#somehow there is always another thread underneath for him to catch

[writer-room]

Love that the team continued to uphold Lloyd being extremely mentally unwell at all times. Barely functioning but insisting its fine. Plagued by the visions™. Legitimately had a panic attack when everything started to go wrong. Completely willing to fuck over his entire physiology with weird dragon magic because "yeah that'll probably be helpful later". Waking up screaming and shrugging because its totally normal to have nightmares that horrifying on the regular. A+ on this assignment lads, you've broken Lloyd down to his bare essentials.

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #lego ninjago #lego ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #lloyd garmadon #text post #talk #ninjago team #it was WILD to hear lloyd say 'my panic attack' like OH #YEAH THAT IS WHAT THAT WAS. COOL SO WE'RE ACKNOWLEGING IT #lloyd has zero understanding of basic mental health #and the parts he DOES understand he just chooses to ignore bc 'im built different' #my sweet summer child you sure were built different. you were built so different that you need like #triple therapy #lloyd is hanging on by a thread #that thread has snapped multiple times #somehow there is always another thread underneath for him to catch #usually this thread was thrown down by the others to make sure he doesnt fully plunge off the deep end #because frankly if he does it will go one of two ways #hes going to kill everyone in this realm OR himself #the fun part is figuring out if hes gonna do either of those things on purpose or total accident

[floraltypes]

Show Me

paring - thomas shelby x fem!reader

summary - the shelby can’t help himself when making a business visit

warnings - mature audience only, read with caution! mentions of oral, hint of manipulation, inexperienced reader

In the early mornings of a new day, the sun has just begun its duty to rise while another is attending to his as well. With his cap tightly secured around his head, pockets filled with folded papers, and trousers neatly ironed he makes his way down the cobblestone path. 

A curt knock on the front of a numbered, wooden door brings the man back to reminisce of a time he had done a similar action for a very different reason. From the other side rustling and wandering around could be heard, and he could already picture the flowers beginning to bud around the home. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you gasp, hands fluttering to cover the feathery coverup as the air from the opened door rose the fabric. Your nightgown only goes right to your knees, leaving much of the skin to be now seen, you aren’t wearing stockings underneath and look completely up for devouring. “I wasn’t prepared.”

He can clearly tell and should refrain from letting those eyes wander but they can’t help but to look down. It’s a familiar nightgown, one he bought for you for your birthday after a curt mention of the clothing piece. Catching himself, he turns his head to look out upon the street.

“I came to chat, merely, about business with your father,” the kids are yelling around the streets, kicking some ball, while a dirty cat prances by with a specific hiss to the superior. 

“Oh!” you light up, hands now itching at the hair tied up in pieces of cloth from the attempt at a different curl. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear of what?” he glances back, eyes landing on your own doe-like ones. Your hands are playing with the ends of thread from the coverup, eyes searching anywhere but his own. It makes him realize how refreshing you are. 

“He was supposed to tell you before he left, well, to tell Polly. I did speak to Ada but she seemed preoccupied-”

“Tell me of what?” he cut you off, stepping inside and closing the door shut behind him. 

“That I was the one running the business. It was actually me, in secrecy.”

“You?” he looks down at the soft pout forming on your lightly tainted lips, twirls of hair coming loose, fidgety stance, and sweet pink of your dress mimicking the sweetness you possess. “You have been taking care of your father's plant business?” 

“I know much of nature,” you beam. “Please sit,” you gesture to him to an open seat in the nearby room, only two seats available. “I have tea ready.” 

You rush around the confined kitchen/dining room, pouring the steaming pot into a cup and gathering the limited sugar from the cupboard. Thomas sits gently in an open seat, legs crossed, and glances around the (somehow) nicer-looking kitchen. He never really noticed how much of an effect you had on the things you touched, including your father's business. 

“I read much, sir, especially when the men were away someone had to take over,” you explain, dropping a cube into his drink despite the lack of asking. “I now know much about,” you lean across the table, cupping your hand to his ear, “drugs,” you whispered. 

Thomas coughs, cheeks lighting up, “Who distributes them? You?” he takes another sip to try and cool the unexpectedness of your actions. A man of himself has had his fair accounts with women taking a liking to him, and their boldness, yet someone as you who has held such a place in his heart since childhood was the definition of unexpected. 

“No, father had a partner,” you easily tell him, pushing your dress down. It was always so simple for you to reveal secrets to a man you admire madly. “He picks up the items and sells them ‘imself. Kind fellow actually,” you add.

Thomas plants his feet firmly on the ground, now beginning to inch his chair over towards you. He moves it right beside your own, his knee touching your unclothed one. He picks through his pockets, a crumpled box filled with limited cigarettes. Propping open the box, his fingers picked their way toward a white roll, snugging it in between his pointer and middle finger. 

Your eyes were stuck on where your body was connected, feeling heated at the foreign touch of a man. He slowly looks you up and down, watching your fascination with his actions. “You have a light?” he whispers, words near your ear that you now feel as if those are burning as well. Looking back up your met with his stare, his eyes going back down to gesture to the cigarette between his fingers. 

“Mhm,” it comes out very quietly, hands fumbling towards the middle of the table where a matchbox lies. With a quick flick of the match a spark forms, you move the flame underneath the cigarette, watching the change in color at its end. He moves the stick to his mouth, breathing in largely before letting the smoke fall out. It isn’t surprising to him how your eyes are unable to glance away from his pink lips inhaling the substance.  

“Have you missed me?” Thomas questions, his hand moving to cup your cheeks. “You used to always complain when I went away when we were lads.”

“Of course.”

“Then won’t you show me?”

There is no movement on your part, pure shock at his words showing through the widening of your eyes. 

“Alright then,” he mumbles, pointer finger brushing back and forth against your cheek until his thumb prods at your bottom lip, “Why pretend innocence? You ‘ave done this once before.”

“I was nine, my eldest sister said I had to.”

“Did you not like it?”

You carefully take the cigarette from his grip, holding it tight and inhaling it in hopes to calm the bubbling nerves. Smoke falls past your lips and flows towards Thomas’s way. As he steals it back your hands stay motionless and he takes this opportunity to place his lips onto yours. 

It is a soft peck at first, the flavor of tea and smoke mixing with your own on your lips. His mouth opens as yours stayed close, hand still cupping your cheek before you open your lips for his tongue to dive in. The one hand holds the smoke away, focused on discovering your taste. He soon enough pulls away to watch you take a deep breath, eyes hooded, and body inching itself closer to his own. 

He flicks the ash into the small, empty sugar bowl, pressing it towards the bottom to stop the flame. With his now free hand, he moves to the hem of your nightgown, lifting the material and dragging his hand further up your thigh. What his other thumb once did to your cheek he now does to your inner thigh, finger dragging itself across the skin, that same skin heating his once cold hand. 

A small noise forms, where he was once staring down below moves back up towards your expression. Your hands travel underneath his coat, trailing themselves further toward his neck, and kiss him with eagerness. Soon enough your lips are opening themselves on their own, awaiting Tommy to take control once again. He deepens the kiss, that hand now resting on top of your underwear. 

You lift your butt slightly, scooting to feel his hand more. His finger points through the fabric slightly to allow you to feel the tip. “Tommy,” you moan during a break, grabbing onto his muscled arms tightly while he continues his movements below. 

His lips kiss down towards your neck, sucking on the open skin as your pussy keeps trying to move his finger deeper, yearning to feel more friction. You can feel the uplift of his lips on your skin and would imagine the gears turning in his head in regard to his effect on you yet your mind can only focus on one thing. He finds it endearing, exhilarating and entertaining all at once. 

“Do not get greedy,” he tuts, looking down at the mark forming on your skin. “This should be for me, show your gratitude.”

“Anything,” you hum, kissing his cheek where a fresh scar lay. He winces at the touch until the following kisses help him to relax even more in the rickety chair. “Anything for you, Tommy.”

He removes his hand from your pussy and totally removes himself from you. Your eyes are now fully open, looking at him, and a slight pout forms on your lips at the lack of contact. He takes your hand in his own, moving it down toward the top of his trousers. 

“Go ahead, show me,” he commands, your dainty fingers working to pop the button. Instead of continuing to pull them down, he takes charge once again, completing that for you. He guides your hand towards his crotch, placing it on the underwear covering it. “Feel it up, it's your first, ain't it?”

Your hand works, now clutching onto the bulge and letting your fingers be felt through the fabric. Your thumb rubs on the enclosed tip, trying to follow the length up to his waistline, slowly, inquisitive. His hands are now fumbling back with that same crinkled box, searching for another cigarette. Hesitantly you pull his undergarments down, watching as his cock springs to life, the tip hitting his stomach. You continue to feel the head, it's wet with precum and larger than you had imagined. 

“Just like a lolly now. Suck on it.”

He lifts his hand to push down on your bottom lip, opening your mouth. You lean further down, pushing the chair back, and getting onto your knees. You take the tip into your mouth, hollowing while trying to suck it like the sweet treat he told you to imagine it was. Your tongue moves around and eventually takes his cock out in order to kiss it up. 

The cigarette is now lit, placed between his lips as slit eyes peer down at you. He huffs at the smoke, admiring your fascination with his cock. You feel his balls hesitantly and begin to take his cock back into your mouth once again, trying to suck as he once guided before. 

Though it isn’t much, and he has experienced women who could at least take half, it is the fact that you are the one doing it. The only one who could calm the tremors he experienced during the night, the only one he could ever allow his softness to be seen by who wasn’t family. Some may say the Shelby became infatuated with you over the years, but those who would mutter such words knew the consequences they would weep. 

He thrust his hips, cock entering further into your mouth, tears forming in your eyes. Tommy knew he was almost at his point, quickly coming undone, and soon enough - with a grunt - you could feel an unknown liquid drip to the back of your throat. 

He pulled your face away, hands gripping onto your chin and trying to move you closer to his own face. Thomas stared at your fucked out gaze, brain hazy and hands searching for his own. He helped you get seated on the seat once again, liquid dripping onto your laced gown. 

“It’s a bit lonely here,” he looks around the silent home (besides your panting). “Come back to the house with me, see Ada, and we can continue to talk business there.”

“Yes, yes, Tommy,” you nodded, pieces of the cloth had fallen from your hair, allowing the strands to dangle. “I have to change.”

“Now, now,” he places the cigarette between your lips. “Take a drag sweet, I’ll go gather your dress.”

Though he didn’t mutter the words of fondness as many lovers would, he knew that he wanted you as his.

(peaky blinders masterlist)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #shelby x reader

[braskide]

yuna? receives a soft forehead kiss from dion. she works so hard.

yuna has not given it much thought — by it we mean herself; how can one be so absorbed to leave all of this & more behind? perhaps, an after thought. days have slipped away with a certain amount of tasks on her sleeves, yet her arm has always been interlinked with dion's through all. even when they both had to part ways, prestablished plans requiring they attend to their own duties without the presence of the other, she would bid him goodbye with a hopeful curve of her lips, and he would gift her the strength necessary to continue the making of her path with a simple knowing gaze. ( are you sure? never have i been more before. ) somehow, they had learned to make out a secret language that only had meaning along their lines; if old yevon's maesters were to know such a thing was in place in the walls of bevelle, that two of the most influential figures at present would giggle behind the absurdity of old traditions, what would they say? after all, they have been regarded as unworthy already — him with his good heart, kinder than his maker.

in truth, yuna prefers to leave that in the past, where it might rightfully belong. would dion understand? he was there, in and out of it, only catching scorches of each other when fate would allow it, yet she cannot forget. today, she sits next to dion and dares not look back ( then when his hand was kind, healing of something he had not broken ). they sit close, as trusted allies do, careful of each other's attention, yet busy with tackling yet another task that requires their undivided attention. it's a matter of simply doing, to keep on going even while the body requires rest. she's tired and he can tell, can't he? does it show in the lines of her features as she looks at him now? or perhaps the weak laughter that barely fills the air, hoping for it to be enough — sometimes she forgets there is no need for false ceremonies in his presence, for they are learning each other's nature, understanding.

in these times dion has often proved to be a guiding light — mismatched eyes join with ambral ones and a sense of relief washes over as the fabric of memories threads together, although painfully. she could remember the piercing gaze in her dreaming, appointed a traitor by someone before him, yet unmistakebly close in the distance to him. their stances could have not been more different now and it makes it easier on her heart; his unwavering loyalty through times has proven healing. an amusing thought comes crossing her mind now with his inquisitive look directed at her: at times she has wished for him to have been her guardian, back in her fateful demise. the days are long gone now, a high summoner holds his arm, but if days were still numbered, she could see herself search for him.

( i didn't quite know what to say then, i have a lot of regrets about that. )

she's wiser now, the weight of the world shifting its stance on her shoulders — he holds her by them now, and it feels like atlas could bear this eternal penance. her head redirects its weight now, long hair ending on his shoulder, her tired mind finding shelter along the sharp line, and the silence holds them like a kindness. all is far and away for now and yuna basks in the tenderness of his compassion. there is something she wishes to say, something she must let him know ( empathy, devotion ); her lips part but every word seems to fall short when his lips touch the skin of her forehead. she could break underneath any moment and so could he, both in each other's grasp; yet they persist. yuna lets it happen to her — the kindess of his warmth, the fire of his simpathy. lids come together, restlessness disappearing at once, feeling everything at once. was she deserving? must the savior be always so damned? must the curse of being known be so heavy on them? fingers curl around his forearm through their interlinked arms, tightening in silence. this can mean everything — do not leave my side. do not let me fall to my disgrace. guide me in darkness. hold my temper. let me be your hand.

the silence lingers and history must continue its course. they know this. they've known this for a long time.

#madrites #i. ✲ a gentleness that comes not from absence of violence ; but despite the abundance of it. #dion & yuna tbt. #holds your shoulders. gently shakes u. #they mean everything to me fr fr.. .. #i had to mention sylvestre branding her a traitor cause we love pain and suffering. : ^ ) #long post /

[kiridarling]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎.

katsuki bakugou | competitive sex + f!reader + pro hero!kats + hickeys + hair-pulling + ripping clothes + a surprise guest + more! minors dni.

— 1.8k words

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be little late."

“Katsuki. Hands off.”

The ash-blond sighs, grumbling like the petulant child he is before forcing his hands to his sides. Glaring at you through the mirror, he grunts, “Fuckin’ why.”

"Because I'm trying to get ready and you're in the way." You swat his hands away and reach for a brush, rolling your eyes when he ignores everything you just said in favor of hooking his chin around your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. You shrug him off, "Now move."

In your defense, you've been pushed to your limit.

You two are already late enough for the Gala as it is, you know, the one that's exclusively for pro heroes. And yet, for some reason, today's the day your boyfriend's brain seems to be in his dick.

Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck, hard enough to make you whimper before you rip his head away by the strands of his hair. He growls in frustration, the grip on your waist ever-tightening.

"Y'know...if people saw the type of shit you pull in private, they'd think you were the aggressive one."

"You let me get away with it," you respond absentmindedly, leaning towards the mirror until the cool from the counter presses into your gut. Mistake.

"Right. I've been too fuckin' soft, huh?" Katsuki says more to himself than to you before he's forcing you over the sink with a heavy hand on your back; the metal from the faucet knocks you in the collarbone. "That shit changes today."

"I—Kats, we don't have ti—" but the indisputable sound of ripping cloth bounces off your bathroom walls, and the addition of cool air brushing your inner thighs implies precisely what you hope he didn't just do.

His phone clatters on the counter before he's nudging your legs wider, nestling between them, and settling on his knees.

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be late."

"Katsuki Bakugou, did you just rip my fucking stockings?" You howl, grip tightening around the marble countertop in fury. Katsuki growls, delivering a heavy slap to your ass.

"I said fuckin' text him."

Your chest rises and falls with indignance, and yet you're punching in the code to his phone anyway, telling Izuku to reserve two spots at the table next to him because you two won't be able to do it yourselves.

"D'ya send it?" Katsuki asks, having a blast as he kneads your exposed ass to the point where it's sore. You nod, dropping the six-by-four box onto the countertop in resignation, and the ash-blond's chest rumbles at that, hand disappearing only to crack back down twice as hard. "Good girl."

Pushing your panties to the side, Katsuki wastes no time in sliding in his finger to the first knuckle, grinning when you shudder against him. You squeal as his teeth graze your inner thigh, and he hikes your knee onto the couch, dismissing how much you complain about the burn.

"What? Can't get a better view?" He growls, cheeky bastard, before he's sucking a hickey into your thigh because he knows you like it and pushing his finger in the rest of the way. You narrow your eyes, glaring at the small sliver of his smug face you can actually see in the mirror—and he's quickly filling you with a second finger, chuckling at your moan.

"You shouldn't have a view in the first place," you grumble, insistent on standing your ground. "You should be viewing the road because we're supposed to be driving right now."

"That's a real fuckin' pity then," Katsuki responds apathetically, lips pink as he moves to suck another hickey—closer to the apex of your thighs this time. You whimper as he scissors his fingers and passes a messy thumb over your clit, hips burning from holding this position for so long. With a final lick, Katsuki pulls away from his third or fourth mark (you're not too sure) and smacks his lips. "On the sink."

"On the c—Katsuki we have to g—wah!"

Katsuki takes it upon himself to hook his arms under your thighs and hoist you onto the cool thing, sending all miscellaneous bathroom items flying. You sigh, accepting the fact that you're probably not going to make it out of the house tonight as your back kisses the freezing glass, and Katsuki pushes your knees as far back as they'll go.

He curls a lip, and then he spits, getting saliva all over your pussy and thighs, and it's wholly and utterly lewd. And yet, you bite your lip at the feeling, and he grins, knowing you like it just as much as you'll say you hate it.

"You're a fuckin' dirty girl, y'know that?" Katsuki's eyes go dark. You huff, threading a hand through his ash-blond locks to tug—and you're the one grinning when he moans.

"I'm not the one who's making us skip a mandatory gala to get his dick wet," you quip with a raised eyebrow, and your hand never leaves his hair. "Am I?"

Katsuki growls with a curled lip, but you know better, and so does the clammy grip on your thigh. You tug on his hair again, and suddenly you're full of him, yelping in surprise as your arms scramble for his back for better purchase instead.

"What was that?" He asks breathily, hiding a groan behind a bitten lip. You're just thankful he's giving you time to adjust, or so you think, until he almost pulls out entirely before his hips snap forwards as hard as they can, knocking your spine into the mirror and a bottle of lotion onto the floor.

You moan, hands searching for his hair again because you know it's one of the only things that will provide a one-up—Katsuki bares his teeth at that, bending over to suck a mark into your neck and his hips continue to fuck you into tomorrow.

"You fit like a goddamn glove," Katsuki wheezes, the grip he has around your stocking-covered thigh edging on bruising. "So tight around me—fuck—"

"K-Kats—" you grapple for his dress shirt so hard it tears, causing you to crash against the counter and make more of a mess that's already been made. The ash-blond's hips don't do anything but speed up though, filling you to the point where a deep breath feels like too much.

"Fuck baby, you're so goddamn needy," Katsuki grabs your attention by your jaw with a gritty chuckle, "But this shit's only for me, ain't it? 'Cause you're fuckin' mine."

You whimper with a nod, nails latching onto hot and sticky skin now. Katsuki hisses as they rake down his back, but that only makes you want to dig in harder.

"Fuckin' say it—tell me you're mine and no one else's," he challenges with a glint in his carmine red eyes, and something in your gut churns underneath it. Something painfully primal and raw, which has you howling out:

"'M yours, only yours!"

You jolt when his thumb returns to your clit and refuses to let up. Katsuki growls at that, somehow finding the stamina to speed up—and gripping your shoulder for leverage. You moan, eyes fluttering as his cock reaches the deepest it has tonight, and you’re sure Katsuki can tell as well if his curse is anything to go by.

Ring, ring! Ring ring!

Surprisingly, Katsuki's phone survived the purge and still sits on the counter, albeit teetering on the edge of absolute destruction. The ash-blond catches it before it falls and has the nerve to swipe right, not allowing you to fit in an objection or any say in this at all.

"The fuck do you want, Deku?" He grunts, putting the phone on speaker before he sets it back down. You eep in protest, but all he does is mouth the words quiet, baby. So you're huff, biting onto the meat of your palm for extra precaution.

"Um, Kacchan? Where are you guys?" The greenette's voice echoes off the bathroom walls to the point where it's nearly comical how clueless he is, and yet Katsuki refuses to slow down. "People are starting to ask when you're getting here..."

"Not fuckin' goin'," Katsuki's sweat drips from his brow onto your chest, and all of a sudden, you're aware of how painfully close you are, but hold back in fear of making too much noise. Izuku sighs through the phone, and you can feel his disappointment from here.

"I—Kacchan, you can't just opt out of these things, you know," Izuku says, echoing your words from earlier. "Mandatory means you have to attend."

"Yeah, well, I got better shit to do, Deku," the ash-blond spits, though he's grinning like the devil because the asshole knows you're close, he can just tell at this point, and you hate how well he knows your body.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to go, Kacchan!" The pro-hero shrills, voice peaking out of pure frustration. "This is mandatory. As in, M-A-N-D-A-T—"

Katsuki hangs up.

"Why is everyone so goddamn mouthy these days?" He grunts, primarily to himself, and somehow you have the will to giggle. Katsuki's eyebrows furrow as you tighten around him, spurred when the head of his cock nudges the perfect spot, and his nails start to tear into what's left of your stockings as he shudders, "I—fuck baby, I'm gonna cum."

"What? Being on the phone with Izuku got you all riled up or something?" You jest breathily, and Katsuki growls, slapping your outer thigh.

"Don't fuckin' bring the nerd up right now," he wheezes, and you resist the urge to quip back—mainly because you're close yourself. You reach to pull Katsuki's hair again and his hips stutter, eyes fluttering with a breathy moan as he finally fills you up, keening over to dig his teeth into your neck. And his orgasm is only the catalyst for your own, thumping your hands against his chest as your body ignites like a live wire, toes curling and eyes screwed shut.

Katsuki stays seated in you as he catches his breath, head resting on the cool mirror with his ash-blond hair mattes brown to his forehead. He's always uncharacteristically soft while basking in his afterglow, face and chest flushed bright red from exertion as his eyes soften in a way he rarely lets them.

"You good?" He pants, chest still heaving as he blinks down at your exhausted figure. Somehow, you find the energy to nod.

"I don't feel like leaving anymore, though," you declare towards the ceiling. Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"Was hopin' you'd say that," he says gruffly—you narrow your eyes but bite your tongue. "Wanna watch a movie?"

A movie doesn't sound...bad.

You sigh in defeat (again), though jolting when Katsuki's phone rings. He quickly presses red, and 9 missed calls from shitty fucking deku is the first notification on his home screen. You two share a look—the ash-blond shrugs.

"What? I told the fucker I had better shit to do."

wrote this for a friends bday and i was like,,,i guess i could put it here too...

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader

[forthehpfanboys]

A Shared Bed

Pair: Ronald Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You and Ron have always shared beds, it was normal.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), hand job, dirty talk, grinding. DM me if I missed any.

Notes: I stared this at like 5am today. I wanted to write something that came from me for once because the last time I wrote based off my own idea was the very first story I posted. It was actually really fun.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

It wasn't unusual for you and Ron to share his bedroom when you came over to the Burrow in the summer. In fact it wasn't unusual for you to share the same bed, either. Molly always deemed it perfectly fine, considering you were both boys and all that jazz. She did enjoy hearing you two whispering stories back and forth, your giggles ringing down the creaky staircase as others tried to catch more than a few winks.

Of course, as you two hit your growth spurts, she expected you guys to complain about the lack of space, but it never came. It was clear you two were more than content with the small space and were fine spooning through the night. In fact, that's where you were right now, tucked peacefully under his quidditch quilt, back pressed to his chest. His strong arm was locked across your side allowing him to draw little shapes along your stomach underneath your night shirt.

"Can't sleep?" You turned your head a little. He left his window open letting in not only the breeze from the night, but the moonlight as well. The shimmering light only enhanced his features and caused his eyes to practically glow in the dark. The crystal like blue stole your breath every time you saw them. Suddenly you were questioning if he could feel your heart racing or the sweat building on your palms.

"No. Not tired." His hand paused before lazily drawing a Crescent moon above your belly button. "What about you?" Now it was moving south, slowly inching toward the strings of your sweat pants. You swallowed when his forefinger and thumb grabbed a braided thread and twirled it.

"Brain is too loud." It wasn't a lie. You kept thinking about him. Everything in his room smelled like him and it was making your hormones act up in a way that you couldn't resolve with him laying so close. Tangerine and strawberry was such an interesting shampoo choice for a teenager like him but damn was it quickly becoming your favorite smell. You turned your head to face his pillow and tried to take a subtle sniff -maybe it would ease the thoughts rampaging your skull.

"Wanna talk about it?" Ron's scooted closer to you, his legs bending into the back of yours, his hips pressed flush against your butt. He somehow got closer, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. His voice was such a soft, deep whisper it made you shudder against him.

When you shook your head no and shifted your body against the mattress, one leg crossing over the other, he took in a sharp breath. Your rear grinded back against his pelvis.

"'m Sorry." You mumbled, trying to will a yawn from your lips. You were giving anything to either melt through the mattress or pass out from embarrassment. Abruptly it was far too hot under the quilt.

"No, it's ok." He whispered, this time into the crook of your neck. You watched him from the corner of your eye, his staring right into yours. You were sure he could see the blush in the moonlight. He gave his hips an experimental roll and the action had your cock hardening. You could feel his own hard-on pressed against the curve of your ass and your mouth absolutely watering for it. "Is this," he trusted again, "ok or do you want me to stop?"

There was a pause of silence where neither of you moved, even his fingers twirling the string of your sweatpants stopped. If you said it was OK, you knew the relationship between you and Ron would be thrown through a loop. It would change faster than the tide and if it crashed, you could never repair it.

But to you, right now, it was well worth the risk.

"Please keep going." Your voice was soft and you would've questioned if he heard it, but when he grabbed your inner thigh and hooked your leg over his hip, you knew he heard it. He placed a kiss right behind your ear while his hand moved back to the elastic of your sweats, this time diving under the fabric.

"You're positive?" his finger trailed across your pelvis, the touch light enough to tickle. Instead of answering, you bent your arm around the back of his head and grabbed onto his hair, moving your hips forward for some kind of touch.

He let out a groan against the shell of your ear, his teeth biting the sensitive flesh before his hand finally wrapped around your half hard cock. He moved slowly, trying to build you up to full mast. Ron was far more worried about your pleasure than his.

You let out a hiss, your thighs shaking already. His palm rubbed across the leaking tip of your throbbing cock to try to lube it before pumping it. When it still wasn't enough, the ginger spat into his hand, causing your eyes to roll back at the minor action.

A huff of air escaped you when his thumb brushed across the sensitive skin of the head of your prick before dragging it back down to the base. He slipped his arm out from under the pillow to raise himself up- he wanted to see your cock hard and leaking. Letting go of you, he dragged your pj pants down to the middle of your thighs before spitting in his hand again and moving it along your prick again.

He shushed you after a soft moan of his name left your lips. He planted a few kisses in your hair before his hips picked up the motion before. He let out a shaky breath, his voice still close to your ear.

"Don't wanna wake the others, do you?" Ron's bright blue eyes watched as your eyes fell closed and your teeth dug painfully into your bottom lip. His hand moved faster while yours gave his hair an encouraging tug. "I bet you'd love that though.” He was interrupted by his own breathy giggle. “Such a naughty thing you are."

"Merlin-" You whined, hips stuttering between moving forward into his hand and pushing back against his cock. You let out another moan when his hand tightened down and gave a particularly slow tug upward.

"Not my name, darling. Want to try again?"

If anyone had told you Ronald B. Weasley was a dirty talker and a charmer, you'd laughed at them, but damn were you grateful. Your toes curled in pure pleasure. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure he could feel the beat. You moaned his name, letting your head fall back against his chest. He was grinning and you could hear it in his hushed voice.

“Do that again.” He demanded, his hips rolling harder against yours. You had no idea how close he was to finishing, but you were trembling, getting closer and closer to the cliff of completion. One of your sweaty hands clawed at his wrist while the other tangled in his crisp white sheets.

“Fuck, Ronnie, I’m close.” You gasped out again. You’re back arched away from him. He did nothing to stop you from tumbling off the edge- in fact, he encouraged it by whispering praises in your ear and rubbing his thumb along your most sensitive spots. He didn’t try to muffle your moan at all either. He just smiled his classic Weasley side smirk.

Ron let out a soft laugh and dragged his hand across your stomach, wiping your spunk off on your skin. He ignored your gasp of disgust and kissed your temple again. “You are so special.” Ron said as he wrapped his arms around your stomach and hugged him closer. While your breathing slowed down, his boner pressing into your skin was so obvious as he cuddled closer to you.

“You didn’t finish.” You turned to look at him. He shrugged. You put a hand against his shoulder and shoved him downward, forcing him flat against the bed on his back. You turned over, climbing between his legs. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You whispered to him, sliding down his boxers.

-

~Taglist~

@catboyazula

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley #hp x male reader #hp imagine #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley smut #drabble #hp drabble #harry potter x male reader

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ADRENALINE: KAGEYAMA TOBIO.

characters: kageyama tobio x f!reader

cw:  angry sex + unprotected + vaginal penetration + hair pulling/grabbing + slight degradation + missionary + kageyama blowing your back out uh + oral (f! receiving) + c*wgirl position um.

wc: 3.1k

crossposted on my ao3 🤍

The sound of the buzzer surprised you when you snapped out of your thoughts and came back to reality. The match had just ended with Sao Paolo 4 - Ali Roma 3. You watched your boyfriend's team shaking hands with their opponents. The look that was plastered across your boyfriend's face, the infamous Kageyama Tobio, was evident, at least to you, that he was frustrated over their loss.

His face was red, and his body ran hot. Kageyama stepped out of the court and gulped down his mineral water. The plastic bottle was scrunched up by his massive hands before being thrown in the garbage bin near the bench. He sat on the bench while their coach gave them some honest feedback from the match. Kageyama tried to calm himself down, but he just couldn't. It's an important match, and sadly, they lost.

You knew when he's mad, you wouldn't even dare to go and comfort him because he told you before that he dislikes being comforted when he's angry. He's afraid of hurting you with the words he didn't mean to say. What you did was, went straight to your shared apartment and prepared a comforting dinner for him. He must have been starving after running around the court all day.

The door clicked open from the outside, and you immediately woke up from your quick nap. You have fallen asleep on the couch after cooking for Kageyama. His eyes landed on you, who was rubbing your eyes. "You're home", he heard you said with a groggy voice. Kageyama looked at you with an annoyed expression. It was obvious. Somehow you got scared by how angry he looks sometimes.

"Tobio", you breathed out when he threw himself onto you. He pushed your back all the way against the couch. His thighs were residing on either side of your body, caging your body with his muscular built. Kageyama's hand touched your face lovingly before lifting your chin in a forced manner.

"Look at me, baby," he said. You did not dare to make any eye contact with him. Perhaps, you were scared. He would be scared if he were in your shoes too. Kageyama lightly slapped your face, "I said, look at me, slut."

You hesitantly looked at your boyfriend in the eyes. He flashed you a cocky smirk when you finally looked at him in the eyes. Your heart was about to jump out of your chest when you locked eyes with Kageyama. His presence was like a different person.

"I want you all to myself tonight. Understood? I don't care if you're tired or anything. Just take it all like a good fucktoy you've always been, alright? Hm, baby?" he needed to lash out his frustration on someone, and you're his little cocksleeve. You need to oblige him nevertheless.

You mustered your courage to nod your head. At last, you nodded your head slowly. Obliging your boyfriend's request to please him. Your throat felt dry, and it hurt when you know what is about happen. It's not like you disapprove of it, but angry sex with Kageyama will always leave your legs bruising the following day. Has it always been a good time? Yes.

Kageyama's lips hungrily kissed yours. His hands could not stay still to his sides, always needing to touch you on any parts of your precious body. His fingers reaching for the buttons of your pyjamas as he sucked on your sensitive skin. A soft moan escaped your lips when he nibbled on the same spot over and over again.

He threw your pyjamas top aside. Only leaving your upper body naked without a single thread. The cold air made your nipples turned perkier than your boyfriend's doing. What more when Kageyama twirled his fingers around them teasingly. The back of your head hitting the soft cushion of the couch as you tried to breathe normally. Heavy breaths started to fill the silent living room when your boyfriend continued licking and sucking on your sensitive nipples.

Kageyama held you by the waist as he latched his lips on your nipples, taking one of your nipples in his hungry mouth. His warm tongue twirling around your nipple as his free hand fondling your other breast — massaging them with a firm squeeze. Soft whimpers coming from you sounded so fucking beautiful in his ears. Writhing and begging him to give you more and more.

"Tobio," you breathed shakily when he left a trail of wet kisses along your lower body before tugging on the waistband of the bottom of your pyjama. His hands removed your bottom off of your legs quickly. You shut your eyes closed as you felt his hands rubbing on your bare thighs. You could feel every inch of his fingers against your skin.

Kageyama's eyes landed on the wet spot forming on the material of your panties. "Always so needy for me, aren't you?" he clicked his tongue. His fingers rubbing your clothed cunt for more friction. A soft whimper elicited from your mouth as he rubbed your core teasingly. Kageyama got impatient and slid off your drenched underwear and tossed it aside.

You are now naked, body on display for him. His gaze was filled with lust and anger. Kageyama harshly laid you on the couch. His massive hands spreading your legs apart so he could have a better view of your wet cunt. Your pussy glistening with arousal slick, and you looked cute trying to cover yourself.

He kissed your inner thighs before his lips sucking on your skin to leave hickeys. It's like a work of art, and Kageyama has always been proud of the marks he leaves on you. It feels like he owns you as his property. No one else gets to have you except him. He's not obsessive. He just likes to claim what is his. And your pussy? It was never yours. It's his.

You felt his minty breath fanning over your core. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his warm tongue lay on the entrance of your core. The tip of his tongue gliding up and down your drenched pussy. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your orgasm building up. "T-tobio," you whimpered once you felt he got too close to your clit. Your fingers in his soft black hair tugging on it lightly to hold yourself back.

Kageyama chuckled when he watched you throwing your head back. "Fuck, baby. You look so pretty moaning my name like this. Moan, my name louder, baby," he said breathily. The tip of his tongue circling on your clit before sucking on it gently.

You watched Kageyama savouring your taste, his tongue lolling while sucking your pussy as he eyed you from below. It's such a pleasant view. "Oh- god", you let out a loud moan as you felt the tight knot in your lower core crashing. "T-tobio, please. Please make me cum" you pleaded. Your grip on his hair loosened as you tried to grind your pussy against his face. "Please, please, please", you writhed.

Kageyama watched your chest rose up and down, indicating your orgasm was near. He would never let you come on the first try. He moved his face away from your pussy, and he harshly took your chin in his hand. "Turn around for me, slut. I am far from being done with you," he gritted through his teeth. You obeyed his order and turned around to get on all fours for him.

He gave your ass a powerful spank that left a red handprint on your ass cheek. You winced in pain as your body jolted forward due to the powerful impact. Kageyama used two of his fingers to collect your wet juices. The squelch noise made you wanted to hide your face in embarrassment. He collected your wet juices on his fingers before inserting them down your throat. "Suck your juice, baby. Taste how fucking good you are."

You sucked on his slender fingers until they are clean. Kageyama scoffed before he rubbed on your clit in a circular motion. Your body wriggled even though his strong hands kept you to stay still. He got annoyed at how you couldn't stay still for him, and you earned another spank from him. "Can't you fucking stay still for once?" he jeered.

"I can't", you replied while struggling to catch another breath. "Feels too g-good", you whimpered as your hands clutching on the couch.

Kageyama turned your whole body over without even letting you come. You felt empty when he removed his fingers from your aching cunt. "N-no," you murmured under your breath. Not a second after, Kageyama hovered on top of you. He grabbed you by the waist and carried you to your shared bedroom without saying anything.

The door to your bedroom was pushed from outside by Kageyama. He then threw you on the bed. You felt the bed dipped with his weight when he hovered on top of you while taking off the white tee he was wearing. He extended his arms on either side of your body and inched his face closer to yours. His eyes scanning your naked body being displayed underneath him.

You could feel your face turning warmer as adrenaline coursed through your veins. Your eyes trailing your boyfriend's movements in silence. Kageyama then rubbed his palms against the inner of your thighs once again. His fingers collecting your dripping wet juices before licking them clean off of his slender fingers. You shut your eyes closed as your fingers clutching onto the bedsheet.

Kageyama spread your legs wider so he could bury his face in between your legs. He glanced over you from below and saw how you were whimpering quietly made him wanted to give you more than you deserved tonight. The tip of his tongue rolling on your slick folds. He felt your body moved, but he held your thighs wide open to prevent you from moving. Kageyama sucked on your juices, alternately licking your folds and using his fingers to pleasure you.

When you felt his thumb reaching for your clit and started to rub slow circles on it, you let out another sinful moan. Your back arched lewdly against the soft mattress. Your knuckles had turned white from clutching onto the bedsheet. "Tobio," you mumbled quietly. Drools forming on the corner of your lips, and your mouth felt dry. "Please", you begged.

"Please what, baby? Say your words" he made a snarky remark.

"Please fuck me already," you spat out in frustration. You then realised what you said may have sounded differently to Kageyama. You heard he clicked his tongue before he flipped your body over. Your face now buried in the soft mattress below you. Kageyama pulled your legs towards him. He gave your naked ass a harsh slap before pulling your hair. He leaned closer to your ears, "Then beg."

You shut your eyes closed as your breath hitched. "Please, Tobio. I want your cock inside me," you pleaded. Your hair was still pulled by his hand. He let go of your hair. Kageyama placed his hand on your waist. And with a sharp thrust, he slid his cock inside of your pussy. You gasped when you felt the stretch burnt. Kageyama's breath became staggered when he felt your tight walls clamped around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath when your pussy swallowed his cock all the way to the shaft. "Your pussy is taking my cock well," he snickered. He gave your cheek another powerful smack before he thrust into you harshly. His hips slammed onto yours. The grips on your waists were hurting you a little. But the pain did not matter at the moment as you wanted to cum on your boyfriend's cock so badly.

You let out a deep moan with your head being buried in the bedsheet. Kageyama pinned your head down as he relentlessly fucking your pussy. He slightly threw his head back when he felt so close to coming inside you. He had to hold himself back from coming too fast. Kageyama grunted softly as he pulled your hair back. He pulled your chin closer to give you open-mouthed kisses, while his hand grabbing your hair. Your tongues twirled around each other as both of you moaned into each other's mouths.

He broke the kiss and pinned your head down on the mattress again—both of his hands grabbing on your waists as his hips slamming onto yours harder than before. You felt the familiar coil forming in your stomach. "Tobio," your pleas were muffled against the bedsheet. Kageyama then brought pulled your hair again and made you faced the headboard while he's rearranging your guts.

Moans and pleas came out of your pretty little mouth. Drools in the corner of your lips as your jaw was left wide open the entire time. You sniffled back your tears, "Please, please, I'm coming, Tobio!"

Kageyama let out a deep groan as he felt your walls clenched around his cock. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix — your orgasm approaching closer as he continued fucking your sloppy pussy. He heard you let out a shriek as he gave the final thrust before your orgasm washed all over you. Your face planted on the mattress as you tried to regain your breath. Kageyama then came right after you — spilling his cum inside of you.

He collapsed beside you. Kageyama brought your body closer to his and gave you kisses on your forehead. There was a comfortable silence in your shared bedroom for a moment. "I know you can do it for me once again. Come on, baby," he said.

You got on top of him and locked eyes with him for a second. Kageyama then bucked his hips for you to slide his cock inside of your dripping pussy. Your mouth slightly parted when his cock stretching your walls once again. He let out a soft groan when your pussy swallowed him as a whole. His hands on your waist, carefully guiding you to ride his cock.

Kageyama eyed your beautiful face — your hair sticking on your forehead because of the sweats. Your pelvis moving on its own even though you were struggling to take his cock. Your boyfriend let out a chuckle when he saw you struggling. "Cute," he murmured under his breath. "A pathetic whore," he slipped out. You then got on your feet while crouching on top of him.

He watched your tits bouncing as you rode his cock. Your hands on his toned chest while riding his cock. When you felt the familiar knot forming in your lower core, you let out another moan as you threw your head back. The pleasure was different tonight. Kageyama removed the strands of hair that fell on your face. He groaned softly when he felt his cock twitched inside of you. Both of you were so near to coming for the second time tonight.

"Mmm, I'm coming" you bit your lower lip. Your pace became quicker while chasing your orgasm eagerly. "H-ahh... Tobio," you moaned your boyfriend's name for the nth times. Kageyama rolled his index and thumb around your perky nipples. You felt another tear dropped on your face while your high approaching faster. Whimpers and soft grunts filling your shared bedroom.

"Come for me, baby," Kageyama let out a deep groan. He threw his head back against the mattress when he felt so close. You nodded eagerly — your finger playing with your clit to stimulate your orgasm faster. Both of your legs were trembling, and when your orgasm crashed, you let out a deep moan before collapsing onto your boyfriend's body.

You felt cum dripping on your thighs. Laying on top of Kageyama, you breathed heavily to gain your composure back again. He caressed your head with so much care. "Do you want to do it again?" you heard him asked. You groaned slightly before facing him.

"What? Didn't I tell you I won't stop even if you are tired?" he raised his eyebrows at you.

Ah, of course, he remembers that. "Fine," he heard you said. Kageyama smirked before he got you off of him.

This time, he fucked you in missionary. Kageyama pulled your body closer to his while his right hand squeezing your throat. With a shaky breath, he glanced over to where his cock was drilling in and out of your sensitive pussy. The clear white string coating his cock and your pussy, eventually making a mess on the clean bedsheet.

Your hips bucked as you were struggling to keep your eyes open to look at your ethereal boyfriend. "Fuck, Tobio. It-it's too much," you mewled.

Kageyama could feel the strong grips from you. His hips slamming onto yours harder as he felt so close to coming once again tonight. The stretchy feels of your walls kept drawing him in — clouding his mind from any rational thoughts. He just wanted to fill your cunt full with his seeds.

The soft sound of your cries echoed together with the sound of his balls smacking your ass in your silent bedroom. You clawed on his toned biceps as you rolled your eyes back. "Tobio, right there!" you choked.

Your boyfriend let out a pleased hum. His left hand playing with your sensitive nipples before latching his lips on it. He gently nipped on your nipples and sucking on them with soft grunts coming out of his mouth.

Your chest rose heavier, and your moans became broken when you felt your climax approaching. "Please, Tobio," you cried.

Kageyama picked up his pace before folding your legs in half. His cock buried deeper in your pussy — the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again. He heard you mumbled incoherently while begging to come with his permission.

He thrust harder into you when you let out a sudden scream. "Fuck," you sniffled. Your mind was clouded with lust as you tried to recall what happened after coming down from your high.

Kageyama let out a deep groan when he painted your insides again. His cum trickling down your thighs before he pulled out his cock. "Hm, that was amazing," he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

You smiled when Kageyama peppered your face with soft kisses. "No, I'm not done yet," you heard him said.

How many times did you come tonight? You have lost count. The next thing you knew was, you had to get a day off from work the next day. You were limping for the entire day. Kageyama still took care of you, though.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama smut

[spacerocksarethebestrocks]

you left the bedroom window open and vox? 🥺👉👈 i hope i asked that right fhehxheh

YOU ASKED IT PERFECTLY OH GIBSLOVED

I WAS NICE WITH THIS ONE I PROMISE

Through The Bedroom Window

for this prompt list

read on AO3 or below the cut <3

Quinlan Vos is a man who has spent, in all honesty, an unusually large portion of his life climbing through windows. As such, he is well qualified to critique Fox's form as he tumbles through the bedroom window and onto the floor, scaring the shit out of him in the process.

What makes it all the more surprising is that Quinlan's window is well over halfway up the Temple walls. The Temple, with its sheer, steep and unforgiving sides. The Temple, supposedly the most secure building on Coruscant. With its ray shields, its Force traps, and the best trained, most dedicated Guard in all the Galaxy.

And yet, somehow, here Fox is. A faintly groaning pile underneath Quin’s window.

It’s a rookie mistake. As a connoisseur of breaking and entering, Quinlan knows that having a soft landing is important. Amateurs often focus on getting in through the window, and forget about what’s on the other side. Quin will forgive Fox his mistake however, because he’s here.

Quinlan has no idea how, but he’s here.

“You alright?” he asks as he places his datapad down on the bedside table. 

Fox groans in response. He’s moving though, so he’s probably not too badly injured.

“How did you get up here?” Quin asks, swinging his legs out of bed and crouching beside the crumpled pile that is his boyfriend. 

He’s in his armour, for crying out loud. He sticks out like a bright red thumb on the best of days, but climbing the Temple walls? How was he not shot down? There's a sniper's nest on top of the building, just for that exact purpose. 

Fox rolls onto his back and unseals his helmet. Beneath it, he’s sweaty. There's bags under his eyes and a small cut of his clean shaven chin. He, for some reason, is glaring at Quinlan.

“I can’t believe you got grounded,” Fox grouses, and Quinlan blinks.

“You’re an adult man, for fucks sake,” he continues, scowling. “It’s embarrassing.” 

He’s got a point, Quinlan supposes, but it doesn’t exactly answer his question.

“Fox,” he tries again, threading his fingers through the sweaty curls and tugging them away from Fox’s forehead, “how did you get in? You should’ve been shot.”

“I told Master Drallig I was coming,” Fox says, catching Quin’s fingers and brushing a kiss to the back of his knuckles. Quinlan blinks again.

“Why didn't you just come in the normal way?” he asks.

“Because,” Fox says fiercely, “if I saw that tiny green troll, I would have punted him off the Temple steps. Fucking asshole.”

Quin smiles softly, warmth flooding his chest. Fox calls Quinlan ridiculous. Quinlan thinks it takes one to know one. Of course Fox climbed the side of the temple, fuelled by nothing more than spite, just to see Quinlan. Of course he did.

And of course, Cin let him. If that’s not a secret sign of approval from his sort of step dad, Quin doesn't know what is.

He goes back to teasing Fox’s curls away from his forehead. Fox’s eyes flutter closed and he breathes out, relaxing into the floor.

“I disobeyed the Senate, and the Council,” Quinlan murmurs, “there were always going to be repercussions, babe.”

“Skywalker does that every day of the week,” Fox scowls, “I don’t see him getting put on lockdown.”

“Skywalker doesn’t surrender Republic Assets to the Separatists,” Quin reminds him sadly.

“No,” Fox says, his face going hard, “he just gets people killed.”

Quin swallows, pulling away. Fox catches his hand before he can, pressing a kiss to Quin’s bare palm. There’s nothing but love and pride in his touch, and tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m serious Quin,” Fox says softly, lips brushing Quinlans palm as he speaks, “What you did saved lives. You made the right decision.” He presses another kiss to Quin’s palm, his gloves rough on the back of his hand. “And I know Master Windu agrees with me.”

“You do?” Quin asks quietly. “How?”

Fox grins then, wide and bright and beautiful. 

“Who do you think told me which window was yours?” he says, and Quinlan laughs.

He wipes away the tears that spill over his cheeks. Mace’s approval has always meant a lot to him. Another Jedi who struggles with the darkness inside, he’s always been a mentor to Quinlan. He’s always understood Quinlan, understood his struggles, with a depth that even Tholme can’t match. Quin’s never quite managed to find the balance within him that Mace has, but Mace has never made him feel ashamed for that.

Fox rolls onto his front and pushes himself up, pulling Quinlan with him. He expects Fox to begin taking off his armour, but instead he slides his hands around Quin’s backside and lifts. Quinlan lets out a horribly undignified squeak, his hands latching onto Fox’s pauldrons for balance as he’s carried the few paces towards the bed. As soon as he’s lifted he’s being dropped again. He bounces on the mattress, coming to a rest on his elbows.

Again, he’s expecting for Fox to stop taking his armour off, but instead he just drops to his knees between Quinlan’s spread legs.

The sight of him, fully armoured and looking up at Quinlan with such a burning heat of desire in his eyes, sends a thrill down his spine. All of a sudden, his skin prickles, goosebumps breaking out all over his arms. Fox presses a chaste kiss to his inner thigh, not once breaking eye contact with him, and Quin feels himself growing damp inside his boxers.

“You,” Fox rumbles, his voice deep and heated, “were brilliant, and brave. You’re a hero, and the Senate don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

Quin feels his cheeks grow warm. His breath catches in his chest as Fox’s fingers skirt around the waistband of his sleep pants, tugging them down. He still hasn't removed his gloves.

“And so, General Vos,” Fox continues as he eases Quinlan’s sleep pants down his thighs and over his bare feet, “I have decided you deserve a reward.”

He leans in and presses a kiss directly to Quin’s boxers, directly above where Quin is suddenly wet and aching for him. The heat of his mouth is searing hot through the damp fabric. 

“Is that so?” Quin says. He manages to sound casual, unaffected by the way Fox is caressing his thighs, pressing kisses to the very core of him. The way he lifts his hips when Fox begins to remove his boxers is decidedly less so.

Fox doesn't tease him for it however. He just hums, brushing kisses to Quinlan’s thighs as he eases down Quin’s boxers. He presses his face into the coarse hair that cover’s Quin’s thighs and hums in satisfaction.

“It is indeed,” he says. He rests his face on Quinlan’s knee, not breaking eye contact as he tosses the discarded clothes aside. 

Quin swallows.

“Well then,” he says, slinging the leg Fox isn’t resting on over his shoulder, “You better get to it, Commander Fox.”

Fox grins, and then he gets to it.

#vox #commander fox #quinlan vos #commander fox x quinlan vos #nsft #trans quinlan vos #my writing

[bangtanpromptsfics]

moonflower.

dialogue prompt #6: “It's 3 o'clock in the morning”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationships, fluff

word count: 1,550

warnings: making out

summary: a 3am walk in the city with your boyfriend

a/n: got this inspiration from an instagram reel and I wanted to transfer that entire feel into this one shot. hope you guys enjoyy and please drop feedbacks it really boosts motivation!! p.s as soon as I completed this, butter official teaser was released SOOOO EXCITED!!!

masterlist

“It's 3 o'clock in the morning”, you take a breath in and resume kissing him, hands tangling in the locks at his nape.

“I know”, he rasps, pulling back to bring your foreheads together, taking a moment to immerse the image of your swollen lips and cold skin of your face “It'll be fun baby”.

You don't know who exactly started kissing. Jungkook came back from his night shift not long ago and he expected you to be asleep. But he was beyond happy to catch you peacefully listening to music and waiting for him, paying attention to arbitrary details of the city still alive below. What began as a welcome kiss soon turned into a brief makeout-session, the first press of his lips against yours truly reminding how much you missed Jungkook throughout the day.

And during small breaks of catching each other's breath, he suggested for a night walk, much like a date since he had been too busy this week.

“Okay”, you huff, still feeling your chest squeezing together to get the normal breathing rate. A smile tugs at his lips and with one final smooch he leaves you to change your clothes into something safe enough for walking through the cold night.

Maybe it's because you had been with Jungkook for so long that you basically adapted a lot of his fashion sense and little habits. When you step out of your small shared apartment, you both look like members of a punk band, all black and leather.

Jungkook smiles down at you, remembering how much you have changed, it felt like you grew bored of colors as well, much of your aesthetics going monochrome at this point. There was a time Jungkook even went worried about it, thinking you were somehow adjusting to him. But you reassured him that he was all the color in your life you needed.

Jungkook interlocks fingers with you, squeezing palms together as he leads the way down stairs.

“Where are we going exactly?”, you ask, an obvious curiosity he hasn't clarified yet.

“I don't know really. We'll figure that out”.

He always had a way with words which made you warm and curious at the same time. You just smile in return and wrap your hands around his leather clad arms and walk along.

You liked this. Dates with no particular destination to be in. Just strolling till your legs are tired, eating street food, getting coffee together or studying at the public library because your apartment is located at a not so silent heart of the city.

And you liked Jungkook very much too. It sometimes feels like lopsided that it demands to overflow from underneath your skin, and sometimes when you are making love to him or cuddling his head close to your chest, you believe he feels it too.

It hits you all of a sudden that you never shared those three words. Never ever uttered them in this two years of relationship and you question them now. Totally random of a realisation just like the day you woke up in a cold sweat accepting to self that you have to confess to Jungkook.

The first place you stop by is a heavily packed food truck selling korean food. It's a usually visited one so Jungkook ask for the customary meal, fire noodles. His favorite of street foods not because there wasn't anything better, he just adored your blush flushed face when you are done.

“Babe?”, he tears open the ketchup and squeezes the content with his chopsticks while watching you, “you good?”.

Apparently you had spaced out, still fueling on the thread of thoughts from earlier. You ground yourself to the present in a jolt, “I'm alright”. You give him a nervous smile.

Jungkook pulls his chair close to yours so that your arms and knees are touching, your skin growing hot despite not touching your noodles yet.

“What are you thinking about hm?”, he demands to know, but not intimidating you more than the point. He busies his hands mixing the ketchup into your noodles instead.

“I love you Jungkook”, you blurt, eyes planted on a random spot on the ground waiting for an outcome.

“And you realized that now baby?”, he chuckles, watching you all shy. He places his noodles from his lap to the table in front to fully face your direction.

“I love you too baby, so much. And I've said that so many times before, when you are sleeping, or when you were not listening. I think I was not as brave as you”, he confesses.

Your chest swells in warmth knowing he had always told you this. You peck his nose and dig into the food, finally able to feel the hunger settling down.

Content with the late night meal, you begin to stroll again after Jungkook laughs and cups your flushed red face. You always hated spicy food as a child but then this is another one of those quirks you caught up being Jungkook’s girlfriend.

“Where do you wanna go baby”, he asks, feeling lost of a trajectory for the date and now you are equally lost too, dwelled in the fact that he will lead the night.

“I don't know”, you state and at the sight of a specific place you continue, “wanna get some drinks?”.

Jungkook immediately giggles, “We both know you lose your mind over half a glass of rum love”.

You knit your brows together for a pout, “Well then you can carry me back home can't you? That would be romantic”, you press yourself to him for no apparent reason.

“Carry you all the way home?”, he muses, holding your whining head softly on his palms while pecking your forehead.

“C’mon Koo then why do you workout for three hours all day? Make some use of your muscle”

“Oh I make plenty use of these muscles and you know it”, he teases back and you smack his arms in response.

After a few very cliche comebacks you both agree to drink the night away. Good thing that Jungkook had a good tolerance to alcohol among you two. Carrying his drunk body single handedly for a smaller human like you would be a tedious task. The math was correct here, and so you start slurping your glass of whatever cheap whiskey they had.

You were enjoying all of this, truly to the core and to the point that you swore there is nothing better to life than this. But Jungkook always felt otherwise.

You see, you are not a rich couple. Just normal millenials who go to college supported with scholarships and debts to pay, several part time jobs and a very low key life where you prioritise your expenses and plan finance together. A couple who has not went on classy restaurant dates in glittery tight fitting dress, or even a sundress and expensive suits. He always wonders about the things that could make you happier and maybe one day he can afford that Italian restaurant you once said is really nice because your sister was proposed by her husband there. You'll look so beautiful in a dress and he can't wait to allure on that.

“Koo?”, you slur, already feeling consciousness leaving your body, “What are you thinking about now hmm?”

He smiles faintly at you swirling his drink and bringing it to his lips to think upon the answer a bit.

“Nothing babe. You look so beautiful right now”, he says.

And immediately you search for a reflecting surface to check yourself out, and that's because you're drunk. Your more sober self usually ends up processing a lot of butterflies at the pit of your tummy.

“I am!?”, you beam, finally able to see a very blurred something of your bummed out face with hair falling over and maybe there's even a little dried drool at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah”, he giggles, scooping you up in his arms for a tight hug, “Let's get home shall we?”

“Carry me pwese”

“C’mon love”, he helps you climb on his back for a piggyback ride, “I'll carry you”.

You tug your limbs a little tighter around Jungkook, he pats under your thigh to loosen up so he can walk. He listens to random mumbles you are whispering to him and he smiles occasionally, carefully paying attention to everything.

“I love you so much sometimes I don't know what to do with myself”, you say and Jungkook stops dead in his track to process the words a bit.

His skin turns red which you can't see and probably you wouldn't mutter such things on your sobering. And he is glad. Glad to know that you are content with what it is. His mind stirs around, his own set of booze blazing the thought further.

“Why did you stop Koo? You tired? Should I carry you?”

“You love me that much?”, he asks, completely dodging your questions.

“Yes. So much”, you kiss his cheeks, pressing down harder then usual to prove your point.

He is convinced you are the one who has a way with the words. You say things which brings him to his knees and you remain so oblivious to it.

“Let's get you home”, he states through a smile.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts ff #bts jungkook #fan fiction #jungkook scenarios #fluff prompts #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jjk x oc #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jungkook imagine #writing prompt #romance prompts #jungkook fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #bts x oc #bts x y/n

[dothwrites]

15.18 coda--the best of things

The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

---

There’s something. 

This is significant because, for as long as Castiel can remember, there’s been nothing. 

The Empty alternates between shoving him forcefully into sleep and yanking him out of it, just so he can experience the full horrors of wakefulness. He wanders and doesn’t know if he’s walking, screams and listens as his cries are swallowed by the darkness. He pulls at his hair just to feel, but even that bright pain is muted. 

I want you to suffer, the Empty had warned, and so far, it’s lived up to its promise. No, he doesn’t regret anything, he’d make the same decisions time and again, as long as they led him here, but he can’t deny that he is suffering. 

It would be better if he could somehow quench the little gutter of light and warmth that still resounds in his chest, but he can never quite manage to do so. Somehow, it still beats, giving him purpose, allowing him to set his compass by its enduring beat. 

And somehow, impossibly, there’s finally something for it to latch onto. 

Castiel walks forward, feeling the sensation of movement for the first time since he can’t remember when. His steps quicken as he runs towards the something, towards something that he almost forgot. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how many centuries have passed. Time ceased to have meaning a long time ago, and in between bouts of sleeping and waking, Castiel forgot the knack of telling it. Now, he remembers, along with other long forgotten concepts such as fatigue and hope. 

His long neglected heart beats then, violently, with enough force to send him staggering. Castiel runs faster. 

If he were human, if this were earth, then the breath would be tearing out of his lungs. As it is, he feels a ripping in his chest, like he’s shredding apart from the inside out. He feels like a piece of paper torn in half, and he doesn’t know how much of him will be left by the end, but he continues to sprint forward. 

There’s something up ahead. 

A faint golden glimmer, a thread of hope so slender that if he thinks about it too long then he’ll shatter. It twists and turns in front of him, so far in the distance as to almost be a mirage. 

But for once, there is distance. 

Castiel forces his legs to keep moving, even as the pain claws through his chest, ripping into his very essence. Every step brings him the worst pain he’s ever known, but he doesn’t dare to stop. He keeps his eyes fixed on the golden line, now guttering as though it’s struggling to survive. With every step, memories flood back to him. 

The scent of coffee in the mornings when he would start a fresh pot before Dean and Sam awoke. 

The smell of leather and gasoline as he sat in Baby’s backseat. 

The feel of blood and grit underneath his fingernails. 

The salt and butter molecules of popcorn exploding across his tongue as he watches yet another inane movie starring a young Harrison Ford. 

The clear sound of Charlie Bradbury’s laughter. 

The whiff of sulfur that followed Meg, the crisp ozone of Hannah, the tang of what he was informed was an ‘84 and not 19, you have no taste, Cassie, by Balthazar. 

The rough flannel of Bobby Singer’s shirt. 

The whisper of Eileen’s fingers moving through 

The fragile strength of Jack, warm through his jacket as Castiel hugged him for the last time. 

The warmth of Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders, the steadiness of him, the unwavering loyalty, the brightness of his smile and joy of his friendship. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Breath finally tears out of him as he sprints, pushing legs which refuse to move faster to fly. The golden tear glows in front of him, the only bright thing in an eternity of nothing. He has to reach it. He has to. 

A scream rips out of his chest as he stumbles his way forward. By now the pain is almost overwhelming, obliterating everything else except the most basic desire for survival, but he can’t give up, he can’t, he can’t--

Even in Hell, Dean’s soul glowed like a beacon, even when he lost hope he was still the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. The smoke and whiskey smell of him, the strength and gentleness of his hands, the rumble of his laugh, the rasp and growl of his voice, the careful way he handled delicate things, the light in his eyes as he would look at Sam and Jack, the sheer love he’d seen shining out of his soul--

With a desperate cry, Castiel launches himself forward, straining towards the beautiful golden tear. 

His hand goes through the rip in the world and for a second, there’s nothing, nothing, nothing--

Strong fingers grab his wrist and pull. 

It feels like being tugged through quicksand, the Empty finally realizing that something is wrong and seizing onto him. Darkness covers him, and Castiel can’t see anything, can’t scream, can’t hear. All he knows is the strength of the grip around his hand, the fierce flare of hope in his chest even amidst the ripping pain. 

No, he thinks, with all the force left to him, no, I want--

Something finally bursts in his chest, and he thinks he screams, though he doesn’t hear any sound leave his mouth. Instead, he’s pulled, shredded, torn apart, eviscerated, and then, and then--

There’s light and sound and sensation and touch and smell and taste and a thousand different things like gravity and mass and body and Castiel can only gasp, helpless as a newborn as his sightless eyes blink through all the light. 

He’s shivering, cold and aching, and he’s never felt this kind of pain before, but it’s glorious. He wouldn’t give up feeling like this for anything, the sunburst of agony flaring through his body as he tries to sort through his senses to try and understand where he is. 

Something warm and soft settles over his shoulders and it’s then that Castiel becomes aware of his body, down to his toes and fingers and the tip of his nose. Naked, he thinks, somewhat innocuously, that’s why i was cold. 

Then the larger realization comes, which is, if he was naked, that means that he has a body to be unclothed. 

With a final blink, sight returns, though it’s unreliable. Smears of color appear and disappear from his vision, too quickly for him to hope to make sense of them. Sound returns, in deep rumbles like he’s underwater. Stop, he tries to say, let me just wait a second, but his voice doesn’t seem to work. He opens his mouth and all that emerges is a pathetic sounding croak. 

Syllables garble above him and then something cool and hard is pressed to his mouth. Cold and wet explodes over his lips and tongue, and Castiel thinks Water. 

It’s never tasted this good before. 

He gulps greedily until the glass is taken from him. He whines, wanting more, but his wordless request is denied. Touch explodes over his cheeks, his neck, and shoulders, and Castiel struggles to make sense of it. He would like to rest in the comfort of those hands, but they’re gone before he can process their being there at all. 

The sound coalesces into a single word, and Cas blinks, stupefied. He knows that word. More importantly, he knows that voice. 

He tries to force his rusted voice to work, but only a low croak comes out. Frustrated, he licks his lips and tries again, putting all of his force into the word. 

“Dean?” 

Touch returns to his cheeks and this time, it stays. He blinks again, and the haze in front of his eyes clears, and he can finally see that face, familiar and beloved. 

“Dean?” he asks, sure that he must be dreaming, even though the Empty never allowed him to do so. Perhaps this is a hallucination, a cruel manifestation of his hopes, perhaps he’s still there, in all that nothing, and this is no more than a dream--

“Cas, stay with me,” Dean says, his voice urgent and worried. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” His voice breaks on the last repetition and warmth envelops Castiel. 

A hug. Dean is hugging him, somewhat fiercely, if the lack of air in his lungs is to be trusted. 

Castiel blinks, surprised. He’s never needed air before. Come to think of it, he’s never needed water either. 

He shifts underneath the blanket, careful not to dislodge Dean’s arms from around his body. His palm presses flat against his chest. Underneath it, he can feel his heart, beating steady and strong. 

“Human?” he asks, blinking in wonder. 

Dean’s arms release him, though they take a long time to do so, as though he’s regretful. “Yeah,” he says. Castiel’s eyes aren’t working well enough to pick out the intricacies of his facial expression, but he thinks he sees guilt in the depths of Dean’s eyes. 

“It was the only way to get you out. Sam found the spell and Jack powered it up, and I...” It’s then that Castiel comes aware that one of Dean’s hands is bleeding, is leaving smears of red across the blanket and the skin. “I did what I had to do, but there was a catch.” Dean’s breath hitches for a moment before he looks back at Castiel. “You see, we looked into it, and it turns out that the Empty only cares about angels and demons. Humans, it doesn’t have any power over. So in order to get you out--”

“Human,” Castiel repeats, his mind working through the problem. It’s an elegant solution in its simplicity. The ripping and tearing makes sense, as does the pain. 

Anna described tearing out her grace as the worst pain she’d ever felt, like digging a kidney out with a spoon. Castiel understands. His whole body aches with the memory, muscles screaming for rest, his stomach for sustenance, and his nerves for peace. He doesn’t want to sleep; there’s been too much of that. But he does want to rest. 

“Dean.” Castiel pauses to let the word sit on his tongue, to feel the weight of it. It feels as good as it ever did. 

“Yeah, Cas?” 

Castiel could get lost in Dean’s eyes. Have they always been that green? Have those crow’s feet always bracketed them, like lines on a map, proof of a life well lived? 

“Home?” Castiel finally asks, once he realizes that Dean is waiting for an answer. “Can we go home?” 

Dean’s face splits in a smile, kinder than the dawn and brighter than the sun. “Yeah,” he says, though he makes no effort to move. “Yeah, Cas, we can go home.” 

Castiel tilts his head, wondering why Dean doesn’t move. Instead, he looks like he’s working himself up towards something. His teeth bite at his lower lip, while his eyes dart to either side of Castiel, like they can’t bear to land on his face. An unwelcome spike of fear lances at Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean,” he begins, but a harsh movement stops him. 

“I gotta say this,” Dean says, his voice rough. “What you said, before you were...” He swallows before he finally looks at Cas, his eyes brimming over with tears. “I haven’t been able to sleep in a year because all I could think was that I never had a chance to say it back to you.”

Hope flares and bursts in Castiel’s heart. A happiness so bright it’s searing tears through him, and this time, he can feel it, he can feel it all, he can have it--

“I love you,” Dean says, his unbloodied hand resting on Castiel’s cheek. “I love everything about you, you stupid bastard, and don’t you ever, ever try and leave me again, don’t you ever, you’d better die after me because I’m going to stick with you until we’re old and gross and creaky and we’re going to have to figure out how to have old people sex with all my fake joints and--” 

“Sex?” Castiel’s brain might not be working fast enough to pick up on every word Dean says, but he’s aware enough for that. 

Dean blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. “Yeah. I mean. If you wanted. And if you didn’t want, that’s fine, because i know you said once that angels didn’t--”

“I’d very much like to have sex with you,” Castiel interrupts, because even in his state, he can see when Dean is trying to work himself into a hole. “But not right now.” Exhaustion hits him like a wave, dragging him under and only reluctantly giving him up. He looks up at Dean, finally allowing himself to be weak, allowing Dean to step in and take care of him. “Home?” he repeats, wanting nothing more than to sink into Dean’s bed and rest. 

“Yeah, Cas. Let’s go home.” Dean shifts, but doesn’t move, and Castiel is just about to complain about the lack of progress on the home front when Dean leans forward. His eyes are determined, his lips slightly parted, his hand trembling where it rests on Castiel’s cheek. Fireworks and galaxies explode in Castiel when he realizes Dean’s intentions. 

He’s lived through several ice ages, through meteors and wars, through life and death and rebirth. He’s seen the formation of planets and constellations, seen entire solar systems collapse into themselves only to birth a new sun. 

But he’s never seen or felt anything as wondrous as the first touch of Dean’s lips on his. 

The kiss is soft, barely pressure, but it feels like everything. It feels like a promise and a wish. It feels like a homecoming. 

It feels like a beginning. 

---

Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.― Stephen King

A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it's the most painful thing you'll ever have to do and that you've ever done. But what's yours is yours. Whether it’s up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it'll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won't have to put it back in the sky again.― C. JoyBell C.

#spn spoilers #spn15 #spn season 15 #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #deancas fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #coda fic #15.18 coda #15x18 coda #fare thee well spn #no angst here only sweet sweet fluff #dothwrites #remember this morning when i said i was going to take a vacation #yeah i fucking lied

[lordkambe]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do more nsfw for hisoka as I do be a hoe for that clown 😌💅🏻✨ love your writing!

🃏   character, fandom, type of reader: hisoka morrow, hunterxhunter, woman reader.

🃏   genre, rating: nsfw, 18+ only.

🃏   themes, triggers: explicit dirty talk, explicit descriptions, slight humiliation and degradation, oral ( m receiving ), choking, dominant themes, description of ahegao, hisoka tying you up with his bungee gum. 

🃏   author’s note: did you know bungee gum has the properties of both rubber and gum ? anyways ⭕💢⭕💢 this is very filthy, i didn’t know that was possible considering my sebastian drabble is also very intense. but yeah... please don’t read it around other people. i hope you enjoy !

the heaven’s area was overflowing with participants and viewers as expected given that hisoka was the headliner for tonight’s match. the magician had invited you to sit in the audience but you decided to stay in the suite and give him something to return to. failing to watch the match on television you decided to keep yourself company with a night of pampering. you’d brought along your luggage as you expected to stay there for a few nights. opening the luggage you rummaged through the sets of spare clothing and dug deep within to retrieve your dust bag. the dust bag held a new set of lingerie that hisoka had yet to tear off your body. it was a brand new set you’d purchased while in yorknew city; you’d made sure to go alone it was meant to be a surprise for hisoka. or a reward for his win tonight.

the lace set was a deep shade of crimson red. with the bow right between your cleavage the main character of the piece was the matching choker that attached to the bralette. the cosmetics on your complexion were kept simple except for a glossed lip and a heavy application of mascara; he enjoyed the glossy lips around his --- and how your mascara ran when you choked on his --- . all that was left was to wait for his arrival; surely it wouldn’t take more than an an hour --- maybe two. nobody had ever lasted longer than that. as you waited you covered your figure in a silk robe that fell down to your ankles. it concealed your treat for him entirely making his present that much more of a surprise.

waiting for his arrival was much more gruesome than you had anticipated it to be. you waited for him eagerly and while you did the images of your past rendezvous occupied your consciousnesses. how his hands grabbed you, how his lips left marks in the naughtiest of places, and how great his fingers felt when they touched where you needed him most. almost lost in a trance you hadn’t heard him open the door. sitting on the couch you looked over your shoulder and watched him enter. with nothing more than a scar on his cheek, he was unharmed.

“easy win.” you noted.

hisoka chuckled. “easiest.”

he approached you for a hug but you dismissed him.

“no, shower first.”  

hisoka pouted and took a step closer. you dismissed him once more and he dragged his heeled shoes into the bathroom. once you heard the water run, you made your way into the master bedroom. you undid your robe just enough to expose the top of your cleavage and when you sat upright on the bed your legs were exposed. the sound of the water running had come to a stop. hisoka exited the bathroom and a wind of steam swept out of the door. you were then greeted by hisoka’s masculine figure. his towering height consumed the door frame and his toned muscles were still slightly damp from his shower only seconds ago. he ran a towel through his hair and threw it elsewhere. meanwhile a towel was still wrapped around his hips. it hung low enough for you to see the v that led to what was hidden underneath the towel.

he looked at you laying on the bed and licked his lips.

“ah, a present for me?”

“only if you’re a good boy.”

hisoka approached you with lust filled eyes. the dominant role in the bedroom was shared between you two but it was always obvious what role hisoka wanted to play. given that the adrenaline was still fresh in his veins from his fight, he surely wasn’t in the submissive mood. noticing the look in his eye and the power in his step, you closed your legs. he was going to be the one in control, not you.

“y/n.” he started. his voice was deep, gruff. you swallowed the lump in your throat in an attempt to hide your eagerness. you wanted him.

“merely seconds ago you were speaking to me with such disrespect.”

he grabbed one of your legs. just from that touch a bolt of adrenaline shot through your veins.

“now you’re acting shy?” he grabbed your leg and tore it from the other. “why is a slut like you acting so shy?” he clicked his tongue.

his eyes were exploring your body but with the pull of your leg he was able to see the thin lace that covered your petals. hisoka let go of your leg and stood straight. his eyes looked down at you on the bed.

“take off your robe.”

your hands came up to the ribbon that held your robe together. you undid the neat bow and opened it entirely. you revealed the new set to hisoka. you could see the outline of his length on the towel he wore.

“do you like it?” you asked him innocently.

with the tip of his sharp fingernail he ran it up your abdomen. hisoka trailed it all the way up between your breast then up to the collar you wore. the feeling of his fingertip running up your body sent a shiver down your spine.

“i adore it.”

he hooked his finger underneath the collar and used it to drag you up from the bed you laid upon. as he did you heard the threads of the collar pull apart. only holding your neck for just a moment, hisoka grabbed your cheeks and held them firmly.

“should i reward you... or should i punish you?”

“punish me!?” you managed to choke out. he held your cheeks tighter preventing you from speaking.

“yes. punish you. for acting like such a whore. and because of your talk-back, i guess i will settle for punishing you.”

hisoka let go of your cheeks and removed his robe. his cock was already hard, throbbing at the sight of you. the tip of his head was red and glistening with precum. you looked at his impressive length, how big it was for you, how it felt so good inside you.

“on your knees, y/n. put my cock in your mouth and suck me off like a good girl, okay?”

within seconds you were on your knees. reached your hands up to touch his length but hisoka was quick to slap them away.

“no, just your mouth --- put your hands behind your back.”

you did as instructed and with a just the tip of hisoka’s finger he conjured his bungee gum. the material tied around your wrists ensuring that your hands remained behind your back.

“just in case.” he said with a wink.

before you could say anything in response, hisoka placed his cock inside your mouth. not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length, your jaw unhinged. a pool of saliva began to form on the underside of his cock and dripped to the floor. the sight of made hisoka’s cock twitch in your mouth. he thrusted his hips forward the saltiness of his precum had coated the back of your mouth.

“are you going to make me do all of the work?” he asked between a thrust. “i told you to suck me off, cocksleeve.”

with tears building up in the rim of your eyes you hollowed your cheeks and began to bob your head in a rhythmic pattern. a sound of wet sloshing and gagging filled up the bedroom, music to hisoka’s ears.

“such a good girl.” he praised you.

before you could strengthen your speed hisoka had undid his bungee gum and took a step backward; just far enough for the tip of his cock to rest on your lips.

“crawl towards me. beg for my cock in your mouth. you dirty fucking whore.”

catching a breath in your lungs you nearly whimpered. “h-hisoka please.” you crawled closer to his cock. but before you could place it into your mouth once more he took another step backward, then another. the wall behind you stopped him. he successfully made you crawl across the room drooling for his throbbing, red cock.

he laughed at the sight of you on the floor. hisoka clicked his tongue.

“my, my. if only everyone could see you. so hungry for my cock. tell me how badly you want it.” as he spoke he held his cock firmly in his hands. he stroked his cock in his hands with his eyes on you the entire time.

you sat on your knees and looked up at him. your mascara had run down your cheeks and your mouth was wet from your own saliva and his cum. you licked your lips, tasting his juices on you.

“hisoka --- ”

he just adored it when you said his name. it outweighed any title you gave him. daddy, sir, master --- nothing compared to when you said his name. he threw his head back the speed of his stroking quickened. he began to moan and it upset you knowing that you weren’t the one causing him to do it. quickly you finished your sentence,

“i want your cock. i want your throbbing hard cock --- please.”

“and where do you want it, my love?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“anywhere!” you cried out. “please. i’m so wet for you hisoka. i need you.”

“stand up.”

with your legs shaking somehow stood up in front of him. you held your thighs tightly together in order to feel some release of pleasure in your petals. hisoka let go of his cock and showed you his palm that was wet with his juices.

“clean it up.”

you held his wrist and dragged your tongue up his palm and licked through his fingertips moaning while doing so. hisoka whimpered at the lewd sight, completely transfixed by how easily you were following his command. he was mumbling praises mixed with curses. he was just as eager as you therefore you knew the prize you were waiting for was close ahead.

you cleaned his hand dry hisoka grabbed a hold of your waist and spun you around to press against the wall instead. finally, he kissed you. the open mouth kiss had the two of you wrestling your tongues. beads of saliva were falling down your lips and his own. you had opened your legs enough to feel his cock against your clothed clit. you brought your hand down to grasp your fingers around his length. hisoka was quick to remove your hand.

“you were being so good. being so obedient. i didn’t give you permission to touch my cock.”

“i’m --- i’m sorry.” you cried out. your mouth was only inches from his. eager for another kiss he prevented you from placing another.

“put your hands over your head.”

he tied your hands with bungee gum almost immediately. your body was completely at his disposable. he could leave you or he could fuck you and you weren’t sure which he was going to choose. your legs were shaking as your clit was so eager to be touched.

hisoka kissed you, “be a good girl.” you nodded your head.

his kisses trailed down and his hands began to unfasten the choker and bra it was connected to. your nipples were hardened from the intense pleasure you were experiencing. he took one nub into his mouth and the other between his fingers. his other hand was hovering over your clothed clit. he pressed his palm flat down on your clothed pussy.

“i don’t even need to take it off to know who wet you are.”

he greeted you with yet another kiss. was he going to make you beg again? unable to make out a word you hoped he wouldn’t. you hoped he would press his cock firmly inside you. without any bound or restraint.

hisoka had torn the fabric of your panties and threw it behind him. with his knee he spread your legs. he brought his kneecap up to brush against your clit. the fleeting touch caused you to shiver.

“what should i do with you?”

he asked grazing his kneecap against your clit once more. he was teasing you so painfully and you were too warped up in your own pleasure you couldn’t even stutter out a word. thankfully hisoka didn’t take too long with his teasing, he was just as eager as you --- remember ?

he took one of your legs and held it high enough for your pussy to be fully exposed to him. he brushed the tip of his cock against your folds and you cried out his name.

“hisoka! please. oh my god ---please!”

“yes. i know.” he said in a teasing voice.

and with that he pressed his cock inside of you. your hands that were tied above you formed into small fists and such a lewd sound left your lips, you were shocked that you carried a sound like that within your chest.

“you’re so wet you welcomed me in --- but not all the way.” holding your leg slightly higher hisoka now had his cock fully within you. with a full feeling in your stomach, you felt the tip of his cock hit your g-spot. an audible gasp following by a choking noise left your lips.

“so cute!” he praised. you were a mumbling moaning mess, unable to respond to his praises let alone decipher his words. you were in a blinding state of euphoria. so much so that your eyes rolled in the back of your head and your tongue stuck out at him. hisoka moaned loudly at the sight. his lewd noises only made you clench around his cock.

he was thrusting at an intense speed. with one hand balancing your leg up the other was sloppily rubbing your clit. his movements were jagged, rough. he was close to his peak and you weren’t too far behind. hisoka was done with his restless teasing and was dedicated on helping you reach your peak while he was reaching his own.

“should i cum in that dirty little pussy? or on that pretty little face?” hisoka was asking you a question but you could barely answer. he giggled between a moan and thrust. “oh y/n --- oh fuck y/n, you’re so cute.” he was moaning heavily and his thrusts were moving at an erratic pace.

never the type to tell you when he was cumming, he released inside you without warning. his thick cum was spurting out from your pussy and mixing with your own juices. the throbbing feeling of his release was enough for you to finally reach your own peak. you threw your head back and it hit harshly against the wall behind you. the pain flew past you, you were too busy experiencing the orgasm tearing through your stomach and up your veins. your closed eyes began to twitch and your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

without your knowledge hisoka undid his bungee gum. he let go of your leg and caught your weak figure in his arms. with the feeling of his cock still inside you, you whined a bit when he removed himself. with your head heavy on his chest, hisoka lifted you up from the floor. your legs wrapped around his hips as he carried you back onto the bed.

he laid you flat on the sheets he laid right beside you. his hand reached forward to move the strands of sweat-stuck hair on your forehead. eventually that same hand ran down lower. he touched your pussy that was still dripping the remnants of his cum.

he connected your lips with his. this time the kisses were softer; filled with thank yous and love.

“we made a mess.”

he moved his figure to hover above yours. your head followed his movement.

“should i start to clean it up?”

through half lidded eyes, you nodded eagerly --- waiting for your night of pleasure to unfold.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka smut #hisoka x y/n #hxh hisoka #hxh smut #hxh imagines #nsfw. #hm. #tm. #Anonymous

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: Some months after the breakup you show up at Tom’s doorstep.  

Word count: 3k.

Warnings: A very messy relationship. Mentions of alcohol and drugs. Bit angsty but turns out alright. SMUT. Unprotected sex. +18

Inspiration: blink twice – joy oladokun  

We’ve been coming undone We broke the last thread Learning to pick my battles Or I’ll be the only one left

I only know you’re home when the door speaks  

Blink twice if you still love me

I’ll never know unless you tell me  

Did you ever really love me?

*

“‘ello?”

He doesn’t look at the caller ID as he answers. With his voice hoarse and eyes closed he presses the phone to his ear. Laying back against the soft pillows again he’s already one foot back in a dream where everything turns out alright at the end.  

“Tom”

His entire body freezes. Swiftly opening his eyes he’s at once fully aware of his surroundings (the large bed, the gentle but persistent sound of rain against the windows; the complete darkness outside revealing the lateness of the call) and perhaps even more painstakingly aware of his own body (the sudden tightness in his chest, skin unnervingly warm and prickly; heart beating like it’s trying to escape his chest).  

“Tommy, are you there?”

Your voice is so soft in his ear, gentle even, albeit slurred at the edges. It is as if you’re somehow unaware of the effect you have on him, the pain you cause. 

“What do you want?” He asks, and where your voice is like warm smoke his is hardened ice.  

Silence for several heartbeats then,

“Can you open the door, honey".

He wonders if you use the old familiar endearment deliberately to hurt him, or if the old pet name falls off your lips by old habit. 

“It’s raining Tommy, I don’t have a coat. Please open up”.

*

And so,

you’re on the floor in the man you love’s apartment. He hands you a glass of water, even though you asked for vodka, and he instructs you to drink up. He won’t look at you and you swallow down the water but the guilt stays stuck in your throat. You wonder what he feels for you in this precise moment, what it is that makes him turn away from you; as if looking at you hurts. If it is hate or love. 

Or maybe just lust.

You’re on the floor in your ex boyfriend’s apartment, and even you know you shouldn’t be here.  

He sits down in his armchair, leans back with his legs spread, and avoids your eyes; choosing instead to look at the ground in front of him. You know, because despite all that has happened between you two, you know him. You know that he’s trying to look relaxed, to hide his anxieties with an actor's expertise.

It’s raining, the sound of the raindrops crashing against the window loud like the beating of a drum, yet it’s somehow managing to make the silence between you two feel even more deafening. The only light between you two is a small side lamp by the TV, leaving most of the room in darkness.  

“So” you say in the end, and in contrast to him you divert your eyes, but look straight at him instead with uncompromising focus. “How have you been, honey?”

He sighs, and still looking down at the floor he drags a hand over his shaved head. “Fucking fantastic” he mutters.

"Wonderful” you say, and you don’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, honestly you don’t. Don’t want this to turn into another argument. You’re just not as good as feigning  nonchalance as he is.

“I was at Park Chinois last week” you begin, looking at him while he’s looking at his clasped hands. “Funny how that place never seems to change, like it’s stuck in time. Remember when we went there for Haz’s 21st? Remember the bathroom?”

His hands twitch, but it’s the only sign he gives that he’s even heard you.

“Remember how I went down on my knees for you? That was fun, wasn’t it? And then later that night when you fucked me into the mattress and you told me that you’d wanted to-”

“Why are you here?” he interrupts you, voice hard as steel. For the first time that night he looks directly at you, his warm brown eyes meets yours in a glare. He looks hurt.  

“It’s my birthday”  

Silence falls between you. Outside it keeps raining.  

“No, it's not,” he says in the end. “Your birthday was two weeks ago”

“How sweet of you to remember” you say with a sweet smile. "But the celebrations were tonight”.

He scoffs “and how did that go?”

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”

“Yes” he says, sounding aggravated now. “Here you are. And why exactly is that, darling?”

You don’t answer, truth is - you don’t know.  

“How come” he continues, contained anger clear in his voice “how come you show up here, at 3 in the morning on the night of your birthday party, Champagne drunk and wearing,” but words seem to fail him here and so he just waves his hand at you, gesturing towards your barely-there sequin dress. “That”. He swallows, before looking away again.

It takes you a while to answer, but in the end you do.

“I feel like I’m drifting” you confess, and you sound small and frail, even to your own ears.Pathetic even. “I feel like everyone else is settling down and getting married or engaged or having babies and I’m just-” you hesitate off for a second. Tom’s looking at you intently now, eyes intense and fixed on your face. “And I’m just drifting, you know? From one thing to another; one place to another, without it adding any value to my life. And all the while my friends are so revoltingly happy with their spouses and their babies and I’m just doing coke in the bathroom at family gatherings and trying to drink until I forget why I’m sad and kissing strangers in nightclubs wishing they were you”

“I thought this was what you wanted” he says in a low voice, eyes not leaving your face now.

You had been the one to end the relationship seven months ago. It had, at the time, seemed like the best way out. The only way out. He’d spent months on end away filming and when you were together all you seemed to do was argue. 

And the awful thing was that sometimes you started arguing with him on purpose. That way it hurt less when he left you again for yet another project.

In the end it had felt intolerable, being without him, being with him. All the rumours about him dating co-stars kept swirling in your head each night and you kept doing stupid things like getting high with people you didn’t know in nightclubs – just to get his attention. 

You had found yourself in bed with him one morning, the day before he took off for several months of shooting, and you had thought to yourself that no, somethings gotta give. One of you had to be brave enough to break things off. You knew it wouldn’t be him, Tom has too much loyalty and tenderness in him to leave where he knows he was needed. And you, well you have too much pride and strength to stay when you know you are a burden or a duty. 

So you had swallowed your pain and you had told him that there wasn’t any need for him to come back to you when filming was done. .  

Yet here you are, on his floor, in a ridiculously revealing dress. Yet again trying to catch his attention.

“Maybe I shouldn’t always get what I want” you say in the end, voice hard and sweet like caramelised sugar.  

“No, maybe you shouldn’t” and his voice is just as hard, but a lot less sweet. “And I thought you liked drifting? It’s what you do, isn’t? Drift in and out of people’s lives. Leave, and then show up at their doorstep when you feel like it; when you want to feel loved or admired, or wanted or whatever the fuck it is that you want out of this”.

“And what do you want, Tommy?”  

He doesn’t answer, but averts his eyes from yours again.  

You stand up then, and walk over to him. In the dim light the sequins of your dress throw reflections all over the room. You place yourself in front of his armchair, in between his spread legs. Slowly you begin to remove the thin straps of the dress off your shoulders. Then you drop the flimsy material to the ground, leaving you completely naked - part from a minimal pair of thongs.  

A sharp intake of breath.

You move closer still until you straddle him, and then you’re on his lap, and he’s trying to look anywhere but at your nearly naked body. But he doesn’t try to push you off. You lean backward, and as if on instinct his big, warm hands move to your hips to hold you in place. You smile, because you had known that he wouldn’t have been able to help himself.

“Tommy, honey”  

He closes his eyes, and you wonder if he’s in pain.  

“Honey, look at me”.

A sigh deep from within escapes him and then, reluctantly, he opens his eyes again and he fully takes you in. You can feel the effect it has on him underneath your crotch. 

You smile, unkindly. “You never did know how to say no to me, did you?”

His fingers tighten around your hips, digging into your flesh and you move against his growing bulge. You move your face closer to his, lips mere centimetres apart.

“Are you hurting, honey?” you say in a quiet, sweet voice. Outside there’s lightning, and then thunder roars.  

He’s full on moving you backwards and forwards over his crotch now, making you dry hump him. Your flimsy thong creates hardly any barrier at all, and so his thin, dark sweats seem to be the only thing really separating you.  

“You are, aren’t you? You’re hurting. I hurt you”  

You don’t know why you’re trying to edge him on, trying to rile him up. Except that this controlled version of him that barely even looks at you feel so out of reach from you, so far removed, and you just want him – closer, The only way you know how to achieve that is by pushing all of his buttons.  

“Yeah” he admits, eventually, “yeah, you really fucking hurt me”.

You kiss his jaw, and you sense how hard his muscles are underneath you, how tense his jaw is - how tightly he’s holding himself together. In a low voice you ask, “want me to kiss it better?”

“Stop playing games with me” he says in a low voice, but he keeps grinding you over his erection

You circle your hips slightly and a low hiss escapes him. “I’m not” you say, lips just brushing against his. “I just offered to kiss it better”.

“Maybe you should kiss one of those strangers instead”.

“What’s the point? I always want them to be you. Besides” and you move against him harder, wondering if he can tell how wet you are. “You must have had your fair share of kisses as well since I-”.

But you don’t get to finish. One of his hands moves up to your face and cupping it he strokes your lips with his thumb as if to silence you in the gentlest way he knows.

“No” he says, and his voice is gentler now too. “There’s been no one else”.

You’re struck silent for a moment, freezing in your movements over his hips. It strikes you then, how you’ve been trying to push his buttons, but he’s the one that’s crept under your skin.

His face is so close to your own, but you don’t kiss him.

See, it all comes down to this. The first to kiss the other is the first to give in. And the first to give in is the loser in this game.  

“Do you still love me, Tommy” you say in the end; voice low and sickly sweet, your crotch moving against his again, his hand still cupping your face. “Blink twice if you do”.

Seemingly instinctively he does and it throws you both off-guard. Your breath catches in your throat and he stills underneath you. Suddenly you hear the rain crashing against the windows again, feel his heartbeat beating rapidly under your palm, the heat from his hand on your hips, the shape of him underneath you. Then -  

“Oh, fuck it”

And you’re mid-air, and he’s carrying you to the bedroom.  

*

Three months ago, when he got back from filming, he’d bought a new bed. The phantom smell of you still lingered in the old one, no matter how many times he washed the sheets with bleach. He could only take it for a week before he dragged Harry along to the store to buy a new one. Harry had convinced him to go for the biggest, most expensive one available. This, it turned out, had been a mistake. The bed was simply too large, too ostentatious, for one person. He’d find himself reaching for you in the middle of the night on more than one occasion, thinking that you’d just drifted away from him in the sea of tangled sheets but alas - he was alone.  

Now, as he lays down your beautiful nearly naked body on the white sheets, your hair spreading out around you and eyes dark with lust, he finds himself thinking that if whatever this is between you doesn’t work out, he’s going to have to get another bed again. Hell, he’s going to need a new apartment and a new city to live in to rid himself of reminders of you.

A new goddamn heart.  

He removes his sweats and t-shirts and any lingering reminder that this is a terrible idea and leaves it all on the floor before he joins you in bed. Seeing you like this, naked in his bed again, as if all that heartbreak had never happened, fills him with equal parts lust and love. There’s anger in there too. 

With a hand on either side of your face he traps you in place and lowers himself until you’re skin against skin, his erection pressing against your lower stomach. His body is warmer than yours.  

“Cold?” he asks in a low voice.

You nod, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from his lips. So he kisses you. It is slow but heated; teasing and tender in equal measures. Both your hands are feeling each other up, rediscovering familiar territories with eager touches. And god, your skin feels so soft, he can’t stop touching you. He kisses his way down your jaw, leaves your lips swollen and wet from spit. His hand makes it down toward your core and he slips a finger inside you,  hears your soft gasp in his ear. He can feel just how wet you are already. Tearing himself away from you he sits up and helps you remove your underwear. Tossing them aside he bends down, and with a wicked smile on his lips he kisses your clit, sucking on it gently.

“Fucking tease” you moan, and you’d pull his hair if it wasn’t so short at the moment. He smiles up at you before making his way up to meet you, to kiss your lips again. Kisses that leave you both breathless. His hand makes it down your cunt again.

“Fuck you’re wet darling” he says, voice rough, “guess grinding on my dick will do that to a girl”.

You want to tell him to fuck off, but two of his fingers are moving in and out of you now, curling just right, and you don’t want him to stop. He always knew how to touch you just right. Always knew how to handle you.

So, you literally bite your tongue to keep the words back. Instead you kiss him just below his ear, a soft spot that always made him lose focus. True enough he halters and a moan escapes him. “Fucking devious, you are” his says, voice even lower now, his pupils wide blown, his entire body affected by lust.

He removes his fingers from your cunt and kisses your lips when you protest. “Wanna be a good girl and actually listen for once?” he says as he lines himself up to you and then, he pushes himself inside you.  

The pleasure of it, of being inside you again, so intense it nearly hurts. You’re so warm and tight and he lets out a guttural and dragged out ‘fuuuck’. You try to buck up against him, but he’s forcing you to keep your hips still by holding them down, making sure you adjust yourself to him before he starts really fucking you. Intent on not hurting you, even if you’re intent on the opposite. 

“Easy, easy” he hushes in your ear as you moan in complaint, trying to wiggle up against him, wanting him to just take you already, fuck you as hard as he can against the mattress.  

And maybe it’s love, or maybe it’s spite, or perhaps a fair share of both, but he moves your legs until they are wrapped around him, and then he starts moving, as slowly and as gently as he possibly can. Deep and slow. Kissing that soft spot behind your ear that has you bucking up your hips to meet his. He knows you want it rough, so he gives it to you tenderly.  

“Know you only say those things to get a reaction out of me” he mumbles against your jaw, kissing you wherever he can. “Know why you do it”

And just as you’re about to answer he bucks his hips forward, hitting that spot deep inside you and even though you meant to answer something clever, quite possibly rude, all that comes out is a strangled moan.

“See,” he continues, and even though his breaths are laboured his words come out even, albeit with a lot of emotion behind them. “It was never enough that I told you I love you. Anyone can say that, doesn’t mean anything, does it? Words come cheap”. Your hands are on his back, nails digging into and down his skin, egging him on to fuck you harder. He takes your hands and presses them down against the mattress instead. Grinding himself against your sweet spot over and over and over again, and you throw your head back, moaning continuously, unashamed.

“But anger” he moans, finding it more difficult to keep his voice even now as you clench around him. “You know anger is a real emotion and you trust it more than love. No one fakes anger. If I’m angry with you or worried about you because you do stupid shit you know you shouldn’t do then that means something. That means I care”  

He moves your hands over your head, and uses one of his to hold you down. He takes your legs wrapped around his hips he presses them wider apart, thus giving him access to fuck you even deeper.

“That’s why you always did stupid shit to piss me off, isn’t it?” and he starts fucking you harder now “and fucking worse, worrying me. You wanted to see if I would care”.

“Fuck Tom” you whimper, face pressed against the arm that’s holding onto your hands, back bent into an arch as pleasure shots through your spine.  

“Fucking love you, yeah?” he confesses in your ear, speeding up the pace of his hips. “Need you to trust me when I say that, can’t keep fighting with you just to convince you of that”. His words come out strained and hoarse. He knows that if he slows the pace down now, he could drag this out, but the sounds that leave your mouth are somewhere between moans and sobs and he can feel your need to come. Knows that this is almost too intense for you and you need release.

He takes his hand from your hip and takes it to your core. You’re so wet and slippery and he wants nothing more than to taste you but that will have to wait. He just hopes you’ll stay the night. That you won’t just leave once you've gotten what you came for. Finding your clit he rubs it in just the pace he knows will send you over the edge.  

“Honey” it’s a half-strangled endearment that falls from your lips just as you’re about to come, you clench around him and fuck if it doesn’t send him over the edge too.  

*

You’re lying beside him in bed, both your chests still heaving. You lean your head against his and the familiar scent of him, the comfort of just being near him. It all feels so achingly intimate.  

“Please still be here in the morning” he begs, though his voice is thick with sleep. You turn around so that he can spoon you and he drapes an arm around you, holding you in place. It hits you, as you listened to his slowing breaths, that it has stopped raining outside.

“I will” you tell him, and he sighs contentedly before drifting off to sleep, holding you in a firm grip.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

[pastelsandpining]

Whumptober Day 1

all trussed up and still nowhere to go

“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2 

warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation

____________________

Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.

But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?

Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.

The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.

It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.

So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of. 

And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.

For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours. 

Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.

Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.

He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick. 

A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily. 

But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.

“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”

Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain. 

“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”

Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.

“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”

She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.

There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.

He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.

He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.

But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.

“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”

His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat. 

“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”

Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.

Calamity Ganon was obeying her.

____________________

masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #bound #you have to let go #legend of zelda #fic #survivor's guilt #trauma #gore #injury #burn #blood #head injury #nausea #acceptance of death #loss of consciousness #manipulation #corrupt!zelda #zelink #i feel like i have too many tags #can never be too safe i guess #idk im new to this #botw #that too

[ahatintimepieces]

In Want of Stitching

I am delighted to present another little fic for the build-a-bear au by @smieska-draws​‘ and me! Smieska generously offered to let me post her incredible art above^ with this fic where Hattie is reunited with her favorite doll from her childhood! The doll is worse for wear, but Hattie knows just how to help! Be sure to give Smieska your love, and if you missed it, the previous fic is here. Without further ado, enjoy!

Words: 4,180

Hattie kicked her legs as she perched on the table in the breakroom. One hand was propped back, nestled between Dimitri’s bag and her backpack, and the other held her dwindling milkshake left over from dinner. While she waited for her dad to finish up with the last customer before closing, she watched Dimitri fuss with the supplies on the shelves.

He struggled to pull out one of the drawers and the sharp jostle of the handle caused the whole structure to shift. He froze and Hattie’s eyes widened as they waited to see if the cleaning items up top would tumble. While the bottles wobbled like a spinning toy wavering to a stop, they stilled without any avalanche and Dimitri and Hattie relaxed.

“I’m just going to deal with that in the morning,” Dimitri huffed, turning around. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Hattie gave him a thumbs up as she reached the dredges of her milkshake and the straw gurgled as it sucked air between the last of the frosty cream. While he crossed over to the rack of aprons, her gaze drifted down to the floor. The off-kilter shelf had shifted away from the wall, revealing a large dust bunny.

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to get a better look at the mound of grey that seemed to cover something else.

“See ya tomorrow, kid?” Dimitri prompted, snapping his name tag against the magnet on the wall.

“Probably!” She lifted her chin.

“Boss says a daycare center has scheduled a trip to the mall, so we might be busy,” he sighed, reaching for his bag. She scooted out of his way and nodded.

“That could be fun. But also noisy,” she offered, glancing up as she mentally noted to warn Belle, Mu, and Timmy that they needed to avoid the food court for lunch. Maybe hide in the café connected to the bookstore.

“Noisy is right.” Dimitri swung his bag over his shoulder.

“Will Dad have to work on the floor?” She lowered her empty milkshake.

“I imagine so,” he paused on his way to the door. When she placed the cup down and blew a raspberry as she slouched, he prompted, “why?”

“It just means I have to keep Mu and Timmy away. They’re trying to prove he’s magic and can blow things up with his mind.” Scowling, she swung her legs a little too hard and the table creaked underneath her.

“Is that why they asked him to heat up their—”

“Lunch?” She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

Dimitri sucked in air before bursting into laughter.

“They looked so mad when he used the microwave!” he wheezed, gesturing to the other table with the offending appliance. “Mu’s stink eye nearly killed me!”

“It’s dumb,” Hattie grumbled.

Catching her frustration, Dimitri reeled in his laughter and cleared his throat.

“There’s no harm in it,” he tried. “The boss can be a bit eccentric, and it can be fun to pretend, but I’m sure even Mu and Timmy know he’s not actually able to light things on fire or…” he paused, giving her a curious look, “steal souls.”

“They sure act like he does.” She turned away, cupping her chin in her hands.

“Have you told them it bothers you when they fixate on it?” Dimitri asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, and they ignore it because they think he actually does all of those things.” Her glare hardened.

“You could talk to the boss?”

“I don’t want him to know about the rumors.” After a beat, she looked up to meet Dimitri’s blank expression. “What?”

“He knows,” he said dryly. Her jaw dropped and he softened. “Listen, you might want to just talk with him about the whole Snatcher myth if it’s getting under your skin, but it’s not harming anyone. I think it also gets the store more foot traffic from teens, which isn’t usually our intended demographic. So, in a way, it even helps!”

Hattie groaned, flopping onto her backpack and staring at the ceiling.

“Hang in there, kid.” His shoes tapped against the tile as he walked towards the door. “But just talk to him. See you!”

“Night, Dimitri.” She gave a halfhearted wave as he left. Once the door shut, she fixated on the faint buzz of the lights in the breakroom.

Seconds ticked by.

She heaved herself up, bored with staring blankly and too tired to stew in her frustration any longer. After scooting to the edge of the table, she dropped down with her flipflops slapping against the ground. She intended to toss the milkshake cup and pester her dad while he closed the workshop, but her gaze shifted back towards the shelves. The oddly large dust bunny piqued her curiosity once more and she crossed over.

Crouching down, she prodded the clump of hairs and silver dust. A dead fly was caught in the webbing and bits of dirt or crumbs were suspended on the hairs. But when she pressed down, a firm something lay between her and the tile.

Shifting, she pressed her cheek against the wall and peered into the crack between it and the shelf. Behind the dust bunny lay a small doll, crushed and crumpled.

After a precursory check for spiders, she reached back and pinched one of the doll’s puffy sleeves. The dust bunny tickled her finger, and she crinkled her nose in disgust. As soon as the doll was pulled out into the open, she batted the wad of grey from its mitten hand, and the cloud of minuscule debris floated harmlessly to the ground. She gasped when she held the doll out in the light.

Beneath the grey streaks of grime, a missing button eye, the torn right arm, and a left hand hanging by a single thread, was the prince doll that she had loved so dearly when she was younger. Her heart soared, but the doll’s state soon had guilt souring her joy.

It had been ages. The last time she saw the doll, he had been a bit worn, but still intact. She had been near inconsolable when she lost him. Her dad promised to get her a new, better doll, but she loved the prince doll because of all the memories they shared. Despite all her searching and tears back then, her dad urged her to move on as the doll had continued to elude her. And no wonder! All this time, the doll had been in the breakroom rather than home. He must have somehow fallen behind the shelf at the workshop when she had been playing, only to be shoved deeper and deeper into the dark over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, frowning at the frayed threads where a button used to be. When she poked the remaining button, it wobbled, threatening to soon snap away as well. She brushed back the yarn hair, covered in dust that caused the chestnut hue to appear murky. The felt crown looked more brown than yellow, and ashen stuffing dripped from the doll’s arm and broken wrist.

But… it was still her favorite doll. Though it had been years, relief surged through her chest.

“I’ll clean you up!” she promised to herself, gently giving the dusty, dilapidated doll a soft hug.

She knew how to sew, at least! And she had the materials at home. She could even surprise her dad! He always reacted positively when she showed him the hats or masks she made.

Scrambling to her feet, she carried the doll over to the table. She grabbed a couple of tissues to wrap him up, both hoping to keep him protected and intact and to prevent the dust from spreading in her backpack. She was just tucking him safely into her bag, nestled between new fabric she got from her millinery lessons earlier and a graphic novel that Timmy recommended, when the door thrust open.

She turned, noting her dad’s slouched posture as he removed his apron, which was common on days he had to both open and close the workshop. Holding his hand over his mouth, he tried to cover a wide yawn, but his sharp fangs still glinted in the light.

“Time to go?” Hattie prompted while zipping up her backpack.

“Finally, yes.” He paused, glancing towards the shelves. “Did Dimitri refill the sewing kits?”

She shrugged in Dimitri-solidarity when her dad turned back around. He accepted it without further prodding and tossed his apron onto a hook.

Hattie slipped on her backpack gently to keep from jostling the doll as her dad pulled out his hair tie and scratched at his scalp. He grabbed his keys and waited for Hattie to shuffle over.

Once he finished locking up and took her hand to lead her through the dark parking lot, she mentally went through the list of supplies she needed to fix up the prince doll. Neither she nor her dad said a word as their footsteps tapped against the still warm gravel. But that was normal for them. Her dad didn’t usually have much to say unless otherwise prompted by people or work, especially when he was tired. So, she continued her quiet pondering all the way home, staring blankly at the streetlights as the radio played family-friendly tunes at a hushed volume.

As soon as they got home, Hattie dashed into her room. She swept her arm across her workbench to clear away the new beret she was making and placed her top hat on the hat display stand her teacher had given her. Since she only had one, it was her favorite top hat that got the place of honor. Then, she dropped her backpack onto the ground and retrieved the prince doll.

He lay on the tissues that were now smeared with grey. Even just folding back the material caused Hattie to swiftly turn away and sneeze, jostling him as he perched on her palm. She’d need to clean the doll, but the open cuts in his arms worried her. After prodding around, she decided it might be better to pluck out the dusty stuffing, since his arms were closed off from his main body anyway. The loose button, too, she thought to remove to ensure easier cleaning.

She got to work, walking back and forth between her room and the bathroom as she ferried supplies. If her dad wondered what she was up to, he didn’t comment as he settled down in the living room to quietly read.

Setting up a doll bath in the sink by lowering the plug, she submerged the doll into the water with iridescent bubbles lining the porcelain. His one arm threatened to come off and his other hand floated at an odd angle. Undaunted, Hattie stuck out her tongue as she scrubbed the dust and cobwebs from his hair. The felt crown popped off at one point, and while she rescued it, the original gilded color seemed beyond saving so she decided to replace it. But she kept the crown nearby so that she could copy the size and shape.

Once the years of neglect were scrubbed away, Hattie drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds from the doll. The chest felt heavy with the water, even more than the lolling head. But hopefully the doll would dry just fine.

While wringing out the water, she tried to squeeze the doll gently, intent on preserving the fragile threads. Finally, she laid him out on a towel and used another to dab up as much water as she could. Wondering if she could borrow her dad’s hairdryer to speed up the process, she hurried into the living room.

“Da-ad,” she called as she padded onto the carpet. “Where’s your hairdryer?”

“Under the sink in my bathroom. Why?” He turned the page of his novel without looking up.

“It’s a surprise.” Arcing around the table, she peeked at the title. She recognized it as Ember’s latest recommendation from her book club. Curious, she slipped over to the armrest where he reclined. She leaned over his shoulder and identified Ember’s annotations that lined the margins in pencil, confirming that she had loved it enough to lend him the book.

“Should I be worried about this surprise?” he asked, unbothered by her hovering.

“Nope!” she chirped cheerfully as she jumped back to face him.

“Carry on, then,” he muttered, his golden eyes flittering back and forth as he read.

The amber light from the lamp behind him skipped across the strands of his hair, painting the coal-colored locks with flickers of iridescent violets. With his cheek pressed into his palm and his elbow on the armrest, his gaze momentarily flickered away from the book as he used his pinky finger to turn to the next page.

“Need something else, kiddo?”

Instead of answering right away, she hopped onto the couch and crawled onto his chest. He held still as she flopped onto her back, staring up at the book.

“Is the story good?” she prompted.

“It’s crafted well.”

“But are you enjoying it?” She tilted her head back into his shoulder. He kept his eyes ahead.

“Not really.” He sounded calm as he said it.

“But you don’t hate it?” she clarified.

“No.” He turned the page.

She sighed, not expecting anything different.

Usually, it didn’t matter. But she didn’t want the same reaction if she asked how he felt about the rumors of the Snatcher. She knew Dimitri thought she needed to talk to him about it but…

“What would you do if you had magic powers?” she asked instead.

“What?” That got him to look down. He quirked a brow and she shrugged.

“If I had magic powers, I would make my top hat like a bag of holding. I could carry all my stuff everywhere and be prepared for anything.”

“Oh.” He relaxed and lifted his gaze back to his novel.

“So, what would you do?” she repeated.

“Hm?”

“What would you do with magic?”

He hummed, lifting his head and reaching over to help steady the book as he turned the page. Once he settled back, he shrugged.

“I’d use it to heat up my coffee.”

For a split second, she wondered if he was also privy to Timmy’s and Mu’s speculations.

“That’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m a boring person,” he provided.

She grumbled and he continued to read. Scooting closer to his arm holding the book, she wedged herself into the crook formed by him and the back of the couch. He shifted slightly, but otherwise let her get comfortable. She curled up so that the side of her head pressed against his chest.

There was a muffled crackling sound, like crinkled paper.

“Hey Dad, do you know about the Snatcher?” She tensed.

“You mean what everyone calls me at work?” He managed a snort. “Or do you mean all that talk of soul-stealing?”

She snapped her head up, baffled.

“Y-you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He met her gaze, though from the way his palm squished his cheek and he leaned back, he seemed far from interested.

“Because it’s not true!” She gestured wildly. “Isn’t that something your dumb books talk about? Unfair deformation of character.”

“I think you mean defamation,” he corrected with a sly grin.

“That too!” she insisted.

“It gets us more customers and makes my job more interesting. So, no. It doesn’t bother me.” He started to tear his gaze away, “But speaking of my dumb books—”

“But you don’t snatch souls or eat them!” She sat up, knocking his book back. He huffed as he lowered his arm. She perched on his stomach. “People are scared of you!”

“There are worst things,” he said in a lackadaisical tone. Since he couldn’t read, he swiveled his head in his chin to look out at the living room. He tapped his sharp nails against his cheek pensively.

“But Dad—”

“Hattie, it doesn’t bother me,” he interrupted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t you have something you were in the middle of? The whole Snatcher thing doesn’t matter. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from pouting.

“But why doesn’t it bother you?” she tried once more after a moment.

“Kid, that’s enough.” He wiggled his arm trapped behind her back to coax her off. “Go run along.” He suddenly sucked in a breath and covered a noisy yawn. The creases under his eyes deepened as the shadows stretched away from the light.

Hattie deflated.

“Fine,” she grumbled, scooting forward.

He grunted when she leapt off his stomach, but his focus returned to reading without another comment.

Hattie retrieved his hairdryer and returned to her bathroom, where the prince doll remained drenched. She turned the setting to no heat and plugged it in. While the drone of the hairdryer filled the bathroom, she zoned out.

All this time, she had been trying to shelter her dad from the rumors but apparently, she was the only one who cared that people thought he could suck souls out with his fangs like some sort of vampire who loved to sunbathe and didn’t mind garlic.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered under the whirling hairdryer. She glared down at the faceless prince doll. His mitten hand fluttered precariously while the gash in his bicep caught air and caused his arm to fluff up like it had stuffing again.

Her features softened as she carefully tilted the dryer back and forth.

She would rather her dad wasn’t upset by the rumors, which is why she waited so long to say anything, but somehow it felt lonelier than ever when she was the only one who cared.

With a slight slouch, she turned the dryer away and then carefully rolled the doll onto his stomach. She finished drying him out and placed him on a fresh towel while she cleaned up. And though she passed her dad as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug while she was on her way to the laundry room, he didn’t question her bundle of towels under his hairdryer.

Her step gained an enthusiastic bounce when she was finally ready to fix the doll. She carried him back to her workbench and gingerly set him down. For reference, she carefully pried the old storybook from her shelf and opened to the most crinkled set of pages, worn from love and constant rereads under her covers at night.

“Here it is, Prince!” She presented the first illustration of the kindly character with puffy sleeves greeting bluebirds, bunnies, and deer. She winced at the doll’s blank face. “Whoops. You can’t see. But don’t worry! I’ll fix that!”

She propped the book back against the worktable and used the beret and open sewing kit to pin it open. After she grabbed a handful of stuffing from her reserves in one of the drawers, found a button to match his eye, and sorted through the spools she’d need, she finally sat down.

Now that the doll was clean, his vibrant crimson coat and purple boots looked just like the illustration. But the blush on his cheeks had faded and one of the stitches meant to look like laces on his boots had frayed. With steady hands familiar with detail work from all her hat making, she looped thread through a sharp needle and got to work.

Fixing the boot and resewing the buttons was a bit tricky, but once the prince had his eyes again, his blank features regained the warmth she remembered. She stuck her tongue out as she restuffed his arms. At first, she wondered if she could add a little muscle definition but no matter how she finagled the lumps, she couldn’t get them to look right.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with noodles for arms,” she lamented dramatically, tugging out the extra fluff.

His large button eyes stared at the ceiling.

The final challenge was stitching his hand back on, and only because the mitten hand was so tiny. She struggled to keep it in place as she threaded the needle through his wrist. After having to backtrack and redo the area a couple times, she eventually got the hand snuggly back into place. The stitches lined his wrist, mostly concealed by the edges of his sleeve.

Then, she only needed to close the tear in his bicep and was able to hide the work under the gold band of his puffy shoulder. Once she placed the scissors down after snipping the final thread, she leaned back with an exhale. As she stretched out her back, she appraised her work.

“How do you feel?” she asked, cupping the prince doll and giving his arm and wrist a few squeezes. When she tapped his button eyes to ensure they remained firmly in place, she glanced up at the illustration to compare. She jolted.

“Your crown!” She whirled around, looking for the dull accessory that had popped off during the cleaning. Her head snapped down and she heaved a sigh of relief when she noticed it had fallen onto her carpet.

She grabbed the felt crown and procured a piece of scrap cloth leftover from the bright yellow beret she intended to give to her dad when it was finished. Snipping the dull crown to flatten it out, she traced its pattern on the scrap fabric. After she cut it out, she glued the edges together, careful to keep it seamless as she held the ends with tweezers.

“Perfect!” She held the new crown next to the prince’s head. She found a lump near the base of the yarn hair where the other crown had been glued previously and glued on the new crown its place. Once the glue had dried and the crown remained fastened to his head, Hattie beamed at her work.

“You look perfect!” She leapt to her feet, hugging the doll to her chest. “Let’s show you to Dad!” She darted over to the living room, shouts of excitement welling from her pride, but she skidded to a stop when she found him fast asleep on the couch.

She heaved out a sigh that dissolved into a blown raspberry.

Oh well.

Since even the book flopped open on his chest visibly quivered from his shivering, she crossed over to the wicker basket filled with throws and blankets and grabbed his favorite from the top. She dragged it over him with one hand, but when she reached the book with pages folding at odd angles, she looked from the blanket pinched in one hand and the prince doll cradled in the other.

“Watch him for me for a second,” she whispered to the prince, dropping the blanket and trading him for the book.

Her dad flinched in his sleep at the sudden shift, but she was too busy locating his bookmark on the coffee table to notice. After guessing where he left off, she placed the closed book next to his mug, which still had a puddle of coffee. She turned back around to find her dad twitching.

“Dad?” She reached out but recoiled at how much heat he radiated.

While his eyes remained squeezed shut, his chest jerked under the limp doll. Panicked panting gripped his restless slumber but before Hattie could try to wake him, he turned to his side, flinging the doll away as he twisted. Hattie bent to catch the prince as her dad’s breathing slowly returned to a calmer pace.

She placed the doll back on the table, fretting as she watched her dad’s tight brows relax. His long, spiky black hair tumbled over his sweaty features, but once his exhales fluttered out like a flickering ember, he began shivering again. Hattie crinkled her nose, holding the back of her hand to his forehead covered by hair and then to his clawed fingers.

Almost like ice.

Unsure whether she wanted to wake him after that, she tugged the blanket the rest of the way and watched him for a few seconds longer. He usually felt colder at night, often kindling the image of a campfire dwindling as those around it slept, but his sudden spike in temperature concerned her.

Was he getting sick?

A few more moments passed, and he remained steady. Hattie gnawed on her lip but decided not to worry. If she woke him up when nothing was wrong, he’d just get grumpy. She’d make sure to check on him later, though.

When grabbing the prince doll, she found it trembled in her palm. She tried to meter her own breathing to soothe herself, thinking her dad’s temperature spike had left her more shaken than she realized. She calmed enough to stop shivering after nestling the doll into the plush pile next to her pillow. But as she walked away to get ready for bed, she did not realize that the prince doll continued to tremble on his own.

Slowly, and like a heartbeat that just remembered its pulse.

#a hat in time #ahit prince #ahit snatcher #ahit hat kid #ahit dadtcher #build-a-bear au #my writing #friend art #smieska-draws #smieska #*Jessie's song from toy story 2 plays in the distance* #'so the years went by~ i stayed the same~' #'i was left alone...' #i love this au for all the accidental toy story refs we can squeeze in #but also when somebody loved me is just a prince song... look deep into your heart... you know its true #ANYWAY I LOVE THIS ART SO MUCH GO GIVE SMIESKA ALL THE LOVE #THIS IS IT!!! THIS IS THE PIECE THAT INSPIRED ME SO MUCH I HAD TO WRITE THE MOONJUMPER BIT ;O; #LITERALLY HAD IT OPEN ON ONE SIDE OF THE SCREEN WITH THE WORD DOCUMENT ON THE OTHER #DOLL PRINCE IS JUST SO CUTE!!!!!! LOOK AT HIS LIL ROUNDED TOESES #LOOK AT THAT DETAIL ON THE SLEEVES AND THAT EMBROIDERED HEART #HIS LIL BUTTON EYES AND HIS YARN HAIR!!!!! #THE COWLICK STICKING OUT OF THE CROWN!!!!! ITS INCREDIBLE AND DARLING AND I LOVE HIM #HIS MITTEN HANDS!!!!!!!! #I WANNA GENTLY HOLD HIM #okay i'll stop crying now but seriously GO SHOWER SMIESKA WITH LOVE AND ADORATION AND ALL THE FELT HEARTS

[kaeyasaki]

— ❝ MISCOMMUNICATE! ❞

— LEORIO PARADINIGHT X GN!READER :; NSFW

❝ skirt off, fuck in the backseat, take that shirt off, baby, put it on me, got me like “yeehaw”, ride it like a horsey, kinda like see-saw up and down on the d ❞

warnings :; unprotected sex, dirty talk, sub!reader, slapping, fingering + degradation -> +4K words

an :; hello hi i don’t know why the fuck i’m actually writing for leorio because i don’t fw him at all, but we checked and the leorio nsfw tag is literally dry and i felt bad for leorio stans so consider this my one time gift for leorio because this will never happen again LOL — NOT PROOFREAD I’LL GAG IF I DO SO

Leorio is a man of tolerance and he’s rather neutral in the sense of liking and disliking things. Of course, he’s open about things that bother him, but he’d rather resolve issues than allow them to stew and worsen over time.

One thing he didn’t like and couldn’t solve however was you.

Leorio couldn't stand you. You were always outdoing him in every test or exam your class took and it was even worse when the professor had insisted upon seating the two of you together in order to ‘keep up’ with one another as the pair of you were far ahead of the rest of the class.

Attending med-school was already stressful enough on its own, but Leorio was certain that being seated next to you only caused that stress to multiply by ten each class he attended. Still, he refused to let you get the better of him after all, your finals were fast approaching and that’s exactly when he’d shut you up for good.

“Leorio!~” He cringed at the sickenly sarcastic tone of your voice from behind him as he walked through the classroom doors. “What?” His tone is sharp as he has no means to entertain you in the slightest, only replying out of common courtesy.

“Why so uptight? Can’t I just say hi to the second best in class?” You hummed, teasing grin tugging at your lips as he scoffs at your comment. “Second best?” He repeats, eyebrows raised and brows twitching. “Second best.” You nodded, a provocative glint in your eyes as you were left satisfied with irritating him before class.

One thing you had learnt about Leorio during the months you’d spent sharing your classes with him, was that once agitated, he had a hard time concentrating. He was easy. Too easy in fact. Every lesson you played the boy like an instrument, pulling all the right strings for all the right reactions out of him.

You weren’t certain as to what it was about him that drew you in to provoke him at every opportunity, but you were certain that every opportunity taken would leave you satisfied. Perhaps it was his desperation that kept you hooked onto him. His constant need to beat you and gloat anytime he could. It was cute almost. But despite his somewhat annoying nature in that sense, you’d be a liar if you were to say you found him unattractive.

You weren’t stupid. Whether he was aware of it or not, Leorio was more than pleasing to look at. His broad shoulders forcing the threats of his crisp white shirt to hang on by thread. His torso was slim but certainly defined as you’d caught yourself eyeing the clearly chiseled muscles which would sometimes be left exposed through the thin white material on particularly hot days. You already loved the summer months, and Leorio’s appearance only becoming more obvious to the eye due to the lack of clothing he’d wear in the warmer weather only added a reason to your list of things to love about summer.

Class was boring to say the least. Your professor's voice drowned out completely as the sun peaked in height and forced waves of heat through the glass windows. You sighed and laid your head down on the desk, eyes catching sight of Leorio scribbling down whatever the professor was droning on about. You’d never paid much attention to the boy other than when it came to annoying him and stealing glances at his handsome form. You knew he worked hard but not to the point where you knew how hard. A small smile had formed on your face as you spent the rest of the class peacefully watching your rival take down all the relevant notes, completely uncaring to the fact you had done nothing productive in class yourself.

“Good work today.” Your voice rang through his ears as the two of you packed up. “Me?” he questioned, puzzled expression wiped across his face as you giggled. “Who else?” He shot you a confused scowl before packing up the rest of his things. While you had attempted to compliment him, he had taken it as mockery. The fact you knew finals were approaching but you still gave no effort to revision in class seemed taunting to him. Were you mocking him for having to try hard? Did the whole course just come naturally to you? Leorio didn’t even want to bother finding out. As far as he was concerned he was in med-school for his own reasons and them alone. He hadn’t the time to fool around with pretty things like you, especially not now. You’d only slow him down whether that was your intent or not. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of what he’d been striving for since the start.

“Whatever.” He huffed refusing to take anymore of your constant bothering. He slung his briefcase off the desk and began to head towards the door where the rest of the students were filtering out before you called out.

“Wait!” He halted his steps, body slowly turning to face you as you stood still behind your seat he’d just left you at. “I… I didn’t get the rest of the notes from today, could I get them off of you later?”

Leorio was a little taken aback, but yet he couldn’t see or sense any signs of mockery from you as your earnest eyes held contact with his. “Fine. You know where I’ll be.” He gave in sighing before turning back around and waving you off before exiting. Previous annoyance distinguishing just slightly. He hadn’t a clue what your intentions were, but he could distinguish between the real and the fake, and nothing about the way you looked at him and almost pleaded seemed ingenuine to him.

Leorio was certain he hated you, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny you either. Walking back to his apartment, he thought back to times where you’d interacted. Majority of them being times you’d gone out of your way to get a rise out of him, but there was something endearing about the way you did it. Leorio felt almost special that you’d pay him and only him attention. Thinking back to it, you’d never bother anyone else, your sole attention aimed directly towards him and him alone. Leorio wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be special, but as any young man would, he did feel a sense of pride over the fact he’d somehow caught the attention of someone like yourself; someone as pretty as yourself. It didn’t matter to him that it wasn’t the typical type of attention a man of his age would prefer to enjoy, but nonetheless he enjoyed the jealous stares of others as you openly teased him and arguably borderline flirted.

Refusing to give into you completely though, Leorio swore he’d keep these thoughts to himself. Admitting how desirable he found you would be stupid on his end. You’d only make matters worse for him, tease him louder in class and gain a dreadful type of attention from others towards the two of you. He found you attractive, but not to the degree where he’d be willing to make a fool out of himself in front of anyone including yourself. It was best to keep you just at arms length and put up with this childish rivalry until you’d graduate and part ways.

A few hours had passed until you had rung up his apartment to be allowed in. Permitting your entrance, Leorio tapped his foot nervously as you made your way up the complex, notes on the coffee table nearby ready for you to borrow and leave. Opening the door upon your knocking, his face warmed at the sight of you dressed down a little more.

The pretty skirt you were wearing short enough to leave little to the imagination as to what was underneath. The cute top you were wearing clung to your figure and hugged all the right places. The only thing covering your modesty was the oversized jacket you’d left hanging off your shoulders so it technically had no other purpose than a poor attempt at covering yourself.

You smirked as you felt your classmate practically eye-fucking you before even entering his apartment. “Your notes.” you spoke suddenly catching him off guard. He sputtered a few times before straightening his stance and inviting you in, a string of incoherent mumbling leaving his lips as he remained flustered due to you catching him in the act of staring. You could only laugh lightly before sashaying in, the clean apartment scanned by your curious eyes.

“Is this them?” you questioned, fingertips dancing over the paper as Leorio joined you by the coffee table. “Indeed they are. Feel free to copy them I-”

“Is that it?” You cut in, flipping the sheets over to see if he’d written more on the other side of the paper. You could've sworn he’d written more, but supposing from the position you’d been watching him in class in, you'dn't hadn’t been able to tell just how much he was writing.

“It’s more than what you’ve done.” He retorted, nerves already stricken. “True,” You mused as you invited yourself to sit on his couch. “But I would’ve expected more from you.”

“Weren’t you just praising me for my work in class?” He huffed, tips of his ears warming up from agitation. “Yeah, I thought you’d generally worked hard though, I didn’t know you’d done so little though.” Sighing, you read over his pristine notes and decided the information was somewhat useful though. “I’ve done so little? Sorry not all of us are naturally gifted and don’t have to work for our grades!” Leorio snapped, temper teetering nearer the edge with each passing second. “Naturally gifted? I do more than enough work thank you!” You hissed back, sharp edge to your voice as you took slight offence to his claim. “Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t so busy staring at my tits in class all the time!”

Leorio was shocked. You’d noticed that? He thought for sure he was less than obvious but sometimes he’d have to admit he’d lose self control and shamelessly stare. You’d never say anything or react though, so he just assumed you hadn’t noticed. That didn’t matter though, because while he’d hold his hands up in guilt for staring at you, he’d caught you on more than a few occasions staring at his arms and then let your eyes trail down below towards his belt. He never said anything though, certain it’d cause him more of a headache than anything.

“Rich coming from you.” He scoffed as you glared right back at him. “With the way you stare at my belt, you would’ve thought the mark schemes written on there.” Heat rushed to both your face and core as his temper triggered something inside of you.

Leorio’s annoyance was nothing new to you, but this bolder and snappier side to him certainly was. It was hot to be blunt and you’d be damned to give up this chance to get rid of the building tension between the two of you.

Months and months of unspoken desires had been piling up between the two of you despite the fact neither of you had openly voiced them. You unknowing acted upon them though, your hungry staring contest in play for as long as you could remember when it came to classes together. You wanted him and the feeling was certainly mutual, but neither of your prides were weak enough to give in; not yet anyway.

The silence was unbearable, your frustrations growing worse by the second until you giggled. His eyes widened at the sudden sounds of your ringing laugher as you smirked up at him. “Fine then, just admit it, you wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to.”

Leorio’s face twisted in disgust, a mask to wear while he thought of a reply. Of course he did. He couldn't count the amount of times he’d taken care of his own frustrations at night imagining it was your throat around his length rather than his hand. He wouldn’t tell you that though. Not just yet at least.

“You’re disgusting.” Yet he doesn’t move when you press your chest up against his, arms looping around his torso battering your eyelashes up at him. His eyes are heavy with a mix of lust and neediness and sharply fixated on you, awaiting your next move. You almost laugh at his pathetic attempt to deny you, afterall you could easily ridicule Leorio to nothing more than a horny young man which was exactly what he was. He might've been a respectful student and aspiring doctor to the eyes of your classmates, but you knew from the start he’d be down bad for anyone willing to offer just the slightest ounce of attention to. He was just too easy. That’s what you had concluded anyway.

“Why haven’t you kicked me out yet then?” You questioned, index finger trailing up his chest as you cupped his cheek, taunting eyes gazing up at his panicking expression. “You could’ve easily given me your notes and hurried me away, but you didn’t, this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“N-no.” Leorio choked out, flustered state worsening by the second. You were right, he did want this, but if he was going to do this, there was no way he was letting you take charge. Your presence was already dominating enough in the classroom, but you were in his territory now.

“So I’m wrong?” your finger trailed up to his face to cup his cheek as your taunting eyes flickered up towards him.

Tension and patience finally snapped, Leorio grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face, his own hands reaching up to hold your neck and pull you in. “Just shut up already.”

He’s kissing you. Just like that. His lips are warm and the kiss is a little messy, but you expected this from the start. Both of you are too desperate to care at this point. You’re sure he’s bruising your lips at this point, he’s kissing you like he can’t take it much longer. All intentions of hiding desperation now forgotten, Leorio forces you to see just how badly he did in fact want this, despite his previous denial.

Your hands reach up towards the back of his neck, fingertips beginning to entangle with the short roots of his har, pulling him impossibly closer. He obliges, grunting in response and slotting his thigh between your legs as he groans again.

Your frustrations spike once more when you feel his free hand hikes up your skirt, long fingers dragging along your thigh. Tracing the outline of your practically useless panties, Leorio lets his finger wander along your wet slit, arousal already soaking the material through and through and you feel him smirk. “And the audacity to play coy with me, you wanted this that badly slut?”

You can hardly register what he’s saying to you as your only focus as of now is having his fingers somewhere a little better than on the surface of your heat. “Take them off.” He demands, voice stern but smile teasing with hints of pride. Not caring to bicker back, you whine but oblige to his wishes not wanting to wait any longer. “So you can follow orders then? Good to know.” He hums in approval, rewarding you with his middle finger dragging over your clit leaving you squirming in his grip. His thigh still firmly between your thighs, you’re denied of clenching them together. He’s staring at you intensely, eyes fixated on your twisted expressions as he teases your cunt a little more before adding his thumb.

With his middle finger tracing up and down your core and thumb drawing small but firm circles on the top of your clit, your mind goes blank. You’d fingered yourself plenty of times, but not as well as your classmate and biggest rival was doing right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you at night.” He sighs, demeanour completely unreadable as he almost looks as if he’s pitying you as he gazes down at your struggling face. You shake your head vigorously, wriggling in his hold in attempts for at least a little more friction. “Most nights.” He confesses with no shame as you let out a gasp as he adds another finger. He’s cautious, but obsessed with the way your walls clench down in his fingers, your arousal coating his fingers each time he pulls out. “M-me too.” You blurt out as his wrist snaps a little faster. He hums satisfied, his suspicions confirmed. He picks up the pace a little more; a reward for your honesty.

You sigh out shakily and whisper small chants of his name. The way your squirming against him has him painfully hard as he grows a little desperate himself. He begins to scissor his fingers in hopes of speeding up the process just a little more, because while he’d love to spend all night holding you in his grip, edging you to the point where you’re begging and crying, his own personal will wouldn’t hold that long, and he absolutely needed to be inside you sooner rather than later.

Arching your back slightly, you whine as he slows down taking in your pretty face. “Please just fuck me already.” You complain, eyes clenched shut as Leorio’s fingers continue their slow work. Grunting in response, he tugs his trousers down, his length springing free against your torso. “Shit.” You breathe out looking down at it.

Leorio’s dick isn’t the prettiest you’ve seen, but he’s definitely the most desirable in both girth and length. He was big, but you would guess that from the start when taking his frame into consideration. He had a few veins running down his dick too, and while he wasn’t the thickest you’d seen, the proportions matched well and you were even lucky enough to notice the slight curve which confirmed the fact you know he’d make you feel good.

Leaving you no more time to admire, Leorio pulled away from you to which you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at you and patted his thigh as you quickly stumbled over to him, desperation at its limