#the collar is soft and squishy and delightful to the touch but it looks SO SMALL

[asterdeer]

staring at the ribbed collar on my dpns like ‘you’d better fit around my head when im done you tiny piece of shit’

#dpns bane of my existence my beloathéd #the villain in a box i resort to when none of my circulars are short enough for a top-down sweater #the collar is soft and squishy and delightful to the touch but it looks SO SMALL #realizing that this is the stupidest post in the world to the smart-asses who. you know. make a gauge swatch #mythtakes #knitting tag #i will never make a gauge swatch I will never be a smart or patient knitter I will never change #if my sweaters come out wonky I will COPE

[some-kindofgnome]

Hitoshi tests a more creative application of his quirk on you, his willing submissive.

characters: dom!pro hero!hitoshi shinsou/sub!f!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: smut (18+), aged-up characters, pro hero Shinsou (who is kind of a softie), hard BDSM and control dynamics, edging, consensual mind control, sex toys, praise kink, blowjob, unprotected sex, some loooong and tender aftercare/yearning

notes: the dynamic in this fic was partially inspired by We Wear Chains on the Weekend [ao3] and a conversation with @shadowworks about some fun applications of Hitoshi's quirk 👀 I hope you enjoy this horny little bit of fun! I enjoyed thinking about this dynamic with 'Toshi. He talks big, but we know deep down he's just as soft and squishy as us 💖

One more note: The dynamics and safety measures in this fic are the result of a little bit of research that I conducted. It is not meant to encompass EVERY BDSM experience, nor was my research exhaustive. This was just my little take on some kinky business with Hitoshi, so please let me know if there are any elements I've overlooked or misstepped!

(MASTERLIST)

Hitoshi will never forget the first night he spent in this house.

The little semi-detached in a quiet, trendy neighbourhood was one of the first things his pro salary earned him. Having the place to himself is still one of the biggest perks that salary ever provided.

Privacy, as he’s learned since, is paramount to the life he’s crafting for himself.

It’s Friday evening, and the early spring rain’s showing no sign of letting up when you ring his doorbell. The sound echoes through the house like the bells of Notre Dame- terrifyingly gothic, considering it was like that when he moved in, but not entirely out of character for him.

And his heart swells quietly every time he knows it’s you behind that door.

He pads easily down the polished steps, already showered and changed out of his work clothes. He likes to dress up for you a little, sporting a pair of dark slacks and a black button-down with the top four buttons undone. His hair, still damp from the shower, sits a little tamer and darker than usual.

No matter how good he looks, you manage to knock him on his ass with a single glance.

“Hey,” he greets with a quiet, familiar sort of warmth as he pulls open the right half of the double front doors. His smile slips a little at the sight of you, shaking the water out of your umbrella and soaked to the bone. You catch his gaze out your peripherals and start a little, shooting him a sheepish smile.

Something claws tight and possessive at the pit of his chest. You’re so cute, even water-logged like this.

“Getting worse out there, huh?” He quips, stepping aside to let you in.

“It’s not exactly prime umbrella weather,” you giggle, setting the dripping, half-broken monstrosity in the umbrella tray that he keeps by the door. “But I made it, didn’t I?”

He can’t help but reach for you, letting his fingers brush attentively at your clothes as he helps you out of your drenched coat. The dress you’re wearing looks devastatingly easy to remove, and his chest lurches a little with the urge to have you bare for him.

He resists. For now.

“Right on time,” he replies, taking your coat neatly by the collar and hanging it over the bannister. “Do you want to dry off a little before we go upstairs, or…?”

“No.” You answer suddenly enough to prompt his inquisitive gaze, and Hitoshi turns to look at you with a purple brow quirked perfectly.

“I’m just feeling a little antsy today,” you continue, and he watches the way your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip. “So, I’d like to get started right away, if that’s okay with you.”

You meet his eye again. Hitoshi’s starting to wonder if he’s the one who should be getting on his knees in front of you upstairs.

“That’s okay with me.”

He smiles thinly, making his best attempt at hiding the affection that’s bubbling shallow and steady in his chest. He reaches for you, uncurling his fingers to offer an eager palm.

You take it. The contact is breathtaking.

He climbs the stairs with your fingers grasped firmly in his. The suspense never fades.

Hitoshi keeps his bedroom a few degrees warmer than the rest of the house, and as he twists the knob and pushes the door inward, he can feel your palm relaxing in his. You’ve always liked it in here- warm and humid, from the house plants that line the windows and add lush splashes of colour to every corner.

It means more to him than you’ll ever know, that you find such comfort in a space so full of him.

He lets you slip in ahead, closing the door behind him and reaching for the colourful remote nearby. He dims the lights overhead, stroking his thumb thoughtfully over the rainbow buttons. He peeks at you through his peripherals, watching the way you glide your fingertips over the broad leaf of a money plant that blooms atop his dresser.

“What colour should we use today?” He pushes a button, and hidden strips of lighting illuminate in a deep shade of blue-green. The bed and walls are cast into a cool, oceanlike glow, reflecting blue off the room’s vegetation and creating a floating, almost aquatic sense of serenity.

“I like this one,” you confirm. “Keep it.”

“Whatever you like,” he promises, setting down the remote. “Today’s all about keeping you relaxed.”

He approaches you at last, cupping either side of your face in delicate palms. He tilts your gaze to his.

“You’re still up for it?” He asks, low and sincere as he searches your eyes. “What we had planned for today?”

“I am,” you confirm. He’s nervous that the rain may have upset things, but you’re clearly as ready as ever. “Been thinking about this all week.”

His shoulders drop a little, relief trickling into the fluttering cavity of his chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He bends, pressing a quiet little kiss to your forehead and smoothing his palms over the wet surface of your hair. He holds you there for a moment, staying close. He forces power into his shoulders and steps back from you, unbuttoning his cuffs. He breathes a deep sigh- focus, Hitoshi- and settles into the power dynamic you both can’t seem to stay away from.

He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, depositing it neatly over the back of the nearby armchair. He nods toward you, slow and discerning.

“Strip.”

That dress is precisely as easy to remove as he hoped it would be, and he gets to watch as you slide each strap slowly down your arm, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His jaw gives an interested little tick as he gorges himself on the sight of you.

You’ve developed a nasty little habit of leaving your bra at home for sessions like this, as if he wouldn’t notice the way your tits sat beneath that loose silk, your nipples tight and hard from the wet chill outside.

You are delectable. Hitoshi feels infatuation crawling up the column of his spine every time he has you like this. But he’s about to take you even deeper, and while you’re more than ready, he’s not sure his heart can take it.

You’re wiggling out of your underwears now, exposing that perfect little patch of hair between your legs. What makes his cock throb even worse, though, is the way that you already know how he likes you. And so, kicking your underwear away and smoothing your hands down your sides, you don’t wait long at all before dropping to your knees and settling your palms on your thighs.

You lower your chin and go still.

For a minute, he lets himself admire you. He’s aching to touch you, but today will be all about patience. For both of you.

But he can’t take you, sitting so still for him like this. He caves to the warming in his chest and steps forward, tucking two fingers beneath the point of your chin and pulling your eyes to his.

“You sure about this?” He asks you. You lick your lips again, slow and thoughtful and torturous, now that he’s already so captivated by you. You’re giving it the honest thought it deserves. But when you purse your lips and nod into his palm, your eyes are certain.

“I’m sure.”

He’s been working you up to this for weeks. Exploring the unique possibilities of a relationship with him has always been in your contract, but it’s not something Hitoshi ever planned on rushing into. Only now, after months of playtime and weeks of careful preparation, does he feel ready to practice this with you.

“We left you your signals,” he reminds you, tenderly stroking the backs of his fingers from your chin up to your cheek. You’re staring up at him with such trust and admiration it’s hard to imagine anyone ever thought him a monster, for possessing such power. “You can come out of it whenever you want to.”

“Hitoshi,” you prompt, and the fall of his first name from your lips is enough to quell all his rising nerves. Despite the way you’re looking at him, memories of those poison words he’s been hearing all his life are flooding him. They’ve always served as a grim reminder of the damage he’s capable of.

But you wanted this. You’re ready for it. And he’s taken every precaution to ensure that you’re going to be safe.

So much reassurance, wrapped up in the three tiny syllables of his name.

It’s his turn to nod. He takes your jaw into his hand and drops to one knee in front of you, stooping to press his lips to the shell of your ear. Your sweet scent washes over him as he leans close, enhanced by the fresh rain on your skin and the rapid swell of your chest as you breathe.

“So you’re ready to drop, then?” He keeps his voice as low as possible, delighting in the way that you shiver in response. Your breath hitches against his chest, puffing quietly across his cheek.

“Yes.”

-

The word barely edges from your lips before the influence of his quirk fills every hollow in your ready bones. It’s a presence like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like the rising tide filling your lungs and weighing down your limbs. You take a deep, shaky breath to remind yourself it’s still possible.

Hitoshi’s used his quirk on you before. Preparing for this level of control, he tells you, takes practice. The more time he has to inhabit your mind, the better control he’ll have over what you experience and what you miss. The first time he ever used it on you is still a blank slate. But he only kept you under for a couple of seconds, building slowly over the course of many sessions toward the layered control he has now.

The sensation is thrilling. And yet, simultaneously, you feel completely safe. He will not misuse this power that you’ve so blithely handed over.

The sounds around you are muffled as Hitoshi gets to his feet, but when he speaks, his voice echoes in your mind like a bell.

“Can you understand me?”

Your body feels heavy and warm and semi-solid, but you manage a slow, clear nod.

“Good girl. Give me your hands.”

When he gives you an instruction, your muscles move without your consultation. You stretch your hands out toward him eagerly, and he takes both of them between his. He gives your fingers a sharp little squeeze.

“Can you give me your signals now?”

You cycle through them like clockwork. This is the part you had to work hard to develop, working through the specific layers of his quirk that might have been able to prevent such advanced thought.

With practice, though, here you are.

The system is one you’ve always used in parts of your arrangement where your ability to speak freely has been repressed. Hitoshi’s always been good at checking in with you no matter what, but thankfully he doesn’t push your boundaries too often.

You squeeze his hands in a slow progression, leaving long, deliberate spaces between each signal so that their distinction is clear.

One squeeze: keep going, all is well.

Two squeezes: slow down, I’m getting frustrated/uncomfortable

Three: STOP NOW

When you finish your stop signal and let your hands go still, Hitoshi’s fingers go slack in yours.

“Good girl, good,” he coos. “God, you’re so pretty like this. Look at you.”

He drops your hands, carefully letting them fall back to their neutral position on your thighs. There’s a pleasant tingle filling your dulled senses. In this state of mind, you can feel his gaze on you like a careful touch.

“I can do whatever I want with you,” he grunts. “Fuck, I can feel how much you want this.”

He’s moved away from you for a couple of seconds, but when he comes back he’s bare. Your vision is blurred about the edges, but you feel a wet little push he presses the tip of his cock, already hard and weeping, to the swell of your cheek.

“Don’t be difficult,” he purrs in your mind. “Open up.”

Your mouth drops eagerly open as you let your eyes fall shut. As he eases his hips forward, you let the flat pad of your tongue slip forward to cradle the tender head of his cock. Hitoshi groans low and soft, but the sound echoes through every nerve in your body, reverberating from within.

“That’s it,” he prompts softly. “So pliant for me, beautiful. Take it.”

He rocks slowly into your throat, letting sloppy drool slough from your tongue and coat his thick shaft as his fingers spread across the back of your head. He grips you tightly, keeping your neck in place as his tense thighs work to keep himself steady.

He eases himself onto your tongue and stops there for a moment. His pulse thrums in your ears, syncopating steadily with yours. He lets his head lull back as he lets out a deep, shaky sigh.

“Suck,” he commands, and you comply.

You bob your head eagerly back and forth, settling into a numbingly precise rhythm. Sucking Hitoshi’s cock has never been a chore for you, but in this state you’re conditioned to like it.

He grips you tighter as his hips begin to stutter a little. Every sound that leaves his mouth passes into your mind well before it reaches your muffled ears. You’re beginning to realize, in the deep, sunken place where your consciousness still rests, that allowing him into your mind has connected you more intimately than ever before.

You can feel his pleasure in the same way that he can sense your desire.

“So good,” he gasps, and the sound rappels down your spine. “Fuck, you’ve always been so good at this. I know how much you love it.”

He’s losing his cool now, thrusting against the barrier of your throat with more reckless abandon. But you’re numb to the feelings that might have stopped you before, swallowing him eagerly down to double his pleasure.

