she/they | 25 | Unfortunately feral for middle aged military men | 📑 Current reblogs: Cpt John Price/CoD, Bucky Barnes/Thunderbolts, Sterek, Bagginshield. A lot of smut
The Hobbit au where everything’s the same but Belladonna Took is alive and is in the background during the dwarves arrival scene. They first offer the job to Bilbo and it’s just like
“he’ll do it!”
“Mother, please!”
Her and Gandalf teaming up to convince Bilbo to go, she finds him alone later like “that Thorin Oakenshield is interesting. Tall, strong, seems honorable…terribly handsome-“
Go back to your books… and your armchair. Plant your trees. Watch them grow. 🍁☕️
(The whirlwind with which these two characters have cemented themselves into my psyche. I adore them so much... l'd like to think this takes place in the depths of Erebor. While they have a still moment together. Soft, shy confessions before the raging storm.) 🥲
Love the idea of hobbits and dwarves having very different insults due to cultural differences, so something that could start a family feud between hobbits means nothing to a dwarf and something that would cause a dwarf to consider you an enemy for life likewise means nothing to a hobbit. Or, better yet, comes off as something else entirely.
This leads to an extended series of confusing conversations between Thorin and Bilbo, who spend the quest calling each other increasingly creative insults and then not understanding why the other barely reacts. This eventually fades into nothing for Thorin and fond comments Bilbo says to himself, at least until the disaster that is the goldsickness-induced breakup right before the battle. This time, they throw the worst insults they know at each other, but as Thorin really gets going, Bilbo stops with a completely baffled look on his face before saying "what the- fuck's sake- is this really the proper time for you to be flirting with me?"
Thorin, who has spent the entire second half of the quest wondering while Bilbo hasn't been responding to his attempts at flirting, snaps out of goldsickness from sheer shock.
I recently saw this one post saying something about how Bucky would slot his dog tags between his teeth during sex to keep them from clanking or bothering during the moment y’know and I immediately thought of you. 😌
Would you mind writing something soul crushingly horny based on this?-
Much love. Mwah ❤️
. ୨୧ ݁ ꒰ 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 ⊹ . bucky x fem!reader. minors are prohibited from interacting.
𝔀arnings 18+ : explicit sexual content, no use of y/n, rough sex, unprotected sex, dog tag kink, biting, metal arm kink, possessiveness, dirty talk and general filth
𝓪uthor’s 𝓷ote : ughhhhh this was so yummy!!!! love me some dog tags on buckyyy
Bucky’s on top of you, all heat and coiled power, his broad frame pinning you down as he drives into you with deep, relentless thrusts. His dog tags dangle between his bare chest and yours, cool metal kissing your flushed skin with every roll of his hips, like a silent vow, a reminder of the soldier who’s finally letting himself take what he wants. They’ve been brushing against you the whole time but now they’re clinking softly, rhythmically, against the smooth vibranium of his left arm, the sound mixing with your shared breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.
He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you.
“Fuckin’ tags,” he mutters, voice rough like gravel and smoke. His hips don’t stop though, deep deliberate rolls that drag his cock along every sensitive inch inside you, stretching you open so perfectly it makes your toes curl. You’re soaked, thighs slick with it, trembling around his waist as he pins you down with that effortless super-soldier strength.
You reach up, fingers brushing the chain at his neck. “Leave them,” you breathe, because the sound is filthy in its own way, the soft metallic music of him claiming you.
But Bucky’s eyes, stormy blue, pupils blown wide with lust darken further. He leans down, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot. “They’re distracting you from what I want you feeling.”
In one smooth motion, he catches the tags between his teeth. The chain pulls taut against the back of his neck, the metal plates disappearing into his mouth. His jaw flexes, lips parting just enough for you to see the silver edge glinting against his tongue. The sight alone rips a fresh wave of heat through you, Bucky, the Winter Soldier, reduced to biting down on his own history just so he can fuck you without anything getting in the way.
He groans around the tags, the sound muffled and raw. Then he drives into you harder.
No more clinking. Just the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bedframe, and the obscene sounds of your body taking him. His metal fingers dig into your hip, cool and unyielding, while his flesh hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth like he wants to feel how wrecked you are.
