I can’t do another movie, but if you… if you want, we can hang out at my place for a bit?”

There’s a look in your eye that he can’t exactly read. Then again, being eighty years out of practice isn’t helping. “Sure,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket to send their driver a message.

You’re picked up in the same spot, and Bucky doesn’t let go of your hand the entire ride back to the apartment. He follows you into the elevator, and the tension skyrockets. Other than the basics, he has no idea what to do. He used to be good, used to drive girls wild with his tongue and fingers and eventually his cock, but… you’re not just a summer fling. You mean more to him than any girl he’d ever known.

The moment you’ve closed and locked the door, neither of you seem to be able to hold back. Bucky meets you halfway, cupping your face as your lips meet in a wet, fiery kiss. His heart takes off, beating hard and fast as you press yourself up against him. Your hands fumble with the zipper of his jacket, and Bucky takes over, stripping it off and dropping it to the floor. He backs you further into the room, toeing off his boots as you kick your slippers to the side.

Clothes fly everywhere, and Bucky only stops when you’re down to your matching panties and bralette and he’s in a pair of boxers that aren’t doing much to hide his erection. Where this bravery came from, he has no idea. Your fingers wander down the plates and lines of his left arm, over the line between metal and flesh, and he brings the palm up to smooth over your hair.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Good.” You step in and press a kiss just over his heart, and Bucky almost cries at the gentleness.

“Where’s your room?” he asks instead, hands skimming low to hold your hips.

“Hall,” you reply, “second door on the right.”

Bucky kisses you again and lifts you easily off the floor. He crosses to the appropriate door in just a few determined strides, and once inside he lays you out on the mattress, kissing down your neck and pulling the front clasp of your bralette open.

“Jesus,” he breathes, and then he’s leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth. Your legs spread automatically, opening wide so he can grind himself against your warmth. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling the bun free and hooking in the thick, dark locks.

“Bucky,” you sigh, arching up to get closer to his touch. He switches his attentions, sucking gently on your other nipple until the areola is swollen and pink. “I want you so bad.”

“I know.” He holds himself up, keeping his hips wedged firmly between your thighs. He knows he doesn’t need the birth control, but it might give you comfort to know that he’s thought ahead and brought protection. “I got somethin’ in my jeans, lemme go—”

“I’m on the pill,” you interrupt him, dragging him back down for a kiss. “I’m on the pill, baby, it’s okay.”

Your hand pushes at the waistband of his boxers, and Bucky can’t shed them fast enough. Metal fingers curl into your flimsy underwear, shredding the fabric and tossing it away. You’re bare, pink and wet and exposed, all for him. He strokes himself firmly, gripping the base so he can line up with your entrance, and you gasp, mouth open against his when he pushes in, sliding to the hilt.

God, he’s forgotten what women feel like inside… all hot and wet, snug around his cock in a way that makes his toes curl. He feels your hands slide down his back, nails pressing in softly, and he starts to move with your moan still trailing off. It’s clumsy at first, his movements driven out of pleasure and passion than actual practice, but he settles into it, metal fingers curled into the sheets beside your head.

“Oh… yes…” you encourage him stroke-by-stroke, hands firm on the small of his back as he grinds deep. “Right there, Bucky… oh, shit…”

He picks up the pace, and your head tips back, mouth stretching into an exhilarated smile. Bucky can’t take his eyes off it, and it’s only when you suck in a ragged breath and bring your hands back up to hook in his hair that he puts his mouth to work. He finds a nipple again and latches on, enjoying the sound of your high-pitched whimpers.

“Oh, baby,” you arch up, trying to rock your hips in time with his, and Bucky presses in deeper, giving you a sharp twist that means ‘stay still.’ When he gives in to his lust and tries to work a little harder, you let out an audible wince. He stops.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks concernedly.

You nod shortly. “You’re… really strong.”

“Sorry.” He kisses you again. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You giggle, and the motion of it makes him groan with satisfaction. “Maybe I should be on top.”

Oh, hell yes. Bucky flips, keeping your bodies together as he moves expertly onto his back. You brace your hands on his chest and toss your hair over one shoulder. Bucky braces his feet on the mattress, cupping your waist in his hands as you start your own rhythm. He settles back against the bed, eyes wide as he watches you move, taking your own pleasure just the way you like it.

“You look so beautiful,” he pants, “so goddamn beautiful, doll…”

He holds his breath when you take his flesh hand and guide it between your legs. He knows how to find your clit easily enough, and he matches your loud moan of pleasure with his own when he feels your pussy squeeze around him. He rubs his thumb in quick little circles and fights the urge to take control again.