It shows. His fingers twitch against the back of your head as he grits his teeth and grunts, a breathy, feral sound with every rock of his heavy balls against your chin. Your eyes have slipped open again, but you don’t see him. Not really. All you can sense is his ecstasy, building to a rapid peak as he humps and pants and shivers into your needy mouth.

“God,” he rasps, “not gonna… t-that’s it… f-fuck!”

He rips away from you in one fluid stroke, that ecstasy boiling right to the surface before it’s halted in its tracks. He’s got one hand wrapped tightly around the base of his flushed cock and his pleasure’s dwindling.

He’s saving himself, to fill you properly later. While controlling your pleasure has always been a part of your games, Hitoshi’s taken to controlling his own as well. Lately, he doesn’t even let himself cum until you’ve seen your climax.

You’ve been trying not to let yourself read into it.

“Good girl,” he pants inside your head. “Come here.”

You’re a little shaky as you climb to your feet, but the numbness that you might normally get in your toes by now persists through your entire body. You close the distance to him in a handful of deliberate, steady steps, and he settles a hand on your hip to stop you when you’ve come close enough.

“Look at you,” he growls. “You’re still under, aren’t you? Incredible.” He takes one of your hands between both of his, dropping a kiss to your knuckles before giving your fingers a meaningful squeeze.

“Check in for me, sweetheart.”

In the receded depths of your on consciousness, you’re nothing but eager to continue. Hitoshi’s weighty cock in your throat sent spirals of aggressive arousal through your entire body. Your pussy is swollen and tingling, smearing the insides of your thighs with thick desire.

You give his palm one long, deliberate squeeze.

You need more.

“That’s what I like to see,” he purrs. He leads you to the bed and takes the liberty of lifting you into his arms. Your body collapses eagerly into his hold, and you let him deposit you gently onto the neatly made sheets. You stretch into the pillows, but your blank stare is always fixed on him.

“Okay, pretty girl,” he croons, and you’re still and stiff before he even finishes his thought. “Lie still for me, okay?”

He lifts one knee onto the bed and casts a gentle hand down the column of your belly, taking a gentle tilt to the left and sliding his fingertips along the column of your thigh.

“I’ve got your favourite toy here,” he croons, but you can’t respond. Instead, the buzz of nerves builds in the back of your skull, where your meager ability to feel has been preserved. Hitoshi wraps his graceful fingers around the toy in question- a sizeable wand vibrator in a deceptively pleasant shade of pale lilac silicone- and waves it in front of your eyes.

“Let’s see how much you can take, hmm?”

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to the point of your collarbone before tilting his chin forward to find the shell of your ear.

“Don’t cum,” he croons, sending a fresh thrill of terrified arousal into your veins, “until I say you can, alright?”

He slips the vibe between your legs and you feel it rumble to life. He knows your favourite settings easily by now, setting the toy to buzz low and hard between your legs in a series of long, rhythmic pulses.

Your body starts to pitch and tremble, but it cannot disobey his strict instructions to stay still. Your pleasure spikes the instant the vibrator’s soft, flexible head makes contact with your swollen clit. You want to press your legs together, whine with overstimulation and bat away the offending toy. But the influence of Hitoshi’s power is stronger than any physical restraint. Even as your muscles strain, you are powerless to move.

He holds you there, amusement lighting his features. You can feel the satisfaction thrumming in the back of his mind, building slowly. You know he can feel the unbearable sensations racing through your entire body. But he refuses to let up, even as desperate tears break from the corners of your eyes.

This vibrator has always been your favourite of his, thanks to its unshakeable ability to bring you to orgasm within the space of a minute. There’s something about the depth of the vibrations (and Hitoshi’s expert handling) that never seems to fail.

Tonight, that fact isn’t working in your favour.

Your pleasure reaches its peak devastatingly quickly. But every part of your body is under Hitoshi’s complete control. And he’s given you strict instructions not to reach that climax.

Your nerves are struck dumb as the pleasure bleeds into a desperate ache. You can feel the edge of your climax, dangling just out of reach. And the longer he keeps you on the edge, the more torturous the sensation.

The tears are coming faster now, streaming down your temples and soaking into your hair as you whimper and pitch, trying to shrug his control and force the vibrator away from your overstimulated pussy. He lets you thrash and struggle for a dozen heartbeats, picking up on your discomfort and pulling the vibrator away from your body as you gasp for shaky breath.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” He coos, switching the vibrator off and laying a hand on the flat of your stomach. Your body’s gone slack, but the muscles in your lower belly are still twitching and fluttering, trying to make sense of your waning pleasure.

“I can feel you fighting me,” he continues, voice dropping into his chest. He rubs soothing circles into your tender skin, letting you catch your breath. “You know you don’t have to struggle, sweetness.” He leans in, dipping his forehead against yours and giving your mouth a soft little taste.

“Are you ready for my cock now?”

Yes, your mind screams, and he starts, pulling back to look at you in mild surprise.

He actually heard that. After the surprise fades from his expression, he lets the barest hint of a smile touch his mouth.

“Good.”

When he touches your thighs they fall limp into his palms. Any commands he’s given your paralyzed nerves are overridden by the force of his touch. So, as he kneels between your thighs and pushes them apart, you relent easily.

Your senses are still a hazy blur, but you feel it like a bolt of lightning when he swipes the tip of his cock over your sloppy folds. You give a sharp little yip and Hitoshi chuckles, with the breathy edge of pleasure slipping into his voice. He rocks his hips forward, grinding against your needy hole and grunting through his chest.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Can’t hold on any longer.” He edges forward, prodding his thick tip against your entrance. As soon as he’s lined up he slides home in one smooth stroke, burying himself to the base with a shaky groan.

The pleasure is enough to prompt a quiet whimper from your absent mind as your body eagerly takes his stretch. Hitoshi’s cock has always seemed perfect for you in size and form. And he’s proven many times over that he knows exactly how to use it.

He fucks you with devastating precision, slipping one hand under your thigh to brace you against the mattress while he anchors himself by the knees and ruts against your body. He lets his hips slap ruthlessly over your skin, his weighty, spit-soaked balls swinging heavy against the curve of your ass with every thrust.

You’ve been well prepared for this moment, messy-wet and smearing his shaft with your slick. Every time he drives his cock into you, his groans are punctuated by the soft little whimpers that break from his control to escape your clenched jaw.

The pleasure is already unbearable for you. That peak you weren’t allowed to reach before is approaching quickly, and all you can hope is that Hitoshi will have the sense to let you release before he’s tumbling over the edge himself.

You have no choice at this point but to trust him completely.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he gasps above you. Your pleasure is doubled by his sensations racing through your neurons, and you can tell before he speaks that he’s not going to last long at all.

“Don’t know how long I can hold out,” he warns anyway, and his hips are already beginning to stutter inside you. You could have easily cum two times over by now, but your body is held back once again, forced to linger on the edge of bliss until he decides to let you fall.

He shoves his hips against yours one, two, three more rough times before stilling abruptly inside you. His body’s stiff, straining against the threshold of his pleasure. But he catches his breath, and his next words ring clear as day among a sea of troubled sensations.

“Are you ready to cum for me?”

You let out a low, desperate whine, focusing every ounce of concentration you have left into amplifying those desperate emotions.

Please, your mind screams. I’ll do anything, please.

Hitoshi nods slowly, your body going slack when you’re sure you’ve been heard. He slips both hands under your thighs, stroking his thumbs lovingly along your flesh. He bends over your torso, dropping a kiss to your mouth and steeling himself as his lips trail to your ear one last time.

“Cum,” he orders, and you do.

All the pent-up tension and pleasure spirals from your body in the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt. What would normally send dull flutters into the pit of your stomach has deep, earth-shattering tremors wracking your entire body. You thrash into the pillows, crying out your pleasure in eager, greedy gulps, and your pussy seizes around his cock as tight as a fist.

Hitoshi curses against your skin, rutting his hips into your convulsing depths and matching your peak with a climax of his own. His balls draw up against your ass as he pumps hot spurts of cum into your needing cunt, fucking the fluid back into your body as your thighs clamp over his hips and the last tremors of your orgasm recede into dull trembles.

“That’s my girl,” he gasps. In the pleasure that overtook him, he’s de-activated his quirk. He lets you surface as he stays inside you for a couple long breaths, tasting the crook of your neck and rubbing sensation back into your limbs.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he croons. “Come here. Give me your hand. Show me,” he prompts, and you’re far from surfaced but you know what he wants when he slots his fingers between yours.

You give him another long, deliberate squeeze. You can’t form words yet, but you’re okay.

“That’s okay,” Hitoshi prompts. He pulls slowly back from you, sliding out of your body and easing onto the pillows beside you. He keeps his movements slow and gentle, handling you with extra care while you’re still feeling delicate.

“You were so good,” he growls, reaching for you. “So good for me. My perfect girl.”

His touch is the first sensation that clears the fog in your mind. He pulls you tightly against his bare chest, and the sweet touch of his skin to yours is like a soothing tonic for your frayed senses. Skin-to-skin contact has always been a big part of aftercare for you, but tonight it hits so hard that it sends relieved tears to your eyes.

Hitoshi’s patient as a lamb with you, stroking slow circles into your shoulders, belly and hips as you cycle through the complex progression of emotions that stand between you and the surface of your consciousness. He keeps his lips nuzzled tight to the shell of your ear, speaking low and soft and constant, grounding you in him.

After a long few minutes, you blink a little faster and stir a little heavier in his arms. You’ve fought your way to the surface, like breaking out of a deep sleep, and the weight of all he’s put you through settles into your chest. Hard.

You shiver. “Cold.”

“Okay,” he promises, shifting both of you a little more upright. “I’ve got clothes for you right here. Let me just-” He lets go of you to reach for the drawers of his nightstand, and anxiety rushes hard and fast to the back of your throat.

You whine. Loudly. You reach for him without thinking about it, and he comes back to you in the span of a heartbeat.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes. “I won’t let go.”

You’re always clingy after a scene. But today you can’t bear to be parted from him. While he’s the one that sent you spiralling, he’s also the one who brought you down to earth again.

With you looped carefully in one arm, he scoots the pair of you toward his side of the bed until he can reach the nightstand with one hand still carefully draped over your middle. He dumps a pile of soft cotton fleece onto the sheets in front of you, then presses himself up tightly behind you to reach forward with both hands and unfold the garments.

“There,” he hums, showing you the sleeves of one, the cuffs of another. “Warm clothes. Can I help you put them on?”

You give a pouty little nod, so he slips you into the pants one leg at a time and pushes your arms gently into the hoodie, staying as close as possible and letting you keep the black hood pulled over your head. He finds his discarded undershorts and slips into those, too, prompting another defeated whimper from you when he has to pull away to find some clothes of his own.

Once he’s dressed (and you’ve cuddled him long enough to quell some of the pouting) he pushes the edge of your hood back and presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Do you want to visit the fish?” he asks. Your mood spikes and you cling tighter, but nod nevertheless.

The most prominent feature of Hitoshi’s lavish house is mounted into the wall in the upstairs hallway. During the day it’s surprisingly easy to miss, but now that the light has waned and the house is dark, it glows an ethereal blue that casts a liquid pool of light across the dark hardwood and ornate rug.

Lining the entire wall stands a massive tropical fish tank, maintained professionally and kept in impeccable order. It’s filled by a multitude of different species of tropical fish, darting in and out of live coral in warm splashes of vibrant colour. The pump in one corner sends a steady stream of bubbles toward the surface, and in the quiet, the bubbles make soft little gurgles as they break the surface.

Hitoshi brings you into the hallway cradled tightly in his arms. The moment your face is bathed in that pretty blue light, the last dredges of anxiety bleed from your chest. There’s something immensely calming about the gentle, rhythmic way the fish move. Some of the more curious ones even see you peering in at them, emerging from their little hideaways to swim up to the glass and investigate.

“Hi,” you croon softly, touching one fingertip gently to the glass where a bright yellow tang noses eagerly at its smooth surface from the other side. Hitoshi chuckles deeply into your neck, always charmed by how soft and quiet and vulnerable you get after a particularly tough scene.

This part, the tender healing that comes afterward, is half the appeal for both of you. But with every passing session you can feel yourself growing more deeply attached to him. You’re falling for him, despite everything you put into words- on paper for him- that said you wouldn’t.

Love was not what either of you wanted to get out of this arrangement. But when he handles your trust so delicately where so many others have failed, it’s hard not to fall.

It’s hard not to wish, watching over such a tiny, peaceful little underwater world, that you could belong in there, too. Maybe, if you’d been born a little blue surgeonfish, you wouldn’t have to deal with such complex feelings.

But then you wouldn’t have all the pain and all the joy of falling for someone like Hitoshi Shinsou.