“Look at me,” he demands around the metal. His voice is distorted, rougher, sex-drenched. Sweat beads at his temple, dark hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you with punishing precision, long strokes that bottom out and grind against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. Every time he bottoms out, his abs flex against your clit, and the tags shift between his teeth with the motion, a constant, visible reminder of how much control he’s exerting just for you.
You moan his name and he bites down harder, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours like he’s memorizing every gasp, every flutter of your cunt around his cock. The chain trembles against his throat with each thrust. You can see the way his tongue moves against the tags inside his mouth, the way his lips are shiny with spit, and it’s so fucking filthy you clench around him involuntarily.
“That’s it,” he growls through clenched teeth, the words barely intelligible but vibrating straight down to your core. “Milk me, doll. Let me feel how much you love this.”
Your hands scramble up his back, nails digging into scarred skin and metal plating alike. He’s relentless, hips snapping faster now, the wet sounds louder, your slick coating his balls as they slap against you. The dog tags stay right where he put them, trapped between those perfect teeth, catching the light every time he pulls back to look at where you’re stretched around him.
You’re close. So fucking close. And Bucky knows it, he always does. He drops his forehead to yours, tags still clenched tight, breath coming in hot pants around the metal. His voice is a broken rasp:
“Come on my cock while I’ve got these between my teeth, baby. Want to feel you fall apart knowing I’d do anything- anything- to keep fucking you right.”
The orgasm slams into you like lightning under your skin, sudden, devastating, unstoppable. Your back arches sharply off the mattress, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy clamps down hard around his thick cock, fluttering and pulsing in relentless waves. Pleasure rips through every nerve ending, white-hot and overwhelming, leaving you shaking uncontrollably beneath him.
Bucky doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even falter. He keeps fucking you through it with those deep, grinding thrusts, hips rolling relentlessly as he chases his own release, dragging out your climax until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him.
Only then does he let the tags fall from his mouth, spit-slick and gleaming, dropping heavy and cool against your heaving chest. He buries his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer as he spills deep inside you, hips stuttering, metal arm braced beside your head so he doesn’t crush you.
For a long moment, there’s just the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, final clink of the dog tags settling between your sweat-slick bodies.
Bucky kisses the side of your throat, soft and reverent now, his lips brushing tenderly over the spot where his teeth had been clenched moments before.
“Next time,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, “I’m putting them between your teeth. See how quiet you can stay while I ruin you.”
Imagine once after Thorin has recovered from his injuries, Balin approaches Bilbo solemly to ask if he could sign the appropriate paperwork now that they finally have some time, and he and Thorin seemed to have worked everything out, presenting him with the marriage contract. Bilbo just stares, going completely white before storming off to the sick bay, kicking the door open and yelling, "Thorin Oakenshield, did you marry me without bothering to tell me?!"
Post Raven Hill and watching his love die in his arms, Bilbo commits suicide intent on meeting Thorin again in the afterlife. He gets to Yavannahs Green Garden, and instantly starts digging to get to the Halls of Waiting.
Much digging occurs, Bilbo makes it there and goes in search of the heirs of Durin. Only to find...they aren't there.
Confused and thoroughly annoyed Bilbo goes to find whoever's in charge around here. I'm imagining many layers of "I want to talk to your manager". (I truly believe hobbits are the only race in middle earth who could persevere long enough, with enough conviction and self righteous rage, to cancel a cable subscription.)
Based on his Bilbo-ness and the fact a freaking hobbit has somehow gotten into the darrow afterlife, Bilbo finally meets Mahal/Aulë himself. He obviously demands to know where Thorin, Fili and Kili are.
Mahal, rather sheepishly tells Bilbo, well, they're still alive.
(Here's I'm picturing the dwarf healing sleep head canon I've read a few times)
Enraged and indigent that NONE of this so-called FRIENDS told him this, Bilbo demands to be sent back. And who is Mahal to deny a hobbit wronged by his heirs? AND one brave enough to risk the afterlife to see them again. Really he has no choice.
Crack ensues.
Every. Single. One of the Company is being tracked down by Bilbo - armed with a very solid rolling pin (or frying pan). Non will get away unscathed. Best believe that applies to the line of Durin too, as soon as they're strong enough to withstand his revenge.