“You feel so good,” you moan, “I’m gonna cum so hard…”

Bucky’s eyes almost roll back in his head when he feels you start to pulse. “Do it,” he whispers, “don’t hold back for me, baby, lemme feel it.”

He works you to the edge, and when you cum it’s with a breathless cry as you sink down on his cock and stay there. He can feel you, growing somehow wetter and warmer as your entire body flushes, and he can’t bring himself to stop touching you, only pulling his hand away when you slump forward, batting his hand away from between your legs with a breathless giggle.

“Sensitive,” you gasp out, leaning down to kiss him. Bucky sweeps your hair up into his metal hand, keeping it away from your face.

“I loved that,” he replies, pushing his hips up to close the gap where he’s not fully inside you. “Dunno how much longer I can…”

You kiss him again, this time sweeping your tongue over his lower lip. “It’s okay… I wanna feel it.”

He lets you pin his hands on either side of his head, fingers locked together. Your hips start to roll, and Bucky’s breath grows tighter as you work him towards his own climax. He’s not afraid of being loud—he never was a quiet lover, anyway. He lets you take over, reveling in the smack of your skin on his and the wet slide of your pussy and the way your tits press against his chest.

He’s almost at the edge when he hits the pause button, pulling back from your kisses and gasping out a hoarse “wait.”

You stop, raising yourself up to look down at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He shakes his head, swallows. This is so embarrassing. “I’ve just never… I’ve always pulled out.”

Your eyes go wide when you take in his meaning. “Oh… do you want to?”

He shakes his head and squeezes your hands. “No. I just… you—”

Thankfully, you silence him with a kiss before he can start rambling. “Bucky, it’s okay,” you whisper, “just lemme make you feel good.”

He groans when you swirl your hips, falling back into your steady slide-n-grind motion. He’s already close, and it doesn’t take very long for him to reach the edge of his orgasm.

Oh, shit, this is intense.

“God—” he rips his hands from yours and hugs you close, burying his face in your chest as he cums harder than he can remember. You wrap one arm around the back of his head, moaning encouragement into the air as he empties into you.

It’s over as quickly as it started, but Bucky’s got a knot in his throat that won't go away, and before he knows it his eyes are stinging with tears.

Fuck, no, he’s not crying…

“Hey.” You cup his face, staring into his face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head eyes squeezed tight. “Just… intense.”

You press closer, kissing his cheeks and running your fingers through his hair. He calms himself quickly, breathing hard against your soft, sweet skin, and then raises his head to look at you.

“Don’t apologize.” You stop the words in his throat and kiss him gently. “It’s okay…”

“I don’t—” Bucky fights the urge to lower his head in shame, “I don’t cry after—”

You interrupt him with a sweep of your thumb over his lower lip. “It’s okay, Bucky. Let’s shower? You can stay here tonight, we can talk.”

You step into your small shower cubicle, laughing over the cramped space, and by the time you emerge in a cloud of steam, Bucky’s in a state of bliss, and he crawls beneath the sheets with a tired sigh. You’ve gone to the kitchen to grab something to drink, and when you come back, Bucky notices the unopened bag of Sour Patches tucked under your arm.

“We never got to these,” you say, crawling up to lie next to him and tearing the bag open. “Have you ever had ‘em?”

Bucky reaches into the bag and pulls out a red one. “First time for everything.” He pops it into his mouth, biting down through the soft candy. The sour hits him first, and he grimaces as it gives way to the sweetness. You laugh at the expression on his face and bury your face in the pillow.

“What?” He reaches into the bag for another. “That wasn’t funny, what the hell is in those?”

“Lots of stuff that isn’t good for you,” you reply, still giggling. “God, if sour Altoids still existed, I’d love to see your face then.”

“Sour Altoids?”

“Believe me, they were not to be fucked with. Especially the tangerine ones.” You nibble the head off one piece of candy and snuggle up next to him. “Hey.”

Bucky turns his head to look at you. “Hmm?”

“I’m glad we did this.” You run your hand up over his chest. “Meeting you was the best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

His heart almost explodes. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.” You suck the sour coating off a green candy. “I went through a really tough breakup after… what happened with Thanos. My ex was one of the people who… well, when he came back, he was upset that I’d moved on and just left me. Then you moved in next door and you’re… well, you.” Your cheeks flush. “Never thought I’d be in bed with the guy I learned about in history classes.”

Bucky can’t help but blush as well. “I’m too old for you.”