After you’re satisfied with the state of the fish tank, Hitoshi brings you downstairs to the kitchen. He’s not letting you go home tonight, but you were prepared for that possibility. You have pills and a toothbrush in your purse, and he’s had extra clothes lying around for you from the moment you signed that contract.

He bundles you into the couch. Puts on your favourite sitcom without needing to ask. He brews your favourite kind of tea- liquid heat that warms you to the very core- and stretches out next to you for the rest of the evening.

You wake hours later, sleeping next to him in the wee hours of the morning. He is stretched out on his side next to you, spooning you lovingly with one heavy arm draped over your side. He’s always reaching for you, ready to catch.

In moments like this, it’s easy to believe he might love you. And in the deepest hours of doubt and vulnerability, you let that feeling lull you back to sleep, just as he might if he could soothe your restlessness.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #bnha #tw dom/sub #tw mind control #my hero academia #gnomewrites

[aces-to-apples]

For the meme, Maul and Jesse, "Finding the other wearing their clothes" please?

hEY SO I KNOW IT’S BEEN LIKE TWO MONTHS AND MY BRAIN IS USELESS GARBAGE BUT AFTER SEVERAL FALSE STARTS HAHA HERE HAVE WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS

@bootlegged-tea

For this ask meme

Citrus Scale: Lemon

Warnings: Blowjobs, Unsafe Sex, Orgasm Denial/Delay, Sexual Frustration, uhhhhh sexy power games ig??

Here on AO3

NOT SAFE FOR WHALES

1. Finding the other wearing their clothes + 15. One character adjusting the others jewelry/tie etc.

“These are new.”

Stepping into Jesse’s space, Maul rested his chin on his lieutenant’s shoulder and met his eyes in the mirror before them. He seemed unbothered by the intrusion into his rooms, shifting his weight and leaning back slightly into Maul’s chest, even, but rolled his eyes at the comment. “This is yours,” he replied, needlessly straightening the black fabric that fell down his torso.

Indeed, the shirt was pilfered from Maul’s clothing stores and obviously so—it stretched across Jesse’s broader shoulders and thicker arms in a very visually pleasing manner. The dark trousers, sturdy boots, and unpainted beskar greaves were Jesse’s own. However, “I was speaking of these,” Maul murmured into his ear, moving a hand from Jesse’s shoulder down his chest and pushing aside the plunging neckline to reveal his lieutenant’s latest indulgence.

Where once had been undecorated flesh, Jesse had seen fit to adorn his chest with a metal bar through each of his nipples, flanked on either end with small blue jewels that sparkled in the light. Maul brushed a careful thumb over one of them and could feel the shiver begin at the base of Jesse’s neck and move down his spine.

“Oh. Those.” Jesse blinked rapidly, his gaze having gone distant at the touch. He raised his chin slightly. “It’s my body. I can do what I like with it.”

“Indeed, you can,” Maul said, thinking of the golden stud at the top of his own left ear—an addition he’d made just before being sent to Naboo. He moved his hand to cup Jesse’s pectoral, firm muscle covered by soft fat that felt good in his hand. “And I, for one, am quite enjoying the results.”

Settling back more firmly against him, Jesse smirked at him through the mirror. “That so?” he asked, challenging.

Maul hummed. “I have a gift for you,” he said, bringing his other hand out from behind his back. Hanging from his fingers, a short, thick rope of twisted silver at the center of which rested a large dark blue stone flecked with green and gold.

Eyes flicking from the necklace to Maul and back, Jesse fixed him with a stern look. “Looks like a collar. I’m already wearing your clothes. You really don’t have to play that hard into the joke, an’edee.”

Suppressing an eye-roll, Maul held it out as an offering. “Ignore that,” he advised. “What does it feel like to you?”

Jesse plucked it out of his hand and brought it close to his face to examine. When he brushed a thumb over the smooth surface of the stone, Maul felt his whole body flinch as if he’d received an electric shock.

“It’s warm,” Jesse said, eyes wide, sounding a little breathless. “And it”—his eyes drifted closed for a beat—“it almost feels… alive.”

Pleased, Maul wrapped his arm around the lieutenant’s middle and pulled him even more snugly against his body. “It’s a Kunda stone,” he explained, watching as Jesse stared at it, transfixed. “They are naturally in tune with the Force and are known to protect those in possession of them from many mind-altering effects.” He waited a moment, unsure what reaction the next piece of information would garner. “I… thought you might enjoy wearing blue again. Since you haven’t painted any of your new pieces of armor.”

Jesse’s gaze darted to his in the mirror again, before he turned in their embrace and nudged their noses together. “Thanks, vod,” he said, nipping at Maul’s mouth just a touch.

They spent a moment fiddling with the clasp and settling it around his neck so that the stone rested at the hollow of Jesse’s throat. It looked good against his skin.

Maul pressed their lips together more firmly, licking at his lieutenant’s mouth and crowding him until his back was pressed against the glass. Jesse’s body was hungry for him, pulling him closer and closer, responding eagerly to his touch.

He tugged at the belt that kept the shirt that Jesse wore neat, pushing all fabric onto the floor and running his hands firmly up and down his chest and belly. His ver’alor had developed a taste for heavy Alderaani cuisine and rich desserts of all kinds, and they both reaped the rewards.

No less the body of a warrior for it, Jesse had a layer of squishy softness over everything now, a give to him that made his body a delight to touch and be touched by.

He moaned when Maul cupped his hands around his pectorals again, rubbing both thumbs over the pretty new additions. They were no doubt still extremely sensitive and Jesse wrapped his arms around him and pulled him impossibly tighter, grinding against Maul’s belly with increasing urgency.

Pulling away slightly, Maul ducked his head and placed a kiss against the center of Jesse’s throat. Then lower, pressing the flat of his tongue against first one nipple then the other, relishing in the noises it drew from him. And lower still, sinking to his knees as he nipped his way down Jesse’s chest and belly, squeezing at his thickened waist with firm hands. He had been so skinny back on Mandalore, unhealthily so, and it pleased Maul to know he was taking good care of this man.

He peered up at Jesse as he began to unlace his trousers, watching the way he pressed the back of his head against the glass with his eyes closed, chin tilted upward and breathing heavily. At the pause, Jesse marshalled his senses enough to look down and apparently found the sight arresting enough to let his head fall back and rattle the mirror, letting out a strangled little groan.

Maul smiled, pleased, and watched his throat bob with a swallow before returning to his task.

His ver’alor always seemed to welcome sex and this was no different. He was fully hard already, but when Maul his tongue up the underside of his length, he made a sound that was as much confusion as pleasure.

“Ngh. Plast?” he said, sounding frazzled, desperate.

Still considerate, despite the fairly common adage that stimulation felt better without prophylactic barriers. Jesse himself had been particularly disdainful of the idea, rolling his eyes when it was mentioned. Maul said nothing, confident that another swipe of his tongue, and then another, was reply enough.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done without, though it also wasn’t their general preference. The combination of salt and skin was an inoffensive taste, fastidious as Jesse was; pre-come was fairly unpleasant, both in concept and practice; the results of their couplings, though Jesse carried no diseases, they both heartily agreed was, in a word, disgusting.

Maul let all of that fall away as he continued on his mission, using his hand to provide more substantial stimulation and listening as his ver’alor became less and less inhibited above.

He whined and dropped a hand to pet at Maul’s horns when he finally wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. Neither were unpleasant sensations, Jesse’s fingertips scrabbling at the sensitive bases or the weight of him on Maul’s tongue.

“Maul,” he panted, somewhere above, sounding gratifyingly desperate, “can, ngh, can I—”

His hips twitched and Maul slid a hand around one of his knees, slipping it over his shoulder, careful to keep his dorsal horn away from the vulnerable flesh of Jesse’s inner thigh. He amused himself by gripping the underside of that thigh and spreading his legs just a bit wider, digging his fingers into the thick flesh and moving with it when his hips jerked.

Jesse said his name again, high and pleading, so Maul took him deeper into his mouth, relaxing his throat and using his grip on Jesse’s body to coax him into a gentle, thrusting rhythm.

He breathed carefully and let his eyes drift shut, moving his tongue in ways that he’d learned would elicit pleasing noises from the lieutenant. It didn’t take long for the rock of his hips to pick up speed, Jesse babbling in various languages overhead.

The lieutenant was frequently talkative during their activities, always gracious and complimentary towards Maul—his hands, his mouth, his voice, his skin, even his prostheses. Nothing was dismissed, leaving him feeling off-kilter, with a peculiar warmth in his chest. Jesse had once even gasped that he enjoyed the feeling of Maul’s mind in his when he came.

His thrusting grew rougher and he brushed a fumbling thumb across the stretch of Maul’s lips, moans reaching a familiar fever-pitch. At this, Maul finally pulled away with a parting swirl of his tongue.

He replaced his mouth with the full dexterity of his hand, amused when Jesse used his grip on his horns to pull him to his feet, clearly desirous of more kisses. Smirking, he nipped at Jesse’s chin, said, “The meeting with the Black Sun and Crimson Dawn leaders should commence in just a few minutes,” in a tone of innocence he had learned from Jesse’s memories of the one called Hardcase, and removed his hand entirely.

The sound of outrage and denied pleasure was particularly satisfying as Maul turned and headed for the door, resettling his own clothes with unsteady hands.

After a few seconds of disbelieved panting, Jesse called out, “You’re a real chakaar, I told you that lately?”

Maul hummed, just before the threshold of Jesse’s bedroom, and pleasantly reminded him, “Just before I left last time, actually.” Then he bared his teeth at his ver’alor in something resembling a grin and strolled out the door with his hands clasped behind his back.

He was two hallways down when he felt their bond ripple with the unmistakable feeling of Jesse’s orgasm, edged with unsatisfied frustration and just a hint of amusement.

#ask meme #answered asks #sw fic #fic bits #by apples #not safe for whales #star wars #the clone wars #jesse/maul #king of the damned #gehatik'e #arc trooper jesse #darth maul #citrus scale

[poiwritesnstuff]

October 29th

Lily woke up to an open window and a barn owl snuggled into her covers. Reluctantly, she reached out of bed for long enough to close the window, but the barn owl woke to her movement and hooted blearily as it held out its foot. In its grasp was a small note that read I did split house patrols for Monday night instead of all Slytherins. Clearly the worst choice of the two but you’re welcome. 

She let out a soft laugh and opened the window again to shoo James’s owl out into the cold morning air. Pulling on a robe, she darted over to James’s room and knocked on the door. “I woke up with your owl in my bed. It’s terribly strange that you cuddle it at night, I hope you realize that.”

There was no response. Lily knocked again and put her ear to the door, but all she could hear was an insistent tapping. The door was unlocked, so she pushed it open and let James’ owl into the room, where it hooted and flew to its perch in the corner instead of settling on the lump on the bed.

“James? Didn’t you hear your owl at the window?” Not exactly what she wanted to ask, but she pushed at the lump and found that the black hair emerging was much longer than it ought to be. Beneath the covers was Sirius’s pale face and shoulders as he blinked at Lily in response to her existence. “Sirius, what are you doing here?”

“I was up until four working on--” He yawned, but by the time he finished, he was already snuggling back into covers. “Just two more hours.”

“Sirius, it’s ten in the morning. And anyways, where’s James?”

This seemed to register with Sirius because he re-emerged to look at Lily. “He’s getting ready, or he’s left already. Hard to tell when you’re asleep.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Say, Evans, don’t you have a thing today?”

“Why am I not surprised that you know about it?” She asked, looking around the room to avoid his gaze.

“Because he loves me more than anyone,” he said with another great big yawn. “And he’s perfectly aware that my intentions are honestly dishonorable and has embraced it, unlike you.”

Lily just frowned at Sirius and sat down on the bed, forcing him to make place for her.

“I don’t have dishonorable intentions. I don’t think I have any intentions.”

“It’s unforgivable to do anything without intention. Idle action is pedestrian at best,” he declared.

“What philosopher did you have for dinner last night?” Lily asked.

“I didn’t have dinner last night. When I don’t sleep, I think, and I can’t come up with winners every time.”

Lily looked over at this and saw the discomfort beneath the air of amusement he was studiously maintaining. Tugging on a lock of hair, she lay down next to him, opting to stare at the ceiling instead of facing him.

He spoke again. “So you really have no idea what you’re doing with all this?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just said we should have tea but we didn’t actually agree on a time or anything and then we just haven’t spoken about it since. It’s--”

“I meant generally,” Sirius said. “Not to protect his virtue-- in fact, I’m hoping you’ll do away with it entirely-- but he’s not exactly a versed seducer. You might get his hopes up if you don’t tell him what you want.”

