#'i can only imagine how hard this is on you' he says softly. 'the inquisition and the whole of thedas demanding your leadership'

[attractthecrows]

the thought of the evening is about NIGHTMARES WHOOOO

#revallen bolting awake from a nightmare about whatever the fuck. maybe nessie maybe his father maybe his dead wife #but he bolts upright which wakes dorian up and dorian is like 'whzzuh?? hfmn. amatus??' #and revallen doesn't answer so dorian gets up on an elbow and says again: Amatus?? #revallen's staring at nothing and breathing heavily. he's covered in cold sweat. he doesn't answer dorian #so dorian sits up further and puts a hand on his arm and says slightly louder: are you alright Amatus?? #and revallen blinks out of his daze and looks at dorian. still a bit confused. unaware of the tears rolling down his cheeks #dorian sees them though and immediately rises to meet revallen face to face #cups one of his cheeks in his hand and uses his thumb to brush away the tears #brushing them away makes revallen notice the tears and he tries to pull away. dorian stops him by saying his name softly #he meets revallen's eyes - still distressed and confused - and sighs softly. then he brings his other hand up to revallen's cheek #and says 'it's all right Amatus. it's okay. deep breaths.' #revallen nods a bit - looks down - takes a deep breath and a few more tears fall #so dorian pulls his head to his shoulder to give him something to lean on and wraps an arm around his back #'i can only imagine how hard this is on you' he says softly. 'the inquisition and the whole of thedas demanding your leadership' #'it's no wonder you're exhausted. come‚ Amatus. get some rest.' #revallen brings a shaky hand up to hug dorian back. and nods‚ his face still pressed into dorian's shoulder #they shift so dorian is holding him with one ear pressed to his chest to hear his heartbeat. just cradling him close #so what if there's a spreading wetness on his shirt. dorian just holds him closer. 'sleep‚ Amatus. it's all right. just sleep.' #eventually he does fall back asleep. dorian continues to hold him #when someone disturbs them - either in revallen's quarters in skyhold or revallen's tent in camp - he brings a finger to his lips #tilts his head to tell them to leave #if it's someone like bull or leliana they may ask if they inquisitor is well. and dorian gives them a pleading look. 'leave him be' he asks. #'he just needs some time. let him rest.' #revallen lavellan #dorian pavus

[somnambulic-thing]

This fic is part IV of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.

masterlist

messy Eddie Munson x gn!Reader with vagina&boobs, we're early/mid 20s, E 18+

Words: 6.4k

||contains: established relationship/former best friends, outdoor sex, piv, oral, teasing/edging, a little crying, light biting&scratching we're playing with: cum, slick, spit (no spitting tho) and blueberries in various consistencies; fluff, domestic, silly, food mention/eating: it's a picnic situation || you can always dm me and ask for more details

A/N: Oh my god, I finally did it. I've been working on this story since mid-June and it was actually where my ruminations about this universe started. I have no idea why this took me so damn long. I imagined the vision I had for this scenario would fit into something around 3k-ish. Look how that turned out. It's just a lot of sex and a lot of silly banter.

I have to thank @bettyfrommars and R for the help with that story. I probably would have deleted it without you a long time ago

soundtrack

Comments and reblogs are so appreciated you have no idea.

“You have cum in your hair, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s voice, deep and soft and a little raspy, is full of pride; his eyes full of bliss and adoration.

You smile down at him, stretched out on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, the only remnant of his live-wire-brain a slow bop of his feet which are crossed by the ankles.

He’s just as naked and sweaty as yourself and equally covered in the traces of your lust.

You reach out to tug on a sticky strand of wavy brown hair, twirling the end slightly between your fingertips.

“So have you, Munson.”

Eddie hums and nods like that’s good news and closes his eyes.

The wrath of the August sun can’t reach you in your little hiding spot, it only drips through the canopy of the poplar above your heads, heavy and thick like honey, leaving dancing specks of gold scattered all over his pale skin. You try to trace the ever-changing outlines with your fingertips the way you like to trace the ink, your feathery touch leaving goosebumps behind.

“We should venture to the lake,” he says with a lazy smile. “Go for a swim. Clean up this debauchery.”

You lower down to kiss the corner of his mouth as a starting point for the only journey you’re interested in right now; down the sharp edge of his jaw to his throat. Here you follow the string of purple bruises left by your greedy mouth and it leads you right to the dip of his collarbone. The hum swelling low in his throat turns into a sigh when you trace the shape of it with your tongue.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not yet,” he says and cups the back of your head, softly scratching your scalp. “Guess we basically just got here… we have time…”

…

It’s hard to tell the time on days like this. If not for the movement of the sun you wouldn’t be sure that it still existed.

There is a special place for the two of you where the laws of nature seem to bend around your togetherness. A space where it’s safe to strip off masks, armor and cloth, to let the other tend to those tender spots that ache from neglect or need and so often both.

It had always been there, created in the aftershock of your collision when you had become friends over night all those years ago. Eddie had been so easy to be around, so easy to trust with your dreams, quirks and secrets. In return, he’d given you pieces of himself too to keep safe, knowing you would treat them with more kindness than he often could. The presence of that space was always perceptible around you like a softly hummed melody wherever you went. One of you just had to pry it open with an inquisitive look or urgent touch and drag the other in behind them.

Today it had been Eddie.

You had followed the sound of tiny rocks against your windowpane and found him outside with a stuffed backpack over one shoulder and a dragon-slaying guitar clutched in one hand, wildflowers in the other.

“What’s the occasion?” you had asked, sensing something nervous in his smile when you flung yourself into his arms.

“It’s a Saturday and I love you.” He had scrunched up his nose in that silly way he always did when he tried to find the right words for important things. “And I want to fuck you where I picked those flowers.”

It had been a short drive and a short hike later when you saw the first spots of red and blue, sprinkles of white and yellow dance in the breeze and recognized them as the same flowers that now waited on your windowsill for your return.

“Almost there,” he’d said and you had felt the seconds slow and stutter as Eddie’s fingers intertwined with your own, tugging you towards the high grass and right through it, heading for the small clearing by the trunk of the tree and into its shadow.

“Nobody will see us here,” he’d said, arms tight around your waist. “Promise.”

You really hadn’t cared either way as Eddie nudged at your jaw with the bridge of his nose to gain access to your pulse.

There had been a moment - albeit brief - where you’d wondered if one could hear you from the path outside the field where time still existed when Eddie plunged his fingers into you, deep and urgent, his praises and your moans mingling, drowning out the birds and bugs lurking around as your back arched off the giant red plaid blanket he must have bought for this very occasion.

And then, finally, the rest of the world was erased from your mind when he chanted your name again and again, knuckles white from clutching the blanket in trembling fists as you swirled your tongue around the hot tip of his cock in slow dragging teasing circles for an eternity until he couldn’t take it any longer.

…

You smile against his skin, revelling in the soft noises he makes for you when you lap up salty sweat from his chest, when you flick the tip of your tongue against his nipple and in the way he squirms and begs for you to kiss him.

“Please, please, please…” he whimpers as you take your time kissing up his sternum, ignoring the tug in your hair, making sure to worship every patch of damp skin on your way to his lips. Eddie groans, so impatient, so greedy and you want to swallow him whole so you do the next best thing; you bare your teeth against his neck and bite him.

“Holy fucking…” he breathes in sharply but tilts his head up further. “You beast.”

You lick the tender flesh above his collarbone before you blow cool air on it to soothe the bite.

“Too much?” you ask with worry, pushing up to find his dark eyes waiting. You see the flicker of his plan in them the second before he flips you over and pins you down.

“Never.” His nose presses into your cheek before he nips at your jaw. A pointy knee nudges at your thigh and you spread them willingly to let him back between them. “That’s why I’m done begging for more now…”

“Oh no, I’m in trouble…” you try to tease but your voice strings out thin as he moves down your neck and chest; kissing sucking biting. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours and the hunger in them pulls your insides into a tight knot you can’t wait for him to untangle again.

“Let’s earn that clean up at the lake,” he says, his tongue leaving wet glistening trails of spit on your skin all the way down to your hips. There he gifts you a set of pretty teeth marks to remember him by before he settles on his stomach between your thighs, wrapping his arms firmly around them. “Let’s make a mess.”

You prop up on your elbows for a better view. “How will this differ from the average Munson pussy-eating endeavour?”

“Oh, sweetheart… you challenging me?”

“I guess I am.”

 He shakes his head like you’re a pitiful thing, grinning sharply; it’s obscene with the way his mouth hovers over your pelvis close enough for you to feel his breath in the sticky hair above your slit. Your hips twitch upwards in response, impatience flaring up between them and his grip on you tightens.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts and shakes his head.

There were days when he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on you, cursing each garment that stood between him and the taste of you. But Edward Munson could be unyielding once his mind was set on a particular thing. Painfully so.

“I have a vision here and I need you to hold still.”

“I am,” you grumble, knowing you are not. “As good as I can with you breathing on my pussy.”

“The sooner you comply, the sooner we both get our treat. C’mon. Be good.”

You finally obey and relax, voicing a low, soft “please, Eddie” aimed to break his determination. His lips part in a cunning smile before he sticks out his tongue as far as he can, long and wet and pointed. Hovering.

“I’m not moving,” you whine.

Eddie’s brows lift - demanding patience - and he looks like a demon that way; wide eyes, gaping mouth, teeth bared and spit slowly running down his tongue.

“Oh.”

It’s agony, watching a bead of spit collect at the tip, hypnotizing how it grows and grows and the seconds stretch, just as much as the viscous liquid, before it finally drips down onto your clit and runs down to one side. There’s no controlling it; your hips try to buckle and the pretty pink tongue disappears behind a smile that’s all teeth and tender cruelty and still connected to you by a string of spit.

“Please…”

Eddie chuckles deeply, sticks out his demon tongue again and you force your body into stillness instantly. This is what possession feels like, you think.

“Please, Eddie, please, please, plea—“

The first gentle lick feels like little more than a breeze over your clit, barely nudging it, but it makes your jaw drop and your arms shake. A long stretched whine spills from your mouth as he repeats it again and again and again, adding slightly more and more pressure each time. His eyes are fixed on yours, intense, almost unblinking, and so very dark. It’s adding heat to the electric shocks his teasing sends up your spine. You channel the urge to move, to grind your cunt against his mouth into a pitiful hitching moan.

“Christ, your face…” Eddie groans, stopping his sweet sweet torture, fingers kneading your thighs short of painful. “Could come just looking at you like that.”

“I know,” you breathe out. “Love when that happens.”

He loosens his grip on your tighs, and brings one hand around between them. “I aim to please,” he says with a wink and points a finger gun at you, blowing imaginary smoke away before he shoves the barrel of it inside you.

And then he’s devouring you.

You fall back, your arms finally giving in as the sensation pulls you under, overwhelms you after all the soft teasing. He’s moaning against your cunt and it doesn’t take long for him to undo you again, knowing all the motions by heart that take you out of this world.

Your fist stirs up fine dust as it thumps the ground when he stops seconds before you can fall over the edge.

“No, nonono, why?—“

But Eddie is not listening. “Fucking dripping for me,” he marvels at his hand covered in your slick. He spreads his fingers and watches how your arousal forms shiny strings between his knuckles.

“You’re evil—“

“But my evil methods always get you off so much harder,” he says casually sliding two fingers back inside you while wiping the other hand on your stomach and his glistening mouth on your thigh.

“Fuck—“

A soft smile is curling his lip while he curls his fingers inside you. Your hips twitch up and Eddie uses the moment to press a soft kiss to your throbbing clit.

“Messy, messy pussy,” he sighs dreamily.

You can’t but laugh.

“You’re suuuch a weirdo,” you say softly and run a hand through his hair. You can see the praise lighting little fires in his eyes.

“Well, thank you,” he chuckles darkly. “It’s really inspiring that it gets you wet like that.”

You lose count of how many times he gets you close to the edge again just to pull back and cover you in sticky kisses to your thighs and hips and belly, to run his soaked fingers over your breasts and up your neck over and over.

Every inch of your skin feels sticky, every fibre of your body thrums like vicious reverb when he crawls up to you, eyes wild, lips and chin drenched and glistening with your wetness and kisses you.

“You good?” he sighs, sucks your lower lip between his teeth and pulls until it stings just so before he lets you answer.

“M’ on fire is what I am…”

“Good.”

“You’ve won. I’m such a mess, please, please fuck me.”

The desperate scratch of your nails on his back, makes his head drop to your shoulder and turns his low deep laugh into a moan. It’s contagious, spreads to you as he rolls his hips against you, his hard length sliding through your swollen lips, dragging over your clit.

“You smell like home,” he whispers against your skin as he pushes in, slowly, softly until he’s fully nestled inside of you. Your breath is unsteady, hitches as the pleasure of being so full of him pushes everything else out of your mind.

“Do you feel that?” he brings his forehead to yours, pulling out almost all the way, giving you that full sweet stretch again as he sinks back in. “How perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Feels like home,” you say and feel him smile as he kisses you. It’s slow and dragging at first and he stays close, burying you under his weight and his face in your neck as he buries his cock inside you again and again and over and over with growing speed and urgency.

“C’mon, fall apart for me,” he grits through his teeth, “I got you, always got you.” He peels himself away from you and sits back up on his shins. With his hair forming a wild dark halo around his head and your purple marks scattered over his skin the sight alone of his thrumming, sweat-glistening body straining to bring you to the peak of pleasure is pure ecstasy. His thumb finds your clit, slow dragging circles contrast hard fast thrusts and if you’ve been on fire before, you’re blazing now, hot enough to forge steel.

“Don’t stop…”

“Won’t…”

“So close…”

“I know. Me too…”

“So good…”

“So fucking good… come on… come for me…”

Your heels dig into the ground lifting your twitching hips off the blanket as the searing heat spreads through your pelvis like wildfire. Eddie moves up with you, melts into you, is one with you, fingers digging hard into your flesh to hold you where he wants you to fuck you through it. The world is not a place but a raging pulse and all you can do is surrender your body to him. It’s easy.

He’s your heart anyway.

 He carefully lowers your hips back to the ground, smoothing his palms up and down your sticky thighs while you come down from your high.

“Look at me!”

Your lids are heavy as you blink to clear your view from a few stray tears.

Eddie tilts his head, searching your face with curious eyes, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he backs away slowly, leaving you empty. There’s not much time to mourn the feeling as he swiftly straightens your legs and straddles your thighs.

“What—“

“Shhh, just watch,” he rasps out, licking his lips as he wraps his fingers around his slick, throbbing cock. His voice breaks, strings out thinly—

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—“

— as his fist works his flushed tip with precision and a rapid pace. The hair around the base is slick with your ecstasy and as your gaze wanders up his body in search of his face you find it a beautiful display of his own with his jaw slack and brows knit tightly.

His thighs tremble, then twitch and the blur of his hand regains its shape when with a few last long strokes and wide, teary eyes, he spills himself over you again and again in hot thick bursts of white.

The impact of his pleasure brings him off balance and he slumps forward. Your praises are hoarse, insignificant sounds lost between Eddie’s sobbing moans and you run a hand up your body to aid him spread his mess all over your skin while the other hand finds his face to caress a bright red cheek, to brush sweaty hair off his forehead.

“I love you so much,” you tell him.

Eddie sighs softly and turns his face into your hand, presses a long soft kiss into your palm before he sits up and throws his head back to take a deep breath. Above him, sun and wind are engaged in a play, turning the canopy of the tree into a writing, shimmering mass and for a moment, this feels like a dream. Then he sways like the branches, a goofy grin the last thing you see before he lets himself slump down next to you with a thump that makes you wince. He just hums contently, pressing his face to your sweaty neck.

“That was nice,” he mumbles, peppering your jaw with kisses.

“Yeah, uh-hn, really, really nice.”

“Dare say the nicest one yet.”

“Hmm, think I just saw your soul leave your body for a moment.”

“Hmm,” he hums and slings an arm around your waist. “My soul looks great on your tits.”

There is a beat of silence before you both break out in silly giggles, turning into laughter, turning into exhausted kisses and sweet words while Eddie’s soul dries on your skin in the warm summer air.

...

You make him drink some water first because he always forgets and while you have some yourself, Eddie conjures up a meal from his magical backpack.

“I made your favourite,” he says, opening a stainless steel container to reveal a pair of thick sandwiches. “Got some other stuff too.” He hands another container to you. “Just in case… could probably feed us for the next twenty-four hours.”

You remove the lid and find it filled to the brim with blueberries. You lift it to your face to draw in air laced with the sweet, earthy smell of the berries.

You hum with anticipation, mouth watering as you pick one large plump berry and pop it into your mouth, the rich, wild sweetness of the forest exploding on your tongue. “So good,” you sigh and a soft smile curls up the corners of Eddie’s lips. “I take it Wayne was lost in the woods again for a week?”

“Aye,” Eddie chuckles, eyes darting between your eyes and your mouth where two more berries just found their demise. “Must have been a good year. That madman collected enough berries to fill a bathtub with.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

He holds up his thumb and forefinger just enough so that a berry could fit between them. “I would call it embellishment.”

You huff and put the container down. Leaning forward, stretching out long over your waiting meal, you place a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thank you,” you say close to his ear. “This is wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

A hand comes up to the side of your head, holding you in place. Eddie turns his face to you, nudging your noses clumsily together. His tongue glides along your bottom lip before his mouth finds yours; a kiss so gentle it feels almost timid.

He releases you with a peck to the corner of your mouth. You watch him lick his lips as you sit back, his eyes are turned down and there’s that wrinkled nose again. You’re about to ask him if there’s something on his mind when he snaps out of it in the blink of an eye, grinning from cheek to cheek and the thought fades from your mind.

“Bon appétit,” he announces with a flourish of his hands.

You mostly eat in silence, leaving the stage to the quiet sounds of nature, recharging while the shadows slowly creep further and further away as the sun makes its journey towards the horizon. There is the occasional protest when you’re stealing bites from each other’s food as well as sighs of appreciation over a simple meal that equates to a feast without even trying.

“Open,” he says, a berry between his fingertips and you pull up your brows.

“You don’t have a good enough aim for that game.”

“And I won’t get any better without practice,” he says with a grin oh so sharp, a voice oh so seductive. “So, love of my life, open. Please?”

It’s hard to stay still like that for long when Eddie is huffing and puffing as he’s missing your mouth over and over. Berries keep hitting your cheeks, your forehead and a few bounce off your lips before he finally lands one in your mouth. He pumps his fist and you applaud him; for effort and perseverence.

“My turn. Open,” you say and he obeys eagerly.

The first one is a miss, the next four find their target with precision.

“You’re cheating.” Chewing much more than one berry requires, Eddie eyes you with his trademark up to no good-expression.

“How would I even do that?”

“Sorcery,” he says, and flicks a berry at you that’s hitting you right between the eyes.

Eddie clasps a hand over his mouth as you wince, eyes comically wide in his shock, breath stuck in his lungs. Before you know you’re doing it, you reach for the berries, feeling some pop between your fingers as you load them up and fling a handful of the sticky ammunition at his chest.

There’s a hollow thud upon impact, followed seamlessly by the smacking of skin on skin as Eddie clasps his hands over his heart, face a mask of anguish and disbelief displayed with such sincerity you’re almost tricked into feeling bad over your attack.

“Crit… hit…” he croaks out before his eyes roll back into his head as he collapses.

You’re on your knees, crawling over to where he lies motionless with eyes closed and mouth ajar. He doesn’t move, makes no sound when you mount his hips right beyond his soft cock that lies now snug against your inner thigh.

There’s dark pulp sticking to his chest; unlucky stray berries squashed in his throes of death. The smudge connects two hickeys, forming one large nebula in a galaxy of bruises. It’s beautiful, the complex hues of blue reacting with his smooth pale skin, turning the mess purple around the edges.

You just sit and stare.

“Wanna have a taste?” he says, one eye cracked open in curiosity before he opens them both. “Clean me up?”

A blush appears high on his cheeks, giving away his anticipation, just like the glint in his eyes and the hands kneading your hips.

“Don’t think I will.” You run your fingertips over his skin, from navel to neck and back again; slowly, softly. “Only fair that you’re a little filthy too.”

“Come on,” he purrs, “have a treat.”

“Nu-uh.”

His nostrils flare, his ribs expand to greedily suck in air and with it, all the mirth and silliness. Suddenly the air feels thick and crackling like in the wake of a storm.

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” he says calmly and reaches for the berries across the blanket.

“There,” he says, his clenched fist oozing purple juice and bits of skin. Dark drops run down his arm as he squeezes the berries to a sticky pulp before he coats himself with the mess from chest to throat. “You can leave some behind.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” you say with the calm of a preying beast and lace your hands with Eddie’s dripping fingers. 

“Oh nooo,” he mimics you from earlier and grins like a blade. “I’m in trouble.”

Leaning down slowly, you pin his hands to the ground next to his shoulders. “There will be teeth.”

“W-was coun-ting on it.”

The stutter in his breath is delicious, a first taste of what’s to come. You want to make him whine and writhe under your hands and teeth, you need him crying and shaking and out of his mind.

His nipple is already hard when you flick your tongue against it and sweetness fills your mouth as you lick and suck and tug on the sensitive thing while your fingers find the other hard nub and pinch. Eddie barely breathes. He sucks in all the air he can get, then holds it holds it holds it before he lets it out as soft groans and moans. His fingers flex hard against the back of your hands, nails biting your skin every time you take your teeth to him.

You reach between your bodies and follow the trail of hair down with a featherlight touch to find his cock hot and hard and waiting. You slide your fingertips along the soft skin like a breeze, barely even touching. Eddie’s hips buckle up—

“Shit— hnng…”

— and you take the sensation away. Eddie’s face is flushed, his voice pressed through his teeth.

“Please…”

You lap at his skin, bit by bit uncovering a deep blush that’s more of a crimson compared to the bright red where his skin isn’t stained. He tries to grind against you but you lift your hips—

“Please…”

— and sink your teeth into his shoulder, over and over, inching torturously slow towards his neck. Some bites you kiss better, some you leave to sting a little longer. Desperate hands scurry over your arms, your back, your hips trying to pull you against him. Strands of hair stick to your face that must be stained up to your nose by now. You pull back for a moment and Eddie’s hands find your cheeks—

“Pleaaase…”

— to pull you into a kiss. You press a quick peck to the side of his mouth, then marvel over the shape of your lips printed there like a blue shadow.

“Fuuuck, you’re so gorgeous,“ he rasps with dazed eyes and chases your lips again. You press your foreheads together before he can succeed and his frustration is a cool draft on your wet skin as a long groan spills out of his mouth. “Please, please, lemme taste you, I really want to—“

His pleas are sweet and thick, just like his neck that taunts you with taut tendons and the slide of his Adam’s apple when he swallows hard around his desperation. You’re all over it, raking your nails down the sides while your tongue slides up right under his chin and—

“Fuck, no, wait, fuck—“

— everything moves as Eddie sits up and pushes you with him.

“Are you oka— hng—“ He stops your inquiry; fingers digging into your chin, keeping your mouth from closing, freezing it mid-vowel.

There’s this look again. His gaze flicks between your eyes and mouth until he’s just staring at your berry-coated tongue.

So you open up a little wider.

He moves slowly; it’s almost timid when his tongue finds yours and steals a little sweetness from you.

“Weird?” he asks, softly nudging your nose with his while holding you in place to keep you from swallowing. You barely shake your head before he’s back for more with a bruising kiss that’s full of nipping teeth and greedy tongues. Most of the remaining berries find a sticky end between your bodies before they are lapped up from various body parts and shared through devouring kisses.

You’re grinding your hips against his lap enough to make him shiver and moan but not enough to get him close to the edge and you’re determined to keep it that way until he’s losing it with desire. Which doesn’t take too long.

“You trying to kill me?” he whines with his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Just a little… as the French say.”

He groans. “I’d like to go out soon then, if you please.”

“No.”

He groans again and bites your shoulder. “M’ so fucking hard.”

It’s just a subtle shift of your hips but the next three, four times you move them, Eddie jolts and curses enough to damn whole bloodlines. You reach into his hair to pull his head back so he has to look into your eyes and you take a moment to admire the mess that he is; blue and purple and flushed red in between, jaw slack and breath stuttering under your gaze.

“On your knees. Palms to the tree.”

You lift off and Eddie scrambles to all fours to get into position, knees placed wide apart. There are stains on his back in the shape of your hands, layered over a pattern of slightly raised lines left by your nails.

Eddie’s shoulder blades ripple under your gentle kisses as you embrace him from behind. You run your hands down his belly to the V-shape between his hip bones and a little further to cup his balls with one hand while the other traces a thick vein on the underside of his cock.

You chuckle into his shoulder when he sighs with relief as you wrap your fingers firmly around him and start to stroke him oh so slowly. You don’t keep it slow for long, couldn’t keep it slow without stopping him from thrusting into your fist but you don’t want him to be still; you want him twitching and trembling.

Eddie takes care of the pace and your fingers do all the things that drive him crazy, your wrist twists just the right way and he’s holding his breath again, every muscle in his lower body ready to snap and so you loosen your grip before he can.

His head drops, a fist hits the bark of the poor old tree—

“Godfuckingdamnyou—“

“Shhh,” you whisper close to his ear. “Good things come in threes—“

“M’ not— can’t— hm-m, please—“

You wait another moment for him to calm down, or to hear the agreed-upon words that tell you he really can’t take any more teasing but they don’t come. He just breathes hard and shallow. You swipe your thumb over the hot tip of his cock, rub soft circles over the sensitive slit that dribbles under your touch.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say and tighten your grip again.

The next time he’s about to burst, you just let go of him—

“Fuck— fuckfuck, fuck you—“ he whines, hips thrusting into nothing and he sinks against the tree, resting his forehead against its roughness.

You caress his back, smother him in soft kisses and hold him close with gentle hands.