Bonus points if Bilbo comes back in some sort of semi zombie state and everyone has to deal with that too
for sale: Baby Shoes Stylish Infant Boy Girl Unisex First Walker Shoes Toddler Walking Crib Shoes Lightweight Non-Slip Sneakers For 6 9 12 18 24 Months Baby Shoes New With Tags New In Box Excellent Condition Never Worn
~ 🗡️Bagginshield🛡️ ~ For the Shire Summer Festival prompt: 'You know ... You don't have to do this'
@acorn-and-oakleaves
All audiences, no warnings apply
Part 1 I Part 2
Today was a bad day. Not all days were bad, thankfully, and the bad days were slowly becoming fewer and further between. But today the craving was weighing heavily on him, making his skin itchy and, worst of all, putting him off his food.
It had been almost a year that he'd been living in Erebor, and equally, almost a year since he'd last laid eyes on the Ring of Power that he'd uncovered in the Goblin caves. As things had settled after the war, Bilbo had decided to tell the Company about the Ring, and on Gandalf's advice they'd constructed a room to store it in, deep in the heart of the mountain, in a location that would not be disclosed to Bilbo and that would be near inaccessible to all. The room had taken very little time to construct, and the Ring had been sealed inside, and there it lay. Untouchable.
But still, Bilbo could hear it calling to him. Its voice was faint, and growing fainter as every month passed. But on bad days, when he was ill or tired or stressed, its influence felt heavy, and he had to fight the urge to search through the mountain, to find it, just so that he might see it, hold it, one last time. He knew, logically, that if he did find it, he would never be able to leave it again. So he fought with everything he had against the urge, and had so far been successful.
That didn't mean that the fight didn't weigh on him, though. And this morning, after a late night entertaining Thorin's newly arrived kin from the Blue Mountains, Bilbo was finding it incredibly difficult to manage both his fatigue and the constant nagging in the back of his head. The breakfast hall, where the entire Company still gathered most mornings out of habit, was too loud, too bright. It was all grating unpleasantly against his skin, and after 20 minutes of picking at his food and clenching his jaw, Bilbo simply couldn't take any more, and he rose from the table, excusing himself quietly, hoping that he might be able to just slip away.
He was stopped by a hand on his elbow, and then he was spun back around to face Thorin. The King remained in his chair, holding Bilbo in place as his sharp blue eyes scanned carefully over the Hobbit's face. Bilbo held his breath, kept his expression as neutral as possible, but then the Dwarf's black eyebrows rose slightly in recognition, and he winced. He had known that he wouldn't get away with it if Thorin got a good look at him, which was why he'd been trying to get away.
Unfortunately, the flinch did not help matters, as Thorin's eyebrows instantly lowered into a concerned and rather unamused frown. Bilbo saw the resolve on his lover's face, and instantly knew what was about to happen. Slightly panicked, and even though he knew it would entirely be in vain, he said, 'Thorin, don't -'
'Balin.' The King spoke over him easily, his rumbling voice cutting through the chatter of the Company, who had continued with their breakfast, completely unaware of the silent moment that had passed between them. There was only a slight dip in the noise level in response to Thorin's call, but it was enough for Bilbo to hear the older Dwarf answer. He closed his eyes in exasperation when Thorin, without looking away from his face, continued, 'Please take over my duties today. I'm afraid I will be unavailable.'
At that, the room fell silent, and Bilbo could feel the tension in the air around them as a dozen pairs of eyes landed on them, observing how the Hobbit stood, back straight, next to the King, how the King still had one hand wrapped around his bicep, as though to stop him from fleeing. Which was fair - given the choice, Bilbo would have elected to be anywhere other than that hall at that precise moment.
'Understood,' Balin finally murmured, and all too quickly, the noise levels around the table rose once more. Bilbo winced again at the sudden increase in sound, but he opened his eyes when he felt Thorin stand. The King slid his fingers down Bilbo's arm in favour of holding his hand, but his grip lost no strength as he turned and marched them out of the hall, down several corridors, and right back into their bedchambers.
