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hispg · 4 months

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Longing for love

Pairings: R2! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: It's your birthday, and your childhood friend wants to make it special.

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity (both sides), pet names, soft sex, making out, slight oral( f receiving).

An: I know I promised I'd post this last week, but this week I was feeling down about writing anything. Just as I haven't replied to asks or comments, I'll probably reply to them tonight.

I don't know what happened, I had so much to write and ended up writing almost nothing. Anyway, I'll try to finish what I've already got half-written and try to post it over the next few days!

I really hope this bad mood passes soon, and I thank you all for your love. 🫶🏻

It was a special day, your birthday. You had nothing special planned, nothing other than lying in the comfort of your bed watching some series on your laptop.

Even though you had told your childhood friend, Leon, that you didn't want anything special today, he refused to accept it.

It was your birthday, how could he pass it up? Even though he didn't have the best financial conditions in the world, he spared no expense in giving you a shiny necklace with a heart as a pendant.

If it were up to him, he would give you anything you asked for. Because he thought you deserved all the best the world could offer.

And here he was, spoiling you with sweet, wet kisses, holding you down on the bed while he gave your forehead one last kiss before whispering:

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" You'd lost count of how many times he'd asked you that during the night.

You knew he could get you anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask.

"No, Lee..." You said softly, clutching and snuggling into him.

He nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair and playing with the strands, holding you so close to him that the two of you had your bodies pressed together.

The bed seemed so cozy for both of you, the covers that were wrapped around your bodies as the two of you exchanged these light caresses.

You couldn't have been happier on your birthday, cuddling up to him while the gentle rain fell outside.

Leon felt his heart flutter every time he saw you all dolled up in a light purple dress, looking like a princess. Wearing your prettiest earrings, glossy lips that had left a raspberry taste in his mouth that made him keep licking his lips because of it.

"You know... I saw a dress..." Leon begins, and you already know where this is going to end.

He always says he sees something that reminds him of you, and every time he ends up bringing it as a present for you, with the excuse that you'd look perfect wearing what he's bought.

"Leon, you don't have to..." You whisper, kissing him on the lips.

He closed his eyes with a soft smile, pressing you a little closer against him.

"But I'd love to..." He says with that cocky smile you already know well.

You giggle, kissing his cheeks several times. He always got frustrated and embarrassed when you did this, his cheeks getting hot from the act.

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it every time you showered him with kisses. The feel of your lips on his skin was something he would never forget.

Without even realizing it, he gripped your hips a little harder, getting goosebumps when your breasts grazed his chest from how close you were to him.

Once you'd finished what you'd started, the proud smile plastered across your face.

"Why are you blushing?" You asked with mischief and sweetness in your voice, biting your lip as you looked at him.

You watched his lips come together and press, a sketch of a pout there. His eyes locked with yours, his arms wrapped around your waist.

God, how could he resist that? How could he resist you?

He swears he was trying to ignore the situation, trying to ignore the way you were so close to him, your warm body crashing against his.

Maybe he was being daring, but he took the opportunity a step further, placing a light kiss on your neck. Letting his lips linger there for a few moments.

The response that came from you pleased him, he heard your breathing hitch, your chest descend and rise more visibly. He knew you liked it.

"Maybe I want something..." You whispered, looking at him with a certain shyness.

You knew that the two of you had already crossed the line into friendship, not least because you doubted that friends kissed or got that close. But when he looked at you in such a sweet way, something in you melted.

"Say... I can give you anything you want..." He whispers, lightly caressing your cheeks.

You bite your lip, leaning your forehead against his once more, and soon the sweet words are coming from your lips:

"A kiss?" It wasn't the first time you'd kissed, but the way you asked for it this time, so sweetly, the smile was kind of drawn on your face.

Who was Leon to say no?

"Whatever you want, princess." That's all he said before kissing you.

It started in a loving and gentle way, his lips moving against yours in sync, his fingers caressing your waist with affection and delicacy.

Your hands wrapped in his hair as his tongue traced your lower lip, asking for passage into your mouth. And you didn't deny it.

You don't know how it happened, or how a simple make out session turned into languid, sloppy kisses, his hands grabbing every bit of skin he could find, not wasting a single precious second to touch you.

And before you knew it, he was on top of you, his hands slowly coming down to hold your hips. And knowing how far this was going to go, you didn't try to do anything to stop it.

In the blink of an eye he had already taken off your dress, his lips trailing down your neck as he grasped the waistband of your panties, taking no time to remove them at once.

His eyes went wide once you were naked in front of him, his cock aching from the rush of seeing you like this.

"Can I...?" All he wanted was your permission to continue or to stop, it was up to you.

You nodded shyly, letting him do whatever he wanted.

And that was all he needed to continue. He moved his face down to your belly, kissing softly and sweetly across your skin, leaving no part untouched. He was so anxious that he could barely think straight, the only thing he wanted to feel was what it would be like to be inside you.

So he needed to prepare you, right? And once he saw how wet you were already getting with just a few kisses, it wasn't long before he thought of a solution to get you soaking wet.

His hands gripped your thighs, you could tell he was as nervous as you were. The blush on his cheeks, the way he was biting his lower lip to hold back the sounds he might make at the sight of you in this situation.

He'd never seen you naked like this, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined this situation multiple times.

But now that you were here in front of him, it was a completely different story.

Before you could look at him, you felt his warm lips on your thighs, giving you light, wet kisses.

As if he was afraid and apprehensive of making any moves, he had never done that in his life, he was just following what he thought was right, maybe he could call it instinct or something.

His warm, soft lips gave you goose bumps, made your body shudder under his body, you gasped and arched your body gently.

His every touch was capable of making your thoughts go blank and you forget the world around you, as if nothing else mattered. Just the two of you there.

He also couldn't stop salivating once he saw your wet folds, the state he'd managed to leave you in with just a few kisses and caresses. Your throbbing pussy almost begging for him, a sight that sent an electrifying pulse to his hard cock.

You held back from moaning when you felt his hot breath against your sex.

It wasn't long before you were shuddering at his touch, the way he was so delicate as he planted kisses in your folds, he was so tender that it was simply attractive to watch. His blue eyes staring at you, just to make sure you were comfortable with it all, and that you wanted it as much as he did.

As soon as he saw that you were ready for him, he began to undress. In a hurried and clumsy way he took off his clothes, throwing them into a corner of the room.

You were mesmerized by his body, strong and muscular, so defined that you could salivate just looking at it.

Once again he was lying on top of you, his lips pressed to yours in a hot kiss.

You only heard him fisting himself a little, before he began to guide his tip into your entrance. You knew from the kiss he was giving you that he wanted to make you focus only on him, making you as comfortable as possible.

So he slowly entered you, calmly and patiently, all the while asking you if it was okay and if he could continue. The situation was new and strange for both of you, so reluctance was more than normal.

Once he had sunk into you, he could have sworn to God that he was holding back from cumming, the sensation of your warm, wet walls was more than enough to finish him off.

But he held on, held on and tried his best to stop the thoughts of simply exploding inside you here and now.

And he hovered over you, simply rigid on top of you, just as his hard cock didn't move an inch from where it was.

He felt your discomfort, the way you hissed a little when he put it in, and if you were being honest, it stung considerably.

He stood still, that is until you both got used to the foreign feeling.

But even then, he kept giving you soft kisses on the cheek, whispering sweet nothings to help you relax.

"I love you so much..." He whispered sweetly in your ear, giving the area light kisses and licks.

You moaned softly at his touch, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips, entwining with him in such an erotic and intimate way.

And in yet another of his gestures, he entwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly as he gazed at you with those gentle blue eyes.

It was a gaze so tender, so loving, a gaze that was reserved for you, only you.

"You can move..." You say softly, looking at him shyly.

He gets the message, and slowly starts to move, in a shallow and calm way, he had no intention of rushing things.

Not least because he could see how nervous you were, or how much your pussy clenched around him, even though he had stimulated you, had prepared you to loosen up more.

"So tight..." He moans softly, giving your lips a gentle kiss.

The way he was so tender, so tenuous as he thrust into you, he didn't even move much, just enough to cause a little friction.

Not least because he didn't even know what you liked at those times, it was two inexperienced lovers learning at once.

"Lee..." You call softly, gently biting your lower lip as you look at him.

Surely he noticed the way your hips began to move against his, as if your body knew exactly what to do in this situation.

He took this as a green light, and began to pick up the pace, still making a point of giving you kisses and caresses all over your body.

You felt your mind getting so heavy, his cock reaching places so deep, points so sensitive that you couldn't even imagine.

It was all so good, certainly better than you imagined.

In one swift movement he removed one of his hands from yours, moving down your belly until he reached your crotch, where he stopped respectfully. Not wanting to do anything without your permission.

"Is it okay if I....?" He asked, placing his index finger next to your clit.

He wanted to know what you liked, what felt good, and he was going to start here. With your bundle of nerves.

"Y-yes... Please." You asked in a sly voice, and he could even see the pout that formed on your lips.

He smiled against your neck, giving the area a hickey, leaving a small mark. And then there was his thumb, smoothing over your clit, making small, delicate circles on the sensitive flesh, making you roll your eyes and moan louder with each movement.

He eased off when he felt you loosening up more, and with that he understood that he could increase the speed of his hips, and so he did.

Now the dirty, wet sounds echoed through the room, his heavy balls slapping against you and making that characteristic skin-on-skin noise.

But neither of you cared, so lost in that moment that the least of your problems was the profanity that came out of your mouths in the form of words.

Your heavy breaths came together as one, in the purest of synchronies. He was close, and so were you.

But as far as he was involved, your pleasure came first, so he would hold back as long as he could so that you would come first.

"Leon... I think I'm going to cum." You say in a low moan, feeling a new sensation forming in the pit of your stomach.

Your walls squeezing so tightly around him, and him trying his best to hold back. With a strangled groan you felt your hot fluid pouring out of you, your body arching and crashing against his as you came.

It was enough to send him over the edge too, and he almost didn't take his cock out of you, he was so lost in your expression of ecstasy that he forgot he wasn't wearing a condom.

He even thought about cumming in your belly, but was genuinely apprehensive of making a mistake and making a mess. So he pulled out of you, fisting himself and cumming on the sheets. Moaning and grunting as his cum spurted onto the silk sheets.

You were both tired from the recent orgasm, and he took the opportunity to lie on top of you and hold you close.

"On your belly next time?" He asks softly, a shy, mischievous smile appearing on his lips.

You smile, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks with your hands, hugging him as he relaxes on top of you.

"Yes, next time." You whisper, closing your eyes and storing the moment in your memory.

You couldn't have hoped for anyone better to lose your virginity to, and for sure, Leon couldn't have had anyone better either.

You can believe it was your best birthday.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #re leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon re2

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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Hiii! I've just binged mafia Price again, as one would, and now I desperately wanna know their first time together 😍 Was it after dating some time, ot much longer or maybe right away? How did they felt? Nervous I bet, but what was anticipation like? Did he make it a planned occasion, or was it casual? Was it quick rough, or slow and sensual, or something else? Like 🤯🤯🤯 My mind's gonna blow thinking about all these. Give this girl some insight, pretty please 👉🏻👈🏻

ugh i answered an ask a few weeks ago that was sort of similar to this but about them dating and i was trying to find it to link with this post but alas, tumblr search is dog water lmfao. anyway it's been a bit since i've written something proper for him so enjoy a drabble to answer your question (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: alcohol, smut, mutually possessive sex, (maybe slight technical dub-con due to the alcohol but both parties are awake and aware i'm just putting this here just in case)

When John got home, he found you in the kitchen.

Quiet music hummed through the speaker on your phone as you worked on serving two big plates of food like you had predicted his arrival. You greeted him with a grin as you gestured to the food in front of you on the island, proud of your work. Its fragrant aroma was mouth watering, almost to the point he found it difficult to think about anything other than eating. Your smile was contagious and John found himself chuckling as he approached the other side of the island.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Dinner, of course," you replied.

John scoffed slightly at his rather poorly worded question and your cheeky response. "Alright, well what's the occasion?"

"No occasion," you said. "You've been at work all day, and I felt like cooking, so..." You paused to pick up one of the plates and held it out for him to take. "Dinner!"

In the last few months that you had been staying with him, you had cooked plenty of times, but never anything quite like that. A part of you felt a little guilty for not being able to show your appreciation as much as you wanted to, for taking you in and keeping a roof over your head, but more often than not he wouldn't allow it. There were few chores he would allow you to do as a guest in his home, and if you wanted to cook or clean for him, you often had to do it under his nose when he wasn't home.

And still, instead of telling you how you didn't have to do all that, how you didn't have to waste your evening cooking a lavish meal, he took it without complaint and allowed you to lead him into the living room. That evening was full of good food, a very expensive wine that you attempted to convince John not to open but he did anyway, and an old slasher film that was more humorous than it was unsettling.

Something was different about that night. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was something else, but you seemed to smile and laugh more than you had for the last few weeks. And you were beautiful. The way the dim glow of the TV illuminated your face as you took a sip of wine, the way you laughed and pointed at the screen when one of the characters died; you were perfect.

"Thank you. For taking care of me," you suddenly spoke up.

John had stared at you for so long he didn't even realize that the movie was over, but you didn't seem to mind his unwavering gaze. Yet he was a bit confused by your sudden comment. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the truth, but he felt like he didn't deserve it.

"Your gratitude is wasted on someone like me," he muttered, eyes refusing to leave your face.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"I'm not a good man."

"I know."

While it wasn't the answer he expected, John was glad you knew that much about him at least. He gave you a breathy laugh as he looked down at the remaining wine left in his glass. The dark red liquid swirled around as he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table.

"How do you know?" he questioned, hoping you would indulge him.

"I've always known," you said as if it was obvious. "If you were a good man, you'd be dead by now. Good men don't live long in your line of work."

"So you've known I'm a bad man this whole time?"

The expression on your face contorted and it wasn't long before your hand rested on his arm. He didn't dare look down to where your fingers brushed against his skin because he feared you would retract if he did, like someone who didn't want to get bitten by a dog.

"You're not a bad man," you retorted as if the very thought had offended you.

"How do you know?" John challenged.

"Because you are kind."

In that moment, John swore he had always known you, and maybe he did. He had known you as the chief's daughter when he was a child. He had known you and your laughter as you sat next to him in maths as a teen. You had always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, finding him when he least expected it.

So when you leaned into him, he didn't stop you. And he didn't stop you when your hands rested on his chest, or when your lips pressed against his. In fact, he savored every moment of it. Your skin on his, your teeth sinking into his flesh; it all felt so familiar like your body was the only one he had ever held that way.

It all happened so fast he felt dizzy, but all John knew was that when he saw you laid out naked on his bed there was nothing in the world that would ever take you from him. He couldn't stop the way his lips were drawn to your chest where he kissed a gentle trail between your breasts and down to your navel. He couldn't stop the way his mouth latched onto your cunt like it was the only sustenance he would need for the rest of his life.

And it was the most love you had felt in your entire life. The way he gently pawed at your body not in greed, but because he needed you to be closer, to feel every inch of you. Every moan that left your lips was carefully fished for, and if one thing didn't work he would try another. The way he crooked his fingers inside of you and swiped his tongue over your clit was all done so carefully, only aiming to please you.

When he eventually pulled away from you, got you so worked up that your legs quaked, you wanted to return the favor. Wanted to thank him for taking you in, for treating you as well as he had, but when you tried to sit up his hand firmly kept you pinned against the mattress. He reminded you that you were under his roof. You were his to take care of.

He continued to remind you of that fact with every pump of his cock inside of you. Each thrust had you repeating his words back to him with pitched moans, how he would take care of you, how good he was to you, how you were his to take care of, you were his, you were his. By the time he emptied himself into you with a heavy grunt and a needy kiss, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

After that night, you only slept in his bed, and eventually it wasn't just his bed, but yours too. It happened slowly, and all at once, that he had become yours and you had become his, and yet at the same time, it was like it was never any other way to begin with.

#john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price x reader smut #captain price smut #captain price x reader smut #mafia!141 #mafia!price #f!reader

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luvring · 7 months

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UNIVERSITY WITH BOKUTO

gn!reader | late bokuto birthday post. kyaaa.. sorry for using sociology btw. i’m coping

university student!bokuto who you meet the first day of classes. it was hard not to notice him on the train, nor how you seemed to be taking the same path. you’re speed-walking down a pedway—just a few minutes from being late—when his eyes flicker over to you. “we were on the train together, right? i thought it was funny we started walking the same way. what class are you going to?” he asks with a smile.

and it’s a cute smile, but you wish it wasn’t because you’re starting to run out of breath and you don’t think the one you flash back is anywhere near as easy. “sociology with, uh, philip.”

your new-found acquaintance lights up. “really? me too!”