“Regret being cocky?” you ask, watching a bead of sweat run down his spine.

“Fuck you—“ he chuckles groggily. You think it sounds a little wet. “Never regretted a second spent with you, demon.”

“That’s just the impending orgasm talking,” you tease, a beaming smile pressed against his skin where he can feel it.

“I dare you to fucking make me come and I’ll tell you again— ah— Christ…“

“God, I barely touched you,” you say slowly wrapping your fingers around his aching cock. “You’re really sensitive now, hm?”

This time, the wetness in his laugh is unmistakable. “Oh, you think?— Hmmng, that’s gooood, please, please don’t stop!”

There’s no more frantic thrusting into your hand; Eddie finds just enough strength to push himself back from the tree to make it easier for you to reach where he needs you.

You work him slowly, no need for fast strokes when he’s crumbling like this and you know exactly where to rub and squeeze and circle to take him apart. High-pitched whines and groans mix with something that sounds like pieces of bark chipping from the trunk of the three. You drink in every noise, every twitch, every oh-so-small sensation; it’s all intoxicating.

Eddie is vibrating. Every atom in his body tuned to a frequency only you can receive. He’s begging you for a kind of mercy that one must be ready to receive.

“If your eyes are closed, I need you to open them now, Eddie. I need you to watch.”

“Oh g-god…”

“Good boy.”

You shift your stance slightly to one side and reach through his spread legs from behind to find that firm, plump patch of skin right behind his balls. Circling your fingers without any pressure, you let him adjust to the sensation first—

“Oh shit—“

— meanwhile, you press his cock flat against his belly, your palm stroking the underside, your thumb placed to grace his frenulum with every slide and—

“Shitshitshit—“

— it doesn’t take much; one two three circles against the tender spot and his breathing stops, four five six and Eddie turns to stone in your hands—

“Come on, Ed, make a mess—“

— and then he comes and comes and comes all over himself.

...

The setting sun sets the sky ablaze.

No pinks, purples or blues; everything is swallowed by a deep, burning orange that turns the surface of the lake into a raging inferno and in the middle of it all, floating on his back, is Eddie.

You’ve been watching him drift along for a while now - long enough for your skin to be as good as dry again - and if it wasn’t for the opposite shore that separates the sky from the water, you would worry he could just drift off into the sky and vanish between the few stray clouds that dare enter the flames.

It’s a fitting scene, you think, as you rewind your memories from the day over and over, matching the heat spreading from your chest into every last corner of your being.

Out in the water, the arsonist turns over and disappears, feet kicking up a small splash of water. You wait and watch until he emerges again a good distance away from where he dove in before you get up from your spot on the lakeside and cross the small distance to the van that’s parked right behind the treeline.

The back doors are wide open, left that way in your hurry to get into the water and you climb in to grab your Polaroid in an attempt to capture some of the colours before they turn into endless blue.

You cover the flash with your palm, listen to the motor eject the picture and tuck it out quickly to let it develop safely in the darkness of a worn copy of The Hobbit that lives in the back of the van. You leaf through the pages that shelter the pictures you made earlier that afternoon.

Two are a little blurry, one is overexposed because you left it face-up in the sun after the noise from the camera woke your subject from his slumber. He’d been curled up against your chest and upon waking demanded instant attention in the form of head scratches. All the pictures are full of colour - blues and purples, mostly - and blissful faces. Even the teary ones.

Looking at Eddie’s bright, sleeping profile makes you aware that the tiredness started to slowly creep into your limbs. You put the book down and get busy shifting stuff around to make room for the fold-up mattress and prepare a bed for the night.

You’re sitting at the foot of the mattress with your back to the lake, unrolling a sleeping bag you probably won’t need when cool wet fingers sneak under the hem of your tank top and damp lips find the side of your neck.

"Sorry,” he says softly when you flinch with surprise. “Didn’t think I was so quiet… Hi.”

“I was engrossed in nest-building and you’re like a cat,” you say and turn around. The soft light from the lantern inside the car renders his smile almost unbearably soft. He’s dripping wet from head to toe and strands of hair stick to his cheek and chin. You brush them away. “A wet, sneaky cat.”

There’s still a blue tint faintly staining big patches of his skin; you suppose you soaked a little too long in berry juice. You trace the outlines with your fingers. “You had a good swim?”

Eddie hums affirmatively, snatches your hand from his chest and presses a soft kiss to the tips of your fingers. “The fucking sky was on fire,” he says in an almost pensive way, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?” He quickly blinks a few times before his eyes focus on you again. It’s like he’s coming back from far away.

“Where did you just go?” 

“Uh, just… I’m… just a bit tired I guess…” he wrinkles his nose and scratches the back of his head as if another thought is stuck there. “You know…” he pauses again and then the expression melts into a smile. ”Someone interrupted my well-deserved nap after an almost deadly handjob.”

You huff a laugh, but the thought that there is something on his mind that just won’t make it over his lips starts gnawing on you.

“And I kinda wish I had a fucking towel. Don’t feel like waiting out here until I’m dry.”

“Have you tried shaking yourself very quickly, like a good boy?”

Eddie’s brows vanish under his wet bangs and then a wicked grin that can only be the harbinger of mayhem spreads over his face. You regret running your mouth even before he widens his stance and starts to bang his head like he’s at a Metallica show with his dick out.

Drops of cold water fly everywhere, too cool on your skin now that nightfall takes the heat away and you scramble back over the mattress to get away from him. “You animal!”

“As you have suggested,” he laughs, coming back up while trying to get the wet hair out of his face. “Hey, where did you g— hmpf.”

You’d thrown a blanket at him, hitting him right in the face. “Oh shit,” you laugh and crawl back to the edge. “Sorry—“

“Can’t quite take your apology seriously when you cackle like that,” he grumbles unconvincingly, peeling the blanket off his face.

“Dry your wet cat ass with that thing, throw it over a branch or something and then come in here.”

He does just that.

You’re already drowsy when he finally settles in behind you and wraps an arm around your waist, a soft low melody deep in his throat that seems to rest heavy on your eyelids. Eddie turns off the light, mumbles something about mosquitos and nestles his face into the back of your neck. You can hear him sniff.

“This is what you’d smell like if you were a lake monster.”

“S' that good?”

“Very sexy,” he sighs and holds his wrist under your nose. “Verdict?”

You sniff; it’s Eddie but more tart. “Highly erotic,” you say truthfully but half-yawning. “We could be lake monsters together. Share a lake. Just you and I and—” another yawn, “—and the algae.”

Eddie doesn’t reply and you think he must have fallen asleep.

“G’d night, love of my life,” you drawl just as your consciousness slips away.

people who asked to be tagged about a century ago:

@mrsjellymunson @streamafterlaughter @bebe07011 @dr-aculaaa @whenshelanded @spenciesprincess @spiderman-stilinski @nailbatanddungeon @toomanyacorns

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson fic #my fic

[xiubaek-13]

Chapter 47 - Do It Together

Requested: No

Genre: Canon-AU, smut

Pairing: ? (at this stage undecided) x Reader or is it Baekhyun x Reader ?

Warnings: 18+ fic, minors DNI! Smut, power play, pet names, dom/sub dynamics (if you squint), oral (m & f receiving), threesome mfm, unprotected sex (don't be like them), overstimulation, restraint, vaginal fingering, face fucking, vaginal sex, creampie, masturbation (m), dirty talk, like the entire chapter is smut ok? You've been warned.

Word Count: 10,350

A/N: Oh boy, ok so this took some time but also, these are my two EXO biases so writing this put me through it. There is only one chapter left after this and then this story will finally come to a close. It's been a labour of love (and took many more years to complete than I ever anticipated) and I'm thankful to each and every one of you who read and interact with this.

“Ok but like, if he comes back are we really doing this?” Baekhyun asked as soon as Minseok had left the room.

“Only if we all agree to the terms of the reward and are willing. He likes to be in charge so I dare say he’ll have rules about what you can and cannot do. So if you aren’t ok with being instructed by Xiumin then probably mention it sooner rather than later.” You replied. You paused for a moment then added. “I cannot tell you how nervous he has been to bring it up with you Baek. He was so certain that you would laugh and reject him. So like, let him down easy if you don’t want to do this.” The last thing you wanted was for him to come back only for Baek to change his mind. Minseok would be so embarrassed.

He shook his head and moved his chair closer to yours. “No, like I said, I’m completely down for this and I don’t mind if I’m in charge or if someone else is when sex is concerned.” 

“So versatile.” You smirked.

“You love it.” He winked.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve experienced you not being in charge like that.” You let your mind drift as you imagined the different possibilities. Would Xiumin lay down a few generalised rules or would he direct the whole experience? Would he make Baek watch? Would he watch you and Baek? 

Baekhyun hummed in response, obviously also letting his imagination run wild with the opportunities this night might bring. 

You laughed as you caught him lost in thought. “I can always leave if you want him to yourself Baek.” 

Baekhyun raised a brow at you before smirking. “If that was something I was down for, why do I feel like you’d want to watch?” You blushed at the thought.

“Moving on.” You murmured. Why was your face so warm?

Your embarrassment was not missed by Baek. “Oh we are most definitely discussing that later.” He grinned. 

“I said moving on.” You repeated. That wasn’t something you were going to unpack right now but there was no denying that the image in your brain was anything other than hot. 

“Mmmhmm, for now.” He agreed. Baekhyun’s face took on an inquisitive expression as he asked. “Did he have someone else in mind or was I really his first choice for this?”

You nodded. “As far as he told me, which stretches back to before these lessons began, you were his choice.” The man across from you preened at this. “Don’t let it go to your head Baek.”

He smiled softly. “Bit hard not to, if I'm being honest.” Byun Baekhyun sounded genuinely flattered. For all of his bravado and confidence in all other areas of his life somehow Minseok choosing him made him coy? He then added. “I don’t know who I thought he’d pick, but I wasn’t expecting to be his first choice for something like this.”

You levelled your gaze at him. “You are literally the mood maker of the group. He trusts you to listen to him when he’s serious about something but also to keep any situation light hearted and not let things get awkward.” You paused, then shrugged. “If you think about it, you’re kind of the perfect choice for this.”

His small smile started to turn smug. “So many compliments for me in such a short time. You should stop feeding my ego noona.” He leant forward so his lips could brush your ear. “Especially after our earlier conversation.” You felt his hand glide over your waist, sending a shiver through your body. You were so responsive and ready for the night to proceed, certain that you’d fall apart quickly for them. “Whilst that particular activity was a very pleasant surprise - and came with a happy ending - I can’t honestly say I’m completely satisfied. I got to hear all the pretty noises you make for me but I didn’t get to touch you.” His hand gripped your waist as he spoke, his thumb rubbing small circles, the motion coupled with his words caused your breath to shudder.

“So many things I want to do to you noona,” Baekhyun leaned down, his soft lips peppering kisses on your shoulder, working his way up your neck. “I don’t know what I want more, to fuck you and have him watch.” His teeth grazed over your collarbone, sending even more shivers as you gasped aloud this time. “To watch him fuck you.” You felt him smile against your skin as he let out a soft chuckle as your body betrayed you with another shudder before he continued his path and kissed up your neck, “Or both of us take you at the same time, until you’re so fucked out you can’t form a single.” to your chin, “coherent.” then to your jaw. “thought.” He brought your face to his, locking your lips together in a searing, hunger filled kiss. Your hands moved to cup his cheeks as his grip on your waist pulled you closer towards him. 

“Baek,” You murmured through the haze of lust that was threatening to take over your senses. You were barely keeping your desire restrained and Baekhyun’s lips on your body and the words coming out of his mouth were in no way helping ground you for what was to come. You also didn’t want the first thing for Xiumin to see when he returned was that the two of you didn’t even wait for him before you got started. You could see the look of disapproval he’d give you and it was enough to break through the sinful feeling of Baekhyun’s lips and wandering hands on you. You pushed him with just enough force to separate yourself from him. “We need to wait. This is his reward, we can’t ruin it for him.”

He pouted at you, almost sulking. “Well hyung needs to hurry the fuck up then, because I want more of you.” 

You laughed softly. “Did you or did you not say less than ten minutes ago that you were good at taking direction? You’re sounding like a real brat right now.” 

“Shut up. I’m horny. My brain is like 85% not in use right now okay?” He made a point of shoving his hands under his thighs, basically sitting on them, in order to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

You weren’t faring much better, holding on to your self control by tattered threads. You needed Xiumin to come back and take control of this whole situation before Baekhyun and you could no longer resist the temptation. “Yeah, well you aren’t the only horny one Baek.” You sighed. “But we need to control ourselves. You have no idea how nervous he’s been about discussing this. Without me slipping up I don’t know if he’d ever have actually discussed it with you.”

Baekhyun took a few deep breaths as he tried his best to put his lust in check and wait. He knew you were right, and that he also wanted this reward to be everything Minseok hoped it would be. He didn’t have to be happy about waiting though. “Fine,” he conceded at last. “We wait.”

Thankfully neither of you would have to wait much longer.

***

You could feel the shift in the air when he returned to the room. Minseok had taken time to calm himself, and you assumed, mentally prepared himself for the role he was about to play. The switch into his more dominant side was always fascinating to you. It was always there but when he turned it towards the bedroom it was just so damn sexy. The others got to see him tap into a sexy persona during choreo and take charge in certain situations but most of the time he was just their cute, nagging hyung. 

Sure, they’d all shared a living space for many years and had no doubt seen and heard everything more times than they wanted to count. There was no one who could convince you that if you placed a group of guys in their late teens to early twenties together that they were never caught masturbating or having sex by any of the others. But actively including one of those guys in your own sexual experiences? Now that was something you were less sure they had done - and if any had, clearly the two men you were currently with had not been involved. Regardless, it was happening tonight and you had a front row seat, or rather, you were on the stage with them, a very active and willing participant. 

Xiumin walked towards the two of you but didn't take a seat. Instead he picked up one of the arm chairs and moved it so that it was facing the end of the bed, then pushed it to the left until he was satisfied with the off centre view of the bed whoever sat in it would have. The new angle would definitely provide a better view of whatever happened on the bed. So he wanted someone to watch? He turned to face the two of you, motioning for you to move towards the bed. “Noona, please take a seat.” He gestured to the armchair, so you did as you were told and took a seat. He took a seat at the end of the bed, tapping the spot next to him for Baekhyun to follow suit.

Once Baekhyun was also seated he began to speak. Gone was the nervous wreck that was Minseok, replaced by the very self assured, confident and in control Xiumin who was ready to receive his reward. “Before we begin we need to go over some ground rules.” Both Baek and you nodded in agreement causing Xiu to chuckle. “Firstly, words are required. If you are asked a question, want something or are spoken to, I expect it to be conveyed verbally.” He paused as he waited for the two of you to realise that he was waiting for confirmation that you each understood him.

“Got it.” Baek replied. “Uh, do I have to call you anything in particular? Or can I stick with hyung?” He asked. 

“Hyung or a variation of Xiumin is fine for you to use Baek.” He replied. His eyes turned to you. “You, however, will refer to me as Xiumin, Xiu or Sir tonight. Am I clear?”

Instinctively you began to nod, catching yourself when he raised a brow at you. “Very clear Xiumin.” You replied, doing your best to mask the desire that was building in you again. You and Minseok had engaged in power play on more than one occasion, but most of the time it was simply him taking control as you lost yourself to pleasure. Xiumin was going to control what all of you got to experience tonight, and you could tell that if you didn’t do as you were told then you weren’t getting any relief. Your thighs rubbed together in anticipation.

“Secondly, we need to discuss how this will play out, everyone’s limits and a safe word.” He looked at each of you and smiled softly. “I think we start with each of your limits.”

Baekhyun smiled and gestured for you to go first. “Ok, well I guess as far as my own limits go, I don’t like extreme pain. Light stuff like restraints and spanking is fine but actual pain crosses the line for me. Uh, I’m also not ok with any bodily fluids that aren’t cum or saliva. Oh, and I’m not a fan of anal. I think that’s all?” There were probably more but as far as ones that might come into play tonight, those were all you could think of. 

Xiumin nodded. “Pity about the last one, but noted. Baek, what about you?”

Baek shrugged. “Uh honestly? Apart from the same bodily fluids thing as noona, I don’t think I have any. I will let you know if I’m not ok with anything as it happens - though I kind of doubt that I’ll have to.” 

You thought of one almost immediately and cocked your head as you spoke. “You don’t like degradation.” 

He nodded. “Oh yeah, I don’t like it, it’s not a hard limit for me but praise is far more effective for me.” He thought hard for a few more moments before deciding that no, there were no other limits he thought needed mentioning. “What about you hyung?”

Xiumin didn’t miss a beat. “I have a few but I think the only relevant ones for tonight are degradation and causing actual pain. If I hurt either of you, you need to tell me immediately. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I caused you pain without any pleasure. I like to play rough but not at the expense of the other person, or in this case, people’s enjoyment.” He sighed. “But essentially, that’s all for me.” He looked at each of you earnestly as he summarised. “Ok so no inflicting pain, no degradation and no anal for noona. All of that should be easy enough to work around.”

Baekhyun raised his hand. You choked back a laugh as Xiumin raised one brow at him. “Yes Baek?” 

“I still have questions.” He said.

“Of course you do.” Xiumin sighed. “Go ahead and ask then.” Baekhyun’s eyes lit up but before he could utter a word Xiumin added on with some exasperation. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Baek shook his head. “It’s nothing strange, just how will this work? Are we going with the flow or are you telling us what to do? If you’re telling us what to do, can we also make suggestions? Are we fucking her at the same time, one after the other, is there anything that’s off the table for you? Is -” He stopped speaking when Xiumin held up a hand.

“Ok that’s all the questions you get to ask. What was that, seven in like 5 seconds? I was getting to all of this you impatient fuck.” He shook his head, trust Baek to always find a way to test his patience. “To answer pretty much all of it, I like being in control so I’ll tell you what to do in a broad sense, and you’ll do that until I give further instructions. You can make suggestions but I reserve the right to deny said requests.” Baek nodded, remembering at the last second to verbalise his understanding. Xiumin acknowledged him then  turned his head and locked eyes with you. “Any questions before we begin?” 

“No.” You replied. 

He stared at you, as if he was waiting for you to say something else, but for the life of you, you couldn’t think of what that was. He shook his head ever so slightly then spoke. “No?”

You paused. You’d forgotten something, but what was it? He wanted you to speak in response to him rather than rely on non verbal cues. You’d done that, so what else was there? You could feel his eyes on you as he waited for you to reply again. You glanced at Baek, hoping he would provide insight into what you’d missed but all he did was give you a little salute. Weird. Why would he be saluting you? There was no context for that, and even as strange as his gestures could be at times, they always fitted in contextually with what was going on. Oh. OH. You realised 5 seconds later than it should have taken you to. Xiumin told you to refer to him in specific ways tonight. You returned your eyes to his expectant gaze. “No sir.”

It seemed to do the trick, as you saw him let out a breath that you weren’t aware he’d been holding. “That’s more like it.” He licked his lips, his eyes flitting between yours and your lips. The desire he was holding back was evident, but as the three of you stood on the precipice of beginning this thing, you could see the fire building in him. This was his fantasy, and he was about to make it a reality. After months and months of build up, and weeks of him fearing he’d be rejected for even suggesting it, it was happening, he just had to take the final step over the precipice and set everything in motion. You couldn’t help but smile at him as you waited for him to give the first instruction, knowing he was having one final internal debate about the entire thing, and probably on some level fretting about the cleanup afterwards. 

You didn’t want to be disobedient but if he took too long to get things going you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him. It had been too long since you’d felt his lips on yours. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and took the leap. “Baek, I want you to move up to the other end of the bed and sit against the headboard.”

“Ok hyung.” He replied eagerly. “Clothes on or off at this stage?”

“Leave them on for now.” He replied. Baek obeyed, pushed himself to the other end of the bed and leant against the headboard as instructed. He looked comfortable, but the desire in his eyes told you he was desperate to touch you, or himself. He spread his legs and smirked at you, your joke about his manspreading replaying in your mind. You failed to keep the small laugh in. Xiumin looked at you then at Baek and sighed. “What?” He asked.

A look of apprehension appeared on his face and you wanted to squash any growing doubts immediately. Of course you laughed at the worst time, right as he decided to start his rewards. Naturally he now thought the two of you were mocking him, which was absolutely not the case. “I once made an observation about Baek’s chronic manspreading. His reply was that there was a lot of room for activities between his thighs.” You explained. Relief and annoyance flooded him. 

Baek scoffed. “That particular observation was made via text, in a room full of staff and you guys on the day of a concert.”

Xiumin sighed to himself. “Oh my god, you are both such brats.” He reached forward and grabbed your hand gently, tugging you toward the bed. “Baby, go sit between his legs, with your back facing him.” 

You placed a chaste kiss on his hand as you stood. “Can I offer a suggestion hyung?” Baek asked as you moved on the bed towards him.

“Go ahead.” He replied.

You felt Baek’s chest against your back as you leant back against him. “She should place her legs over mine, leaving you sufficient room,” He smirked. “For activities.” 

Xiumin shook his head as a laugh escaped him. “You know what, terrible joke aside, that’s a good idea.” He nodded at you. “Baby, do as Baek suggested.” You couldn’t help the blush as you did as you were told. You felt exposed, even though you were still fully clothed. Xiumin sat back and looked at the two of you, taking in the sight before him, his eyes practically shining as he did so. Baek hadn’t touched you since Xiumin had entered the room. He was behaving and doing as he was told, a rare sight to behold. His eyes travelled down your body, satisfied with how you were spread open for him, unable to close your legs when he got closer. 

Xiumin swallowed thickly as he crawled up the bed towards the two of you. He made his way into the space left for him between your legs. Once there he hooked a finger under your chin as he guided your face closer to his. He absentmindedly parted his lips the closer you got to him. You licked yours in response. You heard Baek suck in a breath when Xiumin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft but sure kiss. You felt your body relax at the familiar feeling of his lips on yours. You sighed into it, your hands moving up to cup behind Xiumin’s neck and pull him forward, closer to you. He allowed you to control the kiss for a moment before pushing you as far back as he could without losing his balance. You could feel Baekhyun breathing erratically behind you, unable to do anything but watch as you and Xiumin made out. The kiss had started soft as the two of you got reacquainted with each other but it was rapidly growing more passionate as your tongues collided with each other.

“Fuck.” You heard Baek murmur from behind you. You felt an unmistakable hardness forming against the small of your back as the kiss grew more heated. You moaned into Xiumin’s mouth as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and bit. He pulled back to survey his work, taking in your dilated pupils and flushed face. 

“That gone after one kiss?” He remarked, though not entirely faring much better himself. “How wrecked are you going to look after Baek has his turn?” You tried to respond but all of the pent up desire from the day chose to flood your system. All you could feel was your desire for each of them and the fact that at that exact moment, no one was touching you. A whimper escaped you, making Xiumin chuckle. “You want Baek to kiss you baby?”

“Please.” You sounded far more desperate than you wanted to, but you needed it. It was difficult to describe the feelings you were experiencing but the overwhelming desire was clouding everything in its path. Logic and reason were locked away for the night, and you were going to indulge in Xiumin’s fantasy and love every moment of it. As long as someone touched you, right away. Otherwise you felt like you might implode. “Xiu please,”

“Go on Baek, give her what she wants.” He instructed, his eyes never leaving yours. Baek didn’t need to be told twice. You felt the soft press of his lips on your neck which made your eyes flutter as you gasped. You felt Baek smile against your skin as he continued peppering kisses along your neck and jaw before his hand turned your face towards his so he could capture your lips in a searing kiss. His other hand held you firmly against him as the two of you made out. Xiumin took advantage of your neck being bared to him and, not to be outdone by Baek, began peppering it with kisses. You let out a soft moan, and it was as if the tension in the room snapped, taking everyone’s restraint with it. You felt Baekhyun pressing against you as his body sought out any friction he could get, at the same time Xiumin’s soft kisses to your neck became deeper. Every time you felt the scrape of his teeth on your neck you moaned, each one louder than the last. 

Baekhyun noticed what his hyung was doing and took the opportunity to short circuit your brain by doing the exact same thing as Xiumin was. The feeling of having your neck ravished by both men was making you light headed. You were pretty sure that Baek was leaving marks all over the expanse of your neck. The previous marks he’d left had only just faded, not that you cared one bit in that moment. It was nothing an oversized scarf and hoodie couldn’t cover. 

Both men managed to detach themselves from you long enough for Xiumin to utter “Help me strip her.” Baek removed all the clothing on your upper body while he removed your pants, leaving you in just your panties while they were still fully clothed. 

Xiumin scowled at the dark hickey on your hip - the one that had yet to fade, asking who left that mark on you. “That would be me hyung.” Baek replied, “I couldn’t help myself.” He shrugged. He might not have noticed the way Xiumin’s jaw clenched as he stared at the mark, but you sure had, even through the haze of lust clouding your mind. He wasn’t the jealous type but something about them was making him tense. It was on your hip, hidden by clothing but for anyone who got you undressed enough to see it, it was left as a clear reminder of who had been there before them. Of who had claimed you as theirs.

You moved your hand up to cup his jaw softly. His sharp eyes, darkened with lust and something else, something carnal, lifted to yours, and stared at you. “Xiumin, are you jealous that he left marks there?” His gaze swirled with something dangerous, but not dangerous enough to deter you. 

“Careful.” He murmured. His piercing gaze made you feel like prey about to be devoured. Something you were absolutely not against. You steeled your resolve, wanting to make him let loose like you knew he could. If you pushed him just the right amount, he’d forget every insecurity he had about this reward and lose himself to dominating everyone's pleasure. You’d never regretted it in the past so you figured giving him that little push now would result in you getting fucked within an inch of your life before the night was over.