Lily thought about this for a moment. “I’ve got no idea what I want. We’ve known each other for so long that I hardly know what I want, let alone what he wants, except for that I want tea.”

“Well, that’s encouraging. The great Lily Evans doesn’t know something.”

“I’m not the anything, and certainly not ‘the great.’ I might be the confused Lily Evans.”

“The bemused.”

“The befuddled.”

“The belabored.”

“The discombobulated,” she said.

“The Potter,” Sirius said with a laugh.

“The excuse you?” Lily’s face went red, which only made him laugh harder.

Sirius lowered his voice conspiratorially and said, “He used to doodle your name with his on his notes, you know. ‘Lily Evans Potter’ with great big hearts all around it like a smitten bird.”

“Oh god, he never,” Lily said, covering her face with her hands, trying to ignore the little flutter of her heart and her stomach at the thought.

“That’s right, he never,” came a voice from the doorway, and the two turned to see James standing in the doorway. He had on a pair of sweatpants and a towel around his neck. Lily studiously avoided looking anywhere below the towel. James’s gaze was scanning over the bed and he had a slightly strangled expression on his face.

“He absolutely did,” Sirius retorted, and Lily could hear the delight in his voice.

“Leave it,” Lily whispered despite herself, both frustrated with and grateful for his presence.

James crossed the room to start rooting through his drawers. “Sirius is misremembering it-- he’s the one who was writing ‘Sirius Potter’ through half of third year after he visited us for the summer.”

“You’d want to be a Potter too if your only other choice was to be a Black,” Sirius said.

Lily, whose eyes had followed James, was watching the way the muscles in his back moved as he pulled the towel off of his shoulders and selected a shirt.

James turned around, shirt half on, and said, “As though you needed the name to be one of us.”

But he had looked at Lily as he said it. Her stomach clenched, and she was suddenly very aware of the morning breath and messy hair and bare legs that she hadn’t thought about while it was just Sirius.

A born leader. Lily had not been in doubt of James’ ability to carry out his Head Boy duties, but this was the first time that she felt that he was what a Head Boy ought to be.

Sirius, satisfied with the answer he’d got, let out a laugh and settled back into the covers as Lily jumped up from the bed.

“I should be getting ready. I overslept,” she stammered before rushing out of the room, her heart and thoughts racing.

An hour later, Lily had gone through three hairstyles (settled on a ponytail), four attempts at makeup (ended up with nothing on), and six outfits (her coat covered it all anyways) before she was wearing something she could live with. She walked out to find James sitting on the couch, a collar peeking out from under his jacket.

“Has Sirius gone or will he be joining us today?” She asked, enjoying the way he smiled up at her as she approached him.

“He’s gone back to bed but I’ll wake him up for you if you’d like,” he said, standing up to greet her.

“No, no,” she said quickly. They met in the middle of the room, silence falling faster than either of them had anticipated. Lily started to reach out for a hug and ended up redirecting her movement into crossing her arms over her chest. James just watched her move. “We should go before he wakes up again.”

“Right. Let’s go,” James said. They walked in silence through much of the castle, exchanging passing remarks here and there, separating one group on the verge of fighting, but it wasn’t until they were out on the grounds that Lily remembered the note he’d sent her.

“Thanks for finishing up the schedule. I wasn’t looking forward to figuring that out,” she said. “It’s so hard to figure out which of the pairs would actually work together.”

“Oh, I didn’t even bother with that. It’s Halloween-- I tossed coins and let them decide who’d walk together.” James laughed. “I’m looking forward to Monday.”

Lily grinned despite herself. “Is that your big prank, forcing all of the worst pairs to walk together?”

“Oh, that’s not it. It’s going to-- well, it’s going to be fun. Sirius and I were up fairly late working on it, in fact. We did some finishing touches.”

“Won’t you tell me what it is?” Lily asked, moving closer to bump his arm with her elbow. James just smiled politely and led her down into the village.

They arrived at the tea shop a little while later, deeply engrossed in gossip about the prefects. They were so engrossed, in fact, that they hadn’t realized exactly what they’d walked into until they were seated in squishy black and orange chairs that squeaked a little every time they moved. The table between them was still bright blue but was covered in a tablecloth that had featured a dizzying pattern of dancing pumpkins. Above them, happy skeletons were flying around, throwing confetti and cackling pitifully. A harried server swimming in old dress robes pulled a tea cart to the side of their table.

“Will that be all? Sorry! I meant, would you like to order something? Oh, you don’t have your menus, give me just a moment, I’ve got a large party to seat-- where the hell is Alice?”

Two minutes later, they were outside again. Lily couldn’t hold back her laughter and James joined in after a moment, looking both embarrassed and relieved. “I’ve never actually been inside. I just knew it was around--”

“--all those patterns, it was so busy and ridiculous! I would never have suggested it for a date if I’d thought it was going to be quite like that,” Lily laughed. “The Three Broomsticks should be just fine… James?”

James had stopped in the middle of the lane, staring at Lily. She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby-- they were fairly isolated-- and walked back close enough to see that his cheeks were as pink as his lips and why on earth was she staring at his lips. She stammered out a random string of syllables to try and get James to stop looking at her quite so intently when he cut in.

“I actually had something of a backup plan… Do you trust me, Evans?” He asked, offering her his hand.

“I… Well… yes.” She took his hand, and a thrill ran through her as his fingers closed around hers. “Lead the way.”

He did, smiling brighter and brighter until he caught sight of her again and bit back his enthusiasm, and Lily could barely hold back her laughter. Not that she quite understood what she had to laugh about, except for that it was a Saturday and they were in Hogsmeade and James Potter, who had fought with her former best friend for six years and had been bothering her for a date for the last four years, was holding her hand and her heart was thudding in her chest as though it was strapped to the front of the Hogwarts Express.

They finally found themselves in front of the Shrieking Shack. James checked to make sure nobody else was around before silently unlocking the door. Lily walked in after him, lingering in the entryway as she traced her fingers over the long scratches in the wall. It was bare of any loose furniture or personal touches, but he moved around it like it was home. She knew what the shack meant. The gesture of coming here seemed momentous. James reappeared with a small picnic basket, unaware of the change in her mood.

“The shack isn’t so bad during the day, for all that it’s supposedly haunted--”

“I know, James.”

They stared at one another.

“You know…”

“I… Yes.”

They continued staring. A full stampede of emotions were crossing James’s face. Lily wasn’t sure her face wasn’t doing the same.

She finally spoke again. “Do you have a blanket?”

A pause. “Yes, actually.”

“We should set it down.”

James nodded and pulled the blanket from the basket,  taking a second to collect himself. As he was smoothing down the corners, he looked up at her and asked, “What exactly is it that you think you know?”

“I don’t think I know, I know that I know. About Remus. He told me. Well, he didn’t tell me like that. I had my suspicions and asked him late last year and he told me the whole story. It made some amount of sense.” Lily loosened the scarf around her neck and sat down on the blanket, gesturing for James to join her.

“He’s never hurt anyone since he’s been here,” James said quickly, joining her. “Dumbledore wouldn’t have let him stay if he could hurt people.”

“I know. I know he’d never want to,” Lily said. "I love Remus, he’s a very good person, and that hasn’t changed for me. I’m not scared of him. If anything, it just seems terribly lonely, him having to go through that alone every month.”

James looked up from his shoes to Lily’s face. “That idiot.” When Lily looked at his expression, he smiled, the relief evident on his face. “He doesn’t go through it alone. He hasn’t since fifth year. Sirius and Peter and I, we all go with him.”

Her stomach dropped. “What--”

“We come here with him.”

“He mentioned the shack but how do--”

“We’re Animagi.”

She was stunned into silence. Despite the gravity of the situation, James couldn’t quite look contrite enough to cover his pride in his accomplishments. The worst part was that within the horror and worry and confusion, she felt proud. Her already confused emotions were flying into a full-fledged storm. He rustled in the basket for something and she quickly brushed away the tear that had slipped out.

“We’re unregistered, obviously. Dumbledore absolutely doesn’t know, though Minnie might. She hasn’t said anything if she does. And nobody can know,” he added, handing her a thermos of tea. “I’ve been thinking about it-- I thought at one point that we could wait until we were of age and then we could register and pretend we hadn’t done it before, but now I think it might be safer if nobody knows.”

“What do you change into?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Same as my patronus, a stag,” James said, unscrewing the cap on her thermos for her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave it to the others to tell you what they are, if they want to.”

“Right, of course.” Lily sipped the tea. It was just as she liked it, which was both comforting and upsetting. The tears started falling faster. James had been so much more for years than she had even thought to be. Everything was happening all at once-- when had everyone suddenly grown up? How did the world get to this point? And why did she feel like she was falling behind and so unprepared?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you--” James said, wiping her tears away.

The tender gesture made her cry harder. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. The tea is just really good.”

James paused to look at her with such a look of teen male confusion that she laughed just long enough to stop crying.

“I thought you needed to know. I’ll be going to help him every month and you’ll need to manage all the Head Girl stuff on your own sometimes,” he explained. After a moment, he added, “I’ve got pumpkin pasties and some cucumber sandwiches from the kitchens, if you’d like.”

They distributed the sandwiches between them, eating slowly as their arms occasionally touched. Lily stewed in her feelings and her thoughts before finally speaking again.

“James, I lied. Earlier.” She could feel him tense, so she continued quickly. “I am scared. I know Remus and I trust him, but I also know what a werewolf can do. I’m… I’m scared of what could happen, even if we’re doing everything we can to keep it from happening. And I’m scared of what could happen to him if people find out about him.”

Lily was aware that she was rambling but she couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling out of her.

“I know that Severus followed him to find out and nearly got hurt because of it. He tried to tell me about it, but I refused to listen. And you must have done something too, because he treats you differently now. I can tell. He hates you so much more, but he won’t pick fights with you, and the only thing he hates more than you is being in someone’s debt. He’d be telling anyone who’d listen if you had hurt him, but you didn’t. You helped him or saved him, and I was so awful to you after that. I didn’t even see it until this year but I was so unfair to you last year. You changed. And you’re the same, and you were good all along, and I never saw it until you changed.”

Silence, again, but tense this time. Lily picked herself up abruptly, face red. She tugged on her scarf, mumbling a hurried apology, trying to find the fastest way to run back to the castle and never talk to James Potter again. Maybe she could hide in Hogsmeade, cut her hair, and glamor her face unrecognizable. Dumbledore would understand, surely.

She nearly made it to the door when James grabbed her hand. She spun around and he was towering over her, looking down with his deep brown eyes and his wild hair and his ridiculous cheekbones under light brown skin, and she hated how much understanding was in his expression.

“Lily,” he whispered, his face far too close, his expression far too vulnerable. Her chest hurt. 

She lifted her chin, tilted her head so that she could brush her lips against him. James was solid and tense, holding himself so still that she had to struggle to feel him breathing. She ghosted a kiss along his jaw and one over his cheek. She took hold of the lapels of his jacket and dared to touch her lips to his, so softly that she was only sure it had happened by his reaction. She did it again, longer and closer this time, felt her head spin and her stomach drop as he pressed into the kiss as well.

“James…” Their foreheads were touching. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, feel the miniscule spaces between them as he trapped her against the wall. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want or where this is going to go...”

“This right now. Do you want this?”

“...Yes.”

He was on her in an instant, pressing her against the wall, one hand holding her waist in a crushing grip and the other holding her head as he kissed her senseless. It took a couple of clumsy moments to get used to the new position before they started to learn. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, reveling in his attentions. He wasn’t artful or confident, but he kissed her like a desperate prayer, too honest and open to deny its sincerity. She slipped her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she returned his kisses with all of the enthusiasm she could muster. 

When he finally pulled away, panting slightly, Lily tightened her grip and buried her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tight as he could. She could feel his heart racing as fast as hers, could feel him trembling ever so slightly as he held her, willing her to stay in that moment forever.

“Fuck, Lily,” he sighed, his hands sliding over her back as he hugged her tighter. Her name on his lips was a dangerous combination, if only because her heart was leaping for the chance to hear it again.

“I told you,” she said softly, still hiding her face, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Or what I want. But I think… I think you’re the one I want to figure it out with.”

#jily #jilytober #jily fanfiction #jilytober 2019 #jily fanfic #October 29th

[asrasotherbottom]

Trans girl Portia, getting some possibly nsfw kisses and love on all her lovely squishy bits? And having a bit too much fun having her stretch marks appreciated?

oooh i love this! 

a few disclaimers though before i start: im afab + nonbinary, I want to create and put out trans affirming content into this fandom, but this in particular is also not a lived experience that I have. Please, please, let me know if I fucked up with something. 

warning for light spice, an allusion to genitalia. (truly its 99% kissing portia’s chub fluff)

—————————————————————

The sun was setting on a quiet summer evening when you heard Portia come in through the cottage door. 

