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becca-e-barnes · 1 year

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Okay… there is something VERY sexy about Bucky cuming in his pants 🤤

No bc there IS something very sexy about it and we all know I love writing this 🙈

Because honestly, I think sex could be a really overwhelming experience for him and I think he'd really want to take his time with it. That kind of physical and emotional vulnerability might not come to him so easily.

I really think the tiniest little things would short circuit his brain and it'd nearly just be another point of concern for him. He can't quite understand why the smell of your perfume makes his heart race, nor can he understand why his cock stirs just from feeling the heat of your body against his.

He knows he won't have much stamina, so to speak. He's dabbled a little in modern porn and he knows he's nothing like those men. He's acutely aware that he can, and has, spent hours jerking his throbbing length, covering his own strong thighs in an embarrassing amount of cum but all it takes is a chaste kiss on the cheek from you to have his dick desperate for more attention.

It's all quite overwhelming but he knows he's safe to feel overwhelmed and that makes such a difference. His comfort is always a priority but sometimes he pushes his body just a little further than he can handle.

Like the first time he's got you on top of him, frantically making out. You're wearing a tiny little pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt and he's desperate to explore now that he's got the chance.

"Baby, please. I need... Oh God, that's good." Words fail him when your lips latch onto his neck, your teeth grazing the exposed skin. The tip of your tongue is sinful, paying close attention to the hollow of his throat while you make the most of the free reign you're being given.

"Is this okay?" You ask softly between kisses, pressing your core against his body. There's a time and a place for you to worry about how incredibly wet you are but this isn't it. There's no room for you to be embarrassed by your need. Not when you're settling on top of a man who's evidently just as into this as you are.

"Yeah... Y-yeah, that's fine." The quiet squeak is just about all Bucky can manage, his hands settling on your hips. He's not moving them, he realises. He's not the one rocking you back and forth over his aching length. You are.

"Holy shit." He groans into the crook of your neck, eyes squeezed shut, pure bliss making every nerve ending tingle pleasantly. He's not even inside you. Lord knows he couldn't handle that but he can't understand how this feels as good as it does without any real replication of the wet heat of your body.

He thinks he's got it under control as he lets your body roll against him. He got enough self restraint. He can handle it. He's got it. Right up until oh no, he really hasn't.

"Babe, you have to s-" He begins but it's too late. Pleasure radiates from the base of his spine, cum splattering against the inside of his pyjama bottoms and all he can do is hold you close and whimper.

His length throbs with each wave of ecstasy and nothing in him wants to lose the heat and pressure of your clothed sex against his. He almost feels pathetic for cumming like this, with minimal stimulation but God, he needs it. When he finally has enough clarity of thought, he registers the feeling of your hands in his hair and his brain starts to process all the filthy little encouragements you've whispered in his ear as he came.

When he comes down, he knows he should probably feel embarrassed but instead, he feels safe. He feels cared for and in a strange way, he feels a little bit more whole, knowing he's finally letting himself be intimate with someone who wants the very best for him.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #Bucky Barnes smut #needy!bucky #Just a little touch of softness for your Sunday night #I don't like to just write pure filth ALL the time #and I'd really like to write about that comfortable vulnerability more because it can get overlooked sometimes #it's funny how the hobbies you love don't really leave you #I was listening to 25 by Alex Page #it came up on my Spotify Discover #and I can't stop thinking about how beautiful the second half could sound on the cello #I haven't touched my cello in years #but I'd love to get back into it

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normal-thoughts-official · 1 year

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The "faster than the elevator", the "there's always a first time", the Loud Wink™ at the dinner table, the grin in the helicopter, the way he laughed at himself when he said "we killed each other", the "there's your balance, asshole"... you can tell that Joe thinks that he's the funniest motherfucker on Earth. And he is right

#nicky directly enables this by also thinking that joe is the funniest motherfucker on earth #half the time he makes some dumb joke he looks directly at nicky like 'arent i fucking funny'#and every time nicky laughs #as he should cuz joe is hilarious #andy tried every psychological tactic to get him to stop being a clown and it never worked #because joe 1- amuses himself; and 2- always makes nicky smile and that's what matters #also he knows andy and booker need some levity as well #when did these tags become soft. anyway #tog #the old guard #yusuf al kaysani

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eggcats · 2 months

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I'm not here to tell anyone how to ship or write anything, obviously, but I've spent the last like 3 days reading nothing but radioapple on ao3 and personally I only like it when they're just a bit toxic and feral at each other, even when they're actually together

If you make them too soft I'm gone, Alastor is in hell for a reason don't make him soft, he needs to bite and drink blood and they need to snark at and try to one up each other at every opportunity

(the excessive use of "luci" too, tbh, sorry but I have such trouble seeing alastor use a nickname tbh)

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #my ideal dynamic is them needing to bother each other at every opportunity #their day doesnt start until they can one up the other first and piss them off #and then they kiss and alastor bites lucifer and drinks his blood idk #i just cant handle the fics that are too soft - theres like 1 or 2 im letting slide but half the time #i stop once a fic goes from feral bastards to softies im like welp no thanks 💛 (mentally obvs im not commenting that lmao)

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sea-buns · 1 month

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I understand not wanting your party members to walk into a lake and drown themselves but also Laudna has the fuckin WORST bedside manner lol. Yes, your much-needed long rest was just interrupted in a creepy abandoned town where you know weird charm-shit happened and the LAST thing you need right now is for anyone to lose focus. But also "Can you not wait? You can wait 5 minutes." talking to someone who has waited months and doesn't know if their loved one is even ALIVE and has confessed to you how much he misses them and how much it hurts and they could be outside breathing alive right now—

And on the surface, it looks like Chet is enabling a bad decision when he says "You probably heard Dorian. He's probably outside." and yeahh, okay, maybe he is a little bit. But right after that he's about to protest with something about Orym and it's like yeah. ORYM said he heard something. When has there been a time when ORYM heard something, and it wasn't real? How many times has Orym heard something and it's saved our asses? Before Chet is being hit with his own need to check out the lake, he's giving Orym the benefit of the doubt. And while he is an enabler by nature, he's keeping his voice soft rather than his usual, over-the-top "let's fuck around and find out" energy that he brings to dangerous situations like this.

You can't have everyone in the group treating a dilemma with the same amount of sympathy and care. What makes the BH so fascinating to watch is the variation in responses and different ways they interact with each other. You need a balance of someone who will take the cold, unyielding stance against something that is so obviously a trap, and someone that is aware of the risks but willing to speak up for that person and humor them when they're so clearly struggling.

I have a lot of feelings about Laudna and Chetney's instinctual responses and I think both stances are fascinating and they've both shattered my heart to pieces

#chet is very observant with orym and everyone else tbh #and i feel like he always takes care when it counts #im very soft for the father-son bond there #and i feel like when laudna and orym agree and clash flips on a dime sooo often #its very interesting. and laudna i feel is a very decisive person. when she feels some way about something shes very firm on it #and i think orym is too. but most times shes much quicker to be loud and vocal and insistent about it than he is #its fun to watch her oppose him and he have to be like 'ok i guess i have to push this'#and half the time they are ON THE SAME PAGE but its either like one line off or they just totally misunderstanding each other #orym is my boy i spin him in my brain and anyone who interacts with him makes me spin even faster #critical role #c3e86 #orym of the air ashari #chetney pock o'pea #laudna #bells hells #not even done with the ep yet but taking advantage of the fact that i can pause and make posts like this lol #during the live its like i save long posts for the end IF i can remember what i wanted to say #if i do it during i do not process the show and miss everything

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mewkwota · 27 days

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It's such a basic thing, but I still find a lot of fun in the Operate Shooting Star side-scenario. If it means I could draw Geo looking ~Mysterious Cool~ with his visor some more, then what more can I say? All while messing up his shoulder pads every single time.

#I chose to be a coward and not to look at references and made them jut out far too much don't worry about it I already know :Y #anywho no new news I'm a sucker for crossover interactions and plot-aside their interactions are so darn good #and just yeah. cool visor so cool. :)#the only real reason I wanted to doodle out that last half is to reveal geo's soft eyes from that previous feel (duh) but still I gotta #doodle-daas #comics #operate shooting star #megaman exe #megaman.exe #rockman exe #hub hikari #saito hikari #megaman star force #ryuusei no rockman #geo stelar #subaru hoshikawa #omega-xis #warrock #(every single time these tags wah so many~)

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yummyyummie · 2 months

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For Valentines day Marimoo got her gf Vexx a special treat to enjoy: herself~

#tw vore #tw nudity #v0re #safe vore #soft vore #mawplay #my characters #oc marimoo #oc vexx #my art #love when people align with your vibes and give you suggestions that help you figure out them art ideas #makes me a happy goober #anyways happy valentines i had no internet for half the day so i spent a bunch of the time drawing this art #cause what else was i to do #as if i wasn't planning on drawing it in the first place anyways :V

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fairyroses · 5 months

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— SMALLVILLE, "Lexmas" (5.09)

#IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAINNNN #god the way lex smiles in the first and last gifs makes me feel UNWELL #he's sooo precious and soft and happy 😭#also this is the first time I've noticed that lex silently mouths 'thank you' and lana mouths back 'you're welcome' right before they hug #now I'm wondering if that exchange was actually spoken and maybe they just cut the sound in post for some reason? hmmm #either way it's cute ❤️#smallville #smallvilleedit #svedit #lex luthor #lana lang #lexana #sv 5x09 #dcmultiverse #my gifs #so GUESS WHAT I've got a week and a half left of grad school then I'll be FREEEEEE and I'm gonna make SO MANY gifs #might just make this a whole month of posting lexmas gifsets tbh eheheheh

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sonknuxadow · 4 months

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god its always so weird seeing a shot of amy from behind and seeing that her back just has nothing on it. put some spikes on that beast

#especially considering she wears an open backed dress? it feels like theres SUPPOSED to be back spikes there but theres not #let her look like a hedgehog why do sonic shadow and silver kind of look like a different species from her #i know the answer is probably ''because shes The Girl One she has to be soft and cute and feminine''#but she can still be soft and cute and feminine while actually looking like a hedgehog by sonic universe standards. come on #whatever. the explanation i like better is that shes half echidna or half tenrec #(echidna has more evidence but tenrec makes more sense lore wise with knuckles being the last echidna and all)#or that spending a lot of time around humans at a young age has made her adopt some human behaviors/fashion trends

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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could be something

rating: t ♥️ cw: softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, Eddie is having so many feelings, Eddie is not a strong man, but Eddie can be a brave man, Steve Harrington being a devoted caretaker to a T

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him. (@starryeyedjanai)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have the next little step toward these codependent knuckleheads figuring their big feelings out ♥️

When he put his mind to thinking on it—as in, thinking with thoughts versus general technicolor swollen-heart sighing of his whole fucking self, body and soul and just, all of it, the whole of him, when it comes to this: but when Eddie did focus on the thinking part, he thought maybe Steve was, like, a fixture. Like something that defined the home-feeling he has in this room that should be fucking sterile, no matter how long he’s populated it so far: it’s a fucking hospital. It shouldn’t feel…comfortable. Like: no part of this should feel anything but abrasive, and offensive to his sensibilities to the point of wanting; needing to get out at soon as humanly possible.

Which he does: he wants to get out bad. But, like, getting out will be good, for the obvious reasons, but also because Steve will still be there—which is why Eddie first thought Steve was like, a point of association. Eddie had his surviving guitar, some of his cassettes, a tape deck, his Monster Manual, the Corroded Coffin banner that’d somehow survived and was somehow allowed in a hospital room, photos of the band, of the sheepies who weren’t really sheepies were they, they were brothers-in-arms, then some of his new comrades, Wheeler Senior and Robs, and a drawing that’s recognizably from the campaign before Vecna’s Curse, for obvious reasons, but it’s from the mini Byers who Eddie barely knew, and who certainly wasn’t there for the campaign he’s illustrated, but the art was fucking sick, and there’s his mug from the trailer, the Garfield one, not the newer one but the one that’s missing at ear, and there’s—

Steve.

All of this together, he figures, makes it soft, and safe, and gentle around him at all hours of the night when nightmares try to grab him, or when the poking and the prodding got too much before it finally died down, once they were convinced he was going to survive and also not end up a weird otherworldly hybrid monster (which was why he wanted his Manual in the first place, so he could helpfullypoint out suggestions as to what these goddamn feds-in-white-coats must think was lurking beneath Eddie’s skin ready to fucking strike): and Steve’s always there to hides his laughter behind a cough in the corner when Eddie suggests maybe they think he’s sprout horns, or did they want to check for fangs again, he can open wide—just like he’s always there to grab Eddie’s hand and ground him, talk him down into reality again after the worst of the nightmares.

His hand, like that, is what…starts Eddie thinking a little harder about, y’know. Things.

The soft squishy stuff he’s been hiding from with all the excuses in the world that really…really can’t hold the tides back anymore, because this thing, this soft-squishy-warm-immense thing, is bigger than anything Eddie’s ever felt. Not lust, not hope, not pie-in-the-sky wishing, not even pain.

And Eddie’s recently become very fucking familiar with that last one. So that’s saying something.

But Steve’s hand is always ready for Eddie to grab, ready to hold and be held, ready to be an anchor or a touch to soothe and Eddie…

Eddie’s not fucking stupid, right, okay: Steve’s hand in Eddie’s hand makes him think about Steve’s hand in his hand, specifically: the one time Steve’s hand lifted Eddie’s hand to his mouth, to his lips.

Like: intentionally.

It’s when they decide to move him into a step-down room, like a rehab-focused ward or something—and that’s good, that’s like, reallygood, and Eddie’s just that step closer to getting the fuck out of this place, and so they’re taking down all the stuff to move with him, right, and Eddie expects it when he feels a little empty, a little stir-crazy, a little paranoid and startling easy sounds that should even be weird, should be commonplace now, but he tenses, sometimes he jumps, and sure his nerves feel all…pins-and-needly, of course, because the fixtures of home have been stripped away and the room’s just white walls and machines he’s not currently hooked to, and and IV pole-thingy he doesn’t even use anymore, and one single fake flower in a little green-glass vase with real water for no fucking reason and—

“Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

And it’s in those sterile white walls with the fake flower in the water, with none of the touchings of home that Eddie looks up, meets those smiling eyes and realizes like a slap to his fucking face: Steve’s not a goddamn fixture, an associative suggestion of home.

Steve…Steve is the sun he orbits; Steve’s the gravity that holds him down. Steve’s not just home, he’s the only way Eddie gets to know home; if Eddie’s a planet, he gets to move in space because of his star; get to live and breathe for the light and the warmth that star gifts him, and, and—

Fucking hell.

Eddie nods, and that’s a fucking feat, and he lets Steve pull him to his feet even if he’d have been able to himself, five minutes ago, before his concept of existence at its core got turned fucking sideways and shit.

So Eddie moves rooms. And all his shit is set up exactly like it had been in the first room, and Eddie suspects Steve had a big fucking part in making that happen, because Steve? Steve is, is, he’s…

He’s Steve.

And Eddie’s world kinda starts to…narrow. Not like it did when everything was going dark and he thought it was the end, but it feels almost as desperate, arguably just as dire, just, like, really fucking different.

But Eddie stares: first at Steve’s hands; first where they lie together, where they tangle sometimes, where Steve traces along the lines of his knuckles, the blue of his veins. Then it’s Steve’s hands always: in his lap, shoving Robin playfully, ruffling Henderson’s hair, pouring water Eddie doesn’t need poured for him but hell if Steve will listen on the point, running through his own hair, fisting in it when he’s at loose ends, when it’s Eddie who reaches out wordless—not least because he doesn’t have the words for this at all—and fucking feelshimself brighten, feels something in him blossom new and fresh and joyous when Steve grips his hand back and sits: plays with his fingers, spins the rings he’s allowed to have now, knows where they go back when he meticulously removes them all and slides them into place again and if that shit doesn’t fry the wires in Eddie brain, if that motion and that feeling, with Steve’s fucking hands doesn’t send Eddie’s heart into goddamn convulsions, he’s—

That’s the state of things. When Eddie’s fixated on their hands.

But then…then it gets worse. Because Eddie remember the whole of it, the why for his being obsessed with those hands, and his focus shifts accordingly: because what did Steve do, what did he press sweet and soft and magnetic and like a fucking inferno against Eddie’s goddamn skin?

So, yes: of course it’s those goddamn lips.

Steve chews them when he’s thinking; not hard, and more like…like sucking and ain’t that a bitch for Eddie’s frayed-to-hell nerves. And he licks them almost for no reason, and Eddie so fucking lucky he’s not on that EKG anymore because holy hell, that’d be a problem.

And when he does those things, and then he talks, the motions are…they’re all wet and shiny and a little swollen and Steve kissed his hand, didn’t he, he definitely did, at the very least he brushed his lips there, twice, and didn’t make any motion to move away or cut it short and, and, he—

“Eds?”

Eddie blinks; he was looking at Steve already—has been, of course he fucking has been, because if Steve is here sure as shit Eddie wants to look, what else could be more important, more entrancing, more exquisite, more—

Eddie blinks. Steve’s watching him with the kind of expectation that almost always means words were spoken that…required some kind of answer. A response of some sort.

Eddie has no idea what the words Steve happened to have been saying…were, exactly. He knows they sounded beautiful, musical, because Steve’s voice is those things; he knows the lips they came out of are memorizing as fuck and—

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

And leave it to Saint Steve, to jump to worry, jump to helping, to scoot his chair closer and then give up, to just perch next to Eddie on his bed and grab his hands and—

Eddie’s not a strong man, y’gotta understand that.

“Can I?” Eddie blurts, no thoughts, no plans, just this… this need in him.

“Yes.”

Eddie blinks.

“You don’t even know what it is,” he protests against his own goddamn interests because Steve’s so…so casual. So sure and suave and just, just…

“I’d let you do just about anything,” Steve shrugs, and if the tops of his cheeks pink-up a little? Well, again:

Eddie. Is. Not. A. Strong. Man.

“Steve,” Eddie exhales in a huff, and then he chokes out something like a laugh; “Stevie,” and that’s a whine, nothing else for it, it’s a pleading sound, the kind you make as the hammer fucking falls; “you cannot just say that shit, man—“

“I’m not allowed to say shit I mean?” Steve tilts his head, and his lips quirk that tiny bit and he’s maddening, he’s stunning, he is—

“Steve,” Eddie almost wheezes his name, he’s so fucking breathless, his heart’s such a fucking riot in his chest—it is wholly humiliating and he can’t even care because Steve’s hand is still in his hand and Steve’s here and he’s—

“What do you want, Eddie?”

And now it’s Eddie’s turn to lick his lips, to chew the bottom one and suck on the top between his teeth because…

“You,” he starts, and that’s good, that’s a beginning, you gotta start at the beginning; “you,” repetition, so Steve, like, knows who Eddie is talking to among the no-other-people in the room; “on my hand,” and he moves his thumb along Steve’s hand in the spaces he remembers, will never fucking forget so long as he lives: the places on his hand that Steve graced with his lips and Eddie can be brave, he might not be strong but he can be brave, maybe, or else try–

“Did you—“

And they both turn, because the sound of footsteps is distant but approaching; the squeak of tennis shoes, it’s almost definitely one of the kids and Steve wilts the slightest bit, imperceptible really but Eddie’s watching, so Eddie fucking sees, and Eddie…

Eddie can’t have that.

So he pulls Steve’s hand to his mouth and he kisses at the heel of his palm, kisses at his wrist where the pulse is furious just lip Eddie’s, the most glorious gift of a touch that Eddie of all people gets to fit his lips around and not just feel, no: he gets to taste, and he has to pull back and let go fast, the footsteps are so close but Steve’s pupils are so big and, yes, yeah, okay: okay.

This could be something.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #pining #pre-relationship #softness #as in: I might have gone harder than even I normally go on the softness here #post-S4 #recovering eddie musnon #steve feels like HOME to eddie #but more than that: steve feels like the STAR EDDIE ORBITS AROUND #they HOLD HANDS #like they hold hands a LOT #there is MORE HAND KISSING this time #they are SO SOFT #steddielovemonth #love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him #stranger things

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tennessoui · 7 months

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Professor-can-fuck-me wedding ficlet? (◉‿◉)

so i realized after receiving this ask that i don't think i've ever actually written a obikin wedding ficlet for any of my aus or fics and i don't want my first wedding ficlet to be this au unfortunately, so no can do but here's 1.6k of wedding adjacent fic (bachelor party)

(1.6k)

“Hi Professor,” Rex greets the moment Obi-Wan opens the door.

And really, he appreciates the boy’s desire to show respect—even though he never even took Obi-Wan’s class—but this is hardly the time or place for such decorum.

“Rex,” Obi-Wan acknowledges, rubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand before blinking at him and then down to his watch. “Good god, man. It’s three in the morning, what are you doing here?”

Then another thought occurs to him.

“Wait,” he says, “where’s Anakin?”

Rex throws a thumb over his shoulder. “My brothers are getting him out of the car right now. I decided to come up here and tell you first, to prepare you and such.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach drops; his heart rate speeds up. “Prepare me for what? What’s wrong with him?”

Are his palms sweaty? Is his voice high? His grip on the door tightens. Logically, he knows that Anakin’s friend would not bring Anakin home so casually if he were hurt. Logically, he understands that if Anakin were to be injured, Obi-Wan would receive a call from the hospital upon his check-in, or the police if he had died, or Rex in the teary moments after. His friends would not just—knock on Obi-Wan’s door at three in the morning and then dump Anakin’s corpse on his doorstep.

Logically Obi-Wan knows all of that. But he has never been a very logical man when it comes to Anakin Skywalker. If he were, they’d probably not be where they are right now anyway—living together after five months together, engaged after six, married around eight.

Hell, they wouldn’t be in a relationship at all most probably, given the fact that when they met, Anakin was Obi-Wan’s student. And when Anakin kissed him for the first time, Anakin was—well. He was still his student. And when Obi-Wan kissed him for the first time, Anakin was…perhaps ten seconds free from being his student.

So he’s never been logical about Anakin, not really. And while a part of him knows and understands that if something had seriously gone wrong on Anakin’s bachelor night, scant days before their wedding, the man would have enough tact to find a better way to break the news than whatever this is.

But he’s old and overly emotional and high-strung when it comes to his wayward fiancé. And so his pulse is hammering and his palms are sweaty. And he is waiting with baited breath for Rex Amidala to tell him what has happened to him.

Because—because if something has happened, then Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan does not know what he would do. Who he would become. How he would continue to—to continue, after, in a world after.

“He’s, well. He’s very—uh,” Rex rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He’s—”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin cries, much too loudly for the quiet stillness of their apartment’s hallway. “Obi-Wan, hi, baby!”

Obi-Wan’s head snaps to look at his wayward fiancé, who is currently half dragging and half being dragged by a very reluctant looking Cody Fett and an entirely too entertained Jesse Fett.

“Drunk,” Rex finishes. “He’s really, really drunk, Professor.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, stepping over the threshold of his door to catch Anakin the moment the other man decides to rip himself away from his handlers and fall into Obi-Wan’s arms. “Perhaps lead with that next time, Mr. Amidala.”

Anakin rubs his face over the front of Obi-Wan’s sleepshirt. “So soft,” he mumbles, repeating the action. When his lips find the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck, he makes a quiet sound of happiness and presses a kiss there. Then he bites.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan decides. “I’ll take it from here, you three. Thank you for getting him home in one piece.”

“If he throws up, you have to tell us,” Jesse says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall opposite the door.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrow arches up as he tries to imply with one syllable and a single movement that he is a forty-two year old man who does not have to tell these college-faced twats anything unless he wants to.

“Ani’s been giving me shit about throwing up over his shoes during my bachelor’s party since it happened,” Rex says. “Fair’s fair.”

“But I haven’t yet!” Anakin slurs, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck as he nuzzles farther into him. “And you put me in the car and then gave me shots and made it go really fast in circles and I haven’t yet!”

Obi-Wan gives Rex an incredulous look over Anakin’s head. The other man has the shame at least to look slightly sheepish.

“Good night, all,” Obi-Wan says, stepping as smoothly as he can back into his apartment. “We’ll see you at the wedding.”

If his fiancé survives the rest of the night and, presumably, the hangover to follow.

When the door closes, Anakin sags even more into Obi-Wan’s arms. “I missed you so much,” Anakin mumbles. His lips stay against the skin of his neck, and the feeling would be quite distracting if Obi-Wan wasn’t so reluctantly amused at the moment.

“You are very drunk,” he tells him, detaching himself enough to more easily walk and pull Anakin from the doorway through their apartment. “Bedtime for bachelors.”

“I missed you so much, so I thought maybe I could drink extra fast and then they’d let me come home early,” Anakin explains, eyes only partially held open.

“And how did that work out?” Obi-Wan asks, depositing Anakin onto their bed and kneeling on the floor to untie his boots.

“Mm,” Anakin says, flopping onto his back. He giggles for some reason unknown to those sober in the room, and wriggles his toes in an approximation of help. “Not good. They just bought me more.”

“Oh, my heart goes out for you, darling,” Obi-Wan murmurs, placing the first boot on the floor and tackling the second. “You must suffer so much because your friends are very nice and bought you drinks during your bachelor’s party.”

“Uh huh,” Anakin slurs. “Knew you’d understand. Hey–hey, did you miss me too?” Obi-Wan had had a very nice and quiet night, nursing a scotch by the fireplace and grading papers. He’d warmed up a leftover serving of a mince pie and served himself a piece of apple galette for dessert. And yet— “Yes, of course,” he says. “Though I am glad you had fun.”

“It was fun,” his fiancé agrees and then yawns. “Not as fun as the wedding’s gonna be though.” His fingers run to the buttons of his shirt and start tugging at them. Obi-Wan sighs, shifts, and stands to help him in this as well. “I can’t wait to marry you,” Anakin adds.

He looks so earnest and open, rosy cheeks and glassy eyes and shirt half-done. He’s going to be the world’s biggest pain in Obi-Wan’s ass tomorrow when the hangover really hits him. And Obi-Wan is going to take care of him through all of it.

Practice for the rest of their lives. The wedding rehearsal he hadn’t known was on the docket.

Still, his mouth turns up at the corner as he smiles, reaching out to brush aside Anakin’s hair. “I cannot wait to be married to you as well,” he murmurs.

Anakin closes his eyes and grins sleepily, drunkenly. “And I’ll get to be added to your insurance which is real good, cause I don’t have a job.”

“Brat,” Obi-Wan scolds, tugging at the end of his hair. “Is that the only reason you’re marrying me?”

“Yeah,” his fiancé says. “But it really helps that I’ve also been completely obsessed with you since, like, the second class of the year.”

Obi-Wan purses his lips, strangely touched. Sober, Anakin doesn’t always like to talk about the very beginnings of their relationship, as if he thinks should they discuss it enough, Obi-Wan may realize he’s made a terrible mistake in taking up with one of his undergraduate students.

To be fair to him, it is a terrible mistake, and one that Obi-Wan is fully aware of already. And what Anakin probably doesn’t know is that no amount of discussion will sway Obi-Wan from the path he’s decided to walk.

“Only the second class?” he asks, settling onto the bed next to Anakin. “Should I be offended?” “I skipped the first one,” Anakin mutters, turning his face into his thigh and nudging at him until he begins to pet at Anakin’s hair. “Hooked up with a girl from my first period instead.”

Obi-Wan tugs rather rudely on his hair at this.

“But then, you were there during the second class,” Anakin says, though Obi-Wan thinks maybe the more accurate statement would be I was there during the second class, considering Obi-Wan had to be there. As he was the professor.

Obi-Wan hums and restarts his soothing petting.

“And that was it,” Anakin sighs, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s covered thigh. “You were it for me. And I’m really glad I’m it for you too or I would be really, really, really sad, and I’ve been really, really, really happy for ages now.”

“I’ve been happy too,” Obi-Wan confesses, shifting himself to lie down, facing Anakin. “I—”

He wants to say I thought about losing you today, for real and forever, and it hurt me inconceivably. Or, you mean so much to me that I missed you when you were away, and even though there was a fire in the fireplace, it felt cold all through our home. Or, it took me longer to love you, but I do and I do, and I do.

But when he looks down at Anakin’s expression, it’s to find that the man has managed to fall asleep between one breath and the next.

But, well. They have time for Obi-Wan’s I do’s later. In fact, they’ve put aside a whole day for it.

#asks #professor can fuck me au #obikin #something short and soft and stupid #also the first thing i've written on my new laptop and it took me half the time :0 #probably going to be switching ebtween short things & chapter 4 of couples counseling and the hunger games au fic for the next little while #so may be quiet around here #not that these tags are relevant for this lmao

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