You leant forward, until your mouth ghosted his ear as you whispered. “Would you like to leave your own marks on me Sir?” You heard the hitch in his breath as you spoke. “I’d love it if you left your mark on me. Every time I see it I’d be reminded of exactly what you did to me.” You pulled back, kissing the corner of his lips as you settled back against Baekhyun’s body. From deep within his throat, it sounded like Xiumin growled.

“Hold her hands behind her back. Both of you are going to sit there and watch,” He rasped. “And you,” he said as his eyes locked back onto yours. “Will not cum until I allow you to.” 

“Yes, Sir.” You replied as Baekhyun pulled your hands behind your back and held them in place. 

Xiumin kissed you harshly, the force of him pushing you further back into Baekhyun. You had to arch your back slightly to remain as comfortable as you could in his hold. He broke the kiss and began his descent down your body. He took your request to heart, nipping and sucking your flesh as he moved from your mouth, to your neck, your chest, and stomach before settling between your thighs. Your head was becoming fuzzy from the stimulation, and your body was responding in kind. You could feel the heat running from your neck, down through your chest and settling in your stomach. You weren’t going to be able to look in a mirror and not think of Xiumin for weeks at this rate. 

Your body felt like a live wire. If no one touched you properly soon, you might just cry from how turned on you were. Xiumin’s eyes connected with Baekhyun’s as he clamped his jaw onto your upper thigh, and sucked hard. Baekhyun’s breath hitched and you felt him roll his hips against your lower back, his now hard length grazing your hands. You moaned loudly at the sensation. These two were going to be the death of you tonight, you were this far gone and you’d barely even begun. 

“Look at you, soaking through your panties. We haven’t even touched you properly yet.” He licked his lips as he hooked your legs back over Baekhyun’s, spreading you wide for him. You whimpered, so turned on and desperate for one of them to touch you where you needed it. Xiumin was an excruciatingly patient man though, you knew this as a fact. He would touch you when he was good and ready, and not a moment before that. He probably wanted to get you so worked up that you cried when he finally did give you what you wanted. “Does noona want me to touch her?” He asked condescendingly. Without waiting for your answer he pressed a finger over your clothed pussy, rubbing the digit over the wet spot of your soaked panties. You gasped at the feeling, your hands grasping behind your back, not realising until he whimpered in your ear that you’d palmed Baek’s hard length. Xiumin smirked up at both of you. “I honestly can’t tell if I’m about to ruin both of you or if you’re about to ruin me.” 

“Hyung.” Baekhyun sounded breathless as he stared down at Xiumin between your legs, the elder toying with your panties as he drew out whines from you. Unbeknownst to him, every time he drew a whine from you, your hand clenched around Baekhyun’s cock. Baekhyun’s eyes were beginning to glaze over with want. He was doing everything in his power to not run his mouth or rut up into your hands. “Hyung please, god, please touch her.” 

Xiumin gave him a shit eating grin as he continued playing with your clothed pussy, the fabric now completely soaked through as it all but stuck to you. “I thought I was touching her.” He leant forward and licked a stripe up your ruined panties, making you moan desperately. “See how responsive she is to my touches?”

“Please,” You all but sobbed. “Please, I need more.” Your chest heaved as you tried to regulate your breathing. You felt trapped between their two bodies, your own screaming with desire. “Sir, please.” 

Apparently your near broken plea coupled with calling him Sir was all it took for Xiumin to crack. His control wavered, his patience almost lost as he ripped your panties off of you. You barely even registered the fabric tearing. His eyes floated down, taking in the soaking mess in between your legs. “You’re so fucking wet noona, just for us.” He licked his lips, that devilish smile back. You didn’t have time to breathe before he moved forward, his tongue licking a thick stripe through your folds. His voice deepened with a moan. “You taste so fucking good.” His hot breath joined in the sensational overload as his tongue ran over your clit, brushing little strokes of varying pressure and sending little shocks through your core and up your spine. “You always taste so fucking good.” He murmured against you, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through you. “Could eat you out all day, shit.”

Words failed you when he addressed Baek. “Doesn’t she taste divine?” His face still buried in your folds, teasing you with his skillful tongue.

Baekhyun hummed as he rolled his hips into your hand, unable to stop himself from seeking the friction. “Always hyung.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Xiumin all but making out with your pussy. “Makes it hard to stop eating her out.” He groaned as you flattened your palm against the head of his cock. It wasn’t enough, the layers of clothing separating you from him prevented the pleasure from feeling anything but teasing. Still it was better than nothing.

“You’re not wrong. I could stay here for hours.” Xiumin replied. You cried out as his tongue entered your needy hole, lapping at your juices, and you clenched around the muscle. He ate you out like a man starved. He latched onto your clit and sucked while his skilled tongue flicked over it with desperate movements. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to reach your peak, not with all the anticipation and teasing that had led to this point. You felt your legs tremble as your orgasm built inside you. But you weren’t allowed to cum yet, Xiumin hadn’t said you could. You didn’t know how you could possibly stop yourself from teetering over the edge but you tried your best to last as long as you could for him. You didn’t want to disobey him today, you wanted to be good for him. 

The two of you had dabbled in having him be a brat tamer before, and whilst that was a very very fond memory, it was not fitting for today. His low voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Are you ok baby?” The pressure within you was mounting and your body shook from every flick of his tongue over your clit. You couldn’t speak, as much as you wanted to, all you could do was let out broken moans as Xiumin brought you closer and closer to your peak. A peak you didn’t want to cross without being given permission to. 

Baek answered for you. “I think she wants to cum hyung. She’s practically vibrating against me.” He was enthralled with watching you fall apart on another man’s tongue, a sight he didn’t think he’d ever erase from his memory, but he wanted to keep things moving as he grew more and more desperate to be actively involved. “She’s done so well for us so far, and I can’t lie hyung. I think it’ll be really fucking hot to watch her cum all over your face.” 

Xiumin had to pause at Baekhyun’s brazenness. He’d expected the dirty talk to extend to you but was rapidly finding out that the filthy exchanges they were having were only turning him on more. “Well, when you put it like that, how could I resist?” He replied. He gave you no notice as he closed his mouth over your clit, taking it between his teeth and sucked hard, the pressure that had been building exploded as your orgasm slammed into you. The force of it knocked the air from you, a loud and desperate moan left your lips, your legs shook from the intensity of it. He massaged your legs, gently lapping at your pussy while you came down. Your body twitched with the residual aftershocks he continued to draw from you with every swipe of his tongue.

As you recovered from your intense high you felt the soft press of Baekhyun’s lips on your neck. You shivered at the sensation, coupled with Xiumin rubbing his hands over your thighs, up to your waist and back down in a soothing motion. Your breathing was still laboured as you opened your eyes only to find Xiumin staring up at you, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices as he stopped overstimulating you. His gaze was still intense as he watched Baekhyun continue to leave little butterfly kisses along your neck, causing your body to shiver with need. 

Your movement did not go unnoticed by Xiumin, who chuckled. “You still need more huh? Nearly passed out from your first orgasm but you already want more don’t you?” 

Baekhyun smirked against your neck. “Noona, so needy for us. Was hyungs mouth not enough to fully satisfy you? Do you need something to fill you up?” He brought his hands to your breasts and tweaked your nipples as he sucked another mark into your neck.

You cried out. “God, yes. Please.” There was no denying that the orgasm Xiumin had just coaxed from you was mind blowing. Despite that, you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing. You needed more, needed something inside you.

“All in good time, can’t have you being selfish and getting all the pleasure now can we?” Xiumin said. “I think it’s time you did something for us.” He continued, as he stood from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his toned torso to you. “To show that you deserve what we can give you.” He crooked his fingers and beckoned you to come to him. You leant forward and crawled towards him, removing yourself from Baek’s reach. Behind you Baekhyun bit his bottom lip as he watched your naked form move away from him. 

You popped the button on his jeans and slowly unzipped his pants, his bulge tenting his underwear. He let out a soft grunt as you let your hand roam over his underwear. “Do not fucking tease me right now. You know better than that baby.” You smiled to yourself as memories flooded you, the times you had pushed his patience over the edge, of how roughly he took you, not letting you cum until you were a mess of tears, begging him for your release. But tonight, you were going to do as you were told, even though it was becoming evident that your bratty side wanted to play. You were doing your best to keep her in check. You pulled his pants and underwear down, letting them pool at his ankles, his cock slapped against his stomach as it was finally freed from the confines of his clothing, your mouth watered at the sight. You looked up at him and he raised a brow at you. “Why don’t you show our Baekhyun how well you suck cock?” You said. Heat flooded you at the thought of being watched while you had another man’s cock in your mouth. 

He lifted his head and made eye contact with the younger, very horny man behind you. “And Baek, be a good boy and strip. You’re only allowed to watch now, no touching yourself.” You heard Baekhyun whine behind you, the poor guy was needy. He’d been rutting his hips into your lower back and hands for friction just moments ago and now he had to sit and watch, and wasn’t even allowed to relieve some of the tension he was clearly feeling. 

“Do not make me wait noona.” Xiumin’s commanding tone brought you back to the present. He was hard, very hard. You didn’t want to tease but you also didn’t want to rush this so you slowly spread the precum over his cock, running your fingers up his shaft, around the head, and down again. Xiumin opened his mouth to scold you for teasing him but his words were replaced by a groan of pleasure as you wrapped your fingers around his length and started moving your hand up and down, varying the pressure as you pumped his cock. “Fuck,” He all but whispered. 

He was always so responsive to your touches, so much so that it only spurred you on. You wanted, no needed to taste him. Part of you also wanted to ruin Baekhyun by making him such a horny mess that he might just cum untouched from watching you and Xiumin. You licked the tip of his swollen cock before bringing your lips to it and sucking softly. Xiumin let out a gasp, his hips bucking involuntarily as you finally took him into your mouth. You moved slowly, relishing in the feel of him in your mouth, filling it up. You blinked your eyes slowly as you gazed up at him as your mouth enveloped his cock. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he stared back at you through heavily lidded eyes.

He praised with a rough voice, as his fingers gripped your hair. “That’s right, baby, just like that. You look so good with my cock stuffed in your mouth.” You didn’t break eye contact as you moved down his length, curling one hand around his base as you bobbed your head, taking more of him in each time you made your descent. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock and felt his hands hold your head in a vice grip as his resolve started to wane, a deep groan emitting from his throat. He let his head roll back, his breathing growing erratic as short pants mixed with small groans flow out of his mouth.

He held your head in place as he rolled his hips into you, fucking into your mouth. His first strokes were slow and languid, letting you get used to the fullness in you, but he soon began pushing further and further. His cock started hitting the back of your throat, and on one deep thrust he had your nose pressed up against him as he bottomed out. He held it there for a few seconds. “Fucking hell. Look at you, taking me all the way. You love this don’t you? Choking on my cock in front of another man.” You shivered, as you felt your arousal leak from you. You hadn’t expected to be this turned on from just sucking his cock but you felt light you were on fire with need. You wanted to be used by them so thoroughly that you couldn’t move at the end of the night. 

You let yourself relax around him, trusting yourself in his hands, after all Xiumin had never once hurt you. He’d been the one you’d played the roughest with but he’d always taken care of you. When he felt you relax he began thrusting again, this time his strokes were getting faster, but still just as deep. “Love fucking your face noona, you, shit, you feel so good.” You struggled to hold yourself up as he used you, his hand in your hair the only anchor holding you up as you became a puppet for his use.

You knew he was approaching his climax when he began to move with less concern for the wellbeing of your throat, gagging you with his cock every few thrusts. You did your best to keep your jaw slack, as your throat was being rubbed raw, drool and precum fell down your chin in streams. “So messy, fuck, look at you. I’m almost there baby, you can take a bit more.” You moved your spare hand to massage his balls, rolling them in your palm as he thrusted into your mouth. Your action makes him groan louder than before, needier too. Your thighs clenched together, desperate in your need for friction. But you were being good, you didn’t touch or move. You choked a few times, tears falling down your cheeks to mix with the other fluids on your chin as he came. “Such a good girl for me, took me so well, let me use you to get off.” He stroked your face gently, wiping the tears away as he smiled down at you. “Wasn’t she such a good girl Baek?” He asked.

“Fuck, yes hyung, she was.” Baekhyun’s reply was strained with desire. 

“Did you touch yourself Baek?” He asked bluntly. You turned to look at him and felt a jolt through your core at just how wrecked he looked. He was breathing heavily, his chest flushed as his hands had a death grip on the sheets to stop him from touching himself. He looked so painfully hard, his rigid cock practically weeping with pre cum, twitching with need, it was so messy, and you knew how he loved it messy.

Baekhyun shook his head. “N-no. Fuck if you could see how much wetter she got from you throat fucking her hyung, my god. Please, let her touch me or let me touch myself I’m fucking dying over here.” You felt heat wash over you as you clenched around nothing. You should have felt some type of shame about how lewdly they were talking about you but you didn’t. You trusted these two men with your entire being and knew that they would never speak ill of you. Plus you were a little too fucked out to care.

Xiumin caught you staring at Baekhyun and smiled. “Baby, why don’t you treat him to your filthy mouth?” He gave you a little push to set you in motion as you crawled between Baekhyun’s legs. “Holy fuck, you weren’t wrong Baek. She is so fucking wet.” You turned your head to look back at Xiumin, who was now kneeling on the bed as he stared between your legs. His eyes flicked up to yours understanding what you wanted. “If you’re good I’ll give you what you want.” He gave your ass a light tap to direct your attention back to Baek.

“Please don’t tease me noona.” Baekhyun whimpered as you slowly grasped his length in your hand.

“You don’t want me to take my time with you?” You asked playfully. Baekhyun was always putty in your hands when it came to having his cock in your mouth. He got too eager, enjoyed it too much and never lasted that long. You guessed tonight would be no different especially since he’d had to watch you and not relieve himself while doing so. 

“Fuck. No. I’m just too fucking horny to endure it.” You heard the need in his voice, the normally even tone pitching up slightly as he tried to hold himself together. “I’m doing my best to not grab your head and shove my cock in your mouth right now. Watching you with hyung, holy fuck it was so hot, I don’t know if I’m going to last very long after watching him rail your throat.” He panted.

“I’ll make you feel good Baek, I promise.” You said. He let his head fall back against the headboard as you took the head of his cock into your mouth and sucked gently. He moaned loudly at finally being touched, his eyes wide with pleasure.

“Hyung, can - fuck - can I touch her?” He sounded so broken as he tried to speak, his breath hitching every time you moved your tongue around his swollen head.

You felt Xiumin shift on the bed until he was kneeling behind you. He rubbed his hand down your spine as you took Baekhyun into your mouth once more. “You may.” Baekhyun gripped your hair as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth. You shuddered when you felt Xiumin’s fingers drag through your slick folds. “Noona, you are so fucking wet. Does it turn you on this much to be with two men?” 

You lifted your head from Baekhyun’s cock, much to his disdain. “Yes, fuck” you rasped, your throat raw from the abuse Xiumin had inflicted upon it. “Sir, please touch me.” 

“Why should I?” He teased as one finger circled your clit.

You moaned loudly. “I’ve been so good.” 

“Do you want your noona to suck your cock Baekhyun?” Xiumin said as you lowered yourself back towards his cock. You stared into his fucked out eyes and waited for him to respond. He nodded and you shifted down, placing a kitten lick to the tip of his leaking cock, causing him to whimper at the feeling. You don’t break eye contact with him as Xiumin spoke again. “You want your noona to suck your thick cock and make you fall apart while your hyung stuffs noona with his fingers?”

Baekhyun’s eyes almost rolled in the back of his head as Xiumin spoke, his hips bucking up towards you with need. “Jesusfuckingchrist hyung, holy shit, yes. Yes I want that. Please.”

Xiumin waited for you to take Baekhyun back into your mouth before he plunged two fingers into your aching pussy. You moaned around Baekhyun’s cock at the feeling, finally being touched and having your mouth filled at the same time. You swirled your tongue on the underside of his cock as you took more of him in, finding your rhythm so you could rock back onto Xiumin’s fingers and forward onto Baekhyun’s cock. 

You ran your nails down his thighs as you let your jaw relax, allowing Baekhyun to begin thrusting up into it. “Holy shit this is hot, you should see yourself noona, gonna make you choke on my cock while hyung makes you cum on his fingers.”

“You liked that didn’t you?” Xiumin remarked. “I felt you clench around me, you needy little thing. If you want to cum then you’d better hold still and let us use you.” Your eyes widened as you clenched around his fingers again.

Baekhyun began to fuck your throat as you held yourself in position, your hands gripping his thighs. You moaned around his cock as you felt Xiumin's hand match the pace Baekhyun was setting. They were both entering you at the same time, you’d never felt so full. The pressure was building within you at an alarming pace and you knew you’d snap if they kept up this momentum. Baekhyun’s moans became higher pitched and more frequent as he started to really enjoy the feeling of your throat sucking him in every time he fucked into it. The vibrations from your moans were only adding to the pleasure he was feeling. “Fuck, I’m close.” He panted.

Xiumin removed his fingers from you. You whined at the loss only to let out a strangled cry as he began to vigorously circle and tap your clit. “Then cum. Both of you.” Both of you came undone at his words, your orgasm slamming into you as Baekhyun thrusted once more and held himself in your throat as he came while you writhed against Xiumin’s relentless fingers, tears streaming down your face at the combination of choking on Baekhyun’s cock and being overstimulated by Xiumin. 

You pulled off Baekhyun as you tried to get away from Xiumin’s relentless fingers. “Xiu please, I need a minute. Too sensitive.” You whined. He acquiesced and released you from his wandering hands. 

Baekhyun was immobile, his chest heaving as he recovered from his own high. He somehow looked even more fucked out than he had before. “Holy shit.” He said to himself. 

Xiumin pulled him from his daze by telling him to move to the chair at the end of the bed and watch. Baekhyun stood on slightly wobbly legs, walked over and threw himself down on the comfy chair facing the bed, leant back and got as comfortable as a naked man could in a hotel chair, as his eyes roamed over the bed as they sought you out. “I know this is your reward hyung but I feel like we’re all reaping this reward.” He grinned. 

He had a moment where the facade cracked and you saw the excitement in Xiumin’s eyes as he took a beat to take in that he was actually experiencing one of his largest fantasies right now. Not only that, but it was going well. He only let that slip last for a second before he was back, moving to sit in the position Baekhyun had been in on the bed. You stared at him as you waited for him to tell you where he wanted you. He was lazily stroking his hard length as he let his eyes roam over your body. “Come here noona.” You made your way over to him, and climbed onto his lap.

“Are you enjoying your reward Xiu?” You asked softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He let his forehead fall forward and press against yours. “It is everything I imagined and more. Thank you for helping make it happen.” He smiled genuinely at you, that beautiful gummy smile that you adored, before he kissed you. He let his hands run over your shoulders, ghosting past your breasts, running down the sides of your waist so gently it made you shiver, before coming to rest on your hips, kneading the skin there as he deepened the kiss. He sighed into you, pressing his lips down harder, hungrier. You gasped into his mouth as he pulled your hips against his cock. “Turn around. Want you to ride me while facing him. Make him watch you fuck yourself on my cock. You’ll ruin him, and I’ll get to watch your ass bounce on my cock so we both win.” Xiumin gave you another one of his annoying little smirks. 

You gave him one more heat filled kiss before you turned in his lap. Baekhyun’s eyes widened as he figured out what was happening, his hands gripping his thighs in anticipation. You didn’t have much time to focus on the look on his face because Xiumin suddenly dipped his finger into your sopping entrance, using your juices to coat his cock. You let out a shaky moan as he moved you into position and waited for you to begin. He let you know you were taking too long by delivering a swift smack to you ass, which caught you by surprise as you cried out.

Slowly you lifted yourself up, aligned his cock with your core and sunk down to the hilt. You both moaned out at the feeling of your wet, hot walls moulding around him and pulling him in. You stayed like that for a second, head thrown back and nails digging into his thighs as you got used to the stretch. “Fuuuuck, that’s hot.” You heard Baekhyun groan. You locked eyes with him as you started to move, setting a steady pace to begin with as you relished in the feel of Xiumin’s cock hitting you in all the right places from this angle. Xiumin’s hands rubbed up and down your sides as he helped guide you up and down on his length. He threw his head back in pleasure at how deep you were taking him.

Baekhyun couldn’t help himself any more as he was hard again. The sight of you bouncing on Xiumin’s cock, your tits bouncing, the sounds you were making, all of it was too much. He wrapped his fingers around himself and squeezed hard. He bit back a moan, as his head tipped back as the relief of his own touch spread through his body and pre cum leaked from his tip. You moaned at the sight of him touching himself as you fucked yourself on Xiumin’s cock, quickening your pace. You heard Xiumin moaning and cursing behind you as your pace became increasingly desperate. 

“Hyung,” Baekhyun’s voice was strained with need.

“Wh-fuck, what?” He grunted.

“How does she feel?”

“She feels amazing, fucking herself on me so good.” He moaned as you changed the angle of your pelvis, desperate to feel him hit that specific spot inside you. “Our baby is desperate to get off aren’t you?”

“I can’t, Xiu-” You cried out. 

“Baek, get up and kneel in front of her.” He said as he pushed you off his cock, moving you onto all fours. “Baby, think you can take both of us at the same time? One fucking this pretty pussy and one using that skilled mouth of yours?”

You whimpered at his question, too overwhelmed with the prospect of being filled so wonderfully by them that you forgot to answer. “All you need to do is say yes, baby.” He said. “But I will not do anything until you tell me how much you want it.” He slowly dragged his cock through your folds.

“Yes, oh god, yes, please sir, I need it.” When he didn’t move a muscle you tried again. “Xiumin, please.”  

“Sorry baby, I was just savouring my fantasy. Trust me, we want nothing more than to give you exactly what you need.” He entered you in one thrust, bottoming out with a grunt. Your hands grasped onto Baekhyun’’s arm for dear life as your body went rigid. A loud moan and gasp left your lips and when Baekhyun grabbed your jaw and brought his cock to your lips an honest to god whine came out. You were completely lost to their ministrations, theirs to use as they saw fit. As long as you came you didn’t care what they did. Baekhyun pressed his length into your mouth and began to thrust into your mouth at the same pace that Xiumin pounded into you from behind. You had never felt so full in your life.

"Look so good with our cocks inside you, noona," Baekhyun praised, his voice huskier than you’d ever heard it before, which made you clench around Xiumin, who let out a loud moan.

"Fuck, yeah," he breathed, as he snapped his hips into you even harder, working himself in and out of your pussy. "Keep talking to her like that, Baek," he grunted the younger man, "Her sweet little pussy's tightening up so fucking perfectly."

"You like when I talk dirty to you don’t you noona?" He teased as he fisted your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he matched Xiumin’s new pace. “Noona is just greedy and cock-hungry for us aren’t you? You like having hyung and I inside those needy holes of yours don’t you?" You could barely think straight as one cock entered you the other pulled back, alternating their thrusts to ensure there was never not a cock filling you.

You moaned in agreement around his cock as you let them stuff you full, telling you exactly how you felt around them and how good you’re being for them. Xiumin’s cock brushed against that spot inside you that made you cry out in pleasure, the sound muffled by Baekhyun’s cock filling your mouth. Your thighs shook as Xiumin brought you to another climax. You felt Baekhyun pull out of your mouth as he watched you fall apart on Xiumin’s cock. He kept thrusting into you as he chased his own high, his pace somehow becoming harder and faster. “Fuck noona, you’re sucking me back in. Your tight pussy is taking me so well. FUCK.” He snapped his hips into you at a brutal pace, his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

“You’re gonna let Baek fuck you as soon as I’m done with you. He’s been so patient, waiting to fucking ruin you on his cock.” He groaned as his pace grew erratic, a clear sign that he was going to cum soon.

“Yes Xiu, I’ll let him fuck me. He can fuck your cum back into me.” You moaned, the overstimulation beginning to turn into pleasure once more. “Please Xiu, want you to cum inside, want you to fill me up.” He growled as he thrusted into you once more as he came inside you. He held himself in you as he panted, trying to catch his breath and come back down from his dizzying high.

“Baek, your turn.” He said as he pulled out of you and flipped you on your back. His hair was stuck to his face from the exertion of fucking you. He looked spent as he moved to your side and leant down to kiss you passionately. “You look so fucking hot noona, being so good for us.” He whispered in between kisses.

Baekhyun moved so that he was between your legs and groaned at the sight before him. “Oh baby, you have no idea how much I want to wreck you now.” His first thrust was deep and slow, moving with purpose as he enjoyed the feel of being inside you. “You look so filthy with hyung’s cum dripping out of you. You wanted me to fuck it back into you?” The next thrust had more force behind it and you felt him. Your head fell back as he fucked you, his grunts and moans increasing in volume. 

His hair stuck to his forehead from the exertion, his eyes alternating their focus from your face to watching his cock disappear into your pussy. He leant forward, effectively folding you in half as he sped up, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Fuck, how are you this hot? I am not going to last long baby.”

“Shit, me either Baek.” You moaned as Xiumin moved from kissing your lips to your neck, down your chest until his mouth attached to your nipple. He used his hands to massage your breasts as his tongue laved at your nipples. He watched you intently as you cried out for them both to keep touching and fucking you. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna, Baek, I’m gonna cum.”

Baekhyun picked up his pace, slamming into you with vigour as you clamped down on his cock, milking him for all he was worth, your final orgasm of the night hitting you so hard that you almost blacked out. You felt utterly spent, in the best way, but you could do very little as the two men praised you, Baekhyun carrying you to the bathroom to clean you both up while Xiumin went to his room to steal the sheets from the bed. It didn’t matter how spent he was, he’d rather die before sleeping on cum stained sheets. When they’d finished cleaning you up all three of you fell into your bed together, a tangled mess of limbs. You had one man on either side of you. The two that had started this whole thing. 

“Well that was better than my drunk texts.” You murmured. Both men burst into laughter on either side of you. 