“Shut up.” You kiss him, deep and wet and dirty. “You’re perfect to me.”

Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated :)

MARVEL TAGS: @beefcakebarnes @breezy1415 @cosicas-cuquis @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @suz-123

OTHER TAGS (let me know if you want to be on my forever list): @nacho-bucky @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel fanfiction

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

Text

N7 Challenge - 14 (Military)

Summary: Alistair Shepard isn’t the military type. So... why’d he enlist in the Alliance anyway?

---

“Shepard... mind if I ask a question?”

Normally, questions like that made Alistair's skin crawl. However, he was currently bent over the Mako and trying to get it to work so all his thought process was focused on that. It didn't really register who or what was asking him a question until he backed up to evaluate his progress.

Then he realized it was the Normandy's only turian.

“Oh, hey Garrus.” He glanced back at the panel – still loading for twenty more minutes. That meant he had time to catch his breath after the nightmare that was Noveria. Hours later, and he still felt freezing as he pried frozen rocks out of the treads. At least any ice had long since melted.

A quick glance told him that the turian's body language registered as curious. So, that probably knocked out tactical or mission questions. If he had to guess, Garrus was about to ask something personal. For a turian, that was... odd. Definitely against the manual of interacting with someone in authority. So whatever it was, it had to be important.

He could play ball.

The turian looked around the empty room before he spoke. Then his mandibles twitched – a classic sign of turian nerves acting against him. He was curious, but uncomfortable about asking this. So it was probably important enough that Alistair backed away from the console and let it keep working.

Man, he was glad he took that turian body language course back in basic. It was saving his ass now for sure.

“What's up?”

Garrus's mandibles twitched again. “Just... you're not really the military type, are you?”

Alistair blinked at that. “Uh... I'm going to have to ask for some clarification there. What do you mean?”

Now the turian in front of him really looked uncomfortable. Had he been annoyed, the Spectre would have enjoyed it. But mostly he was just tired and cold, and he wanted to get this conversation over with so he could get back to work. His bed was calling his name, and he needed to answer it as soon as possible if wanted to stave off the post biotic headache that was currently looming behind both his eyes.

Biotics – they got you coming an going. At least he wasn't an L2 though. Man, it sucked to be Kaidan.

“Well... you're not...” Garrus mulled over his words. “Aggressive. Forward? When people look at you they don't seem to think you're a threat, even in armor.”

Yeah, that happened when you were under 5'5” and didn't really carry much muscle. Hooray for being the medic.

He held up his talons quickly though. “No offense, by the way. Just pointing out something I noticed while we were on Noveria. You don't really have a military presence about you.”

Alistair resisted an eye roll as he glanced back at the panel – 15 minutes now. “Yeah, I know. It's because I'm small and all lean muscle. Still managed to get to the end of N7 though, so I don't see why that's a problem.”

Ok, maybe there had been a bit of edge to his voice there. But could you blame him? This wasn't the first time he had ever had this conversation with someone, and no doubt it wouldn't be the last. He was pretty sure people would start adding Spectre to the 'shit people didn't thin he was' list. It was getting kind of long.

But whatever, welcome to his life.

“I didn't mean anything by it... you just don't seem the type.” Garrus' mandibles twitched as he shrank back a little. “Why'd you join anyway? Is it a Shepard family thing?”

Despite his annoyance, Alistair let out a quick and bitter chuckle as he typed something into the mainframe. “No, I'm the first in the family and hopefully the last.”

Then he turned around, tapping the spot where his head met his neck. Though he couldn't see it, he could feel the metal embedded into his neck. Right then, it was warmer than usual. It wasn't quite overheating yet, but it got close.

“I joined because my brain was going to explode if I didn't.”

Then he went back to the panel, typing out commands as he tried to ignore the turian all but standing over his shoulder. An awkward tension filled the room, probably because neither really knew what to say. Garrus probably felt guilty... and he didn't like talking about this.

Almost a decade later, and he was still annoyed.

“Your brain?” Garrus's head cocked to the side briefly. “I thought if you got past infancy, the rate of cancer-”

Alistair shrugged his shoulders as he gave up on the console for the moment. “It does. My problem was that my biotics are so strong they were overheating my brain without an amp.”

He smiled bitterly as he rubbed the port. “Most humans get their implants at puberty to help jump start more serious training. I should've gotten mine at 14, but... well, let's just say I didn't get that chance. I probably would have been part of the L2's if they had gotten to me in time.”