“Hellooo!” Her voice was bubbly and sweet despite the fact that she had been working since just after dawn. She collapsed onto the couch as soon as she kicked off her shoes.  “Mmmmmm…” she groaned as she stretched out, putting her head on your lap. 

“Hello my love.” You started gently running your fingers through her hair. ‘Long day?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly through her nose. 

“Mercedes was running around with a TUFT of PEACOCK feathers in her mouth. I spent an hour petrified something horrible had happened and then i found the peacock….” Portia rolled her eyes. “It was just fine but had a big bald patch right on its backside. I can’t believe those dogs sometimes.” She sat up and started to put her hair up into a bun. 

You leaned over, kissing her on the nose and then again on the mouth. She giggled and wrapped her arms around your shoulders, kissing you deeply again. 

“I could lay here and kiss you for hours, you know.” 

“Then why don’t you?” Portia had a light smile playing across her lips as she hooked a finger on the collar of her shirt, pulling it down slightly. You pressed your lips onto her chest, smiling at the feeling of her warm skin on your own.

You sat up, helping her pull her shirt off over her head, before she helps you with the same.  Leaning over, you press a gentle kiss to the softness under her chin, eliciting a delighted laugh. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” You tilted your head, looking at her in curiosity. She craned her neck up, trailing kisses from your cheek to your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh. She’s always been smooth. 

One of your hands reached down, brushing against her abdomen. “You’re so softttt.” You stretched out the words as you leaned over and kissed her stomach, letting your face sink into it slightly. Portia was still smiling as she bit her lip in anticipation. She was watching your movements carefully, waiting to see what you would do next. . 

Your ran your tongue along some soft pink stretch marks on her chest, from her shoulder down to her breast. A soft moan escaped her throat. With your other hand you gently start rubbing her nipple, continuing to kiss along the stretch marks that pepper her chest. Everything about her was soft and warm and inviting. 

Again you trailed your touch down to her soft stomach, running your fingers along the stretch marks on her sides. Putting your head down you gently scraped your teeth against them, causing her to gasp again. You kissed her stomach more, softly groaning with each kiss. When you looked up at her, her eyes were closed and she was biting her lip.

 “I love your stretch marks you know, like a roadmap of the way your body’s changed, your story.”  Portia snorted slightly at your cheesy proclamation, but it was true, and she knew that you loved every bit of her. 

You trailed one of your nails down her hip, to where a mark disappeared under the waistband of her pants. “May I?” 

“You may,” she answered with a wink. You slowly slid her pants down, exposing her thighs. Gently, slowly, you gave the soft insides of her thighs playful nips. Portia gave a light gasp each time. You pressed your face into her thigh, kissing it again. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” She felt your warm breath between her legs and watched you trace another bright pink line with your nail.  

You gently grabbed the sides of her stomach as you moved forward to kiss her again, letting your teeth scrape against her lower lip. She whimpered gently at the pleasure of your touch and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you flush against her body. You could feel her arousal under your hips. You started to move your own hips gently, grinding into her and kissing her again and again. 

Suddenly from the other room, a loud sound rang out through the cottage. 

“OH, fuck!” You yelled out, tumbling off the couch. You ran out into the kitchen, making a racket while you were out of her view. Returning triumphantly with a pan, you announced, “I forgot I had dinner in the oven!” 

Portia sat up, laughing. 

“Sorry about that, dinner can wait.” You looked at her sheepishly. 

“Noo, lets eat. You’re gonna have to rile me up again like that after dinner though.” She winked, taking a piece of food off of the tray. You smiled back at her. 

“Definitely.” 

#lemon #portia #portia devorak #Anonymous #mine #lemon ish really #idk

[hanako-theories]

Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

EXPLICIT SUICIDE SCENE WARNING!

Word count: 2238

Originally posted to AO3 under username Little-coffins, AO3 link:

Summary: In that moment, this moment, its his fault. He always forgave Tsukasa, said so to his face and Tsuchigomori-sensei and to the bathroom mirror in the night after wandering hands and fear filled paralysis.

It was a knee jerk response.

Fear overrode his senses, leaving him with an overwhelming feeling of panic and terror, taking the reigns by force, the feeling of cool steel pressed against his jugular, kissing deeply enough to split fragile skin and spill metallic molasses.

The pain from the cuts in his joints burned bright and red hot, the broken nose sprouting deep black bruises around his eyes like growing weeds, deepening and darking across the dips in between his nose like black paint slathered across his face.

His swollen wrist panged at every movement made by either of them. His shirt pushed up beneath his arm pits exposing his chest, thin red lines drawn intricately across the sensitive flesh, oozing liquid pain as Tsukasa's hand slid gently, lovingly from his collar bone down to his navel, fingertips dancing across the throbbing flesh. The fingers dipping into his v-line to smooth his sullied fingers over the previously unbloodied skin that'd still remained beneath his waist band.

It'd been pure fear pulsing through his body, only thinking about the blade easing into his sensitive throat little by little, his hysterics only further worsening the problem.

Arms pinned by the elbows beneath Tsukasa's knees, further tearing flesh as the joint ground into the kitchen tile beneath them painfully, no matter the struggling and yanking of his arms, no reprieve was found from the pressure bearing down on his arms.

The feeling of Tsukasa's hand caressing his face, rubbing at his lip and ripping his head backwards as the thumb slipped inside his mouth, wedging it open and yanking at his cheek. His face, an exact copy of his own peering down at him with utter fascination and adoration as his fingers dipped further into his mouth, pressing his down and rubbing at the soft muscle that flexed weakly in protest beneath the intrusion.

He could taste bile at the back of his throat.

It bit further, he struggled harder, harder, harder--

An arms free.

Striking blindly, he caught Tsukasa in the throat sending him backwards towards the tiles sputtering knife clattering across the tiles, smooth white tile stained red, alabaster material reflecting the moon through the window, blue light catching the sharp edges of the cold steel, making it glimmer like it wasn't a menace, a danger, right there in front of him, away from Tsukasa, away from Tsukasa awayfromtsukasa--

With him.

Clutched in two hands, shaking from bloodloss and adrenaline, eyes unseeing and swollen nearly shut, he struck downwards with the blade, sinking it into something soft and cushiony and-- is this how Tsukasa felt the carving flesh of the neighborhood strays? Flaying them, still alive and screaming with such terror and agony as he himself watched on in mute horror as he dug his little hands into the dying animals guts and tugged them free the squish between his fingers to laugh and squeal 'hey Amane! Their so squishy and soft! Warm too! Do you think humans are like this on the inside too?'

When he drew the blade back out and stared downwards, he saw what he thought was often his reflection. Blood, warm and sticky, soaking his gut and running across the tile floor, his own face. Tsukasa's face. Their face.

(Him and Tsukasa are the same. The same person. Tsukasa lives through him and he lives through Tsukasa. The same.)

He watched their face, watched the expression on his reflection and how odd it was that it didn't reflect his own (his? There was no him, only them.)

trepidation, his own fear and regret and mortification and the apologies pushing out of his throat at speeds almost inaudible and the shaking in his hands because he never expected to be the one with the knife. It was always Tsukasa, only Tsukasa.

He watched the expression on his doppelgangers face, watched how delighted he seemed despite the turn of events, the way he ran his bloody fingerd across his lips the blood was so warm and smiled and said 'I love you Amane' like it was a prayer and not a death sentence, a shackle on his foot that'd been weighing him down since he was eight years old.

He watched the life slip his fingers like sand, no matter the tight hug nor the hysteric begging for him to just wake up Tsukasa he never moved, eyes half lidded and glassy and looking at him with a gaze he'd seen in the mirror before but not on Tsukasa, never Tsukasa.

In that moment, knife discarded to the side in his scramble to help his brother he recalled something. A phrase, he'd heard it from Tsuchigomori-sensei in class before, a class he'd only been half paying attention to, finding more interest in staring out of the window at the small funny looking tree out on campus when he'd caught the tail end of the lesson.

'Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Its Latin and an admission of fault--'

That applies right now, he thought mildly, eye dialated as he stared at Tsukasa, a chill beginning to cling to his body despite his attempts to warm him, like his body heat alone will bring him back to life.

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Through my fault.

In that moment, this moment, its his fault. He always forgave Tsukasa, said so to his face and Tsuchigomori-sensei and to the bathroom mirror in the night after wandering hands and fear filled paralysis.

He always forgave him.

He promised to always forgive him, yet he broke that promise today, crumpled it up and shoved it down Tsukasa's throat because hes such a bad brother I'm so sorry Tsukasa I didnt mean it I love you too.

In this moment mea culpa, mea maxima culpa applies because his a liar, a murderer and betrayer. He's the reason they were in pain if you were just a better brother, took care of Tsukasa better like your supposed to he wouldn't be dead underneath you with all the cold blood congealing like metallic jelly under your knees.

In this moment, more then any other, Amane wants Tsukasa. Tsukasa's presence hadn't brought him comfort since they were in elementary, and yet he is what he needs right now, the prickly affection like a double ended blade, nails digging in too deep or hands travelling where they shouldn't.

Things that'd never brought him any solace, comfort, and yet he yearns for those violent touches in this moment, to distract to the yawning emptiness and cold breeze wafting in from the open window.

Tsukasa stinging love was still that, love.

Their love was not perfect, neither were they, Tsukasa and Amane, Amane and Tsukasa, them. The same person. They loved each other, Tsukasa loved him because he couldn't love himself, with his secluded attitude and weakness and he's so cowardly and Tsukasa's still under him and not moving-- why isn't he moving? He's always moving, never stops, not even when he sleeps, Tsukasa never stops moving so why is he--

He needs Tsukasa. Tsukasa's gone now, somewhere he isn't which is unfathomable because he goes where Tsukasa goes and vice versa. Not being with Tsukasa-- he needs him.

He needs to be with Tsukasa now.

Hooking his arms under his mirrors elbows, he pulls him upwards as he stumbles to his feet, footing nonexistent from the slippery coppery flood smearing further across the floor, shuffling forward dragging him as gently as possible towards the bathroom, watching with a roiling stomach at the way the blood smears across the ground beneath him as if red paint dragged across ceramic, bright and noticable against the pale moonlight shining down on them.

Not bothering to flick the light switch on, Amane gently released Tsukasa upon the bath mat, pushing the shower curtain aside to leave the bathtub open and available.

Setting the blade upon the bathtubs edge, he stepped one foot in and pulled Tsukasa back up, trying to maneuver him into the tub, struggling with the dead weight, strength never being his most blessed area.

Finally succeeding in tugging his twin into the tub, he lay him on his side before settling in on his own, sitting up and staring down at him, dull fingernails digging into the flesh of his  palm as he felt bile rise in his throat. Peering down for another moments, knees pulled to his chest as he continued to dig his nails into any available flesh of his own he could get his hands on, he reached for the blade to his left.

With shaking hands, slippery from blood, he poised the utensil lengthwise at his wrist, not quite allowing the tip to touched his flesh. Jaw clenching and eyes burning, he gasped in a sharp breath, nearly choking on saliva as he tried to breath through his hysterics. Pressing forwards he shook fiercely as the blade finally made contact, bottom lip wobbling and chin dimpling, he watched red liquid ooze to the surface and slowly slide down his wrist, hitting the tub with a soft 'blop'. Eyes clenching, just barely open, he tensed his hand wielding the knife, pressing down as hard as he shaking muscles would condone and drug downwards, reaching his elbow with a wail, dropping the knife like it burned him and pulling his hand tight to his chest as he wept. Head resting between his knees, un-slit arm wrapped tightly around the one pressed to his chest applying as much pressure as possible for some reprieve from the pain, swaying lightly as he did, eyes unseeing from tears.

Soft heartbroken noises escaped him, pathetic whimpers of apologies, 'I'm sorry', 'I didn't mean to', prayers to God himself for forgiveness for the sin he had committed and the other he was about to.

(Would God answer? Would him and Tsukasa go to the same place, or would they be separated? Tsukasa to heaven and him to hell...)

He was beginning to feel a bit woozy and panic was setting further in, intense boats so sudden and heavy his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head and his teeth caught his lip in a death grip.

(One cut only? You cut Tsukasa once, you deserve double the pain. You caused him pain, you hurt--)

With a loud weep, he shakily released his bloody arm, looking down at the deep gash and the split muscle, wiry and thin and so painfully visible, however weak the hand was, he managed somehow to still grasp the blade lightly, blades edge clacking into the side of the tub from the force of his trembling, making him flinch as he choked.