Silence settled over the room again as you all began to give in to the call of sleep, comfy, clean and warm. Baekhyun hummed. “I wish you’d had that cheerleader outfit with you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You replied with a laugh.

“No, he’s onto something there.” Minseok reasoned as he giggled. “That outfit was really hot. Do you still own it?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at them, even though you wanted to sound pissed off. “I hate both of you, and if my legs worked I’d get up and leave this room right now.”

“Hyung high five, we broke her.” Baekhyun continued laughing.

“Shut up!” Both you and Minseok yelled happily.

You let your laughs die down as you snuggled into each other, exhausted both physically and mentally. You realised now that all the rewards had been completed. You’d think on what that meant moving forward later. Right now you just wanted to pass out, and maybe wake up to some continued fun, but you’d understand if Minseok considered the threesome request completed now.

Minseok chose that moment to speak up. “Thank you both for this. It’s uh, it’s weird to thank you for it but you know, it feels necessary. But I’m glad it was the two of you.” Minseok was doing his best to stay awake long enough to thank you both, something he really didn't need to do.

“Talk later, sleep now.” You mumbled as you felt yourself succumb to post coital exhaustion.

A/N: Um so yeah, that happened. Did the smut get away from me? Yes. Are we ok? Can I hand out fans and refreshments to any of you? Real talk, thank you for reading and sticking with me over the insanely long time it's taken to write this fic. I'd love to hear who you want her to end up with, I've got 3 endings penned and I'm still picking which one feels right so your feedback would help :)

Masterpost | Chapter 46 | Chapter 48 (coming soon)

#kwritersworldnet #ultkpopnetwork #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo smut #exo imagine #exo scenario #exo reverse harem #xiumin fic #xiumin smut #minseok fic #minseok smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun smut #xiubaek smut #suho fic #junmyeon fic #lay fic #yixing fic #chanyeol fic #chen fic #jongdae fic #d.o fic #kyungsoo fic #kai fic #jongin fic #sehun fic #exo x reader #xiumin x reader

[burning-peanut]

(1/3) Date: me please

She had already assumed that the test result would not be good, but she had not expected such a terrible outcome. The big red F that was written on the paper was completed by the phrase 'come see me after class'. 

Fuck. Her mother would kill her. 

Laura clawed her hand into the denim on her thigh under her desk as her lower lip slowly began to tremble. 

Not again. 

The student looked up for a split second and looked into her teacher's questioning face. Mr. Hackett wasn't used to this kind of attitude from her. From the very best student. Laura usually made a special effort when it came to him. With the new teacher, who was not only fresh out of college, but also smoking hot. Usually, Laura enjoyed his attention, but not today. She didn't actually write bad grades. He was sure to be disappointed and would scold her in a minute. 

Another person she disappointed. 

She had long since lowered her gaze back to her test. Her vision was blurred by the tears gathering in her eyes. She almost didn't notice the bell ringing and her classmates leaving the classroom around her. Only when Max put his hand on her shoulder did she look up at him. His look was full of compassion and just as he opened his mouth to say something, he was interrupted. 

"Max, would you be so kind as to give me and Laura a moment to talk?"

Max turned his head to his teacher and gave him a quick nod before leaving the classroom and closing the door behind him. The hustle and bustle and the background noise created by the students in the hallway had suddenly fallen silent. All the louder now were the footsteps that Laura heard slowly coming toward her. She perceived him taking the seat next to her. The moment he sat down on the chair, the first, thick tear fell on the sheet of paper that lay in front of her. The liquid mixed with the red ink he had used to draw the letter F on the paper. 

"Hey," he said softly as he gently placed a hand on Laura's shoulder, just as Max had just done. "It's not the end of the world, Laura. I know you actually write excellent grades. That you can actually do this. I'm just wondering why you completely failed to write on the point. Didn't you have time to prepare for the test?"

Laura propped her head on her arms as tear after tear ran down her cheek. 

She remained silent. Talking about it wouldn't change a thing. 

"... Sorry. I," she tried to hold back the quiet sob, but it escaped her body involuntarily. "I don't know either. I'm sorry, Mr. Hackett."

He took a deep breath before removing his hand from her shoulder and moving his chair close beside her. Then he said, "Look at me, Laura." 

She obeyed. She turned her puffy face to him. He looked at her with the same look Max had just given her, though for a completely different reason. 

"I guess I can imagine that the grade is devastating for someone like you. You're ambitious. But don't worry about it, Laura. Your cooperation in class is impeccable, and so far you've also collected all the extra points that could be earned. You are a very good student. You are intelligent, hard-working and inquisitive. You really have nothing to worry about." He smiled encouragingly at her. It was a thin smile, but it was genuine. Laura appreciated it, however she couldn't return it at that moment. 

"Do I get a chance to make up the grade, Mr. Hackett?"

"Of course. How about correcting the test at home? I'd count the elaboration as an extra grade, so you can even out the test a bit."

Laura nodded gratefully before averting her eyes again. He had noticed very well that she had flinched slightly at the word 'home'. 

"Can you manage to get the correction done by tomorrow?"

 "Absolutely."

"Okay." He stood up and gave her shoulder another quick squeeze. "Don't be upset about the bad grade."

"It's not about the grade," she whispered. She wiped tears from her cheeks with her hand.  

Mr. Hackett frowned at her statement. "Then why are you crying if not for the grade?" 

She had not been aware that he had been able to hear her. 

Laura looked up at him and smiled briefly. Then she grabbed her bag and her test and left the room before Mr. Hackett could say anything else. 

He had been well aware that her smile had not reached her eyes. 

__

When she entered the classroom the next morning, she first walked past the teacher's desk and placed the corrected test on it for Mr. Hackett to see. Then she led the way with her head bowed until she dropped into her seat. The lesson had already begun, which is why the noise level in the classroom was relatively low. The last voices faded away as Mr. Hackett came through the door.

Laura buried herself in the open textbook that lay before her. She just wanted to get the day over with as quickly as possible. But before Mr. Hackett could even say anything, one of her classmates shouted something through the otherwise empty classroom. 

"Yo Kearney, what happened to your face?"

Out of reflex, Laura looked up when she heard Jacob call her name. The next moment, all pairs of her classmates' eyes, including Mr. Hackett's, were on her. 

On her black, swollen eye. 

Laura lowered her head. She knew it was easy to see the bruises that turned the skin below her left eye, and on her cheekbone, dark blue. They were accentuated by the slight swelling. A vein had apparently burst in her eye, which was why fine red lines ran through the otherwise brilliant white of her sclera. She looked like crap. Even the extra layer of makeup this morning hadn't changed that. 

"Laura? Is everything okay? What happened?" asked Max, leaning over to her in concern. He looked shocked. 

"I'm fine. I fell on the way to school." She lied. She swallowed excitedly as she looked at Max for buying her lie. 

"Then maybe you want to go to the nurse's office? I mean, not that you have a concussion." 

"No, I'm fine." 

She bit her lip nervously as she shifted her gaze - away from Max - to the front. Her gaze instantly met Mr. Hackett's. His whole body froze when he saw her face. 

The lesson was a cramp. Laura had been handed a note in between. In it, Kaitlyn asked how she was doing. Laura hadn't put much effort into her answer before passing the note back in her friend's direction. She also told her what she always told everyone. 'I'm fine.'

When the redeeming school bell signaled the end of the lesson, she had packed her things within a moment and was about to leave the classroom when she heard his voice. 

"Laura, please come see me for a moment."

Briefly, she wondered if she should just leave. She was not in the mood to have a conversation with her teacher now. She didn't feel like being approached about it. But she also knew that she was not that kind of person. Someone who ignored the teacher. Someone who was disobedient. That's why, before she could even think about it, she was standing in front of his desk. 

He waited patiently until all the students had left the room. Then he closed the door behind Max, who was the last to go out. 

They were alone. 

Mr. Hackett breathed in and out loudly before sitting down on the edge of the teacher's desk. Laura had sat down in one of the chairs in the front row. He crossed his arms, obviously not really knowing how to begin. 

While he was seemingly struggling to formulate the right sentence, emotions were boiling up inside Laura. 

Please don't bring it up. Please don't. Please, please, please.

"Laura..." 

Immediately, her lower lip began to tremble. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. 

The next moment, he came up to her and squatted in front of her. He tried to look her in the face, but Laura turned her head away. When he put a hand on her arm, she looked at him. Tears were already streaming down her face. 

"Who did this?" His voice was no more than a whisper. 

Laura said nothing. Nor could she have - she only managed a quiet sob before she really started to cry. 

Mr. Hackett stroked her arm with his hand, trying to soothe her as Laura cried. After a few minutes, she had regained her composure. He was still squatting in front of her and his hand was still on her arm, too. His expression was questioning. 

"Laura?" 

"Mr. Hackett?"

"You want to tell me who that was?" 

She wiped her face, hoping to regain her composure. 

"I fell this morning. I tripped over something. But it hurts pretty bad. Maybe I should check in with the nurse after all." 

Mr. Hackett took another deep breath. He looked her straight in the eye as he exhaled the air through his nose loudly. 

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

She frowned. What was he trying to get at?

"No, I don't."

"I see, so you live alone with your parents?"

Laura's features hardened. There was nothing she could do about it. It was just happening. "Just with my mom."

He nodded knowingly. "Are your parents divorced?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." She snapped at him. 

Mr. Hackett was so caught off guard by her sudden change of mood that he removed his hand from her arm in a flash. 

She saw his tongue press against his cheek from the inside before he answered her with a firmer tone. "I know the difference between a fall injury and one you get from a punch in the face." Slowly, his gaze softened again. "Laura, did your mother hit you?" 

Suddenly, she stood up and took a few steps away from him. She needed to put distance between them. 

"Laura," he stood up and walked after her. "Will you please stay here while I talk to you?" 

"Why?!" she yelled at him. "What good would that do? What would it change?" 

He was standing in front of her now. "Don't yell at me." His tone sounded more direct than his expression looked. He lifted a hand and placed it on her upper arm again. She knew it was meant to be a reassuring touch, but even so, the grip with which his fingers held her was relatively firm. 

"Please answer me. Did your mother hit you?" He held her chin before she could turn her head away. The thick tears that were gathering in her eyes ran back down her cheeks to his hand. 

"Yes." she answered him in a choked voice. "I disappointed her."

"No, Laura. It is her behavior that is disappointing. It's not just that-it's wrong. She can't hit you, do you understand?"

"What am I supposed to do? She's my mother!" She closed her eyes to keep from looking at him. "You don't know what it's like. I can't do anything about it."

They stood like that for a while. He looked at her, she widened quietly. 

"With me, it was my mother, too." he then whispered. His grip on her upper arm softened instantly. But she did not move an inch. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. A few tears that hung in her lashes marred her view of his dark eyes. She noticed at that moment how dark they were. Almost black. 

"I know exactly what a punch with a fist looks like. What marks a flat hand leaves on the skin. What the welts look like that a belt draws on a body. How they change color over time." He collected himself for a moment before continuing. "Laura, if your mother is hitting you, it's not okay. We have to do something about it." 

"...we?" She hadn't realized she'd spoken her thought aloud before he answered her. 

"Of course. As long as you want my help, of course."  

She didn't know what exactly she was feeling at that moment. An avalanche of emotions was overtaking her. Happiness. Relief. Hope. Gratitude. She felt, for the first time in half an eternity, no longer alone.

At that moment, his appearance, the friendly, easy-going manner he had toward his students, was completely unimportant. Laura suddenly felt understood in a way she hadn't in a long time. She felt a deep sympathy for him that she hadn't felt before. She was so overwhelmed with excitement, joy and a certain kind of attraction that the next moment, she stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips on his. It was an innocent, brief kiss, which he broke instantly as he overcame the shock stupor that the intimate touch had triggered in him. He backed away just a bit, so he could look into her eyes. 

"What are you doing? Why did you do that?"

They looked at each other questioningly. They both had similar expressions on their faces, though they had completely different reasons. His expression was questioning, but confused. Hers was questioning, but dreamy. Happy. Grateful.

Laura let a few seconds pass and when he still hadn't increased the distance to her, she started another attempt. 

His lips were warm and soft. The feeling in her belly - the tingling - was indescribably pleasant. She placed a hand on his chest, whereupon she felt his heart racing underneath. She could feel it throbbing against her palm. 

His body did not move while she kissed him. He stood frozen in front of her. Only when she briefly released her lips from his did he say something, which Laura nipped in the bud with another kiss. Only when her hand wanted to move from his chest up to his neck, he grabbed it. He held her hand tightly as he pushed her away from him a bit. Laura winced. She felt as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Wide-eyed - like a deer in headlights - she looked at him. 

"Why the hell did you do that?" he was furious. 

Laura swallowed. "I don't know - I, I've-" she sputtered, before he let go of her hand and put a few feet of distance between them both.  The pleasant feelings she had felt until just now were suddenly blown away. Suddenly she realized what she had just done. 

"...Sh-i-t." she cursed quietly. Then she panicked. 

She rushed past Mr. Hackett to where she had left her bag earlier. She was about to grab it when he grabbed her hand. 

"Don't-!" he said. "Laura, wait. Stay here, please."

"I'm sorry..." she stammered, but he interrupted her with a raised index finger. 

"Listen to me, I can understand how this situation is wearing you down emotionally and messing you up. Do you have someone, a friend - who knows? Someone you can confide in?" 

Laura shook her head. 

"What about Max? I thought you two were dating?" 

Laura let her eyes wander out the window. "No. Our worlds are too different. It wouldn't work. He has a perfect family and lives in a perfect world. I don't. He doesn't understand my problems. Or rather, can't understand them. He doesn't know about Mum either. Well, of this," she points to her black eye. "He wouldn't understand. I can't ask him for help. He would freak out and would want to call the police or something." 

"I know what you mean." They were still standing quite a distance apart. By silent agreement, they decided to leave it like that. Laura took one good look at her teacher. Knowing what she knew now. He was tall. He had a certain appearance. She couldn't have imagined in life that he had once been in the same situation she was in. 

"Does it ever stop?" she asked with a hopeful look. 

"For me, it stopped after I moved out from home. When I went to college."

Instantly, tears welled up in Laura's eyes again. She turned away from him and sobbed loudly. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"I won't be able to go to the college. I won't be able to pay for it. I may not even be able to-" 

"Of course you'll go to college, Laura. Anything else would be a waste. You're too smart to stay here."

"But the money-"

"Have you looked around for scholarships? You're in your senior year. You still have some time, but you need to at least try to apply for scholarships. Laura, look at me."

She turned to him. 

"I'm going to help you, you hear me? We're going to make this work. We're going to get you out of here. I promise you. Okay?"

She nodded gratefully at him. "Okay."

"Good." he said. "Come here." He held out his arms, and he didn't have to wait a second before she was with him and in his arms. The hug felt good. Laura closed her eyes and let the warmth and physical contact wash over her. 

"You can't tell anyone. Do you understand me? No one's soul. This is very important." he whispered.

He didn't have to be specific about what he meant. Laura understood that he was talking about their kiss. She nodded and added, "Please forgive me, Mr. Hackett. I was just emotional and...I don't know." 

They broke away from each other, but he continued to look at her with an intense gaze. 

"Ask Max out on a date, Laura. He's head over heels in love with you. Even I've noticed that. I'm going to look into matching grants for you. You once said you wanted to be a veterinarian, is that still the case?" 

She nodded.

"Good. The next time your mom...has a bad time - if you notice she's like that, get out of the house. That's what worked for me at the time. Go to Max's or a friend's house and stay there until she calms down. Try to avoid the situations and don't provoke her. When we find you a scholarship, you'll move out this time next year, okay? One more year. Can you do that?" 

Again she nodded at him. 

"Good girl. Now go to the nurse and get your eye treated." 

"But-" 

"Don't talk back to me." 

She nodded again. 

"And Laura, don't tell anyone. Do you understand me? I can't help you if I'm in jail." He smiled at her. 

She was grateful that he was joking about it and no longer angry. But she understood very well the importance of his statement. She knew he could get in serious trouble if she told anyone about it. 

"I promise, Mr. Hackett. I won't tell anyone."

#hackerney #travis hackett #laura kearney #travis x laura #the quarry #fanfiction

[hawkezone]

THE SEAT OF POWER, PART 3

In the wake of Fen'Harel's escape, former Inquisitor Angus Trevelyan handles his transition from being Ostwick's most finicky and least eligible bachelor to being on the arm of Minrathous's finest; while juggling the beginnings of an elven rebellion. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, Part Three.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2] [3] [4]

♕

Chapter Three: An Attendance at Weisshaupt

“And, furthermore, you can stick it up your-”

“Hawke.”

Whirling around, still mid-jab, Hawke turned to see Fenris crossing the courtyard, looking in equal measures furious and cathartic.

Hawke didn’t even freeze. His furrowed face broke out into a wide grin, and, taking two steps to compensate for the elf’s four, scarcely kept himself from running as Fenris stormed straight into his arms.

He grasped him and lifted him up, tightly, and Fenris pressed his forehead against his, as Hawke twirled him around with a flourish, like a stem of Andraste’s Grace fluttering stalwartly in the wind. One could even swear the elf cracked a smile, but he was soon back to his previous stormy demeanor.

“You left, Hawke,” Fenris muttered, still grasping on to Hawke’s waist as Hawke cradled his face by the chin. “Without telling me.”

“I did not,” Hawke retorted, with just a hint of genuine edge to his voice. “I would never! I told you I was leaving. I just conveniently left out the place I was leaving to.”

Fenris frowned. “The sentiment remains.”

Hawke’s face, turned gently towards his beloved’s, cracked out of the last vestiges of hardness he’d had to put on for the assorted gathered Wardens in the courtyard. He raised his eyebrows, and smiled softly, giving Fenris the exact look that had always made him feel completely welcome in those mischievous, dark blue eyes. Just like Malcolm’s, Hawke’s mother Leandra used to say.

“Fenris,” Hawke said, softly, still holding him close.

It had been, by Fenris’s estimate, nearly six months since Hawke had up and left for Skyhold in the fall, then another month for the Inquisition to utilize him properly, then another three agonizing months to cross the Anderfels and finally make it to the drafty, depressing, altogether underwhelming Grey Warden fortress of Weisshaupt. It was hard to imagine a place that felt more oppressive than Kirkwall - except perhaps Tevinter - but Weisshaupt had all the charm and dourness of a dowager at a funeral.

“I could have been by your side,” Fenris muttered, still at chest-height to Hawke. It was strange, a little, to the onlookers that the reserved and brooding elf was clutching so deeply to the Champion of Kirkwall, but, as Varric himself would soon tell you, the Tale of the Champion really undersold the amount of dramatic eye-gazing and waist-clutching that Hawke and Fenris engaged in. Ultimately, though, Varric did leave in most of the bosom-heaving and sweep-off-your-feeting, and especially the parts where Hawke bodily picked Fenris up and consensually slammed him against the wall while sticking his tongue down his throat. The ladies were particularly into the consensual wall-slamming.

Back in their own little world, Hawke held Fenris by the gauntleted hand, as he looked with genuine concern into the elf’s welling green eyes.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Hawke said, still holding Fenris with his other arm, like they were the only two dancing in an empty ballroom.

“You could have died,” Fenris retorted, strongly, glaring at Hawke with the utmost intensity.

“You could have died,” Hawke said, with a little mischievous smile. “And where would we be then?”

Fenris frowned. “A world without you is not a world I wish to live in,” he said, solemnly. He looked away for a moment, but Hawke caught, out of the corner of his eye, just how profoundly upset his brush with the Fade, and, by extension, a possibly magic-enabled tragic death, had affected him.

The only person who could make Hawke shed a tear, behind his tendency to crack wise and his illustrious nature as the Champion of Kirkwall, the man who was somehow always in the right or wrong place at the respective right or wrong time, was standing before him, and Hawke would never - could never again - let a single moment slip away where he didn’t assure Fenris that nothing, nothing, could tear them apart. Ever again. It was a solemn promise that he made, that he would keep and had kept making; a promise that meant everything to Fenris. Nobody had ever loved Hawke as ferociously as they did each other. Varric would, here, point out that Hawke’s mother Leandra and his beloved sister Bethany and even his late brother Carver surely cared on the same level, but that takes away quite a bit of the romantic sting.

Hawke and Fenris were happy to be swirling around their private void forever, just staring into each other’s eyes until they were consumed, knowing that they had an eternity to spend every second at full volume with each other.

In practice, however, the courtyard full of rather conservative Grey Wardens, primarily from the Anderfels, Orlais, and Ferelden, with a few from the Marches sprinkled here and there, were beginning to fidget uncomfortably the more Hawke’s reunion turned from dramatic pearl-clutching to - as was becoming evident - dramatic pearl-clutching with a serious side of making up for six months of lost time.

“Ahem,” came a gravelly voice, from several feet behind the Hawke-Fenris Romance Vortex.

Sister Payten, a resident of Weisshaupt’s small Chantry located in the gardens by the East wing, cleared her throat a second time.

“If we could perhaps return to the discussions,” she began, a bit impatiently, but her tone scarcely hid its true nature. “And save the affectations for a later time -”

Hawke snorted. “Affectations!” he laughed, derisively. “Get a load of her.”

Fenris frowned, mostly at Sister Payten, but also somewhat at Hawke for the scene he was undoubtedly about to make.

“If you can’t allow me five seconds to reunite with the man I love in the most Orlesian way possible, then I simply cannot continue our negotiations.” Hawke winked at Fenris. Despite his fury, Fenris stifled a chuckle.

“Shall we adjourn these talks til after we make the rest of Weisshaupt shit their knickers, then?” he said, extending an arm to Fenris, in an obvious gesture of antagonization directed towards the Sister.

Fenris, an expression of smugness on his face for Hawke’s rebuking of the Sister, did not take Hawke’s elbow, but did turn with him as he strode off towards the central tower of Weisshaupt, out of the courtyard.

“Not every Chantry Sister is as awful as her,” Fenris said to Hawke, matter-of-factly, as if reminding him.

“Remember Sister Petrice?” Hawke replied, rolling his eyes. “She wasn’t exactly a winner either. I think we’re two for two.”

Fenris chuckled. Maybe it even qualified as a laugh. “One would argue you should leave the house more often.”

“That never seems to go well for me either,” Hawke smirked, elbowing Fenris playfully as best he could, as the two entered Weisshaupt proper.

-

“You came.”

Several bottles of Seheron dry later, Hawke’s pointed question - for it was a question, not a fact - stuck.

“Was I not supposed to?” queried Fenris, holding one of the half-emptied bottles of dry by the body. His gloved fingers clanked along the glass. Hawke had scarcely remembered the last time Fenris had removed his gauntlets. For him, taking the gloves off was more than a metaphor for intense battle. For Hawke, it meant Fenris was letting his guard down enough to trust him - and he intently missed that level of vulnerability between him and his paramour.

“No,” Hawke went on, looking on with a crooked sort of half-smile. He was seated across the room on one of the few pieces of stark furniture that his accommodations at Weisshaupt had come with - a thin bench, next to an old cot in the Free Marches style that countless Wardens had lived, and probably died, on. The room was a magnet for drafts, and the wind often howled in a terrifying, whistling way through the cracks in the castle walls. When Hawke woke in the mornings, it was often due to the pinpricks of aggressive sunlight that came blasting through the miniature crevices that permeated every living inch of Weisshaupt’s walls. It was a wonder he didn’t go blind - or become a morning person.

On the other side, Fenris had taken the table, and its single stool adjacent - another annoyance that Hawke had found as fuel for jokes regarding the various thorns in his side, and another annoyance that Fenris found genuinely, actually annoying. He stared at Hawke with his usual intensity, a constant which Hawke found utterly irresistible. Which usually got him in trouble. As it was about to, now.

“Why did you come?” Hawke continued, eyeing him down. And down. He cleared his throat, before things veered too far off course. He didn’t want Fenris to think he cared too much - or that he had been thinking about him finding him at Weisshaupt every night since he had arrived. It had been keeping him up - almost, at times, literally.

Fenris looked at him pointedly, maintaining eye contact with Hawke as he took another dramatic swig of Seheron dry, even though it was clear that Hawke knew exactly the reason.

“Are you displeased that I did?” Fenris asked, after a pause, in a deliberately provoking tone.

Hawke sighed, completely crumpling. “No. You know that. I - I would have moved the grounds of the Gallows itself if it meant I could be with you again. So I get it. I really do.”

For a brief moment, Hawke could have sworn that Fenris had blushed. But before he could tell, Fenris lifted the bottle of Seheron dry again, obscuring his feelings once more.

“You can’t keep pushing us away to stop us from helping you,” Fenris muttered, his expression hardening. “None of this is a burden anyone should carry alone.”

Hawke sighed. He slumped even further, putting his head in his hands.

It had obviously been several months since he had taken care of his appearance in the same way he had in Kirkwall, and, subsequently, the Nevarran border and Skyhold; the toll of being apart from everyone he had ever loved had obviously been dragged forcefully across his formerly bright face. His hooked, hawkish nose - which had always been a point of ironic pride in Hawke’s eyes - had grown a garden of scars, reaching across his right eye and down his cheek in deep furrows, a remnant of both his time with Fenris murdering every single Tevinter slaver they came across, as well as his most recent brush with Corypheus and the Fade. His eyes never lost that glint of mischief that made Hawke the scoundrel ever present when he was being Hawke the Champion or Hawke the Recently Elevated Noble or Hawke the Murderer of Slavers, and it was this glint that Fenris would cross the Waking Sea - and, in this case, the Anderfels - for.

“I don’t want any of you to suffer for anything I did. For anything Malcolm did,” Hawke said, looking up between his hands at Fenris, who seemed further across the room than he did when he was across the mountains in Nevarra.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, firmly, placing the bottle down on the ground with a swift crack. “Let us help you.”

“That’s rich,” Hawke snorted, burying his head back in so he was peering through his finger prison again.