Instead, he had been whisked off Mindoir as the batarians rounded everyone up. A few years in foster care, then aging out... his teen years had mostly been a jumble of headaches and missing memories that came from his brain overheating. Or at least that's what the doctors told him from ages 14 to almost 20 when he went to them.

Then his brain had almost fried at 20.

“So... when did you get yours?”

The Spectre still had his hand on his amp as he spoke. “20, when I enlisted. I think I set a record for oldest person to get one and not have permanent brain damage. Pretty sure I'm in a couple medical text books under patient X or something.”

Not that he had ever gotten the chance to read one. He'd wanted to – med school had been in his goal plan once he finished community college and transferred to a four year school – but the military had made that goal a distant dream. He still thought about it sometimes, but with how things were going he'd probably be in for life.

It wasn't how he'd seen his life going, but that's how it was.

At any rate, Alistair shrugged and let his hand drop from the cooling amp. “I only joined because the Alliance had the tech to keep me from dying from brain overheat. I was only going to stay for my enlistment, but then the Blitz happened and Akuze wasn't long after. Before I knew it, here I am at N7 and suddenly I'm a Spectre.”

So, for a guy who didn't seem the military type... he was ass deep in the military. Maybe that was to his credit. Either that, or the universe didn't want him to settle down and go to med school. Was there some future where he was like Doctor Death or something that it was trying to prevent?

Could've done that without the Reapers, you know. He would've accepted not getting into med school well enough.

At least Garrus nodded at that. “Sort of all just hit you at once.”

“Yeah. Besides, couldn't leave Bo in by herself. We work too well together to split up.”

The meter on the Mako beeped to let him know he had five minutes left until he could finish up. With any luck, he would be able to do so in silence. After having to talk about a past he wasn't too happy about, Alistair wasn't feeling too cordial as he continued to type data in.

Bitter? Absolutely.

Unfortunately for him, Garrus didn't leave. Instead, he just stood there, his body language screaming he wasn't sure what to do next. In animal species, they might wash their face or dig a hole. In turians, their mandibles twitched and their talons flexed. He was making a show of both at the moment, all he needed was the teeth grinding.

Not that Alistair wanted to hear that. Recordings of it were nasty enough.

So he worked in silence, finishing up the Mako repairs. After he pulled a few more rocks out of the treads, the timer beeped to let him now he could shut the diagnostic off. Its details were already streaming into his omni-tool; he could analyze them later at his desk, away from everyone else in the quiet of his room.

“Well... guess that's it for me. If you need to fix-”

“I'm sorry I said anything. You are a military type.”

Alistair blinked as he looked up at the turian in front or him. “Quite the change of heart you've got going on there, Garrus.”

He watched as his mandibles flared out a little – classic signs of embarrassment. Well, at least they were getting somewhere. Honestly, he was feeling a little bit in the same way. He just hid it by running away instead of staying there like an idiot.

Amazing the coping strategies between their species.

The turian cleared his throat as he glanced away. “Sense of responsibility, I guess. Should've seen it sooner.”

“Some might call that idiocy.” He allowed a brief smile. “Thanks, I guess. I don't mind not being seen as a military type, mind you. It makes getting people to agree to things without having to shoot them a lot easier.”

Which was good, because he had terrible vision and barely massed marksmanship in basic. Now that he was down an eye... well, he was glad diplomacy worked much better for him than shooting. Maybe that was why he had survived in N7.

At least that made the turian relax. “You have a point there. I think I probably would have been more annoyed if someone the other Shepard's size bumped into me in the Presidium.”

“Garrus, if Bo had bumped into you, you'd have been flat on your carapace and probably dealing with a concussion.”

He would know – he had seen enough of it.

At least that got his companion chuckling, which wasn't a bad sound. It was kind of chicken like, but not in an awful way. Honestly, it was something almost soothing to his grated nerves. Maybe this was his reward for sitting through the conversation.

Wasn't totally worth it, but it was nice.

“Yeah, that's probably true.” He stopped chuckling. “Anyway... looks like I should get out of the way so you can get back to work.”

Alistair nodded as he started to walk. “Nice talking to you, Garrus. If there's anything else wrong with the Mako, let me know. You know I have these nice, non-military sized wrists that are good at fitting into things.”

“Never going to let me live that one down, are you, Shepard?” Still, there was that chuckle again. “Right, talk to you later.”

Something about it felt good as Alistair left the area to head back to his quarters, wrist full of data. If he thought about it, it was the first decent conversation the two of them had ever had. Maybe they should have more of those.

Though... he could do without the 20 awkward questions next time. Some things he just liked to keep to himself.

#n7month #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard

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