Extending his opposite arm, he slowly placed the tip at his wrist, watching blood bead up at the surface level cuts he gave himself from his hands shaking. Trying to apply more firmness, he pressed downwards and pulled fast inwards, visions going spotty with stars, eyes still open yet unseeing. Waiting for the black speckles to clear, he noticed with a cry he'd only cut a quarter of his wrist before the blade had swerved and left the rest unharmed. With a defeated noise, he repositioned the blade where he'd left off and paused, trying to breath in as steadily as possible to recuperate, rubbing his face onto his shoulder sleeve, before setting forward.

The blade dug back into the flesh, piercing it with a sharp pain and dragging downwards, keeping slow and steady even as the blackness ate away at his vision and left him blind, making sure to accurately follow his arm downwards.

Dropping the blade, vision swimming and head filled with cotton, he fell backwards, head cracking against the shower head, dull pain exploding across his skull as he curled inwards, weakly fisting Tsukasa's sullied shirt and pushing his face into his chest, gasping as he gave a high pitched keen.

Pressed as close as possible, he cried, eyes clenched closed so hard it hurt, fingers spasming lightly tangled in the fabric. The proximity despite the body being cold brought him comfort.

(It was Tsukasa. The only person who can both make and fill the holes he punched through Amane.)

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Was this retribution? Was it enough? Was his life enough? His in return for Tsukasa, could God give his duplicate his life back in return for his own?

His head filled eleven further with cotton, the fish bowl nature of the little noise he could he around him and the numbing of his fingers didn't make him feel any better.

Could he absolve himself of this guilt, give back to Tsukasa in return for the promise he broke? Could he make it better by joining him?

His breathing slowed face feeling limp as he nuzzled closer to the cold body next to him.

Tsukasa always wanted to stay together, right? They were going to be together.

He felt chills run up and down his body as he relaxed, the pain across his flesh fading into the background.

Through my faults, I'll absolve myself in the eyes of God and in he who I love. My brother is me and I am my brother, one in the same, our love knows no bounds between this world and the next. We sin in the lord's eye yet we seek redemption, such a thing I shall achieve.

He drifted to sleep, with the wish of seeing him again.

#hanako kun #hanako kun spoilers #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #amane yugi #tsukasa yugi #tsuchigomori #fanfic

[doomfisthero]

Initial Contact

Another RP between me and @grampa-lion​, one with some self-insert elements to it. With Matty’s permission, I’m planning on writing some more occasional forays into the Nebula Nine universe as myself and not merely through Keaton; I’m working on one now, so I figured I’d upload this as a prologue of sorts. Edited slightly for narrative consistency, and to indicate direct communication between me and Matty.

Keaton takes a deep breath next to me, grinning ear to ear, as the elevator descends from the front deck of the Asclepius into her inner quarters. From what I’ve seen of the ship so far (Keaton promised me a full tour after we’ve met the others), she’s a beautiful and majestic vessel. I can only imagine standing on the surface of a planet ravaged by chaos and disarray, and looking up to see salvation coming in the form of a graceful ship, filled with heroes of justice and light.

What’s it like, soaring through the universe on a craft like this? I can watch Star Wars and Kyuranger all I want, but I can only hope that the Rangers will let me experience it for myself. Maybe if I get along with them…

I forcefully set it aside. It’s a thought for later. I have a more pressing matter waiting for me at the bottom of this elevator.

As if by magic (but probably not), the door opens at that moment into a short hallway with a door at the end. I’ve read and written enough stories in this universe to know that door opens onto the bridge of the ship, where Keaton claims that everyone awaits us. My stomach does a few more turns.

“You ready, Jake?” Keaton asks, walking out of the elevator with me shortly in tow.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” I say, failing to keep the tremble out of my voice.

Keaton turns back to me. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, buddy,” he says, giving me a look of gentle concern. “Trust me, everyone’s overjoyed to finally meet you – the Rangers and Matty both. You’re a great guy, Jacob, and I know they’re going to love you as much as you love them. By the end of today, you’ll all be amazing friends.”

We stop right in front of the bridge door. Keaton puts his hand on my shoulder – normally that would bother me, but Keaton gives me a sense of comfort that few people do. “This doesn’t have to go like any of your fantasies, no matter how much time you’ve spent on them. It can go better. It will.”

“They don’t all go that badly, Keaton,” I say, but I have to concede his point. Angst is one of those things that always comes easily to me. It permeates a great deal of what I write, especially for Nebula Nine, even if a happy ending is rarely far behind. “I wouldn’t mind skipping past the rough stuff this time, though,” I admit.

Keaton pats my shoulder. “And you will.” His face lights up, and he brings his fists to his chest. “This is going to be great, Jacob. I’m so, so happy you’re finally here. I can’t wait for you to meet my family.”

Looking into the eyes of my creation, those joyous, gleaming gems, I can’t help but get excited too. A warm smile creeps across my face, and a warm feeling settle into my stomach, vanquishing the evil butterflies. I’m going to meet the Rangers – not only that, I’m going to meet Matty. Has it really been only seven months since our friendship begun? It feels like I’ve known him for so much longer. Seven months have created a brother, someone I love like my own blood relatives. And finally, we’re going to meet in flesh and blood! (Or paper and ink, rather, but we’re meeting.)

I’ve been waiting quite a while for this – how can I not be stoked? “I’m happy to be here too, Keaton. Let’s do this.”

Keaton pumps his fists and reaches for the door access panel, then pulls back. “Uh, sorry, one last thing,” he begins, looking sheepish. “The rest of the Rangers are really excited to meet you, and I’m sure you know they can be…affectionate. I’m pretty sure a few of them will be eager to hug you. I’m certain Matty will be. I know you aren’t crazy about touching…is that okay?”

Weirdly, it feels just fine. It’s true that physical contact is something I shy away from even among those I love, but the thought about getting and giving an embrace from the people on the other side of the door feels…right. How can I not want a hug from any of them?

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good.”

A joyful laugh bubbles up from Keaton’s throat as he taps the panel and the door slides open, giving me my first glimpse at the bridge of the Asclepius. Almost immediately, my eyes are drawn to the large round booth surrounded by soft, squishy-looking seats – the one the Rangers sat around whilst talking to Thuban about his nightmares quite a while ago.

I’ve seen the people seated around that table many times before, through ink on paper or words on a page, but seeing them in person is a sight to behold. As I peer through the door at them, the Rangers peer back at me, and their eyes shine like stars as they placed me.

And there’s one more with them, who I recognize from his pictures. His eyes shine brightest of all.

Keaton leaps through the door and bounds down the steps. “Hey, everybody! I brought him! He’s here! Jacob, get down here and say hi! We’re dying to meet you!”

I laugh and step down the stairs myself. What to say? “Hey, how’s it going?” It’s my usual, and a versatile greeting, but they deserve better, more. I reach the bottom in a heartbeat, and I just talk.

“Hey, everyone,” I say, giving the Rangers and Matty a small wave. I’m beaming – I can feel it on my face. “I’m…I’m so happy to be here. I—you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to meet you all. This…this is gonna be great.”

Upon seeing you my eyes practically go supernova with glee, and I suck in a small gasp of delighted surprise. Seven months in the making and finally, I get to meet my brother! Even if it's only virtual rather than in person, I couldn't be happier! The more talkative among the Rangers all break out into excited chatter ("It's Jacob! He's finally here! Wow his glasses look cool!" -that last one was Lizbeth), and I stand up, approaching with glee and the biggest smile I can possibly muster. A brief whirl of anxiety over my appearance breaks out- being self-conscious about your personal attributes is no fun- but I suppress it with the knowledge that I've prepared for this, that I've wanted this for sweet holy moly who knows how long.

"Jacob- Jake!" I manage to get out, barely able to speak at first. "I... Howdy, big bro! You have no idea how glad I am to see you! Did you get here okay? How do you like the Asclepius? Everyone's been so hyped to meet you, especially me!"

"JACOOOOOOB!" Champ practically roars, opening his arms wide. "THERE'S the guy who gave me the sweetest zarkin' baby bro in the universe! C'mere and gimme a hug once you're done with Matty!"

The sound of the Rangers' chatter hits my ears, and I try to move it into the background and focus on my little brother. He looks good, hair slicked back, a small beard, and glasses of his own. It's different seeing him in full - he's so much taller than I realized, taller than me by a few inches. 'Little' brother may be a bit of a misnomer. That thought makes me laugh, clears away some of my doubt. I walk forward and give my little bro a hug. I worry myself that I'm a little awkward at it, but if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Hey, Matty. It's great to meet you," I say, my own voice brimming with joy. "Keaton picked me up in his Voyager - I'm so happy to finally see this place with my own eyes. It's already amazing, and I've barely seen any of it yet." I look up at him a bit. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. I kinda figured I'd be flying out to California or something after I graduate. I think I like this better - doesn't cost me anything either."

"You should have seen him while we were flying here," Keaton chimes in from behind. "I thought he was gonna faint when he saw the ship. He couldn't put two words together." He's smiling, despite his words.

"I'm just happy to be here, Keaton." I pull back from Matty after a brief period and turn first to Champ. He's even bigger-than-life in person than he is on a page, and he towers over even Matty with arms outstretched. I don't even consider not rushing over to him and giving him a hug of his own, and before I know it, I'm doing just that. "Champ, I've waited a while to see you, too," I say, laughing. "It's great to finally see you in person, you big cowpuncher. You were always one of my favorites."

As I wipe a few stray tears of joy from my eyes, cherishing your embrace, Champ hugs you back firmly, laughing. "Gahahahaha! Cowpuncher- you took that from Keaton, didn't ya!?" he accuses lightheartedly. "Oh Taurus, I'm happy to meet you, buddy. Everyone has been."

"I can verify that," adds Rasalhague, bowing to you gently in the tradition of Ophiuchus Gamma and extending a hand for a handshake once Champ lets you go. Up close, his eyes- silvery pupils with black irises- don't look as eerie as they did in the early stages of his character arc, because of how much quiet kindness fills them now.

"Matty's been in a bit of a writing block on Nebula Nine lately, to be honest." Seph shrugs and reclines in their space in the booth, making the water in their oxygenation collar swish. "But he's been really excited to finally get the story out thanks to all the support you've been giving him. His main problem right now is making a suitable character arc for me, something to do with my issues regarding trust and loyalty- but I'll spare you that for now, heh." The Exelcian youth chuckles easily. "I've read some of your works in my downtime, by the way- dunno what all that Five Nights At Freddy's stuff is about, never played it, but I liked the Bonnie character. I feel like he'd get along famously with me."

I wrestle an arm from Champ's iron (in more ways than one) embrace and shake Rasalhague's hand firmly, greeting him. He does have fascinating eyes.

"Yeah, Five Nights at Freddy's, survive a week with killer animatronics in a pizza place," I tell Seph. "I was big on it a while back, and couldn't find any really good fics for it, so I thought I'd roll up my sleeves and make one. I'm really proud of how it turned out." I chuckle. "And yeah, I had fun with Bonnie too. And Matty, I can help you out sometime. I've already got an idea or two that might work."

"Involving me and my big reveal?" Keaton asks, non-judgmentally.

"Maybe a bit."

I nod and smile at the offer of assistance. "Geez, bro, thanks!" I say gratefully. "I've been tearing my hair out over it- uh, figuratively, I assure you, don't worry. So knowing you'd offer to help is really great!"

Quiet Felipe chooses this moment to pipe up. "Hey, uh... Jacob?" he asks in a tone stilted by nerves, averting his eyes in shyness. Lizbeth puts a comforting hand on his back, and it bolsters him to continue. "Um... Thanks," the healer manages. "For. Y'know. Sending in all those asks and stuff about us all. And for allowing Keaton to be my little brother too."

I smile - it's reassuring to know that they didn't mind my occasional barrage of questions. "Hey, it was nothing, Felipe. Thank you for being so open to talking every now and then," I say. "You're a cool guy, Felipe. No matter what you may think."

"...thanks again..." Felipe's face darkens with a flattered blush, and he buries his face in his hands, letting out a low noise that can only be described as a fanboy's squee. Lizbeth chuckles and pats him again.

"Felipe's a big fan of you," she says with a wink. "Really, though, it's great to meet you, especially because you're autistic too! I was so happy you thought it was great that Felipe and I are autie. That aside you wrote with me and Keaton talking about "libra" was hilarious!" She chuckles a little. "I hope you'll really like the story itself once it releases, I've got a big role in the first chapter!"

"Don't forget about me or Seph, we're the other two Rangers who appear before Felipe gets his Power Sphere!" Raptor scolds lightly. "Anyway, Jacob, can I say one thing? You're an amazing writer, and... we've all honestly admired your work a lot. When I heard from Keaton that you'd ended up with Nebula Nine as a special interest of sorts, it... filled me with pride, really, because I'm the team leader. I hope we all can continue to meet and surpass your expectations."