Frowning, Fenris lifted the bottle from the ground, took a gigantic swig, then smashed the bottle on the floor - rather by accident, it seemed, as he was intent on getting up and storming over to Hawke’s side of the room, wherein he grasped him by the shoulders, still frowning, with an existential sort of anger and sadness that caused Hawke to look up, despite his best efforts.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, again, but this time, Hawke could see the fear in his old friend’s - his beloved’s - eyes.

“I cannot bear to save a world without you in it.”

Hawke looked up, startled.

Fenris, looking like he was on the verge of tears, waited, like he had waited for the months when he was furious at Hawke for absconding in the night. He was still angry at him, but he knew that Hawke had made sure that Fenris knew he was leaving, and it was for something of Varric’s doing, and that Fenris was not to follow. But that he would return, just as soon as he was done; he had promised him, a long time ago, in Kirkwall, that nothing would ever keep them apart - a promise Fenris had made first, and one they knew was the most sacred to keep. That certainly didn’t make Fenris any less angry at Hawke’s reasoning, or his secrecy regarding the Inquisition - especially the parts involving the Fade.

Hawke reached up, his calloused hands softly holding Fenris by the cheek and tilting his head towards his.

“Then I promise you I’ll stay alive. And we can save the world. Together,” he said, with his half-smile again, the one that made Fenris forget all the vileness surrounding him back in Kirkwall, just like when they first met and Hawke’s cracked jokes shot like arrows through his heart. His big, dumb Champion.

“You’d better,” Fenris said, resolutely and furiously, smashing his lips to Hawke’s, who pulled him in a firm vice-grip by the side of the head, tugging his fingers through Fenris’s snow-white hair, holding him with his other arm like a towering shield against the coldness of Weisshaupt Fortress.

#the seat of power #sniff. my lil emo boys. my sad lads #dragon age fic #fenhawke #da2 #dragon age #fenris #m!hawke #dragon age oc #da2 oc #fic tag

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

#peaky blinders #shelby sister #sister shelby #shelby!sister #sister!shelby #shelby sis #shelby sister imagine #sister shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #polly gray #polly gray x reader #ada shelby #cillian murphy #castle in the sky #the shelby clan

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end. 

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION. 

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk. 

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder. 

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you. 

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

#bts fluff #bts #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrid au #smut #bts smut #soulmate au #poly #poly bts #poly au #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 bts #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts icons #hybrid bts

[ghostdrew22]

i am such a fucking sucker for the “hold my jaw with your hand and tilt my face upwards so that our eyes meet because i’m shorter and you’re taller and we can both feel the tension as you look down at my lips and then back up again quickly before the moment’s lost” cliches so can u maybe write something like that for Draco and Slytherin reader please

Five || Draco Malfoy

I REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS THE OTHER DAY (AND I FUCKING MISSED IT LIKE A DUMBASS BITCH BUT I’LL DO SOMETHING IF I GET TO 200) THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! <3

I did get a bit carried away with the banter but it’s only because I seriously love this trope and the build-up is the best part, anyway I hope you like it and  I hope the ending made you happy! <3

Thank you for this request, I honestly had so much fun writing it, it’s adorable!

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!fem!reader Warnings: swearing and major cockblocking, I feel like it’s quite fluffy but if there’s anything you think I should add let me know <3 Summary: Y/N and Draco have been desperately trying to relieve the tension between them both but someone always has to get in the way.

WORDS : 1955

Fred Weasley is your best friend.

Fred Weasley is, also, a massive piece of shit.

Not that you don’t love him because of course you do, he is your best friend after all.  

Buuuut, that doesn’t mean he’s without his flaws. For example, he’s got a disgusting habit of getting in the way of your romantic endeavors, especially when they involve Draco Malfoy. And it’s not even because Fred’s into you, because he’s definitely not, but it gives him an odd sense of pleasure to watch your jaw clench when he interrupts one of you and Draco’s ‘moments’, as he likes to call them. It’s his hobby.

“Y/N…” Fred whines as he tugs on your right arm.

“No.”

“Please?” He pouts and you roll your eyes as you pry his hand off of your arm.

“No, I told you that I hate watching your practices.”

He gasps dramatically and places a hand on his heart. “Because you don’t love me?”

“Because it’s so bloody cold that I almost freeze my toes off every time.”

“You can wear my jumper.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“And the Slytherins are practicing with us today.”

“I know, I am one dumbass.”

“So you’ll come?”

“No Fred, let it go for fucks sake.”

By now you ought to know that you can never win an argument with Fred Weasley, but it’s nice to pretend. After a further 5 minutes of arguing he’d somehow gotten you in his jumper, pulled you down toward the Quidditch pitch and left you sitting by the bleachers while he walked down to the field to join practice.

“Bloody hell.” You mutter to yourself as you watch the ginger skip down to join his teammates. You hear a chuckle erupt from your left and turn to find Draco approaching you.

“So we’re wearing Weasley’s clothes now?” Draco raises his eyebrows at you as he stops to stand right in front of you.

You laugh and shove his chest playfully. “We’re not doing anything but I’m relishing in the warmth of Fred’s jumper. Nothing warmer on planet earth.”

“My arms beg to differ.”

You laugh and shake your head. “You’re such a nonce, go practice.”

“I think I’d much rather stand here with you if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t blame you.” You shrug, “I can’t imagine anyone who’d prefer the company of a sweaty Quidditch team compared to me.”

“Cocky.”

“But with reason, no?” You raise your eyebrows with a playful smirk.

He doesn’t respond but instead clenches his jaw to wipe away the smile that was begging to surface.

When his eyes finally turn back to meet yours there’s an atmosphere of tension that envelopes you both once again. You can’t tell how long the two of you stand there staring into each other’s eyes, it could be seconds, minutes, hours. But it all fades away into nothing when his blue hues travel down to capture the sight of your lips, and you have to swallow hard to reconnect with planet earth again.

His fingers grace the space beneath your chin softly, pulling your face up so that he can stare directly down into your eyes because Merlin, he’s so tall. And you think that this is it, he’s going to kiss you, because why wouldn’t he when his lips are so close that you can practically feel the air expelling from his lungs coming into contact with your face.

His lips barely brush over your own when,

Fred fucking Weasley happens.

“Oi, Malfoy! We’re all waiting down here for you so that we can get started.”

You groan in frustration as Draco lets his hand fall and a heavy sigh escapes him.

“I’m coming.” He responds curtly, frustration clearly lacing his voice, and Fred resists the urge to smirk from behind you both - he fails.

“Hurry up then!” Fred responds and you send Draco an apologetic look.

“I hate him, I want you to know that I actually hate him.” Draco says simply.

You laugh and shake your head, “Go on.”

“Weasley:1 and Malfoy:0.” Fred says to Draco when he finally reaches the bottom of the stands.

“You’ve got a load more than 1 at this point.”

“I know but I like to refresh the score every week so that you feel the weight of my power, you know?”

Draco doesn’t respond.

But Fred does get a nice taste of grass when his face comes in contact with the ground because Draco tripped him.