“yeah, i had him last year and he was really good,” you reply. and maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the way he seems so friendly despite how little you’ve spoken, but you decide to introduce yourself first.

the stranger grins again. “it’s nice to meet you,” he says your name hesitantly, as if testing it out for the first time. “i’m kotaro!”

university student!bokuto who has an impressive skill for keeping small talk going in a way that isn’t awkward or miserable. he sits across from you on the train every morning you have class—taking the side that keeps you from squinting at the sun, which, of course, garners a thank you—and talks about anything and everything. he tells you about his other courses, asks for yours, what you had for breakfast, whether you prefer pancakes or waffles, and even describes how he likes to drizzle on designs with his syrup. (one of his favourites was a wonky little owl, and kotaro swears he managed to draw mario once—or at least his long-lost twin.)

it’s easy talking with him, and even when you want to skip and sleep in, you find yourself getting ready, just in hopes of seeing him again.

university student!bokuto who has a pad of sticky notes in his backpack, filled with reminders and drawings and scribbles from testing if a pen has ink left. the professor is going over the syllabus when you turn to see his brows furrowed, pen doing something on the paper. you have to stop yourself from smiling too big when kotaro passes you a note—a little doodle of the you holding hands and cheering, “SOCIOLOGISTS! >:)” written in block letters above. you have a collection growing by the end of the first two weeks.

bokuto who offers to hang out with you while you wait for your next class, and even walks you there when you’re ready. forty minutes—it’s an awkward amount of time where you can’t really do anything, or sit outside the room to wait, so having someone with you is always nice. you’ve just sat down when you remind him again, “you could just go home, kotaro. you don’t have to wait for me.” and kotaro shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink before replying. “you can’t get rid of me that easy. i like spending time with you, anyway, so don’t worry about me.”

bokuto who stops mid-bite of his lunch when you use his nickname for the first time. “kou, did you get napkins?” you try to ask casually, ignoring how foreign the name feels on your tongue. kotaro stares, cheeks filled on one side with rice. “…kou?” “huh? oh, yeah! uhm.” he fumbles, but manages to hand them over. you thank him quietly and he smiles. he considers himself lucky that you’re looking down at your food, and can’t see how he’s holding back what could possibly be the biggest grin of his life.

bokuto who casually mentions his birthday is coming up, much sooner than you’d expect, and much sooner than you’d hope considering you wanted to get a gift. you lightly hit him on the shoulder. “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“aw, you don’t need to get me a gift. but if you’re free, i was gonna have dinner with some friends,” he offers. “which probably sounds awkward because you don’t really know them, but i told them about you and they’re really nice, and i’d be there so i don’t think it’d be too bad? and it’s after your assignment is due for your other class, i think. or we could do something another day? if you wanted to.”

your ears heat up when he says he’s talked about you, the rest of your face following suit when you realize he's been paying attention to your schedule, but you bite the inside of your cheek and say nothing. “no, it’s okay, i’ll come to dinner, if that’d be okay with them.”

any nervousness that was building inside him evaporates, and kotaro is suddenly back to his usual grinning self. “awesome! it’s my birthday so they’ll be fine, promise!”

bokuto who, himself, is not fine when the day comes—who starts shaking akaashi’s shoulder when you text to say you’ll be there soon. he’s barely paying attention to how his other friends are snickering, or even to akaashi’s reassurance that yes, bokuto, your outfit looks nice, and yes, he’s sure you’d have mentioned any allergies to his cake and no, he doesn’t think he’ll need an epipen by the end of the night.

bokuto who had no idea you managed to text akaashi and the others privately to figure out what the best short-notice gift would be. they told you that kotaro would appreciate anything you bought or made, even if it was just a simple card. they’re all a little surprised when you show up with not just a card, but also a sweater, owl plushie, and collection of sticky notes.

“i mean, i just thought the sweater was pretty soft and the owl was cute. but the sticky notes are ‘cause you always draw on them during class. so i sort of…made you little drawings? of you, stuff you like…they aren’t the best since i had to make them fast, but...” you trail off as he flips through each one.

one of his friends—kuroo, you think—looks over kotaro’s shoulder and snickers. “huh? i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him make that exact face before. are you considering going into the art industry?”

you smile as everyone else looks over your gift, but your eyes are fixed on the birthday boy himself. he’s smiling widely as he takes in each sticky note, making comments and laughing when he reads an inside joke you have from class.

bokuto who takes you to the side while everyone else is talking amongst themselves, surprising you with a hug. “oh!” you take a second to process the fact that there’s arms wrapped around you, but eventually wrap yourself around him in return.

he says your name, dragging out the last syllable as he squeezes you tighter, moving you side to side. “thank you for the present!”

you snort and pat his back. “i’m glad you liked it, some of those sticky notes took a few tries to not look like shit.” you joke.

when he finally lets go, kotaro has a look of determination on his face. “i’ll be sure to make a birthday present just as good as yours, or even better! i didn’t miss it, did i? is it close? i should have asked earlier,” he panics. “well, even if it’s tomorrow, i’ll make sure it’s super good. it isn’t tomorrow, is it? or are new year’s presents a thing?”

bokuto who’s already planning what to do for a gift after you’ve all left, wearing the sweater and holding the plush, with the drawings on his desk, waiting to be put up in the morning.

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #happy belated birthday...#sorry taglist friends . i do not have the energy right neow

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thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Obviously

Prompt Day 3: Mutual Pining | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Brief Period-Typical Internalized Homophobia | Tags: Dual POV, Post-Season 4, Idiots in Love, Just Make a Move Already, Platonic Stobin, Eddie and Gareth are Best Friends

Steve

Steve waits outside of The Hideout, hoping Eddie will come out soon. He's trying to be casual about it, but he knows he's basically being a certified stalker. Robin is loving every embarrassing minute of his steady descent into madness.

"Just tell him, dingus. Ask him out," Robin says.

"Just like you asked out Vickie?" Steve says, "Or Nance? Why is it impossible for you, but is supposed to be easy for me?"

Robin rolls her eyes, "Because Eddie has a crush on you, too. Obviously."

"Obviously," he mocks, sarcastically.

He likes Eddie, and he's spent months dancing around that fact because he doesn’t really know how to just…say that. He wants to say it, wants to see if Eddie feels the same way. But Eddie’s never shown an ounce of interest. He steers clear of Steve, never does anything alone with him. Maybe they aren't friends. Maybe they are just two strangers that survived a traumatic experience together, and Steve's trying to make it into more than it ever was. Steve feels like they are friends, though, but Eddie sure isn't making it easy. He’s keeping Steve at an arm’s length and Steve is sure it’s because Eddie thinks he’s being weird.

He’s making this weird. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just…happening against his will.

The door to the bar opens, and Steve straightens up, "Shhh!" he hisses at Robin, and she just gives him the familiar face telling him he’s a dingus. He waits, and slumps again when he realizes it’s not Eddie. Then he hears a commotion from around the corner of the building, in the alley.

Car doors banging, loud arguing, just a general ruckus. He strains to hear. Maybe it’s Eddie. The van was parked back there, he saw it when he pulled up tonight.

"Do you think your boyfriend is still here?" comes the question from a voice, loud and cocky.

"Shut up, Gareth," is the reply, and that’s definitely Eddie. They must be loading the van with their equipment. Usually they hang out first, but there’s another band following them tonight, so they must have had to load out early.

Steve wants to die. He’s been too obvious. Goddamnit, that's embarrassing. He’ll just slink off, and pretend this night never happened.

"Get in the car," he hisses at Robin, voice low and imploring, as he climbs off the trunk, and crawls into the driver’s seat of the BMW. She gets in next to him, and is staring at him. He refuses to look her way as he pulls out of the gravel parking lot, back onto the highway. They just won’t come back next Tuesday. He won’t, anyway.

No way in hell.

Eddie

"Stop it," Eddie says, putting Sweetheart into the back of the van, making sure she’s secure and won’t get banged around by the rest of the gear. "He’s not my boyfriend and you damn well know it. Steve Harrington? Into me? The Freak? Unlikely."

Gareth scoffs, "Dude keeps hanging around like a little lost puppy. You have eyes, dontcha? He’s into you."

"He’s not into me, drop it," Eddie says, helping Gareth load his drums. There’s a very particular order to repacking the van, and if they don’t do it right, it’s gonna suck dick, and not in the good way.

"He is," Gareth argues, and this kid will never let him get the last word, that’s just the way of the world.

"Gareth. Steve is straight. As an arrow, and I’m pretending to be, too. So, knock it off. I don’t want the town hunting me down for being a different kind of freak."

Gareth looks at him, and lowers his voice, "He likes you, Eddie. He just doesn’t know how to tell you that. I’m sure of it."

"Great. You’re sure of it. Let me get my ass kicked on your hunch."

"Eddie," Gareth says, putting both hands on Eddie's shoulders, "Steve Harrington isn’t going to kick your ass. Steve Harrington nearly died to save you. Steve Harrington keeps coming to this shitty bar, to hear us play shitty music he hates. Pull your head out of your ass."

Eddie sighs. Steve saved him, that much is fucking true. But that has nothing to do with liking him. That’s just Steve. He wanted to protect his flock, and somehow, Eddie’s in it. Eddie’s supposed to have his own sheep to tend to, not be one of Steve’s sheep. It’s weird.

Eddie climbs in the driver’s seat and Gareth climbs in beside him.

"You should just give him a sign. A little one. Steve will run with it, swear to god. He's a brave fool, like that. I know it. Do something small. Just. Give him a little bit of hope, and…" Gareth says, slapping his hands together, "you’re in there."

Eddie loves him, but Gareth's an idiot. But, maybe this isn't totally terrible advice?

Steve

Steve sits out by his pool. It took a lot of time to be able to return to it, after Barb. He kicks his foot, splashing the water, and stops when he hears something walking through the brush. He doesn't have a weapon, but he's thinking about pushing himself up to standing when he sees Eddie coming through the trees.

Steve relaxes and laughs, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry, I just thought your neighborhood might not appreciate me in their midst," Eddie says, moving over and toeing off his shoes to sit down beside him.

They haven't been this close since Steve was forcing him up through the gate, trying to save him.

"You didn't stay after tonight," Eddie says, softly.

"Oh, well, uh, I thought maybe you didn't want me to, anymore," Steve admits.

"I wanted you to," Eddie says, glancing over at him, smiling, just a little, and then he lays his hand on Steve's knee.

Holy shit.

This is an opening. Steve's sure, and he's gonna take it.

Steve smiles, and leans in for a kiss.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #mutual pining #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #idiots in love #robin buckley #gareth stranger things #gareth & eddie #platonic stobin #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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familyvideostevie · 23 days

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hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

#personal #this is very long but please read it maybe?#emma rambles #I will reblog it a few times probably

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apompkwrites · 1 year

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the royal draconias || malleus draconia

masterlist characters: malleus (platonic) genre: angst contains: reader is a child of infidelity, more unprofessional servants, probably really inaccurate compared to canon :/ summary: the story of (name) draconia. notes: finally! all of the main seven have been written! waaaah anyway now i can get around to making that oc guide for characters in the black sheep universe :DD parts: [og post] | [the royal draconias (1)] | [the "good" fairies (2)]

there was once a woman living in one of the highest towards of the palace in briar valley. she was known as the lady of the valley, the direct descendent of the current queen.

her husband was known for his time commanding the royal guard as the lord of the valley, often spending his days outside of the palace with members of the guard. leaving the lady all by her lonesome in the oh-so-quiet tower.

that is until a visitor came along.

for as long as you had been alive, you were raised for one purpose and one purpose only: to serve the draconia family.

the family you were meant to be a part of.

it wasn't much of a secret to you despite the lengths the family went through to make it so. you found it easy to piece together your origin when you could vaguely recall the arguments a few rooms down the hall debating your future.

that was when the lord and lady of the valley were still alive. when word of their passing swept through briar valley, the entirety of the land was sent spiraling into mourning. mourning for the late lady and lord of the valley, the two royals that could do no wrong yet were taken too soon.

meanwhile, the queen had made her decision. her child had birthed, not only the new crowned prince of the valley, but you.

the bastard child of the lady of the valley.

the royal draconia blood had been diluted by your father, whose name you did not know. his presence was purged from history as the queen stepped in, ensuring the fact that a second heir to the throne had been birthed remained a secret swept under the rug.

one issue remained after your father was essentially erased from history, however. what would happen to you?

well, the queen decided on keeping you in the palace. something that you often saw spawned disgust and disdain from the other residents of the palace. although they understood her reasoning, keeping the royal blood closed off rather than out in the general public, that did not stop them from criticizing you.

you were lucky you were assigned to a kinder soul, an older fae who had been under the queen's staff for years upon years. she paid no mind to your blood relative and, instead, ensured that you were nothing but the best as to retain some semblance of pride in yourself.

she was much like your mother, all the way down to their names being similar. you were eternally grateful for miss leah, sticking to her like you would your mother had you been given the chance to.

you wondered if she would have offered the safe openmindedness as miss leah. you wondered if she would love you as her child or denounce you as nothing more than a stain to the draconia name.

"good morning, ma'am," you greeted miss leah as you walked a few steps behind. her ever-present smile was what greeted you in return, her soft lilac blue eyes seemed to scan over you and, with a light flick of her wrist, she motioned for you to step closer.

you followed her command hesitantly, the eyes of other servants burning into your back as they always did. at first, you struggled to keep in step with miss leah, but after a few minutes, you found yourself walking at the same pace as her. she lowered her hand towards your back, her featherlight touch tickling your clothes just slightly.

"straighten your back, dear," she advised in that same, soft tone. "do not let the others see that their words are getting to you."

"yes, ma'am," you replied automatically, allowing her touch to push your back out slightly. she seemed to nod herself with satisfaction, continuing her walk down the hall with you by her side.

this was what you had known your life to be ever since you could form memories. your daily walk down the hall to whatever duty miss leah had planned that day had soon become a monotonous start to your routine. most days, it would be to check on the other servants in the palace. ensure they were doing their jobs and doing them to the utmost perfection. however, it seemed today you were no longer an apprentice. no, you were going to be more than just a shadow to miss leah.

"i expect the best out of your performance, dear," miss leah spoke with her soft smile and half-lidded eyes, a few stray silver hairs falling in front of her eyes. "after all, you learned from myself."

"nothing but the best, ma'am," you nodded in response, your shoulders squared stiffly.

"oh, relax now," she lightly chuckled, placing her hands on your shoulders. "there is nothing for you to be afraid of, i assure you. besides, this is merely a short change. this will not be your permanent place in the palace staff. think of this as... a trial run."

you replied once more with a nod before turning back to the door you had arrived at. with a deep breath, you readied yourself for this "trial run" as miss leah referred to it as.

a trial run with some of your harshest critics in the palace.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #black sheep

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thewillofdeez · 2 months

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A Very AkaTaka Birthday

18+! Minors DNI!!!

Summary: It's Mihawk's birthday. His girlfriend gets him a very special surprise......a visit from his boyfriend, Shanks.

Characters: Mihawk, Shanks, Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, smut, and more smut. Some plot at the beginning, established relationships. Threesome, polyamory, shibari, cum play, oral sex, 69, anal sex, straight sex......

Note: Started this almost a year ago, dropped it for a while, then scrambled to finish it in time to post today, on Shanks and Mihawk's birthday. This is the dirtiest, most foul, nasty, pornographic thing I've ever written in my life. Hope you enjoy! ^_^

It was Mihawk’s birthday, which meant it was Shanks’s birthday too. Mihawk had never been a big fan of his birthday and never actively celebrated it when given the choice, but every March 9th he found himself wondering if that choice would be taken away from him by his long-term partner…or as Shanks liked to say, his “birthday buddy.” Mihawk hated the term, and hated how most people didn’t respect his desire to not celebrate, but he did love Shanks very much and found it hard to say no to the man, who always, he had to admit, made it worth his while. Regardless, Shanks wasn’t here, and he was spending the day hiding in his room on Karai Barai Island. Just to be safe.

For a couple that had been together for over a decade, the two couldn’t have been more different. Mihawk was thoughtful, reticent, and careful. Shanks was fun-loving, boisterous, and pretty much an open-book. And yet, somehow, they worked well together. Sometimes Mihawk found himself wondering if the reason that they worked was because of their unique arrangement. Mihawk enjoyed living his life in a mostly solitary manner, while Shanks was the captain of one of the most powerful pirate crews in the world. They met up a few times a year, and perhaps it was this absence that made their hearts grow fonder. Sure, Mihawk missed his partner when he was away, but it just made the time they got together all the more special.

On top of that, their relationship was ethically non-monogamous. Shanks had a mix of casual encounters and long-term partners (none of whom had outlasted Mihawk yet for a variety of reasons), while Mihawk preferred to keep his sex life casual…well, he had anyway. That was before he met Y/N.

Y/N was the fourth member of the Cross Guild, and an old friend of Buggy’s. Buggy had asked her to join to manage some areas of the business that neither Mihawk, Crocodile, nor himself were adept at, and she jumped at the opportunity. Mihawk started falling for her when they first met….it was rather terrifying for him. His whole adult life he’d never carried such feelings for anyone besides Shanks. And yet, here she was….beautiful, skilled and – beyond his wildest dreams – falling for him too, and completely okay with his existing relationship.

Mihawk thought back to when he’d told Shanks about the new person in his life.

He’d stood before the transponder snail nervously for several minutes. Why the hell was he so nervous? He’d been on the receiving end of this call a dozen times, and it was always fine….but he’d never been the one making it. He’d never had a problem with Shanks sharing his heart in addition to his bed, but he wondered how his lover would handle being on the other side for the first time.

Taking a deep breath, he’d picked up the receiver, listening to the familiar ‘badabadabada.’

“Well hey there, Hawk-eyes,” Shanks drawled over the phone, his smirk visible through the snail. “How’s the business going?”

Mihawk couldn’t help but smile a little. He always forgot how much he enjoyed hearing Shanks’s voice.