'I'll draw you a bath,' Thorin murmured, his thumb running over Bilbo's knuckles as he gazed down at the Hobbit with no small amount of concern. He lifted Bilbo's hand to press a lingering kiss to the back of it, then finally released his hold, already starting to make his way across to their private bathroom as he went on, 'And I'll have Bombur send up some of your favourite foods today. I can even ask Ori to search out some books he thinks you might like, and we can spend the whole day in bed, if it pleases you.'
'You know ... You don't have to do this.' Bilbo's voice was quiet, heavy with the shame of his struggle, and he fidgeted with his hands, embarrassed by his own weakness, by how easily the King had seen through his facade. But Thorin froze in the doorway of the bathroom, then turned to face Bilbo, and gave him a slow, soft smile.
'I know, my Treasure. But I want to.'
And with that he continued on with his task, leaving Bilbo standing alone in their lounge, fighting back his tears.
Everybody lives, all audiences, no warnings apply (other than beware the tooth-rotting fluff)
The air coming in through the open windows was fresh and clean, and Bilbo took in a deep breath of it as his eyes flickered open, a sleepy smile creeping across his face. The bedroom was already starting to smell like that unique blend of odors that Bilbo had come to anticipate on the early Spring mornings in Erebor - the faintest hint of mountain-side foliage, mixed with a suggestion of the lake from far below in the valley and, layered over it all, the distinctive scent of cool stone. Such different aromas to what he'd grown used to at Bag End, but by no means any less comforting.
He sighed, his smile widening as he settled back into the warmth of the bed, allowing himself to wake slowly. The luxurious cotton of the sheets against his skin was very alluring, nearly tempting him to close his eyes for a little longer. But as he gazed up at the canopy above the bed, his mind began to run through all of the things that he had to do today, the foremost of those being, of course, to source a healthy and fulfilling breakfast. The idea of food was enough to banish all thoughts of dozing, and he stretched, and shifted towards the edge of the bed, trying to move carefully, quietly.
Almost immediately, he was stopped by a huge, heavy arm wrapping around his waist, and he squawked as he was dragged inexorably back into the bed to be plastered against a great wall of bare flesh and coarse black hair. He gasped at the heat rolling off the skin he was being held against, but he was chuckling as he murmured, 'Release me at once, you great oaf.'
'S'too early.' The King's voice, already so naturally deep and rough, was made almost impossible to understand when it was so thick with sleep. Biblo huffed another laugh as a bearded face scrubbed against his cheek, and Thorin rumbled into his ear. 'Five more minutes. Nowhere t'rush to.'
'Maybe for you, Your Highness,' Bilbo drawled as he turned himself over to face the Dwarf. Thorin's eyes remained closed, his strong features lined from being pressed into the linens all night. Bilbo reached up to run his fingers through his beloved's beard, gently easing the night's tangles from it, and he was rewarded by a contented hum the reverberated right through his bones. Still, his stomach was already beginning to protest at this delay, so he dropped a light kiss to the tip of Thorin's nose and whispered, 'Go back to sleep, Love. I'll be back soon. As always.'
He got no response. Assuming that Thorin had already fallen back asleep, he carefully detangled himself from the King's arms and scooted to the edge of the bed, moving quickly so that he might avoid being re-captured again. Behind him, Thorin sighed heavily, then grunted, 'Hobbits. Always in a rush.'
'Can't be wasting good breakfasting hours in bed, now can we?' Bilbo retorted, but he paused long enough to lean back over and kiss the King's flushed cheek before finally straightening up. He waited until he was at the door before he added, 'And besides, some of us are in more need of beauty sleep than others.'
Thorin's somewhat drowsy chuckle followed him out of the room, and Bilbo's chest filled with warmth as he hurried to his wardrobe. He knew that the Dwarf would probably prefer that they spent a little longer in bed in the mornings, but Bilbo also knew that his beloved husband would be equally greatful when the Hobbit returned to their chambers in half an hour, laden with coffee and pastries and the morning's gossip. And once they had eaten, they would get their time together, to spend their morning however the King wished.
So Bilbo would continue this little tradition that he had carved out for them, because it meant that they both ended up with exactly what they wanted. And really, there was just no better way to start the morning.