“You git!” Fred exclaims as he jumps off the ground and starts to chase after Draco - who’s running off with a mischievous laugh and a glint in his eyes.

~~~

Blaise Zabini is Draco’s best friend.

Blaise Zabini, like Fred Weasley, is also a massive piece of shit.

“Y/N, please pass me that.” Draco mumbles as he stirs the cauldron. You oblige and grab what he was gesturing to before passing it to him. Your fingers run over each other for just a moment and you can’t help that small smile that finds its way onto your lips.

“We studying together after school today?”

Draco turns to you with an apologetic look and you sigh, “I’m so sorry Y/N, I’ve got detention.”

“What did you do to get detention this time?” You ask with a roll of your eyes and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Promise you won’t be mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

“Y/N…” He whines and you roll your eyes again but sigh in agreement.

“Fine, I won’t get mad.”

“You know the flag pole out front?” He raises his eyebrows at you as he finishes up with the potion and sits comfortably in his seat beside you.

You nod hesitantly, “Yes…” 


“So, Blaise dared me to-“

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t take anymore of Blaise’s dares?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, yes, but this one was too hard to resist. He looked at me like I wouldn’t do it!”

“You’re a pussy.”

“I guess I am what I eat.” He says with a smile and you feel the air leave your lungs.

You look up at him with the intention of clapping back with something smart. But how can you possibly say anything when he’s looking down at you like that.

Merlin, if this boy doesn’t kiss you-

“Sorry, don’t mind me, just passing through.” Blaise says as he steps in between you and Draco to grab your notebook off the table. You’d told him earlier that if he needed help then he could borrow your notes, but you hadn’t meant that he could borrow them right as you were about to get a kiss from the Slytherin Prince.

You peer your eyes at him and notice a faint smirk on his lips. oh. He was not just passing through, he was cockblocking and he was cockblocking you hard.

He turns to leave with your notes and, without even thinking, you and Draco both spread your legs out. Blaise, fixed intently on the writing in front of him, doesn’t notice what’s happening until he’s already halfway toward the ground.

In retrospect he had it coming. He’s been working with Fred for weeks now to keep you and Draco from finally locking lips. Was it objectively deserved? No. Did it feel good? Hell fucking yes.

But Snape seemed to think that it was out of order, and that was how you got yourself a front row seat in detention, next to Draco.

“I’m surprised Fred wasn’t in detention.” Draco mumbles as the two of you finally leave the detention classroom.

“He reserves Thursdays for detention.” You respond and Draco laughs. “To be honest, I was half-expecting Blaise.”

“Oh no way.” He shakes his head as the two of you walk down the hallway. “His mom will kill him, and me for that matter, if he gets another detention this year.” Draco adds with grimace.

“Why you?”

“I’m usually the one who ropes him into stupid shit.”

You giggle, “No surprise there.”

“Uncalled for!”

“Considering your track record it was 100% called for!” You exclaim as laughter continues to shake you about. You don’t even notice how far ahead of Draco you are, until he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you back toward him.

Your face almost collides with his chest and you let out a yelp at the sudden movement. When you move your head up to look at him and ask him what he’s doing, you find that words escape you completely.

“Y/N.” Draco whispers as he brings his face down to yours.

“Draco.” You whisper back with an inquisitive smile.

“We’re alone.”

You turn your head a bit and observe that the hallway is, in fact, completely abandoned. “Holy shit, it seems like you’re right.”

He smiles down at you, “I’m tired of dancing around this, I want to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

His lips are inches, inches, away from your own when some random first year stumbles into the hallway, whistling about like he’s auditioning to be fucking Mickey Mouse. You’re so frustrated that you don’t even know what you’re saying until the words have already left your mouth.

“If you do not leave right fucking now I will hex you so badly that your unborn grandchildren will feel it.”

The student’s eyes widen and they immediately turn back the way they came from.

“Well that was-“ Draco starts but you cut him off as you grasp the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss you.

Maybe all the tension was worth it, because wow.

Draco sighs happily against your lips as his hands find home on your waist. It’s almost too perfect, like the two of you are doing a dance that you’ve rehearsed over and over again. The kiss goes on for so long that you completely lose track of time, almost forgetting that you need oxygen to live.

But then, once again, Fred fucking Weasley happens.

Except for once, he’s too late.

“Oh for fucks sake, no!” Fred groans as he steps into the hallway and you grin as you pull apart from Draco to face him.

“Suck on that, Fred!” You exclaim as you stick your tongue out at him.

“Weasley:3. Malfoy:1.” Draco adds.

“Actually…” You start as you stare into Fred’s eyes and use your hand to bring Draco’s lips down to yours. “Malfoy:2.”

“3.” Draco adds as he pecks your lips again.

“4.” You smile widely.

“If you don’t stop I will dye both of your heads red.” Fred says with a playful glare.

“I say do it just for the hell of it.” Blaise shrugs as he joins the conversation from out of nowhere.

“That includes you Zabini.”

“What the fuck, why?” Blaise asks in disbelief and you and Draco struggle to hold in your laughs.

“You didn’t do your part in preventing this!”

“Excuse me but last time I checked this was a two man job!?”

“Well, thanks to this one man’s failure,” Fred starts as he pushes an accusatory finger into Blaise’s chest, “We all have to suffer the wrath of Draco and Y/N’s sappiness!”

“How was it my failure when it was your turn to watch them?”

Draco chuckles and your eyes immediately leave the two arguing boys to find Draco’s. He smiles goofily down at you and you smile back. “We should’ve picked nicer friends.”

“As if anyone else would put up with us.” You respond with a smirk and he nods.

“Fair.”

That familiar tension from before is back, except now with a hint of something else- assurance perhaps? The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a while before those blue iris’s find the curvature of your lips again and you swallow hard with the growing anticipation.

“5?” He asks breathily and you merely grab the back of his neck to capture him in a kiss.

When you finally pull away all you whisper back is, “5.”

<~>

Everyday I wake up and wonder, why am I a dumbass bitch? University of Kent just offered me conditional acceptance but I don’t think they’re going to accept me because I have NOT met the conditions, and it’s literally just because I have one braincell that can’t do math.

Anway, if you have any feedback on whether I should do a fluff or angst sequel for ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ then please let me know <3

love you all,

your favourite shitshow, jean <3

#draco #draco fluff #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader

[belit0]

Hello Izuna bb! Hear me out pls😳 Kinky!madara with a very shy fem s/o who just bluntly asks him if she can sit on his face after she accidentally found out it was one of his biggest fantasies. (Maybe she found as he was mumbling about it on a dream)

Always drooling over my brother, geez, here you go beautiful.

It is known that Madara dreams. Big people have big dreams, or so they say, and hell, he's a giant man. That's why it's not a novelty to wake up because he hugs you in his sleep and whispers things in your ear.

Of course, the Uchiha is completely unconscious, he is a person who works all day long and hardly ever rests. At night, it is the only time he can find peace, and this is intensified if you are by his side.

But what nobody imagines is that Madara Uchiha himself speaks in his slumber. And he says things that make the spot between your legs moist even when he is not aware. That's the power he has over you, intoxicating even when he tosses and turns in bed and murmurs dirty things in the middle of his nights.

People would think that someone, as dedicated as him, dreams of the battlefield, of killing his worst enemies, of achieving his goals. Who would believe you if you recounted how he relates to you without even knowing how he wants to eat your pussy and make you scream?

Even you can't believe what you hear when Madara talks about how he wants you on his face, holding your thighs with force while his tongue slides up and down between your slit. You are melting in his drowsy embrace when he describes how he wants to ravish your clitoris, biting it softly until only his name comes out of your mouth.

And so, the night goes by. You can't wake him up, that would be simply selfish. With how hard he works, the most sensible thing is to allow him a good rest. But when his erection is pressed on your leg it's hard to resist the temptation.

Somehow you manage to do it, and although internally you prayed for him to open his eyes and fuck you right there, you managed to fall asleep in his grip, with his mouth in your ear sporadically narrating sinful things. With one of his arms around your neck and the other wrapped around your waist, there is no way to avoid that heat.

He has a talent for torturing you even when he is out.

But the next morning, waking up is a little more abrupt than usual.

A snarl makes you open your eyes, and when you focus your sight, Madara is staring lustfully at the angle between your legs. Wearing white underwear, the incriminating spot of wetting is eye-catching to the Uchiha.

Of course, he noticed it because when he became aware again, he could perceive that body language that gave you away so much. Even if you didn't think it was possible, he read you like a book, and when he saw your butt attached to his waist, the way you held your hand intertwined with his, and how both your legs were entangled, everything was obvious.

Rotating abruptly, he is on top of you, pressing you against the mattress and his body. Automatically your system begins to experience the hotness you felt hours ago, generating exciting vertigo in your stomach. Staring at you in the eyes, it was clear that he understood everything that was going on in your head.

You bit your lips as you placed your legs around his waist, and at your sign of approval, the Uchiha set to work devouring your neck. Between licks and bites, your back arched and your entrance collided directly with his growing erection, making him moan with bestiality.

Madara's rawness was maddening.

And when the boxers are about to come down because he seems to need to be inside you, you remember his drowsy story of yesterday. How he spoke of devastating and owning you in a position as outrageous as it was attractive, something never attempted in the room before. You are not someone who proposes the course of the fuck, usually, the overwhelming and demanding passage of him is what sweeps everything away.

But for some reason, you felt the need to challenge what he was bragging about in his sleep. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat died knowing, we are told.

While he nibbles on your lobe with hunger, and one of his hands is pulling down his underwear, you stop him with one of yours. Doubt and confusion attack the face of the Uchiha, who detaches himself from your body to observe you with inquisitive eyes, and you realize that the time has come to explain what you want.

"Madara..."

"Hn? not in the mood? I thought-"

"No, love, I… I just... I want to ask you something."

"Oh… This is new, I'm all ears..."

"I want... I want to sit on your face."

"You want that? Is this true?"

"Yes..."

"Looks like it's going to be a great morning... Would you mind repeating it? It sounds delicious when it comes out of those pretty lips of yours."

"M-Madara! P-Please!"

"Your wish is my command, my girl..."

By turning you both over in bed, the Uchiha swaps positions with you, staying down as he makes you sit on him. Guiding you to his mouth, he pushes your lower back towards his face, and when you want to get rid of your underwear, he stops you.

"Not so fast, little one. Daddy's going to enjoy this, and he's going to enjoy it from start to finish. Keep that on."

Obediently, and blushing at the existing liquid stain on the garment, you allow him to position you on top of him, and it doesn't take a second for his tongue to find its destination. By running it over your dressed pussy, Madara holds your hip tightly so that you don't escape from him.

His strong hands digging into the side of your body and his cavity making a mess of your underwear work hard enough for you to start moaning, throwing your head back and holding onto the head of the bed.

When he notices that you are not looking at him, he separates the garment from your cunt with a finger and bites it, pulling it until it surrenders to his jaw. The sound of the fabric tearing makes you fix your eyes on him, and at that very moment, he inserts two fingers into you.

Maliciously grinning, he communicates.

"Keep your gaze on me and watch me eat your pussy mercilessly. Be a good girl and don't move those eyes.”

"Y-Yes..."

"Pardon? I think you missed something."

At that moment, the Uchiha bites your clitoris without too much force, brushing his teeth directly against your sensitive pearl, sending electricity to your whole body. A loud moan escapes your mouth and you squirm, surprised by the action. Yes, while he was asleep, he said he would do it, but you never thought that he would literally...

"Yes sir!"

"That's right, keep it up little bitch, and maybe I'll let you ride me."

Returning to his work, he takes his fingers out of you, while his tongue attacks your cunt again in its entirety. There is not a single corner that Madara leaves uncovered with his saliva or eat with his lips, and prudence or shame has been forgotten by you at this point.

You need to feel him, you need that mouth between your thighs, you need his nails digging into your waist to hold you still while you scream his name and ask him not to stop. When you announce that your orgasm is near, he separates his mouth and introduces his fingers again, moving them in the right way, touching that string that forces you to sing for him.

Trembling over his head, you try to hold on to the wall, and that makes him stop completely.

"Grab your breasts and let go of that damn wall or you won't finish until I think it's right.”

"Y-Yes L-Lord! ... p-please!"

"What do you want, my child?"

"L-Let m-me c-c-cum!"

"What a polite little girl I have... look how she begs to be milked by my fingers, such good manners..."

Taking up his movements, the Uchiha pumps his hand at a crushing pace inside you, curving his fingers just enough to leave you speechless and shaking on him. He punishes your clitoris with his tongue, grinning with satisfaction at your body's natural reaction to his punishment, and when you cum on his fingers, he tortures you with a second round of the same.

#uchiha madara x reader #madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #madara #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader #madara scenario #madara imagine

[saltpepperbeard]

Ravenous ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Well hello hello again lol! A bit weird, huh? I don’t know why exactly I had a sudden surge of motivation, but quite honestly, I’m not mad at it. While the shot I wrote a few days back was a more original idea of sorts, this one was an “anonymous” suggestion. A rather EYEBROW RAISING SUGGESTION™ if you know what I’m saying ha! But for whatever reason, dialogue and ideas started flowing, and here we are! Just couldn’t help but explore Katniss desiring to Spice Things Up a bit. With that being said shjdkhskdls-

Disclaimer: This fic contains NC-17 related material, but y’all been knew. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO LMAO.

And without further adoooooo...

Ravenous

It’s happening again. Our bedroom seems to rival that of the setting sun, the two dancing and paralleling. Just as the clouds and sky melt into orange, I too, find myself at its mercy. Just as the sun plunges beneath the horizon, so too, do our pelvises atop each other’s. Just as it sets fire to the grasses and trees as it plummets from sight, so too, do our roaming mouths and hands against each other’s bodies.

And just as the sunset is habitual, expected, so is the explosion within. It’s like clockwork. It’s like the mighty star’s journey across the sky. A soft, inviting, and consistent brightness is maintained throughout the day, before utterly exploding into color and passion as ebony surges forth.

The newness and its subsequent excitement must be why it’s so incredibly enticing, so normal in our schedule. To think, I used to be one with the dawn. The coldness, the solitude, and the call for survival...all were my essence. Now though, do I dance and take pleasure in the dusk, flooding with fiery color before all runs dark.

Not that I’m complaining in the slightest. No, I’m a medley of breathy giggles, mewled moans, and messy kisses. The usual, the expected, and the blissful.

So a subsequent shift in the cycle, in the ecstatic repetition, does indeed throw me when it presents.

Losing myself in Peeta each and every night allows my hunger to break free, spilling forth after being locked up for so long. It gnaws, it feasts, and it satisfies, before settling back to a hush, properly quenched. His initial touches, caresses, and kisses do marvels at igniting the starting flames. His following motions and salacious actions work wonders at surging the fire to a roar. And then his sweetness dampens the blaze into finality, into exhausted ashes.

But tonight...Tonight, it’s different. It feels...wrongfully intense.

I am not hungry- I am ravenous. It roars within me as if it’s never been satiated at all. It howls, screams, gnashing for a deeper satisfaction. The area between my legs aches almost painfully so, and the heat surging through my core snarls that it won’t be bested so easily.

Such a sensation almost feels instinctual, animalistic even. And with that notion crossing my mind, an odd picture presents itself within my subconscious. A symbolic representation? Or is it a solution, a suggestion that the deeper confines of my hankering body has pulled up? Either way, it’s bizarre, and subsequently earns a deep blush to my cheeks.

The image of a stag mounting a doe.

It’s something I’ve seen on rare occasion while hunting, a deeply intimate and almost sacred moment birthed from nature’s way. But translating such an intrusive image into our bedroom, into the current situation, and connecting the dots between the symbolism and the craving...

...Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flush impossibly more so.

What an oddity. Peeta more than satisfies me. He gives me something no one else could possibly come close to offering. He takes me to realms unthinkable, and charts depths once-unexplored. And yet, does my body yearn.

What a foreign desire. I never could have pictured myself in such a position- or...intensely aching for one, rather. With carnal intimacy being so new to me, to the both of us, I never expected my body to erect anything of the sort. But I suppose, the deeper and deeper we traverse in one another, the more and more we’ll unlock. I guess there are still things to be discovered about each other, and complex layers of intimacy waiting to be unlocked...

“...Katniss?”

As if my cheeks couldn’t grow any more fiery.

I must have been quite disconnected, lost in thought and libidinous imagination. My grey eyes rapidly blink to break from the haze, but the desire still careens within. Venturing out from the fog reveals Peeta once more though, his beautiful, bare, handsome form hovering atop me. He too, is flushed, small beads of sweat glistening atop his scarred skin to compliment the fiery sheen within his darkened eyes.

But where there would be normally be a crooked smile, or an agape expression of pleasure, there instead exists confusion, concern.

When our eyes finally meet with clarity, he reaches to softly cup my cheek.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice still husky, breathy, “You alright?”

I cannot help but swallow hard. How the hell am I supposed to vocalize such a thing? Is it too taboo to ask for? The idea of...Peeta...taking me from behind?

I’m a mess, shutting my eyes and turning my face into his hand, as if to hide myself away.

“Hey...” His voice sounds more concerned, and a bit warmer. Some of the huskiness has disappeared too. And subsequently, a spark of desperation alights within me; perhaps because the hunger screeches at me to maintain heat.

“Sweetheart-”

Softening sentiments are cut off by a carnal kiss, my body piloting me to fight the dip. I lace my hands around the back of his head and pull his stunned form closer, breathily moaning through the connection. When I feel his lips begin to part though, when I practically taste the confused question forming on his tongue...

I know I have no choice. I know it’s now or never. And if I could stare the hunger dead on, if I could address its call and dive into vulnerabilities with Peeta before...

Surely I can do this too. Hopefully.

“Peeta?” I quickly interject.

I expect him to remain close, but just as ferocious desire pilots me, so too does compassionate concern steer him. He leans as far back as he can with my hands laced through his hair, staring with those inquisitive, stunning blues.

“...Katniss?”

“I...I...”

Just as the first time we delighted in one another, my throat threatens to lock up from anxiety, from fear of the unknown. Just as before, I find it horribly difficult to vocalize my wants. But in knowing that soft and concerned stare, in understanding the eyes that expectantly wait, and in feeling far fierier than previous times, I find the strength I need to produce a voice.

“...Can we...try something different?”

Nerves drive me to bite my swollen lip, as if Peeta’s going to react poorly or something equivalent. But as truly expected, he blinks the concern away before the tension visibly melts above me.

“Oh! Yeah, uh...sure,” he murmurs, beginning to smile despite lingering bits of confusion still present in his brows, “Is that why you...?”

“Yes...”

“Oh,” he breathes, chuckling softly before leaning back in for another kiss. He nestles close once more, our bare forms pressing and creating small hints of tantalizing friction. Be it the throbbing within, or the very present feeling of his erection between us, I break the kiss with quickened pants.

Unbothered now, and in a better understanding towards my desperation, he moves to kiss and bite at my neck. My hips and eyes both roll, the intense lust leaving me less bothered by the various noises sounding from my throat.

Peeta too, must be quickly getting tugged back; I feel him twitch before he softly grunts into the tender skin of my collar.

“What would you like?” he huskily whispers, topping off the question by tracing my bone with his tongue.

Between nerves and the sensations he’s dizzying me with, I briskly shake my head.

“Don’t make me say it...” I wheeze.

I feel his mouth turn upwards against my skin, and he chuckles before drawing forth artistry, painting his way up my neck and cheeks with brushing lips.

“Alright...” he says thickly, and I think I can feel him quivering slightly, “Show me then?”

I tense, but catching his stare grounds me. Beyond the drippings of ebony lust and fiery coals, I can see that beautiful understanding, that adoration with zero judgement. It’s what drove me to explore initially, and thus, does it fuel me once more.

My hands come to rest upon his muscular chest, quivering ever so slightly as I give a gesturing push. He follows my direction without hesitation, moving until we’re both sitting up on the bed. Another bout of hesitance grips me, but upon seeing the sight of him, heavily engorged and nearly flush against his stomach, I break through once again.

My stare manages to break to a necessity then, gazing upon his amputated leg with another bite of my lip.

“Your prosthetic...”

I can see his breath catch, watching his chest heave as I momentarily avoid his stare.

“...I need it?” he whispers.

I can only nod, and he thankfully doesn’t press, scurrying off to retrieve and reattach it. I’m piloted once more; my body seizes the opportunity to get into position while he’s not looking. Though my heart pounds something terrible, though trembles alight in my limbs, I roll onto my hands and knees, poised and ready for what I crave.

Peeta’s to my backside now, so I cannot see his reaction to what I’m offering. I can certainly hear it though, as well as almost feel it, the room seemingly spiking in temperature the moment he notices.

“O-oh...”

I tremble in both deep anticipation and tension, still unable to look at him. There’s a bit of pause though, and right when I think I’ve made a mistake, I feel the bed shift with the re-introduction of his weight. My thighs clench something terrible at his presence behind me, and I feel my entire lower half quivering.

Made even worse when Peeta groans my name.

“Katniss...”

The amount of lust is incredible. I could almost rocket myself backwards upon him. It’s wild, and hard to imagine how I wound up in such a position. But through the salaciousness, through the smoke clouding my brain, nerves still manage to peek.

“Is...this okay?” I shakily whisper.

“Yeah...” he breathes, and I nearly run woozy at the sensation of his hands ghosting my curves, “Is this...?”

I almost move beyond my own control, thrusting my hips backward and placing myself into his grasp. It’s his turn to tremble, and he groans yet again.

“God...Katniss...”

I’m his craft once more. His hands grasp me, knead me, squeezing my voluptuous backside as he would when he prepares dough. And just as the touch readies dough for heat, it too, sets me utterly ablaze.

Unbridled moans and mewls sound from my throat at his massage, my legs spreading wider and my back arching further. There’s barely a connection between anxiety and my ravenous core anymore, hunger almost entirely at the helm.

“God...” Peeta moans again, and such a noise pushes me into raw desperation.

“Peeta...” I whimper in a tone so unlike my own, “Peeta...”

We’re on the same plane. He understands immediately. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just as hungry as I am, made raw by the sight before him.

So he quickly rectifies the situation. I feel the bed shift, before he brings a shaky hand to grasp one of my hips. I’m barely breathing, barely able to process with such deep anticipation. His following words almost don’t reach me, what with the beautifully torturous feeling of his head just barely brushing betwixt my folds.

“Okay...I love you, Katniss...”

I somehow wheeze, somehow manage, those words landing when nothing else can.

“I love you too- AH!”

I’m no stranger to the feeling of Peeta sheathing himself deep within me, to holding him snuggly and tightly in a space reserved just for him. We’ve danced in it and dazzled in each other so much lately that it’s, in fact, almost become something of a second nature.

So it’s definitely strange that just a mere change can have electrifying, incredible effects.

The cry from his entrance was utterly unavoidable; he feels deeper and heavier than ever before. I’m stunned at how different it feels, at the intensity behind it. He’s within familiar grounds, and yet it feels entirely new.

I’m dazed, but my hunger is utterly elated. It sings at the feeling, rejoices, driving me to slide myself backwards against him, swallowing him impossibly deeper.

His groan intersects beautifully with mine, the both of us likely relishing in the sensations. When I dare to ease my hips forward again, I feel Peeta’s other hand reach to grasp. With his hold complete, he pulls me back as he thrusts deeply.

And I already find that I’m quickly losing control, everything working to utterly unravel me.

The strokes, so deep and reaching, quickly earn a stream of incoherence from my hanging mouth. I moan and whimper and grunt a plenty, weaving a tapestry of pleasured nothings.

“Mmm...Oh, God...Peeta...”

There’s also something about this that strangely seems to amplify, something that makes it the most different from our previous sessions: I cannot see him. I cannot see the beautiful, wrenched effort on his visage, nor can I steal the moans from his lips. I cannot latch myself to his tender neck, nor can I run my fingers through his ashy locks.

It’s just the sensation of him within me. Nothing more but his powerful drives and our precious connection.

No wonder it’s so raw, so animalistic indeed.

But perhaps, not mutual.

Where I would expect Peeta to take off, to drive with reckless abandon, he instead remains...oddly consistent with his glides. They’re heavenly, and reaching, but unamplified. In fact, instead of speeding up as expected, he seemingly slows within me.

Such a turn, a difference in the usual chain of events, is enough to whip my head around. It’s my turn to furrow with confusion and concern, squinting through the intense mindfog to finally lay eyes upon him.

Which ends up being a blessing and a curse; the sight of him in such a position is almost enough to send me reeling further. Seeing him kneeling, grasping my hips, panting with reddened cheeks, and disappearing deep within...

A shiver runs up the length of my spine, exiting through my mouth as my voice just barely manages to quiver his name.

“...P-Peeta?”

“I...Um...”

It’s like we’ve switched places, what with him being apprehensive and me existing in a realm of thirst and confusion. Just as before, a cock of the brow and a building question is what spurs the opposite party into explanation.

“I’m...It’s going to sound...cheesy, okay? But I uh...It’s...Different I guess, not being able to...look at your face. Or kiss you. Or...”

He shifts himself a bit as he reaches for my face with a hand, effectively sending himself inward at a deep, torturous angle. It drives me strangely mad, my eyes rolling and my throat resonating with a squeak. It feels so foreign, to be reduced to this. And in my state, in my heightened desperation, I find myself blurting without much control.

“-Keep going.”

He freezes then, inside and out, looking upon me with widened blues. Such an expression mildly grounds me, offering a pang of guilt and a subsequent apology to follow.

“Sorry...” I wheeze, “I...I didn’t mean...If...you’re not...”

I’m a mess with my attempts to breathily stammer. But just as further guilt begins to bud, just as I fear I’ve forced him into an uncomfortable place, he gives such an unexpected and strong jerk of his hips that I yelp into the tense space.

When the shock leaves my system, when the static clears my brain, I’m able to see him beginning to smile once more, a bit more lecherous than before.

“Hmm...You know, different...might not be so bad then...”

“But-”

Again, he tortuously cuts me off, giving another strong jerk and sending me careening.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, looking at him with widened eyes, trembling legs, and a stunned soul.

“Because...” he grunts, softly squeezing and kneading my hips, “You like this, don’t you?”

He shifts then, focusing on slowly feeding himself into my depths, effectively earning a low grunt from his throat. A noise that’s quickly overpowered by my own, an open-mouthed moan as I squirm against the mattress, against his lovely torment.

“Peeta...”

“Yeah? You like it? Hmm, love?” 

My eyes flash at his darkened vocals, followed by a bite of my lip to hush the rolling whimper. Something is most definitely in the air tonight. The sun surely exploded in its descent. We’ve never really been so...raw with each other, so driven and demanding.

But it seems neither of us have any qualms. Even my worry towards pressuring Peeta into an unfavorable session seems to back away, what with his ebony murmurs and expressions so evident. We seem to be re-aligning, re-joining each other on the same plane of passion.

Thus, do I desperately nod, at his complete disposal. I slide myself backwards then, easing until I’m practically touching his pelvis, panting and gritting at the extent of penetration.

“I’ve forever to kiss you..." he whispers.

Please...Please please.

I’m hardly with it enough to question the strangeness behind the newfound begging, simply squirming and existing entirely within the desperate space.

“...But not long enough to pleasure you so...”

Thus, miraculously, do any last bits of wall come tumbling down.

And I’m no longer in our bedroom. I’m within droves of ardent fire. I’m traversing the very surface of our sun. I’m in a place so foreign, a state so delightfully insane, where none have ever brought me before.

All from the sudden, strong, and intense reaches of him deep within.

Oh, how I fall apart. How I deliciously unravel. Being so pent up, so oddly starving, the hunger gorges and instantly sets me alight. Just as it screamed before, I too, find myself vocalizing with such strength.

It’s a medley, an absolutely chaotic medley of passion. Beyond my cries and his grunts, I can hear his pelvis slapping against my back side again and again. Beyond the flashes and shivers in my vision, I can see our bed hammering from the force he’s inflicting. Beyond the heat and pounding stream of blood, I can feel him hitting places so new and intense.

And it’s everything. I love him. I adore him. And I cherish the connection we have, the way we can send each other directly into the heavens. I never could have imagined. Even mere months ago, I never could have imagined.

“Gggh...Katniss!”

His deep grunt coupled with the groan of my name is enough to break me from my overwhelmed thoughts; the dig of his fingers into my hips is enough to ground me completely. I cannot escape the ungodly pleasure now. I am present, and at its full mercy.

And when a thrust hits just so, when a piece of my glass cracks and threatens to shatter, it’s no wonder that my arms fall instantly gelatinous. I cry and toss my head back, sending a rolling ebony wave before my front half descends. I desperately grip the blankets, knotting the fabric with begging grunts and whines.

But it only continues to build, and build, and build, impossibly faster and impossibly deeper. Our souls are tangled, so very tangled, dancing and intertwining and refusing to let go. Naturally, I start to ascend, faster than I ever have before. The fire licks its way up my belly, caressing my jiggling breasts and-

...No, that’s his hand, reaching beneath to knead and massage, emboldened and salacious. My eyes roll something terrible, my hips even more so, more and more of the glass chipping away. He’s snarling, almost yelling; I know he’s so close too. But somehow, just as he always has, Peeta dashes through the chaos and holds me above all.

His wandering hand suddenly juts backwards, racing down my body before fingers find their prized destination. There’s a subsequent bolt of electricity at my core, followed by a heave of tension as cracks spiderweb throughout. I’m on the cliff, on the edge, writhing and seeing it shatter before me...

“Peet-”

The final note of his name shifts into that of a divine keen, elongated and reaching as my wings outstretch. I feel like I’ve never flown so high before. It feels as if though I breach the very reaches of our atmosphere, everything whited out and flashing with a dazzling array of color.

Surely I’m screaming. Surely I’m crying out with such forceful contractions wracking my system. But I can barely breathe, barely process. There’s nothing but this. Nothing but him.

Him- somewhere below, I can hear his desperate groans. He too, yelps like he’s attempting to hold on to the Earth, to stop such a rapid ascent into space. But with a distant, cracking yell, and with another push that drives me even higher, I welcome him into my flying embrace.

I hold onto him so tightly. I fly and dance and marvel in the closeness, in the connection we share. I soar hand in hand, his softness rivaling that of the cloud we pass. Before eventually, inevitability, we must return to a realm more frequented.

I land hard. My form essentially evaporates upon impact. The moment Peeta breaks our connection, the moment he releases my hips, I fall into a heap atop the blankets. It’s no surprise that I’m shivering, nor that I’m weeping, overwhelmed to the warmest, highest degree. I remain on my stomach, limbs sprawled every which way, continuing to pant and ride through the occasional aftershocks.

When the sound of my pounding heart departs from my ears, when I become more aware of my surroundings, I can hear Peeta on the bed behind me, heavily panting all the while. Surely he’s sitting back, likely riding the same lingering effects as I. 

But I need him. After almost selfishly delighting in such pleasures, I miss him. So I turn my head against the blankets, attempting to look in his direction as I reach with a hand.

“P-Peeta?”

Unsurprisingly, he understands. In mere seconds, he heaves himself beside me, flopping down atop the mattress. Though I’m utterly exhausted, and akin to jelly, I hoist myself onto my side and into his arms, our bodies as close as possible without the added element of fire.

And there, I snuggle, I caress, I kiss. I make up for the missed touches. He of course, reciprocates, the both of us tiredly offering all the affection we can muster between our shaking breaths. Soon enough, falling back into our usual patterns, we begin to smile. Then breathlessly giggle. Then speak and whisper sweet nothings through our exhausted exchanges.

“Oh...my God...Oh God...” I wheeze into one of our many kisses.

Peeta snickers a bit then, his hands beginning to softly rub circles against my bare back.

“I don’t...I don’t know what happened...what came over me...” I whisper, shying away to nestle my cheek against his.

He laughs more then, somehow managing to tug me even closer.

“Hooo, well...Whatever it was...I’m glad...I’m glad it did...”

I feel myself blushing, somewhat...shocked by the intensity of my actions. And in considering my behavior, in considering how ferocious the hunger was, it unsurprisingly reminds me of the likely sacrifice Peeta had to make in order to appease. I flush even harder, moving to hide my face against his perspiring shoulder.

“I’m sorry...” I murmur against his sweet skin.

“Hun?”

“I didn’t mean to- I mean, I didn’t...”

I of course, struggle through my words, through my explanation. I’ve never been good at saying something. But my love patiently waits, expectantly waits, continuing to softly rub me through the silence. As usual, his understanding anchors me, and I whimper the truth rather sheepishly.

“It just felt so good, Peeta...”

To my relief, he gives a hard, handsome laugh, rattling our tangled forms.

“That’s all I could ever hope for, sweetheart...” he replies with lingering chuckles, pressing his gentle lips to my dampened hair.

I sigh at the tender contact, but continue to push myself.

“Really though...I’m sorry...I didn’t...want to make you uncomfortable...”

“You didn’t.”

When I huff against his shoulder, he softly tugs me backwards, allowing our stares to connect once more.

“You didn’t, love. Clearly.” He chuckles a bit more, before falling back into his earnest tone. “Like I said, it was just...different, that’s all. I marvel in your beauty, you know.” 

When I scowl at him, at the compliment, he grins even wider.

“And yes, I’m used to seeing your face in this. But thankfully, every inch of you happens to be stunning.”

“Peeta...” I groan, feeling my cheeks flush something terrible beneath his onslaught of tender eloquence. Once more, he laughs, before leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

“I just got to address the less...frequented places,” he continues with a smirk, “Which after tonight, won’t stay that way for long, I’m sure.”

I huff, which again, earns another snicker coupled with a kiss. When we break away however, I find myself staring into those sparkling, warm blues. His expression shifts into something more gentle, more awed, surely catching the earnestness behind my stare. My hands reach up to cup his face, stroking my thumbs against his scarred yet softened skin.

“I did miss this, you know...” I whisper, topping my words off with a kiss to his nose.

“Well, I did say we have forever,” he replies with a growing, crooked grin.

“That’s not long enough for this either...”

I pull him into perhaps the softest, tenderest kiss of the night, one more fitting for the day than the dusk. It’s one I pour all my adoration into, of course having to verbally proclaim it all the same.

“I love you so much...” I murmur against his lips.

Once more, the connection breaks from the strength of his smile, delightfully warming body and soul before the sentiments are returned.

“And I love you...”

There we remain for numerous comfortable beats, continuing to lazily kiss and caress until the last of the sunlight disappears from the night sky. I find myself contemplating what lead to such an explosion, what lead to my desire firing off to such an extreme degree. Of course Peeta would be on the same wavelength, though the grinning question that breaks the silence gets me laughing and shoving his chest.

“You don’t...happen to have further tricks up your sleeve, do you?”

#Everlark #Everlark fic #Everlark fanfiction #Everlark smut #NC-17 #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #Mockingjay #thg #...HEEHOO LMAO #There's a parody out there- I think of Naruto? #Where Hokage is like 'Shhhhh...I'm trying to hear the nudity' #AND HONESTLY I FELT THAT JSLKDHLSK #I'm so rusty to this so pls forgive #BUT I TRIED #WE OUT HERE TRYING TM #WE OUT HERE SERVING THAT SPICE #WE OUT HERE TRYING TO WRITE WITH THE BEST OF THEM SHKDJLSHS #also rip katniss in this jskdhsklds #you know she dead #soul went straight to god #PEETA OUT HERE SERVING TM

[pascalpanic]

din + “I remember practicing how to ask you out to the mirror.”

Brown Eyes (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: It’s your one year anniversary with Din Djarin, and he takes you to the place where you had your first date.

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: none. not even language. I went soft soft on this one.

A/N: I’m still yearning for Din, so this one is so soft and fluffy. Be prepared.

The Mandalorian man may be covered in beskar, but you’re one of two creatures in the entire universe who knows how soft he is beneath it. The other one is Din’s little green son. You both absolutely adore the child, and you’ve come to be recognized as his buir. His parent. You and Din have raised the child together for the past few months.

The deal started out that you’d be the ship’s engineer. The Razor Crest was a piece of shit and Din needed someone good with mechanics. He found you on some little backwoods planet and was immediately enchanted. Needing a mechanic was the perfect excuse to get close to you.

Two months passed in the ship. You remained friendly, then became friends. Then one night, when the child was left in one of Din’s friends’ care, he asked you to go to a local festival with him.

“Wouldn’t the child love it?” You’d asked.

Mando, as you knew him then, swallowed hard. “I… specifically thought you’d like it. You and I would.”

“You and I,” you repeated slowly, looking at him. “Like. A date.”

“A date of sorts, yes.”

A grin lit up your face. “I would like that.”

And the festival was beautiful, filled with the planet’s celebration of returning life in their springtime. There was music and laughter and pastries and bright ribbons and flowers. Mando tucked a particularly beautiful purple flower behind your ear.

That night, he turned off all the lights in the Crest and kissed you. You could tell he had facial hair, had a large nose. Both so fitting for the man. He was tender and slow, and you were just the same. He murmured his name into your lips for the first time, so that you could know him truly. Din Djarin. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. The soft moans that came from his lips later were a close second.

That was months ago now. You and Din and the baby had lived as a happy family. You and your little son held down the ship while Din went on hunts. He always came back while you were asleep, cuddling beside you and waking you with a soft kiss.

It has been months like this, but you’ve still never seen Din’s face. You suppose you don’t need to. You know him and love him even without knowing what he looks like. He must be beautiful, you wonder sometimes. His skin is a beautiful tan. His body hair is dark, so you’d imagine his head would be covered in dark hair too. He must be a beautiful amalgamation of all of these features you know and love. You bet his eyes are brown.

A year passes. You land on the planet where you and Din had your first date, and you smile as you exit the ship, the baby in a birikad on your chest. There’s a celebration underway. It’s a year ago to the day, you realize, and you grin over your shoulder at Din. “Are you coming, handsome?”

“You haven’t even seen my face,” he chuckles and follows after you, beskar clanking.

The child coos and you wander over to a vendor, buying some aromatic sweets and feeding a little pastry to the child. Din follows behind the two of you as you explore the stands that form a circle around the center of the festival.

You buy beautiful clothing and flowers. Din buys you a metal necklace of silver. You buy snacks for the child as you wander. It’s perfect, and you even hold Din’s hand- a rare sight in public.

He must be in a good mood.

Of course he is, you think, as he murmurs sweet words to you and buys you treasures.

All of the people wear brightly colored silk sashes to honor their festival, families couples wearing matching colors and patterns. You approach a stand and a young woman flutters excitedly, seeing a couple without silks. “What a beautiful family,” she coos to you. “You must be off-planeters.”

“How could you tell?” You chuckle, even though it’s clear.

“Well, if you’re here to celebrate, you must wear sashes! It’s customary, and I think this one would look wonderful on you.”

She holds it up- it’s a pale green with silver patterns. “It matches your child and your Mandalorian,” she laughs.

“How much does it cost?” Din asks.

The woman shakes her head and grins. “Free, for such a beautiful family.” She hands you two beautiful sashes and a small one for the child. “Enjoy the festival, please.”

You leave a small pile of credits on her table for her to find and put it on, as well as the one for the child. You look up at your hulking beskar boyfriend. “You gotta wear it, Di- Mando.”

He takes one from you and nods. “I never said I wouldn’t,” he chuckles as he slips it on. It’s tight against his broad chest, where the other sashes are loose on you and your child, but you beam at him and press a kiss to his helmet.

Two of the three suns surrounding the planet set, leaving a dim and gorgeous light. This is when the festivities are truly beginning.

Lanterns are lit in each stall, illuminating the dancing field they encircle. Some music begins and all of the children and lovers flock to the field, dancing along. It’s lively and fun, with laughter and shouts filling the air.

You and Din stand on the side, the child now snoozing against your chest. His arm is around you as you sit on the sidelines, watching. He stands and you look at him. “What is it, love?” You ask, reaching out and taking his hand as he stands in front of you.

“My love. We’ve been together for quite some time now.”

You nod and grin at him. “We sure have.”

“I remember practicing how to ask you out to the mirror a year ago to this day. I was terrified you’d say no.”

You chuckle a little as you look at him. “Lucky you,” you tease and squeeze his hand.

Din falls to one knee in front of you. “You mean the world to me, cyare. All I want is you, forever. If you’ll have me.”

“Din, are you-“

“Will you marry me?” He finally asks, both hands clutching yours.

Your heart stops and tears begin to drip from your eyes. “Yes, oh my fucking Maker yes, Din,” you coo and throw your arms around him, beaming ear to ear. The child wakes at the commotion and coos inquisitively. “Your buirs are going to get married, kid,” you laugh.

The baby doesn’t quite understand your words, but he knows you’re happy and that’s enough. He squeals happily and presses a kiss to his father’s helmet as you break away from Din. “Well, what do we do? What does that mean in Mandalorian terms?” You ask, sitting back down on the bench next to him and pulling him to sit next to you.

“We exchange our vows. It’s that simple.”

You nod. “We can even do it now?”

“We could,” he says.

The realization hits you. “I could see your face now, in like, an hour?” You ask, gazing up at the helmet. He’s educated you on his religion. You know only spouses and children can see a Mandalorian’s face.

He nods, looking down at you and cups your face. “Yes. Would you like to do it now? I’d like nothing more.”

You nod frantically, beaming ear to ear. “Yes, yes of course I would,” you laugh, giddy with excitement.

“Alright. Repeat after me. We’ll say it once in Mando’a and once in Basic.”

You nod. “Go ahead, please.”

Din is smiling, you can tell. You can even see a tear drip down his neck. It makes you pout happily as your eyes fill with tears too. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He says as you take his hands.

You repeat after him, staring into his eyes beneath the beskar. “In Basic now?”

“We are one when together. we are one when parted. We will share all. We will raise warriors.”

You repeat after him, smiling so wide you think you’re going to break your face.

Din nods. “It is done.”

You squeal in excitement and hug him tight, laughing and crying and beaming. “My husband,” you coo softly and press a kiss to the bare skin between his helmet and his shirt.

He nods, his voice breaking softly. “My riduur.”

You break away and beam at him. “Can we go back to the ship and take off your helmet now?” You ask eagerly and he nods.

You stand from the bench and take his hands, pulling him along. “You’re so handsome under there, Din, I just know it.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, riduur,” he chuckles, rushing along with you happily.

You both break into a run, finding your way into the ship and closing the ramp behind you. Din pulls up two crates and sets them across from each other, sitting on one and guiding you to the other. You remove your birikad and set down the child. He toddles off happily elsewhere.

Din takes your hands and puts them on the sides of his helmet. “See your riduur, ner cyare.”

You nod, sniffling softly. He helps you remove the helmet and your eyes instinctually close. “It’s okay, my love. Look at me,” Din assures you.

Your eyes open, and in front of you is your husband, your Din. He’s so beautiful. “I was right,” you coo softly, eyes watering as they scan his face.

“About?” He chuckles nervously.

“Your eyes. They’re brown.”

-

translations:

riduur- spouse

birikad- baby carrier, the kind that straps them to your chest

ner cyare- my beloved

buir- parent

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pascalpanic

[chocolate-parfait]

Ok weird request if it’s to hard don’t do it scenario fluff where Theo/Mc have a newborn baby and how Theo is like like um he takes care of the baby by himself for the day this is so weird I’m sorry if it’s to hard u don’t gotta do it LOL

Not weird at all! I hope you like it, I felt very soft when writing this ;u;

Also imagine this: Theo has to take care of something but he's holding the baby. Arthur is the only person around but he doesn't wanna see the smug grin on his face when he's holding HIS child. Begrudgingly, he passes them to his bestie saying "You may hold the child. Once." idk it made me smile

also reference to than one meme that went "you may spank it, once."

A father's heart - Ikemen Vampire (Theo)

Sitting on the velvet armchair in the stillness of a spring afternoon, Theo held his beloved bundle of happiness with his arm, lulling it up and down, chasing away any possible disturbance from their sleep. Softly humming an old nursery song that stayed with him throughout his childhood, he gazed attentively at the small face laying on his chest, memorizing every small detail with a love and care he reserved for particularly beautiful paintings only. The baby's eyes were now closed, a peaceful expression on their face, but when they were open, there was always a bright spark of inquisitiveness, and they looked around with great curiosity; many had told him that they were of the same sky blue as his own, and whenever such comments emerged during conversations, they'd go straight to his chest, filling it with pride and joy. To his biggest dismay, he was no artist and had no talent for art, but he firmly believed that this was the greatest creation he could ever achieve, even in a thousand lifetimes. No masterpiece could compare to the feeling of holding his own child between his arms; it was the creation of your love, a mixture of you and him, yet completely original and unique on its own.

As he lazily swam through such pleasing considerations, a wide smile forming on his lips unbeknownst to him, a small hand reached up to grab his collar, half-opened blue irises trying to get used to the cozy light permeating the parlor. A small whine, then another, slightly louder than the previous broke the still atmosphere.

“Feeding time, already? Let's go get you some milk then, little one.” Sitting up, Theo strolled out of the warm room, walking downstairs towards the kitchen. Passing by the dining room, he met the local pianist's grimace with a glare of his own. Yes, the baby was crying. Yes, he knew how much Mozart disliked loud and annoying sounds. BUT! They were his baby angel's, and as such, he accepted no manifestation of displeasure around the child. Even when their diaper was full of smelly excretions or their throat sore from crying out loud the whole night, they still were one of the best things that had ever happened in his life; alongside you and Vincent, obviously.

After finally reaching the kitchen counter, Theo skillfully prepared the feeding bottle (one of the many gifts from Comte's trips to the future) and turned on the stove to heat the milk. As he waited for everything to get ready, he took out a pacifier from his breast pocket, and offered it to the baby, in the hopes of distracting them for a couple minutes. In the meantime, the art dealer's best friend and worst nightmare stepped into the small room, eyes full of mischief like usual.

“Who do we have here, the inseparable duo! Already having some attachment issues, are we?” Despite being met with just a grunt, Arthur kept his Cheshire grin in place and moved closer, cooing in delight as a joyful giggle came from the small creature. “How can you treat me so coldly, when even your own newborn adores me so much?～” When, after saying such words, Arthur spread his arms as if inviting the child to escape their own father's embrace, Theo turned the other way, looking even more annoyed than before. “There's no way in hell I would be giving YOU my kid of all people. You'll probably drop them.”Another giggle from the infant. “What kind of criminal are you trying to paint me as!”

As their banter went on, gradually louder than the previous whines that had disturbed Mozart so much, the art dealer swiftly poured the warm milk inside the bottle, letting it cool down a bit before sitting down in the dining room, Arthur following suit behind him. Any complaint and half insult that was flying in the air before, completely quieted down as both men's attention caught sight of the newborn calmly drinking. As the bundle's small hands gripped the bottle, Theo lost himself in the sight before him. Seeing the baby alive, safe, and contentedly drinking the milk like a starved man made him realize once more how lucky he had gotten in this second life of his.

“Theo.”

Thinking back, if you hadn't stepped in and convinced him not to throw his life away for revenge then he, you and your child wouldn't be here.

“...Theo!” The man immediately snapped out of his thoughts when his friend snatched the bottle away from him. “You're feeding them too much! Also, you have to...” Immediately understanding what needed to be done, Theo gently held them upwards and rubbed their back, waiting for the cause of discomfort to disappear before finishing the bottle feeding session, ignoring the other's teasing look.

Parting ways from the English writer, the chestnut-haired vampire took his dozing infant to the nursery, lovingly tucking them in their white cradle. After doing so, he did not immediately go away, instead remaining there by their side, gazing at them with a peace and quiet that would trick one into thinking that his aquamarine eyes were his brother's instead of his own. As he smirked at the realization of how uncharacteristic this tenderness was of him, gaze focused on the baby's sleeping face, he felt a pair of arms sneak around his waist, hugging his body in a tight embrace. Immediately recognizing your gesture, Theo turned around and held you back, closer still. You had barely been out for a couple hours, and yet he had missed you so dearly. The family would never be complete without you.

Carefully tucking those thoughts at the back of his mind, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Had fun in town today?”

“Surely not as much as you did. You look so relaxed, darling. That loving expression, it suits you.”

“It's all thanks to you, liefste”

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh

[no-droids]

Rough Day (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: When you woke up this morning, you didn’t really think it would be a “fixing Mando’s knife wound and then giving him a handjob” kind of day today but hey, who knew that agreeing to babysit a bounty hunter’s weird, green little child would be so full of surprises.

Warnings: Smut, language, handjobs (duh), dirty talk, Pedro Pascal (deserves his own warning), mentions of blood, spoilers for the Mandalorian.

Maker, why is this even a thing?

You don’t know his name.  You’ve never seen his face.  He barely says a word, doesn’t even move much unless he needs to.  If he didn’t have such an obvious complex about droids, you would’ve thought he could be one himself, quietly forged and hidden beneath gleaming beskar armor for an untold number of years.  You know practically nothing about him other than the few things you’ve heard about his culture—most likely either grossly exaggerated or just flat out nonsense.  Everything about him is an enigma, even down to the vaguely impersonal things, such as the technical name for his “poof gun” or what insane percentage of his body weight metal has to account for.

But that doesn’t stop you.  Nope, the fact that you’ve never even seen a strip of his skin doesn’t stop you from nursing a stupid, helpless crush on the quiet bounty hunter.  Stars, it’s ridiculous.  The modulated, low baritone, the intimidating way he carries himself, so stoic and dark and foreboding and tall—

He terrifies you.  You’re absolutely terrified of bothering him, of being too forward or inquisitive.  You sit in the cockpit with him for hours in dead silence, kid perched on your lap in the copilot’s seat to keep him from touching anything, hypnotized by the way his helmet subtly reflects the streaks of hyperspace as they race by and thinking about all the impossible things you want to know but can never ask about.  The last thing you want to do is accidentally test his patience, possibly get marooned on some backwater planet somewhere because you just couldn’t accept something so beautifully mysterious for what it is.

So you ultimately strive to be almost as quiet as he is, always helpful but never in the way.  You troubleshoot mechanical issues with the vessel when they make themselves known, take the baby in one of the secluded areas of the hull and play peekaboo for a bit when he gets too fussy, or just pick up a rag and start cleaning when there’s nothing else to occupy your time.  You sleep occasionally, curling up on the floor of the hull with a blanket to avoid taking up too much space, living out of your suitcase and making a generous ten percent of his commissions just by copiloting and keeping watch over the child while he works.  With the strict schedule he keeps, your pay is always handsome and consistent, even if it is all a bit boring.

Watching him wrestle his bounties into carbonite is admittedly the most exciting part for you, the rest of your days filled with nothing but the interior of the vessel as it either travels through hyperspace or sits stationary on a planet.  He always returns to you bruised and dirty, manhandling and shoving his bounties up the ramp and into the carbonite chamber one by one, not bothering with the fuel needed to collect payment until at least three or four have been retrieved.

You try not to constantly replay the incredibly vivid memory of one of them snarling something sexually obscene at you once and how quickly the bounty hunter whipped his fist out and broke his nose before freezing him.

“Isn’t… isn’t he still conscious in there?”  You remember asking, studying the disgustingly crooked angle of the man’s shattered silver nose, to which the Mandalorian shortly replied, “Yes,” before clambering into the cockpit and taking off.

You had to bite down on the back of your hand to keep from whimpering when you touched yourself later that night.

Maker, you want him.  You want to help him relax, give him something soft and warm to come back to after exhausting days spent in the elements, after not sleeping for who knows how long and toting elusive criminals behind him.  Sometimes you can’t think about anything else besides how hard he’d fuck, how much he desperately needs it, how sexy his voice would sound raggedly gasping your name through the modulator in his helmet.  You want to get on your knees and give him the reward he deserves for putting himself in danger for a living, risking his life time and time again for mere credits.  If he even returns your feelings by ten percent, it’d be gracious and far more than you deserve.

But then one day he comes back limping, dragging a dead body on the ground behind him by the hem of its ankle.  The baby is already fast asleep in the cockpit so you thankfully have nothing better to do but watch as he silently hauls the dead weight into the hull, heaves it upright into the carbonite chamber.  He’s slow—too slow in pressing the button.  He looks at it for too long.  It’s like he has to double-check it’s the right one, adjust his vision until it fully focuses and registers.  Breath coming out stunted and shallow through his helmet, every movement somehow looks like it’s increasingly more difficult for him, limbs heavy and weighed down with iron braces and pure exhaustion.

His silhouette slowly approaches through the thick haze of freezing gas, and you blink rather stupidly down at your hand when an emergency cauterizer is suddenly pushed into it.  Without a word, he turns around and starts working at his chest plate.

You’re… you’re actually kind of worried now.  He usually takes care of these things himself, shuts himself away and tends to his own wounds after capturing unexpectedly difficult quarry.  How serious must his injury be to not bother getting into hyperspace before treating it, much less even closing the door to the ship?

Finally managing to find some sense of urgency, you quickly reach up to fiddle with the complex magnetics below either of his pauldrons.  Once the beskar, utility belt, and underplates are all removed, the Mandalorian abruptly drops to his knees with a loud clang and curls over, reaching behind his gleaming helmet to pull weakly at his cape and tunic.  You lower yourself to the floor and help him, hands trying not to shake as the warm, tan skin of his spine gradually reveals itself from under the dark fabric.

Your heart somehow leaps and contorts simultaneously, soon catching sight of the ugly tear of a knife wound steadily dripping crimson down his side.  “Shit,” you whisper, fumbling with the unfamiliar piece of medical equipment in your hands.  “Shit, Mando, are—are you sure this’ll be enough?”

“Not deep,” he punches out through the modulator.  “Just need… close it.  Be alright.  Sleep.  Set coordinates…”

The cauterizer zaps red and reflects against the gradually dissipating fog in the air, its threatening buzz echoing throughout the quiet hull with impending pain.  

“Try not to move,” you warn, swallowing thickly and reaching your hand out to rest along the smoothness of his bared skin.  He noticeably flinches.

Your fingers squeeze gently, reassuringly as you bring the laser down and start at the very edge of the wound.  The Mandalorian manages to stay remarkably still for being in what you can only imagine must be incredible pain, the skin of his back feverishly warm under your palm as it periodically flickers and illuminates a glowing red.  

You have to bite down on your lip when he suddenly shoots a hand back to firmly grab hold of the bend in your knee, taking slow, deep breaths through the modulator and trying to relax the tensing muscles wrapping around his spine.

Maker, this is like a fever dream.  His skin is so smooth, firm and lovely and bronze under your gentle touch, muscles pulsing with life as you slowly work to stop the bleeding by scarring over the tissue.  It’s so… intimate.  The silence broken only by the zapping cauterizer and his tight breaths, the way you’re both holding onto each other for entirely different reasons.

His grip on your knee suddenly turns to steel and he huffs out a ragged gasp in wordless caution, giving you just enough time to pull your thumb off the button before his body jerks a few inches in pain.  His tunic falls down your wrist with the abrupt movement and nearly touches the sizzling wound before you can catch it, quickly yanking the fabric up his curled back as far as you can and readjusting your hold on him.

You give him a beat to recover like that before softly reassuring under your breath, “Halfway done,” and brushing the knuckles of your other hand down his spine in a small gesture of comfort.

His muted grunt of acknowledgement follows a minuscule little tremor under your palm, the way his body seems to be responding to your touch filling you with some new, radical kind of bravery.  You quietly shuffle closer to him and turn the cauterizer back on, carefully framing his hips with your open legs.

“That little green thing up there is a monster, you know,” you suddenly say, wanting to distract him by filling the void but not wanting to overwhelm him with conversation.  Even small talk is considered uncharted territory here, but you figure it’s better than letting him suffer in silence.  “I saw it eat a live fish today.  A fish.  Grabbed it out of the pond over there like it was nothing and just swallowed the damn thing whole, fins and all.  Most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You don’t hear him or see him move, but you do feel a subtle shake of his ribcage under your hand.  It fills your heart with air.

“Was twice as big as the little hairball,” you continue on.  “Surprised he’s not still flailing around in there right now, throwing him off balance.”

“Not with…those ears,” a modulated voice returns quietly, his gloved thumb barely brushing a half inch across your kneecap when you suddenly breathe out a laugh in surprised delight.  

“Maker, it’s worse than I thought.”  Your hand soothes gently along his back, trailing over the hills and valleys of each individual rib while you work.  “A Mandalorian just told a joke.”

“S-symptom of… of impend—ing death.”

“Yes, well.  At least the dramatics are consistent,” you remark.  “I deserve a raise, by the way.  Holding that little gremlin over the toilet and having him stare up at me while he does his business is getting real old real quick, tell you that much.”

“Reason…” he breathes out, trying not to wince, “…hired you.”

“Jerk,” you accuse with a smile.  “He’s healing you next time.”

There’s a small huff through the modulator, and his helmet tinks against the metal floor when he abruptly drops his head to rest there.

“Almost done,” you tell him, curling your fingers and softly dragging your nails down his side in hopes of distracting him from the pain.  It works like a charm, his whole body instantly going boneless at the sensation.  “Finish this up, close the door, set coordinates.  Get you clean, then you can rest for a few days.  You work too hard.”

“Mand—lorean…” he barely croaks out in response, as if the almost inaudible word counts as a valid explanation.

“Hadn’t noticed,” you say, finally reaching the other end of the wound.  You turn the cauterizer off and double check your work, hating the deformed scar for marring his beautiful skin but reasonably satisfied it won’t accidentally reopen.  “Alright.  Done.”

He doesn’t move.

“… Mando?”

His body stays completely still, unresponsive to your inquiry and his breaths no longer immediately audible.  Your blood instantly turns to ice in your veins as you drop the silver contraption to reach around his body and shove two fingers under his helmet, pressing them up against his lower jaw as best you can.  Only, the thick fabric of his cape wraps around his neck in layers like a shawl, blocking you from feeling his pulse.

“Shit,” you hiss, your other hand quickly rounding his side under the tunic to travel up the front of his bare torso instead. Pointedly ignoring the way his chest hair tickles your fingers as you wiggle them up firm pectorals and a prominent collar bone, you eventually find and push against a scruffy jawline.

The quick, steady beating under the tips of your fingers allows you to relax just slightly, but then the Mandalorian suddenly grunts and shifts, trapping your elbow under his arm and bringing his hand up to cradle the back of yours over his shirt.

You freeze with your body nearly folded over him on the floor like that, praying you haven’t overstepped somehow.  This is an emergency, surely he wouldn’t think you’re—

Slowly, so achingly slowly, he starts to pull your hand down the strong lines of his neck.  You gasp, fingers trembling under his as he gradually leads you lower, letting you trace the dip in his collar bone, spread out across the solid curve of his chest and feel his heart beat unexpectedly rapidly under your palm.

Maker, this is real—he’s real.  Warm, sturdy, clearly too delirious and lost in the same exact euphoria you are to snap himself out of it.  Touch.  Skin-to-skin contact after so much isolation, so many years spent by yourself.  In other circumstances, you might be worried that you’re taking advantage of him in his clearly exhausted state, but his grip on the back of your hand is so strong—his path so steady and clear as you both travel across the hard ridges of his sternum and abdominal muscles.  If anything, he’s not giving you much of a choice in the matter, and for some reason that fact alone serves to make you incredibly bold.

When your fingers eventually bump into the hem of his trousers, you cautiously lean forward and press your lips to the Mandalorian’s exposed shoulder blade.

He instantly goes rigid at the gentle kiss.  And then his entire back quakes with a shudder.

“Fuck,” comes that dark, gritted baritone through the modulator, losing all sense of composure and frantically shoving your hand beneath the fabric hugging his waistline.

“Maker,” you whisper against his skin, equally as fervent, letting him spread his legs slightly in his hunched-over position and maneuver your palm to wrap around a warm, thick cock.  He groans and gives them both a good, rough squeeze over the thick layers of fabric.

“Fuck—you’re—“ he moans hoarsely, moving to brace an arm above his head on the floor with a metallic clatter so he can slowly start to thrust his hips into your clenched fist, “fuck—soft.  How’re you so f-fucking—sof—oft.  ‘N pr-pretty.”

Your body fills with wildfire, ladling heat into your lower tummy.  “Softer somewhere else,” you admit quietly, brushing your thumb along the tip of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it.

“I—fuck—be-believe you,” he gasps, growing harder and harder in your hand.  “Bet you feel—per-perfect.  S’perfect.  H-home.  Rough—” his breathing stutters, helmet rolling to the side on the floor with a dull scrape, “Ngh, fuck—ro—ough day.”

“Let me handle it,” you murmur, beginning to stroke his throbbing length up and down in time with his cramped, stunted thrusts.  It’s not ideal, of course; it’s dry, probably too dry but for some reason you think he might like it more this way.  He gets to feel every ridge and crevice your fingers catch, gets to use his hand to tighten your grip around him even more and desperately start dry fucking your fist like he’ll never get enough of the sensation.

“Let you do anything,” he agrees mindlessly, the words sounding slurred and distorted as he groans them deliriously into the floor.  “Give you—give you anything.  Fuck.  Sw-sweet girl.  Helpful.  Always—always taking care of things.  The k-kid.  L-look so—look so pretty.”

You press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the heaving curve of his spine, letting your warm tongue come out to taste the thin sheen of moisture glistening there.  He growls low in his throat and freezes, holding himself perfectly still and clenching his hand into a fist on the floor as you flutter your tongue against his skin.

“I like taking care of other things, too,” you say softly into the dip in his shoulder blade.

“Ah—fucking, stars—like it—like it, too,” he grits, his cock pulsing between his legs.  “T-too much.”

“Relax,” you encourage, reaching your other hand down to gently cup his balls.  “Relax.  You need rest.  Just cum like this, I’ll go down on you later if you want.”

And then quite suddenly—so suddenly that you think it might actually surprise him more than you—he does.  

The Mandalorian cums.  Hard.  In your hand, right there on the floor, dark clothes bloody and prestigious armor halfway ripped off his body.

A ragged gasp tears through the modulator and his back straightens, the chin of his helmet lifting off the ground a few inches with it and his balls pulling up deliciously tight under your palm.  Warmth immediately begins to coat your fingers in throbbing spurts as he clangs a clenched fist against the hull, growling the first part of your name before it turns into a savage, wordless snarl.

You bite down on his back and moan with him, caressing the swollen head of his cock as it pulses spectacularly in your hand.  His orgasm is long and achingly slow, draining his body of its dwindling energy with every thick rope of cum you’re able to milk out of him.  He gasps and swears his whole way through it, until he finally exhausts every last reserve he has and collapses weakly to the floor.

With careful precision, you’re eventually able to remove your hands from his crotch.  His back continues to rise and fall with quiet, steady breaths, clearly passed out from overexertion, but it does give you the opportunity and privacy to lick your fingers clean without feeling embarrassed for doing so in front of him.

Nope, no embarrassment, just so fucking turned on that you might actually die.  He tastes absolutely divine—warm and masculine and gorgeously thick coating the shallow hills and shores of your knuckles.  Following your own advice, you manage to stand on shaky legs and close the hatch of the ship, deciding you should probably plot a course for… somewhere, before trying to clean Mando up or dress his wound.

You take a second to look back at him, laying there in a gorgeously disheveled pile on the floor, dead asleep.  It fills you with a surge of pride, being able to reduce such an untouchable, reputable bounty hunter to the level of any other man.  You already want him again, you’re already addicted to the glorious power trip of feeling him let go and fall apart under your touch.

Later, you silently promise yourself, climbing the ladder to the cockpit.  Later.

Edit: Read part two, Heaven in Hyperspace here.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #reader insert #smut #the mandalorian x you #this is sin #whoops my hand slipped #pedro pascal #no-droids #fanfic

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Nightmares ⊰

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Summary: John comforts his daughter after she wakes up from a nightmare.

Warnings: a smidge of angst, but major fluff

Words: 2.3k

A/N:  I was in a dad!john mood these last couple of days and ended up writing this fic. This is set a few years after Perfect to Me, which takes place in a universe that I'll be expanding with more of these family blurbs. Hope you enjoy!

Daylight has come and gone; an inky blackness speckled with countless shimmering, twinkling lights now fills the late midnight skies above. The air is calm, so serene—it’s tranquil silence lulling John to a deep, deep slumber, one that was very much needed after a tiresome day. Beneath the thick duvet, sleep is just a touch away following a brief bout of tossing and turning in bed. It always takes a little more time for him to retire when your body isn’t next to his during the night.

Eyelids heavy with fatigue, John was teetering on the edge of consciousness when a distant scream from down the hall pierces the quietude, causing him to jolt awake. In an instant, he pushes himself up and out of the mattress, his bare feet swiftly dashing across the hardwood as he heads to the source of the worrying sound. 

A familiar adrenaline fuels John’s hasty sprint, his mind already assuming that something terrible has happened. Sadly, it was a burden he still carries as a result of his past. He knows of the horrors in reality; he had been one of them at one point. Though time has passed since he walked away from that horrid life, John remains wary, afraid that there will come a day when this beautiful paradise he has found would be taken away.

John pushes the door open with enough force that it slams harshly against the wall, his heart hammering against his chest at the sight of the empty, disheveled bed in the middle of the room. “Ellie?!” He yells her name out loud, his voice frantic, trembling as panic starts to creep in. Before he could run to check the rest of the house, John hears faint shuffling coming from behind.

“Daddy?”

A sigh of relief falls from John’s lips once he sees his five-year-old curled up in the closet, seemingly distraught as he is. She was shaking, her lashes wet with fresh tears as she glances up at her father. Kneeling down, John joins her on the floor, his rapid breathing steadied following the recent fright. Ellie immediately crawls closer to him, her short arms wrapping around his mid as she buries her face into his shirt, finding comfort in his presence.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” John murmurs low as he tenderly strokes Ellie’s hair. Her tiny frame quivers while she stifles her sobs, the mere sound of her cries shattering his heart. 

“I had a bad dream,” she responds, tone soft and weary. John’s shirt is stained with her tears, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he holds her closer, tilting his lips down to place a kiss on her forehead, which aided in relaxing his darling daughter. With his warm embrace growing tight, he assures her that she is safe from harm. 

Yet, as they sit there on the carpeted floor, John feels a crushing pain from seeing her so scared. Since becoming a father, he often frets about Ellie. There would be nights when John would wake late in the evening to check on his baby, only to find her sleeping peacefully. He has this constant unsettling anxiety that looms over his head, a rooted fear that he could not shake off easily. 

“Come,” he eventually whispers, his utterance as delicate as the way he lifts her up from the ground, carrying her back to bed. 

Gently, John lays Ellie down on the mattress, drawing the pink blanket up to her body. He then switches on the lamp on the nightstand, its soft glow illuminating what should be a haven for her. John doesn’t even wait for her to ask him to stay; he could not leave her so soon. Sighing, he sits on the edge of the bed, the palm of his hand coming to rest on the side of her angelic face with features still tainted with terror.

“What was your nightmare about?” John probes, hoping that she would answer. 

Whenever he experiences nightmares of his own, you would pose to him the same question. At first, he was reluctant to share, not wanting to have you be a part of the torment his mind poisons him with. You, however, wouldn’t sleep until John opened up, and when he finally did, you always knew exactly what to say to bring him peace, never without fail.

“I-I was outside in the dark,” Ellie recounts with a whimper, her little fingers curling around the edge of the sheet. “A big monster was chasing me, and I screamed for help, but nobody came. I couldn’t find you or mommy anywhere.”

John’s heart is heavy as he pictures her completely helpless. Ellie is so young, innocent and vulnerable. She was too pure to witness or even dream about evil, but that he has no control over. John would do anything and everything if it means keeping her safe, but what could he do in a situation like this?

“Honey, I’m sorry to hear that,” he soothes, lightly running the pad of his thumb under her eye to wipe the remaining tears away. She resembles you more, he thinks, both reminders of all the good there is in this world. “But you’re alright now. It was just a bad dream, Ellie-bear. None of it was real.”

“Are you sure?” She wearily asks. “The monster looked real, daddy. What if it shows up again when I go to sleep?”

“I’m sure, baby. If you see the monster again, I promise I will be here to protect you. Your mother and I love you so much; we will never, ever let anything bad happen to you, El. Okay?”

Ellie wordlessly responds with a nod, reaching for John’s calloused hand then clutching it tightly with her softer one. “Daddy, do you get nightmares, too?”

“Sometimes,” he reveals, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. It still amazes John how much she’s grown over the last several years. He recalls how small her hands were when she was a mere few days old and how much love he had at the time for such a tiny precious thing.

A profound love that has since multiplied immensely even to this day.

“What happens when you wake up?” 

John pauses to ponder as Ellie’s curious chocolate eyes stare at him. They mirror his own in a way, and he smiles the slightest bit, his free hand moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, mommy usually talks to me for a bit, just like what we’re doing right now. She reminds me each time that nightmares aren’t real and we shouldn’t be scared of them.”

“You get scared of nightmares?” 

“I do,” he truthfully states. “But you don’t have to worry. All that matters is that you’re safe now.”

Gaze faltering, John could tell that she’s not wholly convinced by the pout on her lips as she fiddles with the shiny silver band on his ring finger. His eyes briefly dart to the stuffed animal that must have fallen when Ellie jumped out of bed and scampered to the closet. Leaning down, John retrieves the toy bear, softly smiling to himself at a passing memory.

“You know, I got Mr. Teddy right after mommy told me she was pregnant with you.” 

He remembers that moment as clear as day. The two of you have long desired for a family, and following a hard year of trying, you had surprised John on his birthday. He would never forget the indescribable feeling he had when you told him he was going to be a father. 

That night, you and John had gone on a lovely walk under the stars, imagining what the near future would look like. The bear caught his attention as you passed by a children’s store, and unable to contain his utter excitement, he had purchased it for the baby to play with one day.

“I always sleep with Mr. Teddy by my side,” Ellie notes as John places the bear in her arms. It was beginning to wear out after all these years, the brown faux fur fading into a dullish color. She could have any toy she wants, but her teddy bear would forever remain. Ellie could never part with it, and it means greatly to her as much as it does to John.

“You love Mr. Teddy, don’t you?” She nods, yes. “Well, from now on, Mr. Teddy will make sure that the monster never comes back. At night, when your mother and I are sleeping in the other room, Mr. Teddy will be our eyes and ears. Even if you don’t see us, he’ll be here to keep you safe.”

The corner of Ellie’s mouth turned up in a small smile, yet it was sweet enough to reassure John. He watches his little girl bring the bear up to her lips, giving the top of its head a brief kiss before holding it out towards him. John furrows his brow in confusion as she pushes Mr. Teddy into his hand. “What’s this?”

“You said you have nightmares,” Ellie replies, her voice soft like the plush in his grasp. “Since mommy’s at work, you can bring Mr. Teddy to your room. I know you’ll always protect me, but who’s going to protect you?”

John is caught off-guard by her simple query. Ellie was incredibly bright for her age, ever so inquisitive at most times. He spends four to five seconds contemplating, but in the end, he’s unsure of what to say. It truly warms his heart knowing that she was concerned about him and was willing to give up her favorite toy that she sleeps with every night. “It’s alright, honey. You need Mr. Teddy more than I do. I’ll be fine.”

“But what if you get a bad dream later?”

“I’ll be okay,” he affirms with a tender smile. “Nightmares aren’t real, but you are. Knowing that you’re here safe and sound is all I need to remind myself not to be afraid.”

For a while, John mulls over his words, absorbing the same truth he had tried to persuade Ellie to believe in. Days, weeks, months, and years have gone by since he quit doing business in the underground world, and so far, no threat has ever come to his family. His worried mind drove this trepidation he had, and to overcome it, he needed to listen to his own advice.

Nightmares aren’t real.

But you and Ellie are.

“Daddy, can you sleep here tonight?” 

Ellie looks up at him with her adorable pair of doe eyes, and John was powerless to them. He couldn’t turn down her request; he could never say “no” to his one and only princess. “Of course. Can you scoot over for me?”

Doing so, she gives him just enough room to lay down beside her. Though the bed was too small and cramped for John’s larger self, he couldn’t care less. Once he’s settled, Ellie snuggles up against him while she holds Mr. Teddy close to her heart, letting out a yawn as exhaustion sets in.

“I love you, daddy,” she mumbles sleepily, ready for blissful dreams to follow.

“I love you too, Ellie,” John returns, exhaling a content sigh. 

Soon after, Ellie’s fast asleep, her small body relaxed, and her rhythmic breathing slowing John’s. His arms cuddle her in, cocooning her as if he’s shielding her away from any and all danger. Within moments, his consciousness begins to ebb, this time unafraid of what was to come.

---

Dawn breaks.

The skies are bright and blue.

In glorious light, John’s eyes slowly flutter open, and he is greeted by the morning sunrise. It’s still quite early, he concludes, and he decides to stay in bed for now so that he doesn’t disturb Ellie. But before he could doze off again, he hears the squeaky creak of the floorboard coming from outside. 

“Hey,” you say quietly once John notices you standing in the doorway. “I was wondering where you were.”

John beams as you tiptoe inside the room, careful not to wake your daughter. Smiling, you bend down to kiss him on the lips. “How did your shift go?”

“It was a slow night in the ER, but I’m glad to be home,” you answer, brushing John’s lengthy locks away from his face. “What happened last night?”

“Ellie had a nightmare,” he states, keeping his volume very low. “I couldn’t let her sleep alone afterwards.”

At the mention of her name, Ellie stirs awake, nose crinkling as her fists rise to rub at her tired eyes. Once adjusted to the brightness of the room, her attention falls on you, and her rosy lips promptly quirked into a gentle smile. “Mommy, you’re home!”

“I am, baby,” you cooed as you shifted to kiss her forehead. “You can go back to bed, Ellie. I just wanted to check up on you two before I sleep for a bit.”

“Mommy, can you sleep here, too?”

You glance at your husband, who only gives you a pleading look similar to Ellie’s, and quickly, you concede defeat. 

Just like John, it was impossible for you to deny her of such. 

With a nod, your feet pads to the other side, peeling back the covers as he and Ellie move to allow you enough space to join. Crawling into bed, you rest on your side while John reaches for your hand, the three of you now laying in comfortable silence.

John waits until you and Ellie drift off to sleep, his heart soaring when he realizes he’s surrounded by the loves of his life. 

And as the sun continues to rise above the horizon once again, vibrant hues of yellow and gold shining down on the earth below, John falls back to a deep, deep slumber; memories of his nightmares now long forgotten, replaced by treasured moments like this. 

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick x you

[trivia-bangtan]

after (jjk) - 005

pairing: patient!oc x patient!jungkook

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda a hazel and gus trope, | lots of angst, fluff and suggestive themes

warning: this chapter gets extremely dark 😭 (nothing new lol)

authors note: omfg im so sorry it’s taken me so long to post 😩 the schedule might change from now on bc my schedule changed 😅 but hope u guys enjoy it 😩😩

there's a phobia called agoraphobia. it’s basically the fear of places and situations that can cause panic, helplessness and/or embarrassment. usually, i can deal with it. but things like cringe worthy scenes and overly cheesy romance is unavoidable.

especially being friends with jeon jungkook.

i knew better than to hand out my phone number to just anyone, but i thought maybe jungkook would be so busy with his own life, he would leave me alone.

for his parents' sake, i hope he had unlimited talk and text for his plan. the boy texted me first thing in the morning and every hour or so. he would call me at night, sometimes even facetime me, just before he went to bed. and even when we would hang up, he would still text me goodnight.

the only other person i would talk to everyday, other than my parents, is hoseok. hoseok was my older cousin, but one of my closest friends as well. but even hoseok gave a break during the day to allow some “me time” for the both of us.

jungkook was relentless. he would always text me “good morning sunshine” and then text me “good night my moon”. what the hell even was that?

as much as it was annoying, it was endearing in a sense. i guess it was nice to have someone other than family constantly checking up on me. but some part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of what namjoon had said and if he felt obligated to have to talk to me.

i knew jungkook wasn’t like that. but a small part of me couldn’t help but convince myself that it could be true.

“so the guy texts you all the time? it’s not a big deal,” hoseok said, sitting across the island in his kitchen. i stuck my fork into my bowl of fruit, impaling a small blueberry in the process.

“i mean, it’s not but it’s weird. hobi, i’ve never had someone crave to talk to me so often. and i swear it has to be because of what our counselor said,” i mumble.

the thing about hoseok is he has an aura that gets you to spill all emotions. much like jungkook. but the difference between the two of them in my life is that i’ve known hoseok a lot longer and can confirm he can keep his mouth shut.

“well contrary to your belief, you’re a decent person to have around,” he shrugs, giving a strawberry in his mouth. i snort at his comment and roll my eyes.

“wow, what a compliment. it’s a wonder you’re single,” i chuckle, shoveling the fork full of blueberries into my mouth.

“i’m single by choice. what about you?” hoseok smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” i asked, laughing at his expression.

“what?”

“the whole thing?” i respond, laying my fork down onto the counter, leaning onto it with my elbows, forearms flat as i folded my hands.

“i’m single because i choose to be. i prefer comforting solitude than forced company,” he shrugs, continuing to shovel fruit into his mouth.

“forced company?” i ask.

“yeah. like, just because we’re together, they feel obligated to HAVE to hang out with me or invite me everywhere when, in reality, i don’t give a damn. i mean, you know me. we both value our solitude and respect that. but it’s hard to find someone that understands that. and then i’m the bad guy for wanting alone time when really, it’s a mental health break,” hoseok explains, his eyes locked onto the bowl in front of him.

his statement surprised me. he was always such a people oriented person. as kids, he was the first to make friends between us and always such an extrovert. it kind of hurt to know eventually his whole personality switched. but maybe being so wrapped up in my world and in my own issues, i failed to acknowledge the people around me.

the atmosphere changed after that. almost as if there was a sad reminisce in the air.

“do you think you’re forced to keep me company?” i blurted. i couldn’t deny, the thought crossed my mind multiple times before. was everyone around me just babysitting to make sure i didn’t hurt myself?

i couldn’t tell. i knew asking would be dumb. hoseok would never tell me the truth. he’s usually a pretty blunt and up front guy, but he would never outright hurt my feelings. which saddened me even more. would he willingly lie to comfort me? knowing what i knew?

“do you think i am?”

“yeah,” i honestly admitted. we both sat in silence, taking in my answer.

it wasn’t a lie. like i said, the thought had crossed my mind. every time he placed his phone down on the table to force himself to give me his attention. the way he seemingly dropped everything immediately if i asked him to hang out with me or pick me up some place. how i never heard of him being with friends.

the more i sat there, the more i threw myself into overdrive, thinking until my head started to pound from overthinking.

“well, you’re wrong,” he sighed. my eyes flitted up to gaze at his face. he looked sullen, almost like my answer had upset him. i released a silent huff through my nose, smirking in the process.

“you don’t have to protect me,” i murmured quietly.

“my mom called me. she begged me to come home one day. i didn’t understand it at first, but she's my mom. i did as i was told. when i got home, she didn’t say anything, just told me to get in the car. i remember thinking to myself ‘what’s got her feeling this way? why is she being ominous with her actions?’ the whole drive, she said nothing,” hoseok said, a distant look in his eyes.

“she ended up pulling over at some park. it was late, so i didn’t recognize it at first. but then i realized what park it was. it was the park we went to as kids. and, again, i kept wondering to myself why she was being enigmatic with her actions. and then she spoke. she said six words and then didn’t speak the rest of the week,” he said, his voice shaken with sadness.

“what did she say?” i asked softly, my voice a mere whisper. hoseok looked up at me, his eyes glazed red.

“your cousin tried to kill herself.”

i felt like the air had come out of my lungs.

it’s funny, people like to talk about your attempts, but nobody ever tells you where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. nobody tells you the pain they feel or the hurt. the anger or the betrayal. they pretend like what they felt didn’t happen to convince themselves it wasn’t real and they could move on. because it didn’t work and you’re alive.

but hearing hoseok tell me about his experience, it stirred something in my heart and i hadn’t felt in a long time.

regret.

“she didn’t even mention if you survived or if you were okay. that’s all she said. and because she was crying, i assumed the worst. i had assumed you died. and it felt like everything in me… stopped working. like, i forgot what it was like to not have you by my side. every… every memory, every laugh. every inside joke. it was like a corny ass film playing at 2x speed in front of me. my mind kept telling itself this can’t be real. she wouldn’t do that to me’. but the longer we sat there and the harder she cried, i couldn’t take it. i jumped out of the car and just started running. i didn’t know where i was going but i just had to run because the car was so suffocating, i thought i was gonna pass out. and i kept asking myself ‘why her? why couldn’t she just talk to me? why didn’t she tell me she was hurting? does she know how much i love her and that i would do anything to keep her here?’ and then i was pissed because i thought you had abandoned me. that you didn’t care about me or your parents or my mom. but then… once i stopped running… i felt bad for you. because i could never imagine the amount of loneliness you must’ve felt thinking the only way to solve this was to end it all,” he said through his compendious recount of that night. i could feel the hurt and regret make its rounds in my heart, forcing my body to follow. it physically ached to hear hobi recall every moment of that night. “i’m sorry,” i cried out, crying into my hands.

“that’s why i hang out with you. that’s why i talk to you. because i don’t want you to feel that kind of loneliness ever again,” he admitted, sniffling. the hurt and regret only further festered and made me cry over hard to the point where i felt like i couldn’t breathe. hoseok stood from his spot, making his way around the island. he stood in front of me, pulling me into his chest, my arms wrapping around his waist. i hadn’t hugged anyone in years, and the amount of care and love hoseok had emitted through his hug made me cry even more.

“and that’s why i’m so glad you have jungkook. because when i can’t be there, at least he is,” he explained, rubbing small circles in my back.

though my doubt was still heavy, and i felt as if he had an ulterior motive, hoseok’s words comforted me in a way.

jungkook had been nothing but kind, never intrusive or inquisitive about my history or my feelings. he spoke to me because he wanted me to know that he cared.

and for the first time in forever, i felt something else too.

hope.

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[sleepy-sunlight]

Hey have you been busy or have you not been getting many requests? I miss your writing! If you have the time could you write something where the inquisitor has a child (around 5 years old) and the child stays with Cullen and the others at Skyhold whenever the Inquisitor is away? Thanks, I hope you've been doing well 💞💞

I’m a mix of busy and living for the next time I sleep so it’s been a bit messy life-wise but I’m trying to start things back up! Ideally, I’m trying to set up a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule where I post a prompt on one of my three blogs each day because I should be totally free during those days!  

Anyways, thank you for your patience, and have a fantastic day!

———————————————————————————————————–

Cullen grew up the second oldest of four. Most of his early childhood was spent parceling out responsibilities for watching over Branson and Rosalie with Mia.  

Branson was the epitome of what his mother had liked to call a ‘wild child’. He’d climb up to the tallest trees in Honnleath and when he found himself too high to properly come back down his solution was to swing from the branches until they broke. One could only guess how well that turned out.  

Rosalie on the other hand was a fan of collecting every insect or small animal that crossed her way. Cullen could still remember the yelps his mother would try to hide at the sight of Rosalie holding a long, winding centipede in her palms. The worst was a feral fox cub that’d subsequently became loose in the house. That’d been an eventful evening.  

Neither sibling was ‘ideal’, but he supposed even he had his own faults.  

Nevertheless, it made Cullen oddly ideal with children. For all his military abilities and fighting talent, most were astonished at how in the snap of one’s fingers, Cullen could stop even the worst wailing from a child. Josephine once said she’d “pay him double his Inquisition salary to babysit her siblings.”  

Cullen had responded with “what salary?”  

Considering money was Josephine’s department, the subject was swiftly dropped.  

However, that didn’t take away from the actual babysitting Cullen found himself in.  

Very few, after all, expected the Inquisitor to have a child.  

Your child’s name was Olivia – just five years old and more of a firecracker than you were. Her hair was often in braids, so for all her running and scrambling about, she wouldn’t get caught on anything. For her birthday Varric had given her a little yellow ribbon, and she’d wear it to sleep if you didn’t insist otherwise.

She was a troublesome little thing, but she was one of the few bright things in your world, and you clearly treasured her. She’d race to you as fast as her legs could carry her when you’d return to Skyhold and every time you’d scoop her up in your arms and swing her until you both were left dizzy and stumbling throughout the courtyard. No matter where you went you always came back with something for her, and whether a fanciful toy or simply a flower, Olivia adored it.

She even had a secret hiding place for all the presents you brought her. She’d shown Cullen one evening and despite knowing just about every detail of the gifts, he’d still ask like it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on them.  

Curiously enough, Olivia had a fondness for the Commander. Often times when you and Cullen would take walks along the barracks Olivia would follow behind, holding loosely onto the end of his shroud. She liked it especially when each of you would hold one of her hands and swing her back and forth. It was… domestic in a sense. Far more than Cullen ever expected for himself.  

He’d hardly even expected to meet someone like you – so full of life and passion for all that you did. You were a breath of fresh air in the coldness he’d so well known. Cullen hoped Olivia hadn’t noticed how he stared but she was nosy – she took that from you.  

She’d been given plenty of opportunities to be nosy since you’d left, asking Cullen specifically to watch over her.  

“I won’t be long,” You’d told him the evening before you left. “But there are reports of red templars making advancements towards a village and I-”  

“I know,” Cullen hesitated but set a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t know if his smiles helped you at all, but he offered one anyway. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll help however I can, including taking care of Olivia.”  

You let out a sigh of relief and laughed. “Thank you I-” You couldn’t figure the words and so instead hugged him, winding your arms around his neck. “You’re the best.”  

He was left stunned for a moment. It wasn’t like he’d experienced much affection in his life once he’d left for the Templar order – so much as a hug was almost foreign to him.  However hesitantly, he managed to return the gesture. His hovering hands shifting to hold you tight.

He forgot how much he missed such a simple thing as a hug.  

You left shortly thereafter both of you a little sheepish but warmhearted, nonetheless. Olivia followed you to Skyhold’s gates, holding your hand but still stumbling to keep up despite her best efforts. When you knelt to meet her, she nearly ran right into you, only caught by your grip shifting to her shoulders.  

“Woah there, soldier!” You laughed softly. “You know you can’t come with me.”  

Olivia immediately began to pout. “But I’ll be good! I promise!”  

“It’s not a matter of being good, it’s dangerous.” You smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulders. “Even for the toughest kid around! You got to stay here, keep everyone safe.”  

Before Olivia could object you spoke once more, lowering your voice to a whisper. “In fact, I’ve got a super-secret mission for you. I need you to personally look after Commander Cullen – keep him out of trouble.”  

Olivia shot a quick glance to Cullen who stood a little way off, pretending to look at a set of reports.  

“Okay! I know you like him!”  

Cullen had to work very hard not to look up and see your expression in that moment. But he supposed he wouldn’t want you to see how red he’d become either. At the very least, he heard a gasp.

“I-It’s ah – it’s our little secret though! Don’t forget, okay?”  

Olivia nodded. “I won’t!”  

“Promise?”  

Olivia huffed. “I promise!”  

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I love you, Olivia.”  

Cullen looked up to see Olivia jump up to hug you, burying her head in the crook of your neck and failing to hide the tiniest sniffle. She always hated seeing you go.  

“I love you too.”  

With a wave of your hand, you and the rest of your team left. Olivia refused to budge an inch before you disappeared beyond sight. Even then she only moved a few steps forward, perhaps in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.  

“Miss them already, do you?” Cullen approached the child steadily, making his heavy boots clearly known to not startle her. He even spoke quietly.  

Olivia gave a meek nod, wiping at her eyes quickly.

Cullen pretended not to see – if she was anything like you it’d only make her more embarrassed.  

“I miss them too.” Cullen said. “But while they’re gone… would you want to sneak a few extra treats from the kitchen? I won’t tell if you don’t.”  

Olivia perked up just a tad. Cullen offered his hand that practically swallowed Olivia’s when she accepted it. But she smiled.  

“Okay.”  

She hid an entire extra loaf of cinnamon bread in Cullen’s shroud. It was awful, thinking of the sugar and sticky cinnamon that was sure to attract insects of all sort, but worth it. She giggled the whole time, and still considered it an ‘extreme scheme’ even though no one cared and at least three kitchen-maids watched them the entire time – pretending to hide little Olivia from everyone else.  

She didn’t even bother to have the bread cut into slices, sitting in his office breaking it apart in chunks and pieces.  

“I can cut it if you want, you know.” Cullen told her, his brows furrowed.  

“No, I like it this way. It’s a surprise every time!” Olivia raised her head to the Commander, swinging her legs in the seat across his desk. “Do you want some? I’ll share, but you can’t tell Varric! He’ll get jealous.”  

“Why would he-” Cullen immediately remembered Varric’s proud title as Olivia’s ‘partner in crime’ and found the answer for himself.  

Admittedly Cullen would’ve said no. He never had much of a sweet tooth. However, Olivia clearly wanted to give him a piece and already had two corners of the bread pinched between her fingers to give him. It was just something a person couldn’t say no to.  

“I’d love a piece.”  

It was just as sugary and sappy as he’d imagined.  

“Oi, metal britches!”  

The yelling came a few hours later, when evening started to paint the sky overhead and the sun dripped in through his windows. It didn’t take a genius to recognize Sera.  

She nearly kicked the door in, and as if that wasn’t enough, slammed her firsts against his desk with enough ferocity to shake the very earth. The mischievous glint in her eyes was anything but good.  

“As appealing as the name ‘metal britches’ is, could we try another name next time?” Cullen frowned. “Perhaps my real one?”  

“Nah, I like this one better. Listen, I’ve got this great idea for an ambush on this Orlesian snobs – and I know you hate Orlesians just as much so I was thinking I could get your head of your ar-”  

Cullen nearly jumped out of his seat trying to stop Sera. “Reserve the language for when children aren’t around?”  

“Wha-” Sera wrinkled her nose only to twist her head and see little Olivia, watching Sera with the utmost awe. Olivia happened to look up to Sera with her ‘fun-loving’ pranks. It brought comfort when you were gone. “Oh! Pipsqueak! I was wondering where you’d run off to!”  

She peered over to see the last bits of the cinnamon bread. “Mind if I swipe a piece?”  

“Mm!” Olivia eagerly gave Sera the rest. Of all the people Sera loved to torment, Olivia was never one of them. If anything, she had a soft spot for the child.  

“Oh no that ain’t necessary but you’re a sweet thing for offering.” Sera leaned in to Olivia, pretending to whisper, but only brought her voice louder for Cullen to clearly hear. “See, I was trying to get Mr. Boring over here to have some fun for once, but I don’t think he’s gonna budge.”  

“Cullen!” Olivia exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks.  

Sera stopped her further protests. “I know, what a bore! But I’m thinking if he won’t have some fun – why don’t we?”  

“Now Sera-” Cullen rose from his seat. “The Inquisitor asked me specifically to look after Olivia while they were gone-”  

“We’re not going to Halamshiraal get your knickers out of a twist!” Sera snorted. “I’ll bring her back in one piece, but a kid can’t sit around all day!”

“I…”  

Olivia was gripping excitedly at the edge of her seat, and if her toes could reach the floor they would’ve been tapping too. Anyone could see she desperately wanted to spend time with the ‘fun rogue’. Cullen could be fun too – it just didn’t include putting buckets of water over their ambassador’s door. Less dangerous fun.  

“Nothing reckless,” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I see so much as a scratch on Olivia, I’ll have your quarters repurposed to a storage closet.”  

“If I get a hair on the squirt’s head out of place, I’ll banish myself, does that make you feel better? I won’t get in the way of your crush on the boss.”  

“I do not-”

Sera and Olivia were already gone before he could even finish, giggling as the elf lifted the girl onto her shoulders and scrambled out. It was almost fascinating how quickly he could come to regret a decision.  

They were gone for a few hours, when night arrived and a chill soaked into the floor Cullen began to pace, anxious and ready to go searching top to bottom for Olivia.  

He only made it to the grand hall when he found the two of them. Sera, snoring with her head fallen back in her ornate seat with Olivia, sleeping sound in Sera’s lap. A blanket was slipped over the two of them, and just a few feet away in another chair was Varric, watching the fireplace crackle.  

“Don’t you worry Curly, I kept them distracted.” Varric laughed and took a sip of his wine. “You’d be surprised how much Buttercup loves a good story.”  

Cullen let out a sigh of relief as he made his way to Olivia. She was clutching onto to Sera and her head was laid lazily on her stomach, a slow rise and fall lifting her up and down. She looked so comfortable; it was almost hard to wake her up.  

“Was she a handful?” Cullen asked.  

“Olivia or Buttercup?”  

“Either one.” Cullen scoffed.  

“Buttercup is a given, but Olivia is always a pleasure. It’s nice to have someone actually enjoy my rough drafts – they’re just what put Sera to sleep.” Varric laughed to himself. “Everyone’s a critic.”  

“I’m surprised the Inquisitor didn’t take you with them,” Cullen remarked. “Dorian, Blackwall, and you are typically their regular party.”  

Varric simpered. “As old as Blackwall looks, I’m older – and you’ve got to give the elderly a break.”

“You can’t be beyond your late thirties.”  

Varric raised a glass amusedly. “Or maybe I just age that good. Either way, mentally, I’m in my sixties. I like to have the occasional night in!”  

“Does that mean Olivia could call you ‘grandfather’?”  

“Don’t you dare put that idea in her head Curly.”

Cullen turned his attention back to Olivia with a laugh. He gently scooped her up in his arms, and Sera only mildly objected in the form of halfhearted tugs at his gauntlets. The second Olivia felt the fur of his cloak she sank against it; even attempting to wrap herself up like a blanket.  

“Thank you for watching over her, Varric – even if only for a short time.”  

The dwarf shook his head. “No trouble. You just make sure that one gets some shut-eye.”  

Cullen took Olivia to your quarters – It had a grand enough bed that you shared with your parent when they were here anyhow. The few times Cullen had entered early, Olivia would be snuggled up among the silk sheets like a burrowed rabbit. She’d never get out if you didn’t make her.  

He pulled back the blankets and set her down gently. The second she recognized just where she was, Olivia grappled at the sheets and pull them up to her chin – even her cheeks were smothered against her pillow.  

Cullen would’ve left to return to his own room when Olivia reached out for his hand and ruined that plan.

“Can you stay, Mr. Rutherford?”  

She only used that name when she wanted something out of him. It worked every time.  

Cullen paused briefly, relenting as he sat down at the foot of the bed. “Of course, Olivia.”  

“Can I ask you something?” She mumbled, eyes only a tiny bit open and words slurring.  

He smiled softly. “Of course.”  

“Do you… do you like them?” She clearly peeked one eye open at this point. Olivia was far from subtle.  

“Like who?”  

“You know… my… parent…” Olivia sat up, rubbing at her face groggily but far too curious to sleep just yet.

Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed hard, and even then, his chest heaved like a drum. “Why ah – why would you ask that?”  

“I see how you stare – and how they stare. And I…” Olivia brought her knees up to her chin. “I want you to be a part of our family.”  

The rapid beating of Cullen’s heart stopped, his fidgeting fingers stopped, and his panicking brain stopped. All that remained was a warmth, gentle, and protective like a lantern in a dark night. It never felt so easy to say exactly what he meant.  

“I think I’d like that too. But I’ll have to be a bit braver before I can tell them.”  

Olivia saw his faint, nervous smile and leaned over so that she drooped over his shoulder. She did her best to drape a bit of the blanket over him but even at her best, she only managed to cover his knee. A valiant effort.  

“I’ll cheer for you then,” Olivia yawned. “so, you can get brave. Would that help?”  

Olivia truly was just like you. Maybe that was why he found himself adoring her just so much. You were always so encouraging and supportive – even at your worst, you found a way to brighten someone else’s day. You passed the kindness in your heart down to Olivia, and it showed.  

Perhaps when you returned Cullen would finally tell you all the things that’d be brimming inside of him. How he cared for you like he’d never known before and wanted nothing more than to simply do the same for you. For the first time, he felt like he could.

“I think it already is.”  

Cullen would’ve thought Olivia already fallen fast asleep were it not for the little grin spread across her face.

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