“It’s fine, I suppose. It’s certainly lucrative. Shanks, I…I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Shanks’s brow furrowed in concern. “Of course, ‘Hawk….everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine….” Mihawk replied nervously. “Shanks…I met someone here. A woman. I….think I love her.”

The line was silent for a moment, then Shanks’s boisterous laughter came over the line. “Mihawk! That’s awesome! Holy shit, man, I thought you were gonna break up with me for a second there.”

Mihawk let out a nervous chuckle, “No, we’ve already established that I’m stuck with you for life. I’m just nervous…I’ve never felt like this about anyone except you. It’s strange. And scary. And…I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

Shanks grinned broadly. “I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I wasn’t okay with you having a relationship while I’m over here having three including you. ‘Hawk, you deserve love too, since I can’t be around to give it to you all the time. It’s more than okay. Tell me about her.”

Mihawk smiled softly and told him about Y/N…how they met, how they got together, what he loved about her, everything. He also assured Shanks that she was aware of the situation, and that everything was consensual and she was fine with it.

Shanks chuckled. “You’ve got it bad, man. She sounds perfect. Can I meet her? Or at least talk to her? If you’re both okay with it, that is.”“She’d love that, actually, she’s asked me the same thing. I’ll arrange with her some time where you two can talk in private.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait. I love you, Mihawk.”

“I love you too.”

That was just a few weeks ago. True to his word, Mihawk had arranged for Y/N and Shanks to speak, and he was surprised when the conversation lasted well into the night. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that she’d snuck into his bed.

Mihawk had groggily rolled over to capture her in his arms when he felt the bed shift beside him.

“I take it the call went well?” he’d said, his voice heavy with sleep.

Y/N let out a soft chuckle and curled up next to him. “It did. He’s fun. And he obviously loves you a lot. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Mihawk planted a soft kiss on her head, holding her close. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” And with that, they both drifted off into sleep.

A knock on the door broke Mihawk from his thoughts. He looked up to see Y/N’s head peek in.

“Are you hiding?” she said, her voice teasing. She walked over to the large armchair where Mihawk sat and crawled onto his lap, bringing him in for a kiss. He paid little mind to the bag she was carrying.

“Until it’s tomorrow, yes,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her. “How did things go without me today?”

Y/N shrugged. “Business as usual, nothing too exciting. Buggy’s crew made you a cake.”

Mihawk rolled his eyes. “They would.”

She giggled and began kissing his neck. “You’re more likable than you think, you know. They love you.”

“That’s because we’re cult leaders, they don’t have a choice,” he deadpanned. She laughed in response.

“There you go, saying the quiet part out loud again.” She smiled and kissed his lips, placing a hand on his chest. “So….I know your birthday isn’t your thing…”

“Ugh, not you too, Y/N…” he said with a scoff.

“No, no, listen!” she said quickly. “I have a surprise for you. I promise you it’s something you’ll like, and you don’t have to leave this room for it. You don’t even have to think of it as something for your birthday, you can just think of it as…..something special that happens to occur on March 9th. Will you trust me?”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at her. “It’d better be a sexy surprise.”

“Oh it is,” she smirked, her voice getting lower and she kissed along his neck and jaw. “Very sexy. But when I say I need you to trust me…I need you to trust me . Okay? If you want to stop at any point, it’s fine, I promise…but let me at least get started?”

Mihawk wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. It was still the early weeks of their relationship, and while they had certainly explored things each other liked and knew about what they didn’t like, he was a little cautious to be working off of no information. But he did trust her, entirely.

Mihawk nodded. “I trust you, Y/N, completely. Do I get to know anything about what we’ll be doing?”

“Nope,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “You’re going in blind. Now, I need you to strip down to your boxers.” She began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing along his neck and collarbone. When it was fully unbuttoned, she removed herself from his lap.

Mihawk chuckled. “As you wish,” he replied, obeying her request. He removed the shirt, then his pants and socks, leaving him in only his tight black boxer briefs. Y/N grinned, seeing how he was already becoming excited.

“Perfect,” she replied. “Now come over here.” She picked up the bag with one hand and with the other guided him to the large bed. “I want you to kneel on the bed for me.” Mihawk obeyed without a word, kneeling by the headboard and resting back on his calves, curious as to where this was going. He watched as she pulled out a long silk scarf from the bag.

“And where exactly will that be going?” he asked curiously.

Y/N crawled onto the bed and knelt before him, kissing him deeply. “Over those pretty eyes of yours, of course. Is that okay?” He nodded slowly, and she folded the scarf and wrapped it around his head, tying it tightly but not too much so. “Is that comfortable enough? Can you see anything?”

“It’s fine,” he responded, “And no, I can’t.”

“Good,” she said, running her fingers down his chest. “And no Observation Haki either. That will spoil the fun. Promise me?”

“I promise…” he said in a shuddering breath as he felt her fingers along his skin, the sensation already becoming heightened.

He heard her chuckle, then felt the bed shift, and heard her rummage through the bag. He desperately wanted to know what else she had in there. He got his answer when he felt thick, silky material being dragged across his skin: rope.

“I know you usually prefer to be the one doing the tying….is it alright if I tie you up?”

He smiled, appreciating that she was asking him at every step along the way. It made him feel more comfortable with being in a vulnerable position. “You know mere ropes can’t restrain me….but you can certainly try.”

“That’s all I needed to hear…” she said. He felt her move around him as she began tying him up, using some of the more simplistic shibari knots he had taught her. When she was done, his legs were completely free and still in a kneeling position, but his arms were bound completely behind his back and to his torso. He struggled a little, testing the strength of the ropes. Yes, he could certainly break them into strings if he really wanted, but he wouldn’t….not unless she asked him to anyway.

He felt the mattress shift as she removed herself from the bed. He could feel her eyes on him. “You look so good like this,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Now, I’ll be right back. I need to prepare your surprise….and remember: no Observation Haki. You promised.”

Mihawk smirked. “I did indeed. Do what you need to….I’m not going anywhere.”

He heard her giggle and walk away. Mihawk knew that she knew that Observation Haki wasn’t so easy to just turn on and off like a lightswitch. It was basically second nature. So in order to obey her request, Mihawk relaxed his body and focused on breathing, trying to bring himself into a slightly meditative state - enough that he wouldn’t instinctively focus on his Haki, but not enough that he wouldn’t be ready when she returned.

Mihawk’s reverie was broken when he felt the bed shift again and soft lips meet his. He grinned. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone sultry.

He was surprised when he felt another set of lips on his immediately after - rougher, and surrounded by coarse hair. He felt his breath catch in his throat. “Shanks?”

Mihawk felt the blindfold being untied from behind his head. He shook it off, desperate to see if he was right. Opening his eyes, Shanks was before him, the younger man already stripped down to his burgundy boxer briefs and a crooked smirk on his face.

“Hey there, Hawk-eyes,” he said with a grin. Y/N came up behind the red head and draped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck softly.

Mihawk couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well if this isn’t the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen. I can’t say I haven’t dreamed of this happening….it’s just a shame I can’t touch you,” he said, struggling against his restraints halfheartedly.

Shanks chuckled. “We’re in charge of your pleasure tonight. All you have to do,” he began, pushing Mihawk’s body back against the pillows and headboard,”....is relax.” Shanks straddled Mihawk and began to rub his clothed cock against the dark-haired man’s. They both groaned in pleasure at the feeling as Shanks moved his hips in slow waves. Shanks leaned into Mihawk’s ear and whispered, “Let the people you love take care of you…”

Mihawk and Shanks looked into each other’s eyes, then shared a deep, passionate kiss. Y/N sat at the edge of the bed, enjoying watching them. When the kiss broke, Shanks turned to her. “I didn’t come all this way just so you can watch,” he said with a grin. “Come here.”

Y/N obeyed and joined the two men, the three of them kissing passionately, licking, biting, and exploring each other’s bodies. Well…exploring each other’s and Mihawk’s body, as Mihawk was still bound, much to his frustration. But they made it worth his while, their hands roaming over his body, their lips on his skin all over…it was almost overwhelming. Eventually the three broke apart, panting and catching their breath. Shanks looked at Y/N mischievously and moved to the other end of the bed.

“Come here, pretty lady,” he said, beckoning her to him with a curled finger. She crawled across the bed to him and they embraced each other, kneeling on the soft mattress and kissing passionately. Mihawk couldn’t deny he loved the site, both on a sexual level and as something deeper…he couldn’t wait to see where this night would take them, but he had a good feeling.

Mihawk watched as his lovers kissed and touched all over, shivers shooting through his body as Shanks latched onto her neck and caused her to moan, after which he lowered his body onto hers, pushing her down on the bed.

Shanks looked up at him with a smirk. “It may be your birthday, Taka no Me,” he said, “But it’s mine too. And if it’s okay with you….I’d like to fuck your girlfriend.”

Mihawk huffed out a laugh, his heart pounding in his chest. “Do it. I want to see you fuck her. I want you to make her scream the way I do.”

Shanks smiled widely, then turned his attention to the woman under him. Mihawk watched as they kissed passionately, their hands roaming. With a smirk, Y/N helped Shanks remove his underwear, leaving him completely naked. She reached down to stroke him a few times, and Mihawk could feel his mouth beginning to water. It had been far too long since he’d felt Shanks’s cock in his mouth….but that would have to wait.

He watched as Y/N stripped herself of her remaining clothes until they were both naked together. Shanks knelt between her knees and ran his fingers along her hips and thighs, and Mihawk could see the goosebumps forming on her skin. Her body arched as Shanks inserted a finger into her dripping core, then another, slowly moving them in and out.

Shanks chuckled. “She’s so wet, ‘Hawk. Does she taste as good as she looks?”

Mihawk grinned devilishly. “Why don’t you find out?”

With permission given, Shanks sunk down and buried his face in her core, causing her to arch her body against him, craving his touch. His tongue was relentless, swirling around her clitoris and running up and down along her folds, dipping ever so slightly into her dripping hole. He worked her with his tongue and fingers, and her moans filled the room. Mihawk knew, at this point in their relationship, exactly what to touch and lick in order to send Y/N over the edge, but Shanks didn’t. From this vantage point he could see Shanks trying all of his tricks, trying to find what made her react in the ways he wanted.

“Fuck, Shanks!” she cried as his tongue flicked her clitoris just right, letting him know that that was the spot, right there. His fingers worked harder, the pressure just right. “Please keep going, please don’t stop…..”

But Shanks was, if nothing else, a tease, and nothing turned him on more than having his partner begging and pleading for him. He pulled away, licking his lips and smirking as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

Shanks looked over to Mihawk, his brown eyes sparkling. “Fucking delicious.”

“Mind coming over here and giving me a taste?” Mihawk replied. Shanks grinned and went to where Mihawk was still kneeling, his body tied, his erection pushing the elastic of his boxer briefs to the limit. He leaned in and kissed Mihawk, his tongue going deep into the other man’s mouth, allowing him to taste what Y/N gave him.

Y/N watched as the two men shared her release. She flipped herself onto her front, watching and waiting for Shanks to join her again, eager for the red-haired pirate to finish what he started. When they separated, she wiggled her ass playfully, letting him know she was ready. Shanks returned to her and knelt behind her, lining his cock up with her pink, puffy lips. He sunk into her quickly, all in one thrust, and began to move.

It was almost animalistic, Mihawk thought, as he watched Shanks fuck Y/N. Her back arched like a cat in heat as Shanks pounded into her rapidly, his hand gripping her hip tightly. Shanks and Mihawk locked eyes as the younger man moved, a look that said ‘ Patience…this will be you soon enough .’ Mihawk’s eyes watched hungrily as his boyfriend fucked his girlfriend, so hard and fast the bed shook until they both came. Y/N collapsed, clearly in need of a break. Shanks pulled out and watched as his release dripped out of her core and down her thighs. He placed two fingers at her core, gathering their mixed releases on them and then sticking them in his mouth, sucking them dry as Mihawk watched hungrily. He then grabbed a small towel and helped her clean up, kissing her softly.

“You take a break, get some water,” he said. “I think our man has waited long enough. Come join us when you’re ready.” Y/N could only nod and give a quiet uh huh , retreating to the other side of the room to catch her breath.

With Y/N in recovery, Shanks turned his attention to his bound partner, a playful grin on his face as he leaned in and kissed Mihawk again, his hand wandering down along the soft black ropes and Mihawk’s pale skin until his hand grasped his cock through his underwear. Mihawk let out a groan, his head rolling back.

“You’ve been so patient while I have my fun,” Shanks drawled, running his hand along Mihawk’s erection. “You deserve to be rewarded.” Shanks began tugging down the fabric, and Mihawk’s cock popped out, fully at attention and dripping with precum. Shanks mindlessly licked his lips before lowering his head and tasting the liquid that leaked from Mihawk’s cock. “Goddamn, Hawk-eyes, I missed you….” Mihawk tried to respond but the words were ripped from his throat and replaced with a moan as Shanks’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock and began sucking, his tongue swirling around the tip and flicking at the frenulum.

“Fuck, Shanks…” Mihawk could only gasp out. The sensation was like electricity in his veins, he could feel every nerve in his body igniting at once as Shanks’s mouth worked him. Shanks’s head sunk down, taking all of Mihawk’s length in his mouth with barely a gag, a skill Shanks was incredibly proud of. His hand reached below to play with Mihawk’s balls as his head moved up and down, bringing his lips all the way up to just kiss his tip before taking him entirely again.

“Shanks…” Mihawk rasped. “Shanks, let me suck you. Want your cock in my mouth. Missed it so much.”

Shanks released Mihawk’s cock with a soft popping sound. “Now, now, Mihawk, it’s my turn to pleasure you.”

Mihawk shook his head, the need to feel Shanks’s cock against his tongue making him feel almost desperate. “Please. Shanks…please.”

Shanks chucked. “Aww ‘Hawk, baby, you know I have trouble saying no to you.” Shanks positioned Mihawk so he was laying down flat on the bed.

“Can…can you untie me? Please?” Shanks looked over to Y/N who was sipping on some water and watching the scene before her with interest. She only shrugged.

“He’s the birthday boy too. We should give him what he wants.”

Shanks nodded. “All right then. Y/N, give me a hand? I only have one,” he quipped with a wink.

She came over and helped Shanks undo the shibari knots, taking her time and enjoying how red and full their cocks were in anticipation. Eventually she removed the ropes entirely, discarding them on the ground. His hands now freed, Mihawk pounced on Shanks, kissing him deeply, his fingers running through his partner’s red hair. Shanks was just as eager, and they fell back on the bed, their bodies entwined. Y/N returned to her chair to continue enjoying the show, allowing her partner and her new friend to enjoy each other some more.

Mihawk was almost frantic in his movements as he pushed Shanks back on the bed and latched onto his cock. Shanks threw his head back as Mihawk swallowed him in one swift movement, his nose buried in the coarse auburn hair surrounding it.

“‘Hawk, fuck …..,” he rasped. “Come here, I wanna take care of you too.” Mihawk quickly removed his mouth from Shanks and rotated his body so Shanks could pleasure him as well before sucking him down again. The two men found a comfortable position on their sides, their mouths latched onto each other’s cocks as they sucked and licked at each other. Mihawk groaned at the feeling; Shanks always did fit perfectly inside of him. He relished the remaining traces of Y/N’s release and swirled his tongue around Shanks, trying to get every remaining drop.

Y/N watched the two men tangled together, Mihawk’s arms wrapped around Shanks’s legs, pulling him so close they looked like they could be absorbed into each other, and Shanks doing the same. This dance was so intimate, so loving, and she smiled at how much they clearly loved each other.

Mihawk came first, his body tensing as he shot his load down Shank’s throat. Shanks came just a few seconds later, Mihawk swallowing every drop with ease. The two men separated, rolling onto their backs, and panting at the exertion.

Y/N sauntered back over to the bed. She sat down by Mihawk, leaning down and giving him a soft, gentle kiss, then giving Shanks the same.

Mihawk, for his part, was feeling a little overwhelmed, but in a good way. The desire, the passion, the sheer fucking love he felt for these two people beside him. He wanted them both desperately, wanted to hold tightly to them and never let them go.

“Shanks, Y/N…” he rasped. “I need you. Both of you.”

Y/N and Shanks exchanged a look, understanding what their lover was asking for. She kissed Mihawk one more time, and he kissed her back, his tongue snaking its way into her mouth.

“How do you want to do this?” she asked.

Shanks grinned. “You lay down, Y/N. Near the edge of the bed but not at it.” Y/N obeyed, taking her position, her legs spread wide before them. He then turned to Mihawk, his hand running slowly down the swordsman’s chest, both of their hearts beating with anticipation. They had never done this particular act before with a third person, but it was certainly something Mihawk had always dreamed of doing - and tonight that dream appeared to be coming true.

Shanks and Mihawk shared one more, deep kiss before breaking apart. Mihawk opened a drawer on the side table, pulling out a tube of lubricant and unscrewing the top, handing it to Shanks. Mihawk then knelt on the bed and positioned himself between Y/N’s legs, his cock once again hard and dark red, and eager to be buried deep in her warmth. He looked down at the woman before him, her skin freckled with love marks on her neck and shoulders, and it occurred to him that he must look much the same way. Capturing her lips in a kiss, he entered her slowly, groaning at the sensation of her tight pussy engulfing him entirely. When he was fully seated inside of her, he waited, fighting back the urge to move and start fucking her; as difficult as it was, he knew his patience would be rewarded. Y/N, for her part, was squirming below him, desperate for friction. Mihawk gave her a sultry look and a short, reprimanding bite on his shoulder.