"I know you will. I've never thought anything else," I tell her. "And I'm...really happy you guys enjoy my work, too. I'm not...really working on any of my big projects right now, so it's nice to hear that - that people, uh, enjoy my work anyway. Makes me feel good." Indeed, I feel warm inside, knowing that the freaking Nebula Nine enjoy what I've done, and hopefully what I one day do.

Ze'ev catches on and chuckles a little. "Starstruck?" he asks with the slightest hint of a mischievous giggle. "We are too!" Coming over to you, he gives you a big, soft hug of his own, his tail wagging just like a normal dog's, and his ears splay back. "You probably already know how I feel about you, big guy, but... I'm so grateful for you coming into Matty's life! You've helped him develop us all way beyond our initial character concepts, and he always tells us how much he cares about you and loves you. You make him so happy!" He looks up into your eyes, his eyes big and loving.

"Easy, don't smother 'im!" Solomon jokes. "Seriously, yer gonna drown him in all that fluff of yours!"

"I'm five feet tall, you shush!" Ze'ev replies, shooting Solomon a quick glare. "Ignore Jerk Cobain over there, Jacob, he's as happy to see you as the rest of us."

"Darn right! I swear I'll compose a song in your name!" Solomon holds up his lute and strums a bright-sounding chord.

"Ah, fluff sounds pretty good right now," I reply, giving Ze'ev a hug of my own. His fur is soft and fluffy, and the temptation to revel in it is strong, but that feels a little too much like making a move on him. I rub him softly, just a bit. "You make Keaton really happy, you know?" I tell Ze'ev. "Even I can tell. He gushes about you every chance he gets when we talk. It's honestly a little overwhelming."

"No regrets," Keaton declares from behind me. People chuckle, and I'm one of them.

"My point is, I was really looking forward to meeting you, Ze'ev. See a little bit of what Keaton sees. I'm really happy you two are so happy together." I shoot Matty a grateful look.

"Wheee~" he coos a little bit at your rub, before breaking from the hug. "That's so nice to hear- C'mere, honeybear!" He embraces Keaton next, kissing his cheek and giggling, and while the Forever Blue duo are occupied, I smile softly at my big brother.

"I'm happy too," I say, holding my hands behind my back and sighing in contentment.

Finally, Shaula and Thuban make their presence known. Shaula has been sizing you up this whole time, looking you up and down, and she rewards you with a confident smile. "You are just as Matty says," the warrior princess declares, her own tail bobbing slightly. "A capable and kind young man who is worthy of admiration! Were you a member of the Scorpian court I have it on good authority that you would be treated with honor and many accolades."

Thuban strokes his beard, looking deep in concentration. "Ahh... There's much I wish to say myself," he admits. "How to condense it... Jacob, you are a wonderful young man. You've brightened the lives of my charges immeasurably, both through your work and you being yourself. And I cannot thank you enough for inspiring Matthew to declare that my family will grow beyond myself and Raptor." He puts a hand on Raptor's shoulder, and the two of them smile at one another, then at you. "It is my fond hope that you will always shine bright, good sir."

As I'm not much of a fighter, I'm not sure how I'd actually fare in the Scorpian court, but I take Shaula's words for what they are and thank her graciously. I turn to Thuban, the ever admirable dragon, and take a breath. "Thank you, Thuban. I, um, hope you're right about me. There's...stuff I want to do, and well, it doesn't always seem surmountable. But I hope I can do it, too. I think I can, if I try. I'm really grateful that you believe in me." The butterflies in my belly start to flutter again, even though I'm certain that I've nothing to fear. "Uh, I don't usually...ask this, but...Thuban, I really want to hug you...can I, please?"

Shaula nods and crosses her arms, evidently approving of you, and Thuban's whiskers twitch, his gentle red eyes widening at the request.

"My, my," he says softly. "You truly desire an embrace from this old man? If you wish it, then of course you can have it, Jacob." Stretching out his arms, the dragon takes a step closer to you, greatcoat swishing at his feet, and pulls you into a firm, warm hug, one that can't be called anything less than paternal. "I do believe in you, Jacob, as do we all. Know this: that even in the depths of your darkest fears and worries, you may look to us, and know that we all support you- that we love you, I dare say."

I embrace Thuban as he embraces me, wrapping my arms as far around his greatcoat as I can and pressing my face into his chest. "Thank you," I say. My voice twists on the words, and I can feel nascent tears in my eyes, but I don't cry; I don't think they'd mind, but I don't feel comfortable crying about this in front of them. Maybe someday.

"I...I love you guys, too. All of you. I've wanted to meet you guys for a long time," I admit. "I'm so, so happy that you guys like me. It usually takes a while in my fantasies to get to this point, but we just skipped right to it. Thank you, for caring about me, for supporting me, loving me, even. I love you all too, so much."

Not a Dark Matter or Antimatter Power Sphere in sight, and yet we reached this point so quickly, all on our own. It feels wonderful.

I approach once more, embracing gently from the side. "I don't think any of them could ever bear a grudge towards you for anything. We talk about you a lot," I remind, tilting my head a little. "I'm really glad I got to do this for you- I love your characters like you love mine, and... this feels amazing, being able to introduce you to them after all this time..." My own voice chokes up slightly, and before I know it, I'm blinking back tears of my own. "Gah, zarkit... there I go, being a crybaby..." I wipe my tears away and offer a big, wobbly grin. "Jake, I'm so happy right now..."

I gently pull away from Thuban and wrap my arms around you, Matty. "Yeah, I get that. And I'm sure we'll feel this way plenty more in the future. I certainly hope so. I love you, little bro."

"I love you too, big bro." I hug you back, breaking down into open tears of joy that I got to do something like this for someone I cherish so dearly.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," I murmur. "I'm just glad you're glad, Matty."

"Eheh..." I look into your eyes and nod, still overwhelmed with happiness. "So... Let's have some fun, eh? Maybe sit down, have a meal, play some video games, talk about writing a little more? Whatever you wanna do, bro, you're the guest of honor!"

"Ah..." I pinch a lock of hair between my fingers and twist it around. "I...kinda want to see more of the ship right now, to start. It's just...incredible, really."

"Oh yeah!" Keaton exclaims. "I promised you a tour of the place! There's plenty to see, and I'm sure you'll love it!"

"Yeah, yeah!" I nod. "Can we start with that and then...go from there? I'd love to do more with you guys when we're done!"

"Hey, that's perfect!" Lizbeth says, standing. "You've gotta check out the library, it's filled with all the classics!"

"Library nothing, the training gym's where it's at," Seph replies with a grin. "It's great that the Asclepius is so darn big, we can fit a lot of stuff in here! Come on, Jacob, it's gonna be amazing!"

"I don't doubt it!" I laugh. "Lead on, and I'll faithfully follow!"

"Sir yes sir!" all of the Rangers chorus, getting up and striding towards the elevator, all cheerfully bickering about where to show him first. The deciding vote seems to be Thuban, and I take your hand in mine as we follow the colorful crew we've created.

"Matty?" I say quietly, drawing your attention. I look your way. "Thanks for bringing me here. I love you."

And then I walk into the doorframe and hit the side of my head, stumbling back. "I'm okay! I'm fine!" I shake my head. "Let's go, everyone!"

"Ack!" Ze'ev yelps, shocked.

"He's okay, peeps!" I shout, looking at you with worry, but I can't help a quick laugh because I know exactly what that kind of mishap is like. Everyone clamors around you briefly, but their worries are assuaged when they see that you're okay, and they sigh in relief, Champ patting your back and trailing behind you to make sure it doesn't happen again.

#power rangers nebula nine #story time with me and my buddy #metafictional #everyone #self-insert #long post #role play #unbelievaball #nebula nine spoilers

[katzuyas]

carry on, darling, we were built to last | ko-fi page

Finding Yuuri in front of a mirror could mean two things and neither one bode well for Victor.

The first one usually ended with them both in bed, or spread across the nearest flat surface where they could kiss each other senselessly. Victor enjoyed that one. Anything that made Yuuri crave his touch and push himself into Victor's arms was a good thing in Victor's book.

But as it was with Yuuri, Victor could never tell which direction the mirror staring would go in. Passionate make outs or–

"Victor," Yuuri asked one day, looking over himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in their bedroom. He ran his hand over his belly, a small frown of displeasure curled around his lips. "Do you think I'm getting fat?"

If Victor was drinking, he was fairly sure he'd choke. As it was, he only dropped his phone on his face. With a small yelp he sat up, rubbing at where the hard case hit him on the cheek.

"What– What do you mean?"

It was always better to ask. Yuuri's train of thought was unpredictable, after all. He could be talking about something obvious, or so Victor would believe, and the next day it'd turn out they had two completely different conversations. It never failed to confuse Victor, but after months and months of experience he'd finally learned to simply ask and not just assume.

Yuuri bit his lip, rubbing at his belly over his t-shirt.

"I just... I mean... I gained weight, right?" he said slowly. "Do you think I'm getting fat?"

Victor jumped out of the bed. "Not at all!"

He came up to stand behind Yuuri and wrapped his arms around him. Yuuri leaned into the embrace, but he did not stop looking at his midsection in the mirror. Victor kissed his cheek softly, nuzzling against him.

"You look beautiful, Yuuri, there's no need to worry," Victor said. "To me you will always be perfect just the way you are."

"That's not what I asked," Yuuri mumbled, even as his face flushed at the compliments. "Tell me the truth. Am I fat?"

"But that is the truth," Victor insisted.

Yuuri sent him a small glare in the mirror and Victor sighed. Because the truth was, yes, Yuuri had gained weight. Yet the truth also was that he had every right to. They were retired, no longer forced to keep up with the restrictive skating diet, so why did it matter? There was a bit of pudge around Yuuri's hips, a roll or two of fat on his stomach, and a bit more width to his thighs. And Victor loved it.

Especially the full, lovely face of Yuuri's, which he could just leave sweet, gentle smooches on for hours.

"You look delightful, Yuuri," Victor repeated, running his hands over Yuuri's sides. He was soft and cuddly and all that Victor ever wanted. "And the more there is of you, the happier I am. Not that there's anything wrong with it if you want to stay fit. But I have to admit that I quite enjoy having something more to hold onto."

His hands slipped down to Yuuri's ass and squeezed firmly. The full feeling of it always made Victor giddy with excitement. Yuuri only squeaked and swatted at Victor's arm, while a beautiful blush painted his cheeks. He did not tell him to let go, though, and Victor couldn't help his laughter.

"Really," Victor chided in a gentle voice he usually used when talking to Makka. "How did that song on the radio go? Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top?" Yuuri scoffed, but his face cleared with the beginnings of a smile and Victor grinned triumphantly. "My gorgeous Yuuri, you're beautiful no matter how much you weigh. I love you for you, and the more there is of you, the more love I can lavish you in."

"How do you say such embarrassing things all the time," Yuuri mumbled, turning his gaze away from the mirror and Victor's happy eyes as a full blush covered him from the tips of his ears to somewhere below the collar of his t-shirt.

He fidgeted for a moment in Victor's arms, until he rubbed worriedly against his belly once more, taking the big roll of fat in hand and showing it to Victor.

"You really don't mind this?" Yuuri asked, voice somewhat small.

Victor's heart hurt for a second before he decided he was going to lay ruin to Yuuri's self-consciousness once and for all. He laid his hand over Yuuri's and wrapped his fingers around the pudge Yuuri was holding, squeezing it a bit.

"I love it," he announced. "You're so squishy and soft, Yuuri. I adored cuddling with you before, but now I never want to let you go."

He squeezed Yuuri tight with his arms, so tight that Yuuri began squirming and begging him to let go. Reluctantly, Victor did. He took Yuuri's hands instead and pulled him over to the bed.

"How about you let me show you how much I enjoy your body?" he asked with a wink.

Yuuri blushed a deeper red, but crawled into Victor's lap when Victor sat down and pulled him close. There was little weight in Victor's lap and he frowned briefly at the way Yuuri was still holding back on him. Wrapping an arm around Yuuri's waist, he pulled him firmly to sit on his thighs, ignoring Yuuri's small sound of protest.

"Aren't I too heavy?" Yuuri asked.

Victor only shook his head, smiling, "No, you're just right."

And when Yuuri ducked his head, finally appeased, Victor pushed his chin up with a finger and rested a kiss against his sweet lips – one of many that night, that pressed his love into the fat, the muscle, the bones, the living blood of Yuuri's body, because no matter the shape and form Yuuri was Yuuri, and Victor loved him.