“Patience, darling,” he said softly, “It’ll be worth the wait….for both of us.”

Just then, Mihawk felt Shank’s lips on his shoulder, and craned his neck to the side to allow the other man access. “You two ready?” Shanks asked.

Y/N nodded. “Ready.”

Mihawk sat up and captured Shanks’s lips with his own before returning to his position. “There’s nothing I want more.”

He broke the kiss and adjusted his position so Shanks could enter him from behind. Mihawk was positioned on his knees near the edge of the bed, his cock buried inside Y/N. He splayed his legs out wider to allow Shanks the best access, and Y/N wrapped her legs around Mihawk’s torso. His breath shuddered when he felt Shanks behind him, the tip of his lover’s cock prodding gently at his entrance. Mihawk took a deep breath and Shanks entered him, the pain and pleasure so familiar and so overwhelming he felt like his body was on fire. He moved his hands to take both of Y/N’s in his, pinning them above her head and squeezing them tightly as his back arched.

What felt like ages was only a few seconds - and the three of them were joined together, Mihawk buried deep inside Y/N, and Shanks buried in Mihawk. For a moment, Mihawk and his two lovers remained still, enjoying the feeling of being connected in this way. Mihawk looked down at Y/N, and she smiled up at him, brushing a damp lock of black hair from his face. Behind him, Shanks was running his fingers gently down Mihawk’s back. And then, Mihawk began moving.

He pulled his hips back slowly first, feeling Shanks filling him completely, then, thrusted forward roughly, causing Y/N to let out a loud moan. With every pull back Shanks filled him more, and with every thrust he filled Y/N, and it wasn’t long before the three found a perfect rhythm, a chorus of moans and whimpers filling the room. Mihawk’s hips rolled with abandon as he enjoyed both of his lovers in the most intimate possible way.

Shanks’s hand gripped Mihawk’s hip, as he met each of Mihawk’s thrusts with one of his own, his lover’s ass gripping his cock tightly. On Mihawk’s other side, below him, Y/N could feel everything, not only the cock of the man inside of her, but every thrust Shanks offered from behind him as well, making it all the more forceful.

Mihawk’s mind was a haze of pleasure. He’d never felt this, both filling and being filled, and what’s more, by the two people he loves more than anything in the world. The people he’d kill for and die for, the people with whom he sometimes allowed himself to fantasize about a life after piracy together. The feeling of love, the feeling of Y/N’s core sucking his cock in, the feeling of Shanks ramming in and out of him, it was so much, it was too much it—

Mihawk roared as he came, a sound that surely must have been heard by everyone on the island. Y/N followed almost immediately after, her fingernails leaving deep red marks down his back, and then Shanks, whose thrusts shuddered erratically and then stilled entirely.

They were a mess of sweat and cum and blissful, ridiculous love. Shanks pulled out first, cleaning himself and Mihawk off gently with a towel. Mihawk felt like his heart would never stop beating this fast, his ears wouldn’t stop ringing, and his mind would be eternally this blank - surely, a sacrifice that would have been worth it. It was only when he heard Y/N giggle below him that he started to come back down to earth.

“Hey. You can’t stay like this all night, you know,” she said with a playful grin.

“Can’t I though?” The words were barely more than a whisper. She kissed him softly and lifted herself up onto her elbows. With a begrudging sigh, Mihawk pulled out of her, almost losing his balance as he tried to stand. Shanks was quick to catch him, his arm wrapping around the swordsman’s torso.”

“Come on, ‘Hawk. Let’s get you some water and get cleaned up.”

Y/N poured Mihawk a glass of water, then headed towards the bathroom. “I feel like we could all use a bath right about now.”

Shanks collapsed on the bed with a grunt, the only sound of affirmation he could make. Mihawk then handed him the remaining water in the glass, and he drank it down. Shanks then turned to his partner with a crooked smile.

“Happy birthday, Hawkeyes. I love you.”

Mihawk smiled, the kind of gentle, genuine smile so few ever got to see. “I love you too, Shanks. Thank you. For everything.”

The two men kissed as the ambient sound of running water from the bathroom created a relaxing sound like white noise, and they once again lost themselves in each other.

Shanks broke the kiss. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Mihawk replied, his voice low. “Anything.”

“How would you feel if you and me and Y/N were…a thing? A closed thing? Just…the three of us?”

Mihawk’s eyes widened in surprise, then he laughed. “Is this your idea of settling down?”

Shanks grinned and rolled onto his back. “I dunno, maybe? I…broke things off with my other two relationships. They were fine, but….I guess I’m at an age where I’m kinda craving some sort of stability. And with the way things are going…..I have a feeling that it won’t be long before my duty to protect the One Piece is fulfilled. And then…..”

“And then we can do whatever we want. Together.” Mihawk smiled, taking Shanks’s hand and kissing it gently. “I would like that, Shanks. I really would. I don’t know what that life will look like, but if it means I can be with you and with Y/N for the rest of my days….I’d like that. And I think she might too….but I’ll let you broach that topic with her on your own. We’ll figure it out, all of us together.”

Shanks nodded, “I hope so. I like her, Mihawk. Just talking to her on the transponder….I feel like we really clicked. And in person? Wow...” He sighed. “You got yourself a good one there. I think we all could be really happy together, for a really long time, if that’s something she wants too.”

“Guys, come on!” Y/N’s voice rang from the bathroom. “This tub is far too big for just one person!”

Shanks chuckled. “Sounds like our girl needs us.”

Mihawk smiled. Our girl. “Then let us not keep her waiting.”

#dracule mihawk #red hair shanks #takanome mihawk #akagami no shanks #dracule mihawk x reader #red haired shanks x reader #mihawk x shanks x reader #one piece smut #shanks x mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #shanks one piece #akataka

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smokersbaby · 9 months

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Sixth submitted request for the July Event, enjoy! 💕 SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN (CLICK HERE TO SEE THE MAIN POST)

Request text: Hi! How are you going? I love your work. Can I ask for prompt n.11 (sfw) and with Law and female reader? Law is on an island visiting his girlfriend (who is not part of his crew to keep her safe). The two of them are reflecting, talking about what could’ve been if Law stayed with Doflamingo (but was cured) if they never met, etc while watching the stars or looking out at the ocean at night. While talking she falls asleep and Law confesses/says something that shows she’s the only person he can be this way with (like something out of character for our usually stressed out cranky surgeon that Penguin and Shachi would do make fun of him for). Sorry it’s a lot. Thank you and have a great day/night! 💙💙 Written for: @trafalgardvivi Character: Trafalgar Law Reader: female reader Prompts: SFW: #11 - falling asleep on your partner's shoulder Total word count: +700 Author's note: Thank you for the request! I actually do appreciate A LOT detailed requests, it helps me when my imagination is slightly off! Anyway this scenario was so cute and I loved writing it, I hope you like it, enjoy! 💕 -Every reblog is highly appreciated!-

It was such a calm night, different from most of the times when the two of you were involved in fights or dealing with other pirates, a little moment with Law that felt surreal because of what you were accustomed to. That place was a slice of heaven: no one else except you and Law on the tiny abandoned island, the sound of the waves breaking on the pointy rocks in the distance, as you were sitting one beside each other without saying a word, just admiring that endless water expanse in front of you. "I wonder where I'd be now if I stayed" Law broke the silence. You tilted your head with an interrogative expression, trying to understand what he was talking about. He continued. "With Doflamingo I mean, if I decided to not run away and live my own life. Probably I'd be like Baby 5 and Buffalo, another Doflamingo's henchman" he chuckled saying that, the image in his head felt so weird as he tried to imagine how his life would have been. "Probably I wouldn't even have met you," you said to him, making Law look at you as the full moon's light was reflecting on your faces. His expression frowned, Law didn't think about that possibility, it was only an imaginary scenario but the idea of not having you by his side in a different reality of events made him feel a void in his chest. He overlooked that detail and kept talking about how it would have been his life in a different scenario, without citing the fact that you wouldn't have been by his side because it hurt him too much. As he continued, you placed your head on his shoulders, looking at the dark sea in the night shining under the moonlight, a feeling of tiredness took over your body as you were listening to your boyfriend's talk. Soon you fell asleep on him without realizing it, Law kept going on with his hypothesis until he realized you weren't listening to him anymore because you weren't replying. "Y/N-ya?" he whispered, looking at your sleeping cute face, you had such a calm expression and that made Law smile, knowing you were comfortable enough to fall asleep on him thanks to the sound of his voice. "I'm so glad I met you. If you weren't with me I…" he stops for a second to think about how he will feel if he'd never met you. That void in his chest consumed him from the inside just at the thought.

"…I couldn't have done it without you, Y/N-ya". Law pulled you closer to him, his hand caressing your hair and moving them away from your face to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. "The way you make me feel loved and you care for me… it's something I haven't felt in years." he chuckled, thinking about how Cora-san took care of him when he was a child, it was a different situation and another kind of relationship for sure, but somehow you made him feel at ease just like Corazon did. He started combing your hair with his fingers in a relaxing way, seeing how your lips turned into a light smile. That was a thing he always loved to do since you were the one falling asleep first when cuddling in bed. Law was the kind of person with a lot of sleep deprivation and that wasn't a secret, but since you two started to spend the night in the same bed, he gained a bit of his lost sleep back because of how your presence made him feel calmer than usual. "You're my favourite person Y/N-ya" he said planting another kiss on your forehead, that was his way to tell how much he loved and cared for you. "I love you too Law" you mumbled, snuggling against the crook of his neck and making his cheeks turn to a dark shade of red as he realized that you probably heard every single cheesy word of his. That blush on his face made you laugh a bit and giggle at the same time because of how happy you were because of the words he dedicated to you. "Y-you heard everything?" he seemed to panic, looking at you with that flustered expression of his. "Every single word" You smiled and booped his nose and a faint smile appeared on his face, he was still embarrassed but somehow glad that now you were aware of how he truly felt with you, knowing that he had a special person he could trust and love without measure.

#one piece #one piece law #law one piece #one piece trafalgar law #law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law trafalgar #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece headcanons #one piece drabble #july event #one piece fanfiction #fluff oneshot #one piece fluff

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emzandthevoid · 6 months

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Movie Night

Hello and welcome to my first official post. I've decided to start this new blog to share my interests and my writings, hoping to find the right audience. I haven't written anything in a loooooooong time which means I am rusty. So why not start with a Will Ramos smut? There's barely any and I thought I could contribute. Anyway, enjoy the smut ;) (BTW, not my GIF, credits to the person who made it!)

Summary: You and Will have a movie night, but things take a heated turn.

Warnings: Smut (duh), fluffy, swearing, fingering, oral (both), soft sex? slight choking, vaginal penetration, protected intercourse (always use protection), Will being cute af/kinda sub!Will, kinda dom!reader and I think that's all.

Before I begin, I would like to say that I do not personally know Will. Therefore, I gave him a "different" personality? Anyway, if Will Ramos were to stumble upon this, please please please don't read this, thank you.

You were laying in bed with some music in the background when you received Will's text.

Will: Yoooooooooooooo there's this new movie available!! Wanna come over and watch it with me?

You smiled at his text with a low chuckle. You and Will had been friends for a little while. The both of you met at a party and it instantly clicked between you two. There was no awkward phase, it just happened naturally. Ever since, the two of you have been inseparable.

You: Sure, sounds fun! It's your turn to provide the snacks and drinks this time. I'll be leaving in five.

Will: You got it ;) see you later!

Before leaving, you considered changing your clothes. You were wearing an oversized hoodie and leggings. You discarded your bra before settling in bed. You thought of putting it back on but then you thought: it's just Will, he won't care. You grabbed a few things and left for his place.

You knock on Will's door, patiently waiting for him to open it. You hear his cats meowing as he approached the door, hushing and talking to them. When he opened the door for you, you noticed that he seemed... nervous? His welcome wasn't like before; he usually pulled you into a hug and started rambling about his day or show off his cats. Now, he just stood there with some kind of urgency in his eyes and you noticed how he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

"Hey Will, is everything okay?" You asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

Your question seemed to have knocked him out of his daze. "Oh! Yeah, sorry." He moved aside to let you in. You pet his cats near his feet, greeting them. "I was um... zoning out, I guess. Hey, isn't that my hoodie?"

You straightened your back, throwing him a playful smile. "Finders keepers, Will."

Now it was his turn to smile. "Come on, it doesn't work like that. What you did was straight up stealing."

"Like you don't have a million hoodies in your closet," you rolled your eyes playfully. "Besides, it looks better on me." You say, throwing your arms up to show off the hoodie. You forgot to put on a shirt under your hoodie and Will saw your bare waist. He could see how smooth your skin was and briefly wondered how it would feel to touch you.

He cleared his throat, "Whatever, it's still stealing."

"Doesn't matter, I'm the one wearing it and I'm keeping it." You replied, leaning down to pet his cats again. They were rubbing their little faces against your hand.

"Everything is all set up in living room. I made popcorn, I got candy and some soda. We just need to sit our asses down on the couch and watch the movie." He said, grabbing two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

"What is the movie, anyway?"

"It's a foreign scary movie that I found. It looks really good." He answered.

You followed him into the living room. You plopped down into your regular spot and Will got comfortable beside you. You could feel Will tensing up beside you when you scooted closer to him. It wasn't the first time you were this close to Will. Sometimes you even rested your head or legs on his lap and he would remain relaxed.

"Are you good? You've been acting a little strange since I got here." You said, frowning in worry. Did you do something that made him uncomfortable?

He sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, don't worry," he smiled, "I'm just a little out of it today."

"Can I do anything?" You asked him.

You see him clench and unclench his jaw, pondering his response. "No, it's okay. Let's just watch the movie." He said, starting the movie.

You give him one last look before turning your attention to the movie. He was acting odd and it wasn't like him. You decided to let go of it. Twenty minutes had passed and you couldn't help but feel bored. The movie was slow and nothing scary had happened yet. You played with the strings of the hoodie, placing a leg on Will's lap like you usually do. Once again, you feel him tense up. Since the movie started, it was like he was afraid to move or even breathe. He's been stiff instead of relaxed.

"Will, I'm sorry to break it to you, but this movie kinda sucks." You speak up instead of asking what's wrong with him.

"Yeah..." he agreed with disappointment, turning down the volume of the TV. "The trailer made it look so awesome."

Silence hung in the air. He was looking down at his tattooed hands, deep in thought with that same nervous look from earlier. It was like he was working up the courage to ask you something. You sat upright and got closer to him, placing a hand on top of his.

"What's wrong, Will? You've been acting really strange and I can't help but feel worried." You speak up, breaking the silence.

He takes a deep breath. "Listen, Y/N... I wanted to ask you something." He lifts his head to meet your eyes with his. Will was usually the confident and charismatic guy. You've never seen him so vulnerable before.

"Of course, ask away." He takes another deep breath and closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. "Come on, Will. It's okay, I won't judge you or anything like that." You say in hopes to reassure him.

His brown eyes meet yours again. "I wanted to ask you... can I kiss you?"

The question took you by surprise. You weren't gonna lie, the idea of kissing Will did pass your thoughts. But then again, how could you not think of that? He was so handsome with his tattooed skin and curly hair. In fact, whenever he was topless, you couldn't help but look at him. You always found him attractive and your eyes always wandered to his v-line, wondering how he looked naked. Besides his physical appearance, you were also attracted to his personality. He was sweet, respectful, comprehensive and funny. Sometimes he reminded you of a golden retriever because of his energy. You didn't want to ruin your friendship, but you also wanted to kiss him too. Hell, you've thought of doing more than just kissing him. It would be a lie if you hadn't thought about him at least once when you were masturbating.

"Yes, you can kiss me," you answered. A sigh of relief escaped him, followed by a smile. He cupped your face, moving a few strands of hair away from your face. You can tell he imagined this moment plenty of times before.

Will closed the gap between the two of you, connecting your lips. Oh shit... his lips felt perfect against yours. You could feel heat growing in between your legs. You cringed internally and thought: is a kiss seriously turning me on right now? If you weren't turned on, you certainly were when Will placed a hand on your outer thigh. You broke the kiss by gasping and he retracted his hand quickly.

"Oh shit! I knew it would be too much, I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that-"

You cut him off by kissing him again, getting much closer to him than before. Will's worries disappear and he relaxes into your kiss. He pulls you closer to him and you decide to get on top of him, straddling him. The kiss gets more heated, the both of you are hungry for more. Will grabs your hips, pulling you closer to him than before. You open your mouth when you realize your cores are flushed together. Will takes it as an opportunity to slip in his tongue, sighing softly into your mouth. You cup his face, deepening the already passionate kiss. You bring your hand up to his hair to tug on it, earning a groan from Will. You could feel his hands going under your hoodie, grabbing onto your waist.

Will reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, "May I?" he asks, tugging on the hem of the hoodie.

Your cheeks flush when you remember you're not wearing a bra. You were about to tell him but you got cut off by a meow, Bobbi seeking your attention. He places his little paw on your leg, meowing again.

"Maybe we should go to your room," you suggest, turning your attention to Will.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

You know where this was leading, it was obvious the both of you wanted each other. God, did you want him. He looked so pretty under you; his lips red and plump from kissing, his hair disheveled by your hands and desire burning in his eyes. You couldn't help but imagine him naked under you, face contorted in pleasure and noises escaping him. Fuck, you needed him now.

"Yes, I'm sure." You answer, your voice trembling from your nerves. You were nervous but excited to get intimate with Will.

You stood up, Will helping you to make sure you don't hurt yourself. When he got up, he grabbed your hand and led you to his room. The second he closed his door, he was immediately all over you. His lips found yours instantly and he held you close. You could feel his hands going under the hoodie again. His hands wander up your back. You feel him suddenly stop.

"Are you not wearing a bra?" He asks you, pulling away from the kiss.

You bite your lip with a playful smile. "Why don't you find out?"

His cheeks flush red at your comment. "May I take off the hoodie?" He asks.

You nod your head, consenting. Will grabs the hem of your hoodie and pulls it off of you. "Oh my... wow..." He comments, his eyes landing on your breasts. "You are absolutely breathtaking, Y/N" Will says, his hands brushing your bare skin.

He gently cups your breasts, watching your reaction. You close your eyes and sigh in delight. His hands were so warm and comforting. He continues to feel your skin, fascinated of warmth and softness. You lean in and kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. He guides you to his bed, gently laying you down. He admired you and you see a mischievous smile growing on his face.

"You have too many clothes on," he says.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. "Look who's talking, you're still wearing your clothes." You point out.

He only keeps smiling and pulls off his shirt. You bite your lip as you watched him undress himself, revealing his tattooed skin. He kept his underwear on, clearly tented from his arousal. He crawls on top of you to kiss your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your breasts, your stomach... By now, you're panting. Will keeps going lower and lower... He stops at the waistband of your leggings to grab them and pull them off of your legs. He starts by kissing your left ankle, working his way up to your core.

"Oh Will..." You breathe out, his kisses sending electricity to your throbbing core.

You feel him smiling against your other ankle. He repeats the process, worshiping your inner thigh. He gets closer and closer to your clothed clit. You gasp as he kisses it.

"Take them off, please." You speak up, your mind clouded with arousal.

Will doesn't waste his time and takes off your underwear. He spreads your legs open and gets comfortable between them. "You'll have to hold up my hair." He tells you.

You do as he says and you grab his hair, keeping it out of his face. The act alone was such a turn on. His hands explore your core, watching your reaction and placing a few kisses on your abdomen and inner thighs. You gasp sharply when his fingers brush over your clit. He smiles out of satisfaction.

“You like that?” He asks you, playing with the same spot.

Your hips jerk involuntarily and you moan a soft “yes”. Seeing you like this, completely at his mercy, Will made it his goal to pleasure you properly. You feel his finger go down from your clit to your opening.

“Is this okay?” He asks before pushing his finger in. You nod rapidly, needing some kind of pleasure.

Will sinks his finger into you, curling it. You throw your head back, gripping harder on his hair. You feel his warm breath ghosting over your clit before closing the space. At first, Will gives a few tentative licks before pressing his mouth completely against you, moaning.

“Fuck!” You cry out, shutting your eyes tight in pleasure.

Will eats you out like if you were his last meal. His tongue lapping up your clit and his finger pumping in and out of you. He adds a second finger and you mewl at the pleasure. You grip his hair tighter, unable to control the sounds escaping you. You’re also unable to control your hips and legs from the pleasure. With his free hand, Will pins you down to keep you still. He needs to taste you, he needs you to cum on his mouth and fingers. You could feel your climax approaching. You look down and make eye contact with Will. He was watching you as he pleasured you and it turned you on even more, if that was even possible.

“I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, knitting your eyebrows together.

Will focuses on one thing and one thing only: making you cum. His mouth and fingers work faster against you, a few moans and groans escaping him. His fingers hit a sweet spot in you and you moan his name. You’re practically whimpering at this point. You could feel the knot in your stomach coming undone, your orgasm so close. You look down at Will again and he is rolling his eyes back as he eats you out. That’s all it took. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you and you see white. You cry out Will’s name, your legs closing around his head. You could feel your core throbbing with pleasure, your sweet release overtaking your senses. Will keeps at it until your orgasm subsides. Once you’re breathing normally and relax your legs, Will pulls away from you. Oh my god. The sight alone ignited the fire in you again. His mouth, chin and the tip of his nose was glistening with your release and his saliva. As much as you needed him to fuck you, you wanted to pleasure him in return just as he did.

“Lay down,” you order him.

A flash of surprise passes over his face but he obeyed nonetheless. You both switched spots, Will lying where you were.

“You don’t have to do this,” Will says, clearly reading your intentions.

You lean over him, wiping his mouth clean with your fingers. You connect your lips with his, moaning as you taste yourself on him. You pull away, your finger remaining on his lips.

“Yeah, well, I want to do it.” You respond. “Am I not aloud to make you feel good?”

He tilts his head at your dirty talk, aroused. When he doesn’t answer you, you wrap your fingers around his neck and apply a bit of pressure. “Oh fuck Y/N…” Will gasps.

“Answer me. Am I not aloud to make you feel good?” You repeat. You realize you enjoy having control over him like this. Your hand was a beautiful necklace on his tattooed neck. You lean down and kiss his jaw, nipping at the skin.

“Yes, you can make me feel good…” Will finally answers breathlessly.

Satisfied with his answer, you release your grip around his neck. You trail down his body, covering him in kisses. You can clearly see - and feel - the bulge in his boxers. You massage him through the fabric and he hisses, throwing his head back. You kiss his stomach, licking and nipping here and there. And of course, you take the time to worship that damn v-line. By now, it’s Will’s turn to be a panting mess. You glance up at him and he’s watching you with an opened mouth and flushed cheeks. You could already see a few veins popping from his forehead. You decided you’ve had enough and remove his underwear. Before you could touch his hard on, he grabs your wrist.

“I want you to know I don’t want to cum this way, I want to do it later.” Will says.

You lean up to him and place a kiss on his lips. “Of course,” you respond, respecting his wishes.

You take this as an opportunity to kiss him hungrily. He responds to your kiss with the same energy. Your hand snakes down his body to his cock. You wrap your hand around him and start going up and down. Will breaks the kiss by groaning and throws his head back, eyebrows knit in pleasure. You smirk to yourself, satisfied by his reaction. You make your way down to his hard-on. Will props himself up on his elbows to watch you. You lick your lips and take his tip in your mouth.

“Fuck…” he sighs, throwing his head back again.

At first, you swirl your tongue around his head. You moan at the salty taste of his pre-cum. Then, you slowly take as much of him as you can. You gag a bit as he hits the back of your throat. You bob your head up and down, pleasuring him with your warm and wet mouth. Will tries to keep himself to steady so he doesn’t thrust up into your mouth. You see him grip the sheets and he bites his lips, trying to hold back his moans. One of your hands massages his balls and it was too much for him.

“Please, Y/N, I need you to stop now.” Will says breathlessly.

He was going to cum if you kept going. As much as you wanted him to cum in your mouth, you respected his wishes. You give a few sucks on his tip before releasing him with a popping noise. Will leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. He takes out his condoms and his lube. As he gets his condom ready, you put some lube in your hand to coat his member in it. He hisses at your touch. He puts on the condom, ready to fuck you. Will was about to switch places with you but you place a hand on his chest. He watches as you straddle him, completely amazed by you. Not only did you give him an amazing blowjob, but you want to ride him as well?

As you're aligning Will to your entrance, he stops you by grabbing your hips. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks.

You smile at him and place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Yes, I'm sure I want this. Do you want this?"

It's his turn to smile, "Yes, I want this too." He pulls you into another passionate kiss, cupping your face.

You pull away to grab the lube and coat his protected member. You align him to your entrance, pushing in the tip. You gasp as his cock begins to stretch you out. You've had sex before, but it had been a while. You maintain eye contact with Will as you fully sink into him. You both moan simultaneously as you become one. Will grips onto your hips, his knuckles white. You start off with a figure 8 movement, getting used to the feeling of being full. Will bites his knuckles in attempt to stifle his moans.

You tut him and pull away his hand, "I want to hear you."

Will throws his head back, groaning. You start going up and down, painfully slow. You wanted to tease him a bit. However, Will wasn't having it. He knew the game you were playing and he knew how your mind worked. You would keep at it until he was a whimpering mess under you. He grabbed you and spun you around so you're the one lying in the bed. His hands found yours and inter-locked his fingers with yours. Will began thrusting into you. You bury your face in his neck, moaning his name as he keeps hitting your sweet spot. Will is panting and groaning in your ear, whispering words like “you’re so good,” and “fuck you’re sensitive.” Will releases your hands and you could feel his fingers wrapping around your neck.

“Fuck!” You cry out.

“You’re going to touch yourself while I fuck you.” Will commands, supporting himself on his other arm.

You do as he says. Your hand finds it’s way to your clit and you begin massaging yourself. You throw your head back and moan Will’s name. Pleasure overtakes your senses and you only have Will in your mind. He picks up his pace, seeking his own release. He leans down and kisses your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks here and there.

“I’m close Will.” You warn him, wrapping your free hand around his wrist.

He applied more pressure to your throat and fucks you faster. You work your hand faster, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. You cry out Will’s name when it comes crashing down onto you like waves. You could feel yourself release around Will and you saw stars.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum too!” Will warns, thrusting fast and hard into you.

All you could do was take him in while you ride out your orgasm. You watch Will as he chases his high. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, a few veins popping out as well and his face was red from exertion. Fuck he was hot. He releases his grip from your neck to place both arms beside your head. You grab his hair, keeping it out of his face.

“Shit!” He whimpers, dropping his head into your neck.

Will moans out your name as he cums. He’s nearly shaking from the intensity of it. He keeps rolling his hips to ride out his orgasm. He’s groaning and panting in your neck. Eventually, his hips slow down and he comes to a stop. Will takes a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of you. You whimper and make a face from how sensitive you are. Will pulls himself up on his elbows, his eyes meeting yours. Smiles appear on your faces. Will leans down and kisses you. It was sweet but passionate kiss. Something about it felt so… loving? Will pulls away from you to discard his condom. He grabs a box of tissues and brings it to you. You both take a moment to clean yourselves. Then, the both of you lie down together, cuddling. A comfortable silence settled in air. You appreciated his presence and hearing him breathe as he relaxes against you.

“I want more movie nights.” You speak up. Will chuckles at your comment and lifts up his head.

“How about this,” Will begins, as if he were proposing a deal. “I take you out for breakfast tomorrow and then we have sex.”

You smile at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I guess I am,” he chuckles. “Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow?”

You lean up to him and kiss him. “I will as long as I am your breakfast.”

“You’re fucking amazing,” Will comments against your lips before kissing you.

After a little while, you decided to spend the night at Will’s. The both of you were exhausted from the sex. You cleaned up after yourselves properly and got ready to sleep. You laid down in bed next to Will. You were cuddled to each other, resting your head against his chest and Will placing his chin on your head. The both of you spoke about random things and you eventually dozed off. You were comfortable and safe in each others embraces.

Movie nights were certainly happening again.

#will ramos #william ramos #lorna shore #will ramos smut #william ramos smut #smut #i think i need help #We might need holy water

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endlessnightlock · 1 year

Text

Glasses Peeta Part Two.

This is for @alwayseverlark who requested more of Glasses! Peeta and Katniss, and kindly provided me with suggestions on where to take their story. You can read the first part of Glasses! Peeta here.

In-Panem A/U

"Hey Katniss, wait up!"

I stop, caught off guard by the person calling my name. That can't be Peeta Mellark, can it? I'm far from town, the only place I have any interactions with him, and he doesn't come to the Seam; none of the Merchants do. Or at least he’s never mentioned making trips out here to me. Then again, I’m no expert on Peeta Mellark or how he spends his time. Well, not much of one, anyway.

Okay, that’s a lie as of late. I pause and glance over my shoulder to reassure myself it's Peeta, trying not to let the sigh of relief become audible. Today he's glasses-less. I blame those glasses for the sickening panic I experience when he's around.

Frowning, confused again, I watch him approach, holding the reins of a drawn cart currently rolling down the hard-packed path from Seam to town. He tightens his hold on the reigns and the ancient, white-faced mule pulling the cart comes to a stop.

"Hey," Peeta greets me.

"Hey," I reply, approaching him.

I study the mule carefully, thinking Peeta might not have wanted to stop its forward progress because, as far as I can tell, the animal may not start moving again under its own power. The mule looks like it could lie down and die right here, simply due to old age.

Peeta wraps the reigns around a post on the cart and hops off the seat. He wears an easy grin.

“What’s this,” I ask, waving at the cart before curling my arms around my middle. I can't seem to look at him anymore without my stupid guts knotting up.

“The cart? Oh, it’s something new we’re doing. The mine foremen asked Dad if we could make deliveries a few times a week. I guess what he offered to pay made it worthwhile."

I approach the mule, patting the old boy on the head. I like animals that serve a purpose, unlike Prim's hell-beast cat. “I don’t know how many more trips he's going to make,” I say.

“Best we could get on short notice,” Peeta admits with a laugh. He moves to stand beside me, smacking the mule's back. I try not to look at how his biceps flex beneath his t-shirt. “I’m afraid I might have to trade places with him one day. Be a long walk pulling all the way back to town, loaded down with a mule."

"You might have to. It would earn you some funny looks at the livery stable, though," I murmur. I bet if anyone were strong enough to pull a loaded cart from the Seam to town, it would be him.

"Let's hope I never have to try," Peeta says, laughing. I can't help but join him. His laughter is infectious. "What are you up to today?" he asks me.

I hold up a finger for him to wait, and tug my game bag across my body and around to my front to search through it. “I had to track down some of this for my mom,” I say, holding up a sprig of purple flowers.

Peeta takes the sprig when I offer it to him. “Pretty,” he says, turning the flower over and studying it closely. “What is it?”

“Foxglove,” I explain. “Mom makes an extract from it for surgery. Wakes her patients back up if they'd rather stay asleep.”

“Huh. How do you know all this stuff?” He asks, realizing I’m waiting on him to give the stem back to me, which he does without hesitation.

Carefully I place the foxglove in a handkerchief. I keep some clean cloths in my game bag to protect the plants I forage for medicine. “My father taught me some, but most of what I know I learned to identify with our plant book.”

“Plant book?” he asks, sounding intrigued. Books are expensive, and it's rare for individual families to own one.

"It's like a guidebook," I explain, moving my bag behind my hip again. "My father's family started it. It has written descriptions of almost every plant you come across in the woods inside it---what's edible, medicinal, or poisonous. Some of the medicinal ones can be poisonous. Like the foxglove I just showed you. The book isn't really complete, but I'd like it to be."

"Are there any illustrations?"

"There are some but I wish we had more pictures. Makes identifying things easier," I admit. "I would hate to have someone other than me try to decide what a plant using the descriptions alone and end up poisoning themselves instead."

"I draw. And I'm not too bad. Fair, at least," he says. "If you wanted, I could help you."

"I don't know," I say cautiously. What if he's overestimating his skill?

"What if I showed you some of what I've already done, and then you can decide for yourself. It won't hurt my feelings if you turn me down, honest," he says.

Thoughtfully, I chew on the corner of my lip. "What's in it for you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks.

My heart sticks in my throat, the blood rushing in my ears. What is that supposed to mean? Maybe I haven't imagined him looking back at me like I'm something special?

"Practice! You could show me things I'd never have a chance to see on my own. Unlike you, I'm stuck in the district," he adds dryly.

Disappointment made my stomach sink. I could smack myself for my idiot excitement. Like he thinks you're anything special.

The unwanted, unexpected thought gives me pause. But do you want Peeta to think you're anything special? You don't want a husband or more mouths to feed, kids that could be reaped.

"What do you say?" he asks, sounding hopeful.

Thoughts of burnt bread creep into my head, and no matter how anxious the idea of spending more time with Peeta makes me, I owe him the opportunity to do this if he wants to that badly. "Show me some of your pictures," I finally say, shifting back and forth on my feet. I'm ready to get away from him and these feelings he's brought out of me, thanks to a stupid pair of glasses that make my mouth go dry.

"Great! Are you going to be by the bakery soon?"

"I'm sure I will."

"I'll have them ready," he promises. Pausing, he opens his mouth and closes it again as if there is more he wants to say but isn't sure how to do it.

"I'll be by soon. Bye, Peeta."

"Bye, Katniss."

#endlessnightlock writes #everlark fanfiction #in-panem a/u #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark #always happens anyway #at least one maybe two more parts to this

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cc-horan28 · 3 months

Text

Be My Valentine - 1

Do It Day by Day

(T) 750 words

WW2 AU Soldier!Louis Tomlinson x Doctor!Harry Styles (1/3)

Tw implied time period accurate homophobia

It had become a habit. He would light up a candle, reading through the poem he was on a couple of times before blowing it out, laying there in the dark as he went over the rest, turning the pages unnecessarily. The words were printed into his memory by how much time he spent recalling them throughout the day.

Louis is enlisted for the army, and Harry's book of poems is the only thing keeping them connected.

A/N: Hello!!! This was a fun fest for me to do. Difficult, yes. I had less than 14 days to write 14 fics because I had to get them up before I went on vacation. But fun. The next 14 posts are scheduled, so if I don’t reply, that’s why.

Anyways this is part of a little 3 part ww2 AU miniseries within this fest. The rest are unrelated drabbles. I hope you like these!

This one is for Akeyla, of course. Thank you for this fest, love!