#victuri #victuuri #vikturi #viktuuri #victuuriwriters #yuri on ice #my fic #the piggy thing still bothers me even after all this time #so what #sue me #I need more body worship while yuuri's floofy #and yes victor might be quoting meghan trainor lmao

[love-lalin]

roadtrip – kim taehyung au (m)

a/n: first time publishing a fic here on tumblr, advanced apologies if it doesn’t satisfy you. + the photo above is my edit. ☺︎

lowercase intended.

genre: fluff + smut (dom! taehyung) — 90’s au

word count: 2.4k

taehyung was adventurous. he always wanted to bring you to places he knew you’d find amusing. he introduced you to art. he taught you art wasn’t just paintings or songs or poems—it was in any form possible; you.

—

first destination: museum

could be any; as long as she smiles.

he writes it down the back of the map, following with a huge circle indicating a museum at the front. “as long as i smile?” i ask.

“yeah,” he smiles, “your smile is the reason for mine.” i squinch at him.

“what?” he asks, giving off his boxed smile again. “it isn’t my fault you’re that special to me,”

“it’s my fault then?” i ask.

“maybe,” he chuckles. “you’re the rose i’d do everything to keep red and fresh.”

“sweet, taehyung.”

“that’s me!” he playfully declares, pointing at himself. “but only to my girl of course.”

“hmm,” i chuckle. i kiss his cheek. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he looks into my eyes, placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

destination 1 : art museum

“we’re here baby,” he wakes me up, poking my cheeks. “you’re so squishy, wake up! i might go crazy.”

“hmph,” i pout.

“come on, baby girl. we’re here now. the parking has a time limit,”

“alright,” i finally stretch and hop off the car.

“i still can’t take my eyes off what you’re wearing babe.”

a sky blue playsuit and white oxford flats with ankle socks. “this? you like it?”

“anything you wear, i like.” he says.

“oh hush, taehyung.” he just chuckles, placing his arms on my shoulders.

we walk past the doors, my eyes widening with the beauty in front of me. even the scent of the museum was fresh and wonderful.

“it’s just like you, sweetheart.” he’d say. gosh, taehyung. i never thought i’d find someone like you.

he and i were friends at first. we were sixteen. and now we’re twenty one, we’d been together ever since. i’m glad father liked him, i thought it’d be a problem. it wasn’t. and that just meant he was for me. destined for one another, my aunt would say. “you two must’ve been the fairytales daisy would read to me,” she says. “she always wanted me to read it for her. over and over. about two lovers that met because they were made to meet.”

“what’re you thinking sweetheart?” taehyung asks me.

“oh, nothing,” i smile. “i just thought of us.”

“was it because of the paintings, or the scent?”

“the scent of our fresh and wonderful love,” i say. he smiles and kisses my cheeks.

“mhm,” he hums.

he holds my hand and shows me the other paintings. “this one’s just like you, love,” he says. it was a girl holding a fresh daisy as she was swinging on a swing set at a playground.

“what, when we were sixteen?” i laugh, “it’s been so long. i miss that.”

“wanna swing again?” he asks. “let us go to a park next then”

“sure,” i reply. i swung my arms on his torso, hugging him. “you’re such a cuddly bear.”

“look, it’s you right now,” he points to another painting. a girl hugging a teddy bear in a picnic setting.

“oh, come on.” i chuckle, “are these all me?”

he shrugs. i look closer to the bottom of the painting, k.t.h — babygirl.

“kim taehyung! i can’t believe—“

“shhh, be quiet, they might get annoyed.” he laughs. “you’re so noisy when you’re shocked.”

“because i’m shocked!” i whisper. he places his finger on my lips. “taehyung, i never knew you’d paint me and then submit your artwork. and for it to be publiciz-“

“yes baby, i know, i did it for you. look at your blushed cheeks. so cute.”

“how about the swing?” i asked. he shook his head. “must be someone else’s, but it does look like you.”

i chuckle. “hm, come on let's check the others!”

—

“that was a huge museum, i’m tired, tae,” i yawn.

“but that’s just the first..” he pouts, starting the car.

“how many did you plan?”

“as much as you can take,” he grins, popping a candy into his mouth.

i place my head on his shoulder. “how many?” i whine.

“four, five.”

“goodness,” i sigh. “but thank you for the burger and fries, i got really full. it was delicious.”

“anything for my baby girl,” his baritone voice was just so captivating. i look up at him.

“what time is it?”

“it’s seven fourty six,” he replies. “around two hours for us to get to a motel. it’s quite far, the other one got demolished.”

“ohh..” i whisper, eyes closing to drift off to sleep.

—

22:06 pm

kisses on my neck woke me up.

“taehyung,” i whisper, “what.. why are you kissing me there..?”

“sorry, baby. i couldn’t take it. you and that face of yours while you sleep, it’s just.. you’re so fucking exquisite,” my eyes widen. he was panting.

“let’s go now,” i laugh. he grabs the polaroid and our bag of clothes.

“shocked?” he smirks. “i love you,”

i say the same.

he was acting strange.. he was such a bear and now he’s—

“penny for your thoughts baby?”

“oh-uh, n-nothing i just thought of something,” he chuckled. he knew what he was doing.

“your stutters are so adorable,” he says. he checks us in the motel for the night.

he holds my hand and i follow him. “you’re quiet, tae..” i whisper.

“because it’s nighttime,” he says looking back at me. “and people are sleeping.”

i just nod faintly. we finally arrive at our room and he opens the door. “make yourself comfortable, babygirl. i’ll just use the bathroom,” he says hurriedly. he closes the door and then rushes to the bathroom. i didn’t even get to reply—it was like something was bothering him.

i walk to the bed and slump my body, my stomach facing the bedsheets. i heave a sigh, today was a long day of walking.

i close my eyes to relax, but i end up falling asleep once again.

i wake up a few minutes later. “i only slept for ten minutes?..” i whisper to myself as i looked at the clock by the night stand. the bed was wonderfully soft though, it was beside the window too. it was so nice seeing the night sky above me. i sit right beside the window, opening it. i place my arms outside and my knees kneeling on the soft duvet.

“fuck,” i hear taehyung say. “why are you in that position? with your ass bent over like that?” he says as he places the bags below our bed and the polaroid at the nightstand.

“s-sorry, i-“

“damn,” he groans, placing his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes. he then ran his hands over his hair, messing his usual coconut look.

his middle parting showed, showing his forehead and stressed eyebrows.

“sit back down, baby girl.” he commands. i do so. “you’re so irresistable, shit,”  

my heart was thumping. could he hear..? it felt so..i feel like it’s going to be loud.

“can-can i?” he asks me. i thought for a short time.. and nodded. he was so stressed out, it was like..

“you’re all i need right now, fuck,” he groans. he lifted his red turtleneck off and his body was displayed right before me.

“art,” i muttered.

“can i unbutton your playsuit?” i nod once again.

“damn,” he says again. he was slowly unbuttoning them as he looks at me. he held my waist and sat me up to gently pull the top off. now for the bottom.. he smirks at me and pushes me down the bed, pulling the bottom part off of me, leaving me in my undergarments. i look up at him, with my cheeks probably very flushed by now. he takes off my oxfords but leaves my socks on. “baby, you look so cute, fuck,” him hovering over me is so—i don’t know what to say.. it’s just, it’s so hot i—“look at me baby,” he says, kissing my collarbone.

“watch me mark you—mine.” he kisses below my collar bone now, then lower. he took my bra off of me and took my breasts in his hands and kneaded it, and his lips kissed my right. he licked and sucked, making me whimper. “t-taehy-hyung..”

he placed a mark right above my chest, kissing it afterward. “you’re so adorable,” he says. he kisses my lips, licking my bottom lip. i knew what he was asking for. i gladly accept him and we share an intense kiss. he kisses my forehead after. “can i take your underwear off now?” he asks. “yes,” i pant.

he softly places his middle finger in the middle.. pressing the wet spot. “you’re soaking, baby girl.” he pulls the garment off and places his fingers back. “look at this.” he raises his hand and takes his thumb to touch the wet finger. “i-i know, tae, no need to show me..” i say shyly. he just chuckles. “you’re such a cute little flower.”

he then rubs my entrance, causing me to moan. “music to my ears, sweetheart,” i just smile at his remark.

he then slowly enters his finger in, it was so new to me.. all he’s done before was leave marks and kiss me. he’s never entered his fingers in me before, until tonight. “f-fuck, tae—“ he looks at me with quirked eyebrows. “tae?” i cover my mouth. “i think it’s safe to call me sir now.” he did tell me about that kink.

“what does baby girl want?” he asks seductively, his lips right beside my ear. his pants made my hairs rise, it was just so deep, i could feel my flow increase. “getting wetter huh, it’s flowing right out without me touching it.” he says boldly.  he then pumps his finger in and out, soon adding his ring finger. “naughty, naughty girl.” he smirks. i moan at his words and his movements, my eyes closing with the feeling. it was too good, i never knew it felt this—this wonderful, getting touched like this..

he pumps faster, soon squelches were being heard. “f-fuck—sir, please—don’t do it so hard-“ i stutter, he was making me hear how wet i was, i could tell. “no way baby. you gotta hear how wet i made you.” he smirks. he places kisses on my neck once more, making me elicit a moan. he takes his fingers out and licks them. “enough of that,” he says, “flip.” he commands, his hands holding my waist and guiding me to lie down with my face on the pillow. “raise your hips, baby.” i do so. he spanks me once, rubs me, then twice. “for the daisy fresh girl, who’s now as naughty as ever.” i look behind me to find him smirking, as he continues to play with my clit making my legs shiver in delight. “s-sir, i might—i might not take it anymore,” i say. “please, fuck me, sir.” i beg.

he takes his bottoms off, along with his underwear. “my pleasure,” he growls as he places his tip right at my entrance. he counts 3 to 1, slowly entering me and we both moan in delight. “fuck, baby,” he pants, thrusting in and out. “you’re so tight, shit,” i could her our skin slap with his power.

“this sound, from you and me—it’s art, baby girl. me in you, making love. this is art.” i just whimper as a reply, i really didn’t know what to say anymore, he took the words out of my mouth and replaced it with sounds of pleasure.

he grabs the polaroid beside us and turns it on as he fucks me hard. “this is a good memory,” he says. he places his left hand on my hip to balance himself and keep his rhythm, as his right held the polaroid camera. he spanked me once again, “just because i want to,” he giggles. i hear the shutter and he throws the camera beside me. “i’d keep that in my wallet.” he says, lowering his body. he starts biting my ear, making my knees weak, i mean—his thrusts and his hot breath, how could it not?

i could feel myself come near as i contract on his dick. “o-oh shit,” he blurts out, thrusting faster than before. “hah~” he breathes out on my ear. it felt so hot.

“i’m close, baby,” he informs me, his right hand snaking below me to touch my breast. he plays with my nipple, rolling it on the tip of his finger. “you close too?”

“y-yes sir,” i reply. “good girl. you’re being good to me. you deserve a reward.” he pulls out of me, the empty feeling leaving me hanging. “w-why?”

“ride me.” he sits and spreads his thighs, his dick up, touching his stomach. “come on.” i do as he says, sitting on his thigh first, then slowly inching myself in his dick. “o-oh, s-sir.. you feel so good,”

“you too.” he replies, kissing my forehead. “look at me now, baby girl. let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” he brushes the hair off my face, smiling as our eyes meet. he bites my lip, kissing me passionately. he suddenly thrusts his hips up, his dick sinking deeper into me. i let out a loud moan on his lips, to earn a smirk from him. he does another, then another. “you like that?” he smirks. “i do.”

“come on, ride me like the big girl you are.” he says, leaving it to me. i bounce up and down, and sometimes i roll my hips to get him deeper. i feel my end come—and i do. my juices drip down his dick, his thigh too.

“baby has a lot to offer,” he suddenly says, “you’re really made for me.” i smile down at him.

he rolls us over and fucks me to oblivion, harder and faster than fast, soon coming to his high. “i’m gonna cum at your tummy, sorry baby. i don’t wanna defile you but—“ he groans and pulls out, cumming at me.

“but i don’t think it’s time for us to have kids yet. we have to explore things first.” he winks. he kisses my cheeks, then forehead once more.

he cups my right cheek, looking at my eyes again. “you’re the woman i’ll always, always love, (y/n). i love you.”

“let’s clean you up.” he says, carrying me the bridal style. “i’m tired tae,”

“doesn’t matter. i’ll do it for you.” he kisses my cheek.

i love you, kim taehyung.

#kim taehyung #taehyung smut #bts smut #smut #v smut #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #rapmonster #fanfic #bts fanfiction #suga #dom!taehyung #90s style #au