Title from Louis’ ‘Two of Us’

Louis gave Harry a curt nod, nails digging into his palms as he gritted his teeth tinto a forced smile, sighing as the younger man disappeared into the crowd.

He climbed up the ramp of the ship, saluting when he saw the Lieutenant-Colonel. He tried to focus on the conversation, doing his best to not let his mind wander back to what could have been the last kiss he would ever share with Harry. His hand automatically clutched at the small parcel stuffed in the inside pocket of his overcoat.

He shook his head and cited the cold when he was asked about it.

That parcel was going to be the only thing that kept him sane, he thought bitterly, not that any of the others would even try to understand. For now, all those poems were just theirs.

Harry clenched his fists, doing his best to not to turn around, not wanting Louis to see the tears prickling his eyes. He hated all of it. He hated the war. He hated Louis having to enlist. He hated that he would get by in a hospital. Sure, it did not mean that he wasn’t at risk, but atleast, on paper, they wouldn’t be shot at on purpose.

For some reason, Louis being signed on as Captain simply because of his family’s influence didn’t sit right with him. As much as he wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have to be on field as much, that he could be commanding his platoon from base, Harry knew. Harry knew his husband well enough to know he would never sit back.

Just thinking of Louis as his husband made him choke up, eyes stinging again as he boarded the ramp to the part of the ship where all the RAMC officers were. He tried to take part in the conversation, but found his mind wandering. He quickly rushed out, standing at the prow of the ship, doing his best to convince himself he couldn’t spend too much time worrying about the what ifs in this scenario.

He just had to keep doing it day by day, as Louis always told him. He shut his eyes as he remembered the poems he had written for him, gripping the railing tight enough for it to dig into his fingers. He kept his other hand firmly on the compass Louis had given him, gripping it as though it would guide him home.

It was hard. Louis saw Harry a lot. He would be around the barracks, the medical supplies being stored in the room right next to where he would sit every morning.

He could tell Harry saw him too, but he always pointedly looked away, as though he couldn’t bear to hold eye contact with him. Louis wasn’t sure why, but it stung. If it wasn’t for the book, he was sure he would’ve gone up to him and confronted him, rules go to hell.

But he couldn’t be that inconsiderate. That would be putting not only him, but Harry at risk and that was the last thing he wanted. So for now, he settled for leafing through the poems, going one a night as Harry had made him promise, rereading the previous ones before starting a new one.

He never allowed himself to think about how much he missed Harry, or how long it would actually be until they could be together, just them, again. He thought back to one his favorite lines from Harry’s book of poems. It was something he had told Harry many times when he got anxious before their departure. He loved how Harry had used it, and just thinking about those times brought tears to his eyes as he quickly darted to his room, digging into his nightstand for the book.

You once told me - “Don’t give up, You can do it day by day,” Diamonds they don’t turn to dust, Or fade away.

He clutched the parcel close to him, trying not to make any sounds as he wiped his tears away. That’s all he could do for now. Take it day by day. They would be together again. They would never fade away.

A/N: Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

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tokuvivor · 1 month

Note

Could I please request “here you can borrow my jacket” with Gyro and Selene?

*puts on glasses, straightens them*

Yep, I read that right. Um, sure. Really not sure how this dynamic will turn out, especially since I’ve never written for Selene before, but I’ll give it a shot.

I give you…

It’s Getting Cold in Here

Originated from this post.

“So your uncle really keeps all his money here, in this one building?” Selene asked.

“Yep,” Della replied. “They don’t call it the Money Bin just for kicks.”

Since Selene was in town with Storkules and Zeus, and it had been ages since they’d hung out, especially on Della’s turf, Della thought she’d show Selene around as a bit of a refresher.

Selene had never actually been in the Money Bin before, but she’d heard of the vast amounts of wealth it held. She’d even heard that the vault itself, where Scrooge McDuck’s money actually was, used to be filled to the ceiling with money. Before, well, Della got stuck on the moon. Her moon. Selene was honestly still annoyed at her father for not letting her help.

“Yep. So this is the Money Bin,” Della said. “Lot of money, lot of offices.”

“Ooh, where does this elevator lead?” wondered Selene.

“That leads down to the underwater lab, where Uncle Scrooge’s top scientists work,” Della explained. “Why it has a whole separate elevator from the rest of the building, I don’t know. Why don’t I show you? I’ve been meaning to pay ol’ Gyro a visit, anyway.”

“Sure!” Selene replied. And the two friends made their way down to the lab.

The hum of the elevator caught Gyro’s attention.

“Was anyone expecting any visitors?” he questioned. “Mr. McDuck never mentioned to me that he was coming, so besides him, I have no idea who it could be.”

“I’m on the same page as you, Dr. Gearloose,” admitted Fenton.

At last, the doors opened, and Gyro’s question was answered.

“What’s up, Doc!”

“Hiya, Della!” greeted Fenton.

“Della,” Gyro replied flatly. “I should have known. What business have you being down here today?”

“Well, I brought a visitor,” Della answered back. “All the way from Ithaquack, the Goddess of the Moon herself: Selene!”

“Oh! Well, then. Hello,” Gyro greeted. “It’s certainly not every day that we have a Greek deity in the lab. Dr. Gyro Gearloose.”

“It’s an honor, ma’am,” Fenton piped up, bustling over to shake the goddess’ hand.

“Oh, please, just call me Selene. And you are?”

“Fenton. Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera,” greeted Fenton.

“Fenton works here full-time for Gyro,” Della explained. “Huey and his friend Boyd, who is Gyro’s son, also work as lab assistants in here.”

“Very nice.” Then Selene’s attention was taken elsewhere. “Is that a stone horse?” she asked Gyro, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, that’s Manny,” clarified Gyro. “He works here, too. He communicates by clopping his hooves. And Lil’ Bulb-“ he gestured to the small lightbulb robot on the desk “-communicates in Morse code.”

“.. - … / …- . .-. -.— / -. .. -.-. . / - —- / — . . - / -.— —- ..-,” greeted Lil’ Bulb.

“I don’t know Morse code,” admitted Selene. “What did he say?”

“He said that it’s very nice to meet you,” translated Gyro.

“Ah! Well, that’s very kind,” replied Selene.

“Hey, Della, did your uncle know Samuel Morse?” wondered Fenton.

“You’d probably think that,” chuckled Della. “But no, their lives only briefly overlapped. So, Doctor Gearloose, what are you working on?”

“If you must know,” Gyro shot back, “I am building a climatization ray.”

“A what?”

“It’s a ray designed to change the climate of the immediate environment it is in,” Gyro explained. “For obvious reasons, it works best indoors.”

“Well, Doctor, I’d certainly like to see how it works,” offered Selene.

“Very well then. A test,” Gyro announced. He set the dial to “Arctic”, braced himself, and fired. However, the beam caromed off the corner of a metal cart, and headed towards the wall.

“Oh, blatherskite,” Gyro responded flatly. With a shower of sparks and a quick whiff of ozone, the beam hit the lab’s thermostat.

“That…is not good,” Fenton reacted.

“Did you mean to do that?” Della questioned.

“No,” Gyro replied firmly. “This is what I would consider a near worst-case scenario.”

Suddenly, the temperature started plummeting, and icicles began to form on various objects around the lab.

“I’ll get our jackets!” Fenton exclaimed.

“Thank you, Dr. Intern,” Gyro responded.

“Hey, Selene, do you want mine?” Della offered.

“No, that’s fine,” Selene answered. “You obviously need it; it’s your jacket.”

“Well, okay then…” Della replied hesitantly. She did feel kinda bad about it, though. As she stood there, internally cursing Gyro, she noticed that Selene was shivering a bit.

Della was not the only one to pick up on this, though. Gyro noticed the goddess’ evident discomfort, too. From what he knew, Ithaquack’s climate was nothing like this.

He didn’t normally do something of this nature, but it seemed the logical thing to do.

“Pardon me, Selene.”

Selene turned towards the scientist. “Hm?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that you’ve never really dealt with weather of this nature before, unnatural as the situation may be.”

“No, not really,” Selene admitted. “Ithaquack isn’t very apt to get snow or ice. Even our winters are usually in the teens, temperature-wise.”

“That doesn’t sound that warm to me, Selene,” Della noted. “Not even seasonably warm.”

“She means on the Celsius scale,” corrected Gyro.

“Oh. Right,” Della replied.

“Anyway,” Gyro continued, removing his own jacket, “here…you can borrow my jacket.”

Selene was surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure about this?”

“Why not? You’re not as used to the cold; you could use it more. I can find another.”

“Well then,” Selene smiled. “Thank you very much, Dr. Gearloose; that’s rather nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He turned to Della. “That goes for you too, Duck.”

Della feigned offense. “What? I wouldn’t tell a soul! Okay, fine.”

Selene looked a little confused by the banter between the pilot and the scientist. Gyro just headed to the back to find another coat.

#hope you like it anon!#ducktales #gyro gearloose #selene ducktales #platonic sentence starter prompt #ducktales fanfiction

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ravens-words · 7 months

Text

The Secret Relationship AU

AN: I wasn't going to post before it's finished, but I thought this might be the push I need to finally finish it so here we are. Thank you in advance if you read. I will love you forever if you reblog/reply. Hope you enjoy!

Now

"Is everything okay with you and Eddie?"

When Buck looked up from his phone, Bobby was sitting on the bench next to him, and he was waiting expectantly for an answer.

Too bad Buck didn't really have an answer; not a truthful one anyway. "Of course it is, Cap. Why do you ask?"

Bobby shrugged. "You two seem to be avoiding each other; it's been happening for the past couple of days. I just thought I'd check in."

Buck tried to appear nonchalant. "Nothing's going on, cap," he was short with him, even though he hadn't meant to be. He wanted this conversation to be over already.

"Buck-"

"Look, Bobby, we still work together just fine. We're professional, right?"

"Yes, but that's not what I'm talking about."

He slammed his locker shut, grabbed his duffel and looked his captain in the eye. "That's all I'm willing to talk about, Bobby. If it starts to affect our work, tell me, otherwise- just leave it."

Bobby didn't say anything, didn't react much save for a short nod. It made Buck feel guilty. "I'm sorry, Bobby."

"Don't be, kid. You're entitled to your privacy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Tears filled his eyes, and Bobby seemed to notice. The older man sighed and stepped forward, both hands settling on Buck's shoulders. "It's okay, kid," he assured him, a small sad smile on his lips. "Just know I'm here and I'm willing to listen, okay?" At Buck's nod, he patted his shoulder and stepped away. He stopped at the doorway, and called his name.

Buck wiped his face roughly, then turned back to him. "Yeah?"

"Whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. You two can make it through anything. You've proven that more than once."

Buck wished that were true.

Then

"Can you please get it over with?"

Eddie clenched his jaw, but didn’t spare him a glance as he kept looking ahead. His hands were tight on the steering wheel. Buck closed his eyes, let his head rest back against the headrest and winced. He was dizzy, his wrist ached, he had a blinding headache and he really needed his bed. Having an argument right now was at the very bottom of the list of things Buck needed right now, but Eddie giving him the silent treatment was somehow worse.

"Eddie-"

"Not now, Buck," he cut him off, harsh and incredibly cold.

"Fine," he sighed.

"Fine," Eddie bit out.

After his fifth failed attempt to unlock the door, Eddie wordlessly pushed him aside and unlocked the door. He used his own key, and Buck couldn't stop staring at it, and at Eddie's hand, his long fingers. He shook his head, winced at the pain that shot up through his skull, nearly blinding him, and held onto the wall for support.

When he thought he could open his eyes without throwing up, he found Eddie watching him, thinly masked concern written all over his expression. It cleared when he saw Buck looking, and the anger was back. He went further inside the apartment, leaving Buck to trail after him, and got himself a glass of water.

Buck sighed. He didn't think drinking water could be aggressive, but Eddie proved him wrong.

"Eddie."

More aggressive chugging.

"Eddie."

"What?!" he snapped.

Buck felt his hackles rising. "What's going on?"

Both of them were breathing heavily now. Eddie was quiet for a few seconds, then- "are you gonna keep doing this?"

Buck could act like he didn't know exactly what Eddie meant, but he didn't have the patience. "Keep doing my job, you mean? Yeah, Eddie, I do."

"Your job? You- you could’ve gotten out earlier, you could have avoided having a fucking building fall on you."

Buck's anger was a real, living thing inside of him now. "You'd have done the same, Eddie. Hell, you have. It's our job to put our lives at risk."

Eddie shook his head. "No, it's not. Not like that, not like today."

They were standing face to face now, both angry and afraid. There was something electric in the way Eddie was looking at him, like something had shifted. "When you cut your line, three years ago, did I hold it against you? Did I ever bring it up? You risked your life then, just like I did today."

"That was different," Eddie told him, the words escaping through gritted teeth.

"No, it wasn't, and you know it."

They stared at each other, anger slowly seeping out. Buck took a minute to look at his best friend, and he found that now, all that remained in the other man's eyes was fear. "Eddie-" he started, cautious and quiet.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said, just as quiet, "you're right." He looked away, scrubbing a hand down his face. "You scared the hell out of me today, Buck."

"I get that, but you've never- you've never been this angry about it before, so- what gives?"

Eddie looked at him in a way that made Buck think he missed something. Eddie took a step back, hands in his pocket. "I'm gonna take off, do you need anything?"

Buck blinked, startled at the abrupt change. "I thought you were going to stay."

"Change of plans," he told him, looking down at his phone, "Bobby can come keep you company. I'm pretty sure he wanted to come anyway-"

"You always stay," he didn't mean for it to, but the words sounded small and a little betrayed.

Eddie's fingers faltered, and he looked up before he could send the message. "Buck, I can't-"

"You can," he insisted, "why won't you just talk to me?"

He tried to move around him, but Buck refused to let him. "Buck, not now."

He didn’t budge. "This isn't the first time I've done something reckless, and it's not even the worst, so why are you acting like this?" He asked him, throwing the hand that's not in a sling in the air.

"I don't fucking want to lose you, okay?!" Eddie burst out, face red and fists clenched. "You died three months ago. Right in front of me, and I couldn't do a thing about it. Before, there was always this part of me that was used to it- you get hurt, but eventually, you're okay. But now- now all I can think about whenever you do something stupid is those three minutes and seventeen seconds you were dead."

Buck softened, and his eyes filled with tears. "But, I'm okay. I'm alive, I'm breathing."

"Maybe you are but- I'm not, Buck. I'm holding my breath, because all I can think about is the time your luck will run out, and it's fucking inconvenient."

Buck's too stunned to speak, but he tries anyway. "I don't- I don't know what to say. Eds, I'm sorry that it scares you," Eddie flinched at this, but Buck went on, "but this is me. This is how I've always been."

"I know," Eddie told him, "this is on me. It's my problem, Buck."

"Tell me how to fix it."

"You can't," he told him, "and you don't have to, because it's not on you."

"Eds-"

He took a step back. "It doesn't matter. I gotta go," he said under his breath as he hurriedly gathered his jacket and ignored Buck calling his name.

"What? No, you can't- Eddie, wait."

Buck, all pain forgotten, raced after him. He grabbed his arm just before Eddie managed to make his escape. It's awkward with only one working arm, but Buck yanked him away from the door, and then backed him into it, trapping him between his body and the door. They're closer than he'd intended for them to be, but Buck couldn't bring himself to move away. He and Eddie are both breathing hard at this point, and with each second that passed, Eddie seemed more tense than before.

He lifted up a shaking hand and cradled Eddie's cheek gently. The other man wasn't really looking at Buck, but a gentle nudge had him looking up and into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Eddie just shook his head.

That's when Buck noticed it- Eddie was holding his breath. For a second, he felt helpless, but then he swayed closer, and let his forehead rest on Eddie's.

It released some of the tension, had Eddie's shoulders slumping, but not enough. It took a minute, but Eddie finally looked him in the eye, and Buck's breath caught in his eyes.

Eddie's expression was complicated, and though at first it may have seemed blank, it didn't take long for Buck to figure out that it was merely a mask. He took a step closer, his lips only a hair away from Eddie's. He saw a flicker in Eddie's eyes. It was more than concern, more than anger, more than the guarded love Buck had become accustomed to. Eddie's eyes moved down to his lips, then back up, and oh. There was that look again.

Loving.

Desperate.

Hungry.

So Buck made the biggest gamble of his life.

He presses his lips to Eddie's in a short kiss that knocked the air out of his lungs and set him on fire. He pulled away slowly, needing to breathe and to assure himself that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life.

When he could bring himself to open his eyes, he looked at Eddie, who was frozen, eyes wide as he stared at Buck. Suddenly, all the warmth he'd felt earlier seeped right out of him and was replaced by horror. He stumbled back a step. "Eddie, I'm sorry-"

Eddie didn't let him finish. He lunged towards him, fusing their lips in a messy, uncoordinated kiss, more desperate than anything else, and framed his face with two gentle hands. It's possibly the best kiss Buck ever had.

They stumbled back into the living room, and over to where his lone arm chair sat. Eddie pulled back from him and looked at the space where his couch, the one he'd picked out with Natalia, used to be.

When Eddie's eyes found his, Buck shrugged. "It wasn't the right couch."

Eddie laughed, low and quiet, then pulled him back in. His hands roamed his back, restless, and Buck lost time as they traded kisses. He didn't know if they kisses for seconds or minutes, or hours. All he knew was that Eddie's lips were on his, his hands were everywhere, and Buck just wanted more.

So, he stepped backwards, and Eddie followed, lips now migrating towards his neck, his collarbone, the sensitive skin just below his ear. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, clumsily and with one hand. Eddie was no help at all as his lips trailed off to bite and suck at Buck's neck. Buck gasped and when he couldn't take it anymore, his hand abandoned its mission to rid Eddie of his shirt, and found its way into his hair. He tugged just hard enough for him to pull back. The look Eddie gave him set him on fire. Buck brought their lips back together, and this kiss left them both gasping for air by the time they pulled back.

"Bed?" Eddie asks breathlessly, and Buck felt a thrill at the words. He grinned, boyish and happy, and Eddie's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled too.

"Yeah," he said, voice hoarse. Eddie's eyes, if possible, grow darker, and he pulled Buck back in and into another searing kiss.

Buck managed to get Eddie's shirt off, though it took a lot more time than it should've. He had considered just ripping the thing apart, but that would require the use of two hands. Not to mention this was Eddie's favorite shirt.

They somehow managed to make their way up the stairs without falling, which was a miracle considering the fact that Eddie's hands had made their way under Buck's shirt, touch searing and leaving Buck needing more, more, more.

Eddie pushed him to sit on the edge of the mattress, and knelt by the bed. Buck tugged on the collar of his shirt to bring their lips back together, but he just turned his head to kiss Buck's hand as the two of his gently started to undo the sling. Once it was gone, Eddie tenderly held Buck's wrist up to his lips and placed a kiss there, not caring about the bandage covering it. This gesture, more than anything, made Buck's hart sing.

The atmosphere 6changes after that. The tension was still there, so was the desire, but where it was sharper and more frantic, now it was gentle, more patient. Eddie gently urged him to move back and then climbed into his lap. When they kissed this time, it was slow and needy and passionate. Eddie rested his head in the hollow of his throat and took a breath. "Tell me we're not making a mistake," Eddie pleaded with him, hands clutched in the back of Buck's shirt.

Buck coaxed him out of his hiding spot. Their eyes met, Buck's fear and desire and joy reflected back at him. "Does it feel like a mistake to you?"

Eddie closed his eyes. "No," he whispered. When his eyes opened, the doubt was gone completely and he pressed a kiss to Buck's lips. He was gentle when he pulled his shirt over his head and when he pushed Buck to lay down, his movements impossibly careful. Buck didn't resist. When Eddie dragged the second pillow and stuffed it under his injured wrist, ordering him to not move it, Buck had to laugh gently.

Eddie reeled back, brows furrowed. "What?"

Buck shook his head with a smile, never taking his eyes off him. "Just- I like it when you're bossy."

Eddie smirked, and Buck could tell he was pleased when his eyes darkened at Buck's words. "Oh yeah?" he whisperd the wonrds into Buck's skin, his forearms bracketing Buck's head.

Buck couldn't take it anymore, so he yanked him down until his body was more or less covering his. Eddie nearly fell off the bed in his effort to keep from putting any pressure on Buck's injured shoulder and wrist.

Laughter bubbled up, spilling out from his lips into the small space between them. Eddie attempts to kiss him, but ultimately failed because they were both laughing too hard.

Once their laughter died down, Eddie pulled himself up, then settled back on Buck's thighs, with his knees on either side of his hips. He leaned down, and Buck watched his every move, biting back a groan when Eddie's lips pressed to his chest, right under his ribcage, then moved down, and down. Eddie's fingers followed the path of his lips down his chest, his touch light enough that it had Buck squirming. His breath on Buck's overheated skin was too much and when he couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed Eddie's chin and drags him up. "You're a tease," he panted into his mouth.

Eddie smirked, opened his mouth to say something, but Buck kissed him quickly before he could.

The kiss caught fire rapidly, and they didn't talk much after that.

#buddie #buddie fic #ejwritesbuddie #this is nerve-wracking #i haven't shared a buddie fic in what feels like forever #and oh god the makeout scene #i haven't edited cause I knew i'd chicken out and not post because i'll find a million things wrong with it

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rainbowsky · 1 year

Text

Handwriting CPN

"Wishing BXG happiness every day, hoping your wishes will come true. by Friend"

I've gotten a lot of asks about the handwriting CPN. Sorry, I've been very busy during the holidays and haven't spent much time online or had much time for replying to messages. I'll try to address some of that here. Sorry for the group post but this is just easier for me.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

For those who are unaware of this candy, it's got a bit of a history.

Back on 26 June 2021 there was a LRLG rumor that ended with a photo of a handwritten blessing card. The blessing read, "Wishing BXG happy every day, hoping your wishes will come true. by Friend."

At the time there was a lot of speculation that it was written by GG, because fans had long believed some of the closing messages of LRLG rumors were written by GG, and because they felt the handwriting on the card looked like GG's.

There could be no direct comparison made using the same text, so while it was a nice theory it was hard to find strong evidence. However recently photos have been circulating of autographs GG has been signing with the same message "happy every day." And now suddenly a direct comparison can be made.

There was also a notecard accompanying some cakes and milk tea GG had brought in for ADLAD cast and crew, and the handwriting there also had turtles squealing.

I don't read or write Chinese, but even I can see that these handwriting samples are strikingly similar. Just looking at the strokes, the style, the little hand-drawn emoji, it looks so similar and so GG-ish.

Any differences between the samples looks to me like the difference between the author writing carefully in one instance and writing hastily in another, rather than the difference between two different people's handwriting. It looks like someone sitting at a desk and thoughtfully writing a nice, neat message on a card in one example vs someone hastily signing an autograph message in the other.

Based on what I've heard from Chinese-speaking/reading friends, and also based on how Chinese fans on Weibo are reacting, it seems like those who can read and write Chinese agree - the handwriting is very similar.

Given the context and handwriting similarities, I think it's highly likely that GG wrote that message on the blessing card. And that creates all sorts of implications beyond just "GG might have written a nice message for BXG back in 2021." It strengthens fan suspicions that LRLG is someone directly connected with GG and DD, and by extension makes all the rumors that come from LRLG take on more meaning for turtles.

Just based on context alone, given what we know about GG and about LRLG, I would tend to believe GG wrote that card (indeed, prior to these recent examples I've felt fairly confident he wrote it).

And I don't think it's an accident this phrase keeps coming up all of a sudden, handwritten by GG. I think he wants us to know he wrote it.

Anyway, that's the candy/CPN, and that's my take on it. I am eating this candy, and view it as another of the 💣 that GG is so known for.

Just my CPN. Others might disagree or doubt, and that's totally fine. We each make up our own minds about these things.

#bjyx #yizhan #bjyxszd #lrlg #the mysteries of yizhan #dd drops candies gg drops bombs #ask

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mostlydeadallday · 10 months

Text

Lost Kin || Chapter XXXIV || A Mixed Blessing

Fandom: Hollow Knight Rating: Mature Characters: Hornet, Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight, Quirrel Category: Gen Content Warnings: referenced abuse, panic attacks AO3: Lost Kin | Chapter XXXIV | A Mixed Blessing First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chronological Notes: Apologies for the late update! Next one will likely be another month out, due to aforementioned Activities. I nearly finished another chapter—it needs a few final paragraphs, but I went "eh, good enough" and decided to upload anyway. Hollow is actually onto something important here; bonus points if you can tell what it is. It ties into the worldbuilding post I've been meaning to make... maybe someday soon.

○

They talked late into the night.

Or, rather, Quirrel talked. Asking questions, offering suggestions, building plans that Hornet hesitantly approved or dismissed. She felt worn nearly through, coherent thought gradually leaking from her grasp as the hours went on—until Quirrel seemed to notice that she had not replied to any of his questions for at least a quarter hour, sitting with her chin propped in her hand and staring into the lantern until her eyes hurt, attempting to keep herself awake.

He insisted on stopping then, although once she ushered him upstairs to let him take his pick of the abandoned rooms and came back down with another two pillows for her own bed, she was wide awake again. She lay on the hearth, listening to the barely audible sounds Quirrel made while settling in for the night. Once those died away, she stared into the dark, where the pale arc of her sibling’s horns was just visible, timing the space between each inhale, tracing the sprawled lines of them again and again, as if she could imprint them into the world, keep them alive by her determination alone.

Quirrel had been forthright about her chances of restoring Hollow to health. So much was unknown, and what he did know was not promising. He had said, however, that he was operating on his knowledge of infected mortals, that his memory pertaining to vessels was faulty at best. Hollow had already defied the odds, and they had the lineage of three gods on their side.

He had also said a great deal more than that, but Hornet remembered little of it.

Thankfully, she had what he had written down for her: an immediate plan for further communication with Hollow, a set of questions to ask them when they woke, and a few signs to add to their vocabulary. She’d laid the pages in front of her while she slept and woke to them crumpling in her hand as she panted silently, body quivering, mind still in the grip of a nightmare that she could not remember.

She’d never had this many, this often. Night after night, she woke feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Night after night, she had to drag her own name back out of the darkness, out of the clinging, grasping fear that wanted to make an animal of her.

And waking was a mixed blessing, when every nightmare fear that faded was replaced with a real one that she could not ignore.

Hornet loosened her fist, releasing the paper, and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Every nerve sang, her body ringing like a struck gong. Her heartbeat drummed at double speed. She wanted to throw open the door and disappear, fling out skein after skein of soul-silk, fly all the way to Greenpath without her feet ever touching the ground.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

A soft noise slipped out of her mouth—a groan of disappointment. No louder than the papers crinkling, but she still looked over to make sure Hollow hadn’t woken.

They hadn’t. Nothing stirred, not even when she lifted her head to listen for sounds upstairs. The light was yet low, and no one in the house was awake but her.

The thought made her want to groan again. How long would she have to lie here, dreading the coming day, mired in memories of the night before? Recalling every crack in her control, every choked breath and faltering word that had surely told Quirrel more than she ever wanted him to know about her?

He hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave. In fact, he seemed more determined to help than ever—and she, more than ever, was regretting it.

Why couldn’t she have turned him away at the door? Reassured him that she did not need what he’d offered? She’d have preferred the empty house, the silence, to this low thrum of anxiety that had crawled inside her shell with her.

When her breathing calmed, her heart slowing, and the restlessness still did not fade, she stood, swallowing another complaint as her aching limbs protested. Still sore from her reckless flight, lack of sleep compounding the pain. She shouldn’t complain, not when Hollow’s battle wounds had yet to heal, but she mouthed an oath as she stretched, two of her backplates giving a muffled crack like splintering ice.

In the kitchen, the lumaflies roused as soon as she opened the lantern’s shutter. Though she was not hungry, she ate the third and last tiktik from the night before, cleaning her fangs and placing the empty shell with the others. She pointedly ignored the pile of supplies on the table and the neat sheaf of notes Quirrel had taken, bringing only the lantern with her—the beam of light narrowed to a slit—as she returned to the main room. The thought of more mending made her neck and fingers ache, but it was productive, time-consuming, and would not wake her sibling.

And, more to the point, it kept her from snatching up her needle and bolting out the door.

It was over an hour before anything interrupted her, and the sound was so soft she nearly missed it: a thump directly overhead, as of something hitting the floor.

Hornet jumped, then scowled, relaxing the muscles at the back of her neck that wanted to raise her spikes into the air. After a moment, she looked down and forced herself to keep working, motivated by a vague sense that it would be strange for Quirrel to come down the stairs and catch her staring.

Head lowered, she tracked his footsteps across the ceiling, past the washroom and onto the landing, ignoring the part of her that wanted to shove the fabric aside and grip her sewing needle like a dagger, to stand and face the threat head-on.

Not a threat. Or at least, not the kind she was used to. She might be more than half feral, but she didn’t have to act like it.

She waited until he’d descended the first flight and was three steps into the second before she lifted her eyes.

He halted, that hand once more creeping back toward his empty belt, before he deliberately relaxed. “Good morning.”

Hornet glanced at her sibling, but they did not stir; Quirrel had only spoken just above a whisper. Rather than replying, she nodded to him, then went back to her work. Polite enough, she thought; no need to waste words.

All of her etiquette classes seemed ridiculously far away.

Quirrel did not seem to mind.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he ducked into the entryway to retrieve his nail. They had agreed last night that he would take the opportunity to hunt in the morning, both for her and himself, as well as scavenge the other houses for more paper—he’d used nearly all of her stash—and some proper pencils. She would have Hollow practice their signs while he was gone and then ask some of the questions he’d suggested the night before. Hopefully, their anxiety would be reduced in his absence, allowing them to answer her more easily.

Quirrel stepped back into the room, nail and satchel at his side, kerchief tied on over his head. Hornet hesitated, then set her work aside and stood to lock the door behind him.

“Thank you.” He shivered as he stepped out into the rain. “I’ll try not to be long.”

She nodded again. He said nothing else, though his mandibles twitched beneath his mask with the beginnings of a smile.

Annoyance pricked beneath her shell, and she shut the door before he could walk away. Then she pressed her back against it, as if to keep him from coming back in, and exhaled with a groan.

Oh, this was going well.

○

It blinked awake.

The light was bluer.

This was a strange observation to make, perhaps especially so just after waking, but undoubtedly true. There was a slice of brighter light on the wall, a flickering brightness as changeable as water, emanating from a small metal box on the hearth. A lantern.

That had not been here before.

Something had woken it, however, and it was not the light.

The vessel lay still, memories flitting just out of reach. It knew if it waited, they would settle and return, although they seemed to take longer than they should, and it did not know why it knew that.

Its sister was not in the room.

Her hands stroking its back, her voice commanding it to sleep—

—the stranger, watching, watching, watching—

A sound by the door, a flash of color it could not fully see. It shifted, minutely, in the way it had learned to, and the building pressure in its chest loosened. Not the stranger. Only its sister, although to describe her as only its sister was a disservice; she was so much more than that. Warrior, princess, heir of the kingdom that it had destroyed—

And gentle. Compassionate. Merciful, in a way that belied her cool exterior, for how could she be all that she seemed and still be kind to a thing like the vessel?

She noticed it staring. Impolite, but how could it not stare at her? How could it not?

“Oh,” she said. Something in her posture eased, like a fist unclenching. “I’m sorry to wake you.” She gestured behind herself, toward the entry to the house. “Quirrel has gone to hunt. He will return later.”

A knot of emotion pulled tight within it. She could wake it whenever she pleased, and she did not need to tell it that her ally had left, but she persisted in apologizing, in giving it information that it shouldn’t need, that it shouldn’t be grateful for.

It was, nonetheless.

She approached it, knelt beside it, murmured something about it looking cramped. It had, indeed, fallen asleep in a less-than-ideal position, as its hand was currently numb, but that was incidental; its discomfort did not matter. Once again, however, she asked for it to move, to make itself comfortable, and although this was something it was unfamiliar with, it tried to do as she asked.

It settled back. As the pain rose and then ebbed, Hornet half-watched it, the tips of her claws just visible under the drape of her cloak, worrying at a catch in the fabric.

“I—” she began, and then stopped.

Tension wrapped around it once again. It was not like her to be indecisive. Whatever was to come was bound to panic it once more, and had she not just asked for the opposite?

Questioning its wielder. The vessel had grown far too careless, if that seemed reasonable. It must obey. Submit, fully, completely, to any orders she might give it, if it was ever to have another chance at usefulness.

“I know that… yesterday,” Hornet said, slowly enough that its heartbeat had time to lurch and then calm in the pause between her words, “I expected you to ask before I touched you.”

Its breath stopped.

Finally, it was happening. Finally, she would condemn it for what it had done. For the small actions taken, the slender cracks that attested to its deeper flaws—the fear, the need—that were now plain to see beneath the surface.

She had said she needed to speak with Quirrel the night before. After it fell into sleep, she might have told him anything. Everything. Perhaps her ally had made it plain that there was no salvaging the vessel’s ruined shell. That she should rid herself of it, remove the danger to herself and to the world—

“I realize now that that expectation may not be sustainable.” Its sister looked down at her claws and forced them still, though not without a sigh. “I will have to finish cleaning your wounds, and there may be other instances where I must touch without you asking.”

This—

This did not make sense.

It was not built to need context, to infer intent or interpret complex orders. Yet as long as its sister insisted on interacting with it like this, she would force it to use its ill-begotten mind to comprehend her desires.

Did she know? Was this her goal, to determine the extent of its intellect? To understand just how fully it had been corrupted, how deep its failures really went?

It pushed its chest to rise, made its lungs expand, that she might not notice its distress. She had not liked when it stopped breathing before. It should at least attempt to not upset her, if it couldn’t manage not to upset itself.

The effort drew her attention, and its next breath stuttered as her gaze sharpened. Before it could press back the building panic, she raised her hand, and her words were suddenly clearer, precise and clean-edged as calligraphy. “You have done no wrong. I am only informing you of a change in my methods.”

How could it not be in the wrong? How could she pretend to accept the wretched thing it had become?

And it was questioning her. Again.

Where was the vessel that had once waited in perfect stillness for its orders? Where was the numb patience it had once been capable of, those first days and weeks within the temple? How had it broken so thoroughly?

Its sister looked down at it, fangs twisting in distress. Distress that it had brought about, with its failure. Distress that—

Her hand was on its arm, her fingers warm against its shell. “Listen to me. Unless I tell you to lie still, you need not endure any touch you find objectionable, including this one. You may pull away, from myself or anyone else, if you wish.” She squeezed its arm, gently, her claws closing around it, and then lifted her hand away. “There. I am finished; there is nothing else.”

It—

It could—

No.

The thought that it might defy her will, might acknowledge and express a desire contrary to hers, might ever want badly enough that it would dare to pull away from her—

No, this was a thing it would not do.

It simply would not.

A cold dread crept over its shell. The last time it had sworn not to do something, it had broken that oath in mere days. It was faithless; its word meant nothing. It could not know what it might do. It could not know that it would not do this.

What would be the consequences for such a thing? Was this another test? Would its sister abandon it, or finally give it the death it deserved?

It was unimaginable that she might do nothing.

Unimaginable, and yet—

—why would she say this, if—

No. Enough. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts it was surely not meant to have, for it was never meant to think to begin with. Its sister deserved obedience, though it cost everything the vessel had.

She was watching it, it realized. Gauging the effect of her words. Perhaps waiting for an answer. Should it answer? Should it use one of the signs she had given it to indicate understanding? What did she want of it?

Vaguely, the vessel felt that its current state could very generously be described as a mess.

Its sister—gods below, its sister knew.

She reached for it again, this time for its hand—half-clenched, trembling—and pressed its fingers open. Not to guide it into any sign, but simply to lay her palm into the vessel’s, small fingers and fine claws lacing with its own.

It lay still. Fear was, suddenly, the farthest thing from it; it felt as though it had been given something precious, something unfit for it to take, a delicate bloom trapped between its talons. It could feel her heartbeat, swift and strong, in the vein beneath her palmpads, and the faint hum of soul below her shell.

It would give her everything.

Did she know? How could it tell her?

It would die for her.

○

Well. She had obviously accomplished something.

What, exactly, that something was eluded her.

Hollow had stopped shaking. That counted as progress. The stare they were currently giving her, however, was right on the edge of unnerving. The tension in their hand, as their fingers curled slightly to hold her own between them, just shy of brushing her knuckles with their claws—she did not know what to make of that.

But they had not pulled away from her.

She knew they understood. They would not have reacted so if they didn’t. Or perhaps she was wrong, and this was nothing but utter confusion, and she hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

And since she had so handily trapped them, she could not even ask for confirmation. She had all but clapped a hand over their mouth, rendering them as mute as when they met.

Not that they would likely choose to speak to her, whether she let go, or whether they pulled free—though this had all been in service of giving permission for them to do exactly that, if they wished.

Apparently, they did not. Their grip was tightening on her hand, so slowly that she wasn’t even sure they knew they were doing it, and the pressure was absurdly light, as though they feared her shell would shatter.

Well, she appreciated the sentiment.

It was a fight, every time she had the urge to comfort them, not to ignore it. It took her back to her days in the Palace, watching them spar in practice and in tournaments, watching them take injuries that would cripple a lesser fighter. The way her breath had hissed past her fangs, her hands tightening on the balcony, as the Pure Vessel tore through scores of kingsmoulds like a scythe through dry grass, rank upon rank closing in until her sibling was limping badly, dripping void and leaking soul, and still never faltering, pushing on and on until her father finally—finally—called a halt.

And the next time she saw them, they would be whole, healed, as still and silent as ever, with new scars marking their shell.

Those events had been tests of her mettle, as much as they had been of her sibling’s. She had felt the Pale King’s gaze upon her as the blows rained down, waiting for her to flinch, watching for doubt.

She’d learned to hide those twinges of empathy. To bury them so deep that she could deny she’d ever felt them at all.

It was like opening an old wound, now, to unearth them again. Like cutting into a scar. But she would do it, for them. She would.

She could start small. Both of them were unused to this—giving comfort or receiving it. Much as she wished she could take every burden from their shoulders, this would have to suffice for the moment.

“Good,” she whispered, running her thumb up the side of their hand. “Good, Hollow. Be calm. There’s nothing to fear.”

A twitch ran through their fingers at that, though nothing else changed. She continued stroking their hand, watching for any indication that she should stop—she didn’t trust them to take her at her word, to allow themselves to challenge her, but Quirrel had agreed that it was important that she lay the groundwork and mark out exactly where they stood.

His suggestions had been helpful already, she had to grudgingly admit. And it had been like a long breath of clean air to have someone to listen to her, whether she made good use of that opportunity or not. She felt a little less out of her mind, now, after speaking to someone who could answer. Who could examine all the jumbled pieces she spilled on the table and begin to fit them together, in ways that both confirmed and challenged her own conclusions.

That did not mean she had stopped regretting having asked for it.

Quirrel. Who knew how much time she had left before he returned. She should be putting this time to good use, not idling it away.

Without letting go, she twisted round and retrieved the wrinkled pages with her free hand, then spread them out on her lap, still with Hollow’s hand in hers.

Or rather, her hand in theirs. There was no way to hold their hand that did not result in hers being completely engulfed. Not that she minded, as long as they continued to hold it so carefully. Gingerly, never so much as letting their claws touch her, maintaining the precise amount of pressure necessary to keep her fingers from slipping free.

Unfortunately, her next task would require letting go. Though if it had helped as much as it seemed to, perhaps she could find an excuse to come back to it later.

“I’d like to have you practice the signs I’ve already taught you,” she said. “Just as we did before.”

No reaction from her sibling, at least not one she could see. She lifted their hand, briefly clasping it in both of her own to feel the solidness of it, the cool weight and minute roughness of their grip. Then she placed it on their stomach, withdrawing her touch with a final squeeze of their fingers.

Was she doing this right? She hoped—oh, she hoped what she saw in them was calm, and not apathy, or terror so complete that it held them still in its thrall. They seemed to respond well to being touched and held while she spoke to them; they had not panicked nearly as much as she expected. She could only wish that she had come to this conclusion earlier, rather than holding herself apart out of misplaced concern or awkwardness.

And it was awkward, still. But that was nothing. She could tolerate awkward, if what Quirrel said was true, if they stood to gain so much with so little effort.

She did not want to overwhelm them, which might put their new permission to pull away from her to the test, but if they became stressed during practice—which she did not doubt they would—she would attempt to calm them before continuing, rather than push through until they broke.

Neither one of them, she suspected, wanted a repeat of yesterday.

Oh, what had she been thinking? She could hardly have invented a better way to terrify them. Many of her own lessons had ended with her holding back tears, out of frustration at her own ignorance and the unfairness of what her tutors were asking of her. Not all of them had made her feel that way, but… enough.

And now it seemed she was doomed to mimic her own worst examples.

At least she’d had the solace of wishing all kinds of imaginary carnage on the tutors she liked the least. If she were to venture a guess, Hollow had no such inclinations.

Or, at least, she hoped not.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll start at the beginning. When I say the word, repeat the sign I taught you.”

Their hand still shook as they moved through the signs, but not as much as she’d come to expect. It was easier to praise them, then, easier to sound like she meant it.

Progress. This might be real progress, and it almost felt too good to be true.

She reached forward when they finished reciting what they’d learned, laying a hand on their wrist while the tension slowly drained and they lay limp, staring at her in what seemed like distracted bewilderment.

That bewilderment was likely warranted. She’d never been affectionate, especially not when they came to know her. Before then, she remembered only hazy scenes from her childhood, before she could walk or climb, of being passed from one set of sturdy arms to another, or lifted up to cling to a shoulder or back as the spiders and Weavers took turns working and holding her. She had not sought that out once she outgrew it, and certainly not once she was taken to Hallownest. The Deepnest taint clung to her shell like a stuck molt, awkward and ugly, and she had been angry enough to reject any attempts at companionship, had anyone made any.

She had also been too busy causing havoc, at first. Working herself deeper and deeper into her father’s side like a thorn, half-hoping he would pluck her out and cast her away, give her back to the family she could never have again—not now that her mother was sworn as a Dreamer, not now that the Weavers planned to leave Hallownest. It could never be the same now, but that did not stop her from wanting it.

And then she’d given up, at last, and that had been the end of it. She’d accepted the role he placed on her, set foot on the path that had brought her here, and now she was stroking her sibling’s shell awkwardly, and hoping that the confusion this elicited was somehow a step forward.

In any case, it was likely better than terror.

“I have a few new signs for you,” she said, leaning back. “This is ‘sometimes.’”

Following Quirrel’s suggestions, she taught them former and latter, as well as other, signs that would be necessary to answer the questions he’d hoped to ask them. She added Quirrel, a twist of the fingers at the chin, denoting the beaded tassel on his kerchief. By then, her sibling was wheezing audibly, and their gestures had become more stilted as their hand and arm slowly seized and that strange, strained tension returned, as if they were simultaneously attempting to obey her and trying not to move.

This time, it took longer to fade, and she spent a silent few minutes rubbing her hand up and down their arm, listening to the whistle in their lungs grow fainter and die out as they relaxed.

“Well done,” she murmured when they were quiet again. “Thank you. I know I am asking… much of you.”

The confusion was back—if she was reading them right, and she wasn’t certain of that. But if she had to guess at the look they were giving her, it was somehow conveying complete bafflement without shifting an inch.

Hornet swallowed down something that hurt, something angry and inadvisable, and it burned like a hot coal in her stomach.

I am not our father.

I do not expect perfection.

I want this for you.

I want you to live.

Having said that to Quirrel the night before, she could not now forget it. She hadn’t even thought as much to herself—since learning Hollow was alive, she hadn’t dared to imagine a goal at the end of all this. She owed her life and more to them; after she had wiped out so many of their kind in stupid, blind obedience, the least she could do was offer her time and her hands and her company. She had no right to expect anything, whether protection or gratitude or companionship.

But if it was necessary to establish a purpose to work toward, it would be this, and only this.

They had been born as a sacrifice. They had given everything for their father’s plan. And even now, they were obedient to him, as best they could be—though some unknown, misplaced devotion drove them to heed her. Even when her orders clashed with her father’s, throwing out sparks like crossed blades.

She glanced out the window, past the rain tapping steadily at the glass. It had been over an hour, and Quirrel would likely be back soon. She didn’t wish to stress them much further, given what the rest of the day would hold. But they had responded well to her attempts to calm them, and she was curious; the chance to hold a real conversation with her sibling, fragmented though it would be, was too tempting to ignore.

The questions Quirrel had left her included a few that she could be relatively certain they would answer. She skipped over the questions about their pain—though she would have to ask those again, eventually.

Instead, she paused the motion along their arm, only rubbing one thumb over a seam in their elbow, her claw clicking softly across the gap between the plates. Their attention was on her already—it had never left—but she did not wish to distract them.

“I will not be upset if you cannot answer. For any reason,” she began. “But I would like for you to practice using the new signs. And these questions may help me understand how to move forward.”

Perhaps only because she was paying close attention, she noticed the shift as their arm tightened—and then relaxed—beneath her hand. Something indefinable swelled in her throat, something bitter and bloody. Sympathy. Guilt. She didn’t know.

They were trying. They were trying so hard to give her what she wanted, fighting every moment against their own fear, and as much as she wished she could avoid it, or take it from them altogether, the only way forward she could see was to push through.

She took her hand from their arm, so they would not need to pull away from her to sign, and waited.

“Are you able to read or write?” A simple question first, a question that would hopefully not distress them, but could be used to test their understanding with a specific method of answer. “Answer with ‘former’ or ‘latter’ if only one is true, ‘yes’ for both, or ‘no’ for neither.”

They considered this. Calmly, thank the gods. She gave them a moment; this was the first time she had offered this many possible answers to a question, although she suspected she already knew the answer. Still, they might surprise her.

The answer came hesitantly; if they could speak, the word would have been only a murmur. No.

She tilted her head, acknowledging. “As I thought. It is no matter.” It would have made communication easier, but not significantly so, when she could think of no comfortable way for them to write while confined to their bed. Perhaps that could be remedied once they were stronger, although she thought Quirrel far more suited as a literacy teacher than she was.

The next question was more important, and simpler still. “Are you colder or warmer than you should be? Answer with ‘former,’ ‘latter,’ or ‘no,’ if neither is true.”

As questions went, this one also seemed unthreatening. It was not related to their pain, and she assumed they would have a good sense of their natural body temperature. If Quirrel was right, then it was possible Hollow’s fever had still not completely broken.

And perhaps she could finally find out whether they needed a blanket.

The answer, when it came, was shaky, delayed, and disappointing, and she could not have been happier to see it.

Latter.

Too warm, still. She would have to do something about that—draining the rest of the infection, first and foremost. The thought made her gut turn over, with both nausea and giddy relief that they were listening and answering her.

They were starting to lock up now, shoulder creeping up toward their neck, jaw clenching tight. “Good,” she breathed, realizing too late that she’d gone too long saying nothing. “Good. I am glad to know that. Thank you.”

○

Glad?

She was—

Why was she glad?

That it was still too warm, its body still rebelling against its father’s design, was an unmitigated failure. It was a consequence of the infection in its veins, a consequence of weakness, something that should never have happened. The void within it should have stripped it so empty, hollowed it so completely, that it never knew anything but the numbness and the chill and the dark silence of the sea.

She should be ashamed of it. She should be disappointed. She should not be trying to thank it.

This did not appear to dissuade her in the least.

“I would like to know if you have needs I’ve not been able to meet.” She touched it as she spoke, her hand once more coming to rest on its arm, gliding up to the top of its shoulder and back. It could not help the way its tension bled away under her touch, though it should have felt nothing whatsoever.

She knew this. And yet she persisted.

“Although I know I have asked this before, I need to be sure I know the correct answer.” Hornet paused, chewing over her question, still absently petting its shell. “You’ve said you don’t require food. But I do not know precisely what that means.”

Ah. It had not answered well enough, the first few times she asked it. Given that it had never been intended to speak, perhaps that was allowable—

But no. A flaw was a flaw, and it was meant to be flawless. Since it could speak, it was obliged to do so with the precision and excellence that were required of it elsewhere.

“You do not need food to survive. Is this true? Answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

This answer was an easy one, but it hesitated. Sister’s hand was still on its arm, and it did not mean to defy her, but while she wished to touch it, it should not express otherwise—

And she realized that an instant later, and withdrew.

The rising fear retreated, slowly, but its answer was still shaky.

Yes.

“Although you do not need it to survive, would consuming food aid your body in healing?”

It knew the answer to this as well, but as its hand rose, it hesitated.

During its training, it had been injured severely. Not often, for it was a unique creation, too valuable to risk. But its father walked a delicate line; if it had not been thoroughly tested and hardened for battle, it could not have been judged fit to contain the infection. He had methods of healing beyond the reach of scholars and mages, but on a few occasions, his magic had not been enough to restore it.

He had taken it to his workshop, then, and laid it down on the table where it had been shaped and molded, its present form wrought from the softness of a nymph by the sharp intent of its father’s magic. He had retrieved a container, and given it to the vessel, and instructed it in what to do.

It still recalled the sensation of the void pouring down its throat, the thickness of it, the blank absence of any smell or flavor, the stirring within its guts as the liquid joined with what already existed within, absorbing cleanly until there was nothing left but the vessel itself, whole again, and strong.

Void was not food. Void was poison, an endless dark that consumed what it touched, that winked out mortal lives like candles.

That was likely not what its sister meant. A vessel consuming more of the substance that formed it could not be defined as eating, any more than void could be defined as food.

It had hesitated too long. Its sister was growing impatient, tilting her head in confusion, searching its eyes for any hint of an answer forming, and it froze.

But she said only, “My words were… imprecise, perhaps. Disregard that question,” and then sat thinking, as its breathing grew lighter again and the taut set of its shoulders eased.

With a sharp sigh, she spoke again. “I do not know what vessels are able to eat, or what substances would be beneficial to consume. Do you eat any of the things someone such as Quirrel or myself would?”

Relief rushed through it, though numbing fear followed close on its heels. She understood the true reason for its hesitation. She saw it, its flaws, its limitations and its defects. It must be truly lacking, for such a simple thing to seize hold of it and prevent it from answering. To force its sister to repeat herself, to rephrase her questions in order to accommodate its fractured mind.

No, it should not be relieved to have its flaws made known. It should be ashamed—or it should feel nothing. It should not have flaws, let alone the very ability to feel, and it should be trying to hide these facts from her, to bury them, not put them on display, not reveal them so clearly that she made allowances for it—

Wrong wrong wrong wrong—

If it did not answer now, it would soon be unable to, it realized. The pressure was growing in its chest again, a weight of panic like lack of air underwater.

The sign was rushed this time, and too short, too sharp, in its haste to give its sister what she wanted.

No.

Its vision was hazing white at the edges already, its breaths beginning to become gasps, and it clenched its teeth, forcing its chest to rise, forcing its throat to open, while the sound from its battered lungs rose into a harsh, fluttering keen.

She could certainly see its flaws now.

There was another sound. Another weight against it. Another hand within its own again, warm and steady where it trembled. Its sister was so small, her touch so light, and yet her every whim captured its attention completely.

Its next exhale shook and shuddered, and she reached up with her free hand, laying her palm beneath its eye, and her fangs chattered softly, a gentle, steady sound like breezes through its mother’s leaves, a sound meant to soothe, to calm and comfort hatchlings in the shell.

It blinked, and wheezed, and clenched her hand more tightly.

“Shh, Hollow.” She leaned against it more firmly where she’d settled, climbing onto the bed and pressing herself into its side, and it did not deserve this, had done nothing to earn this, had done everything wrong, and to her, it seemed, that did not matter. “Shh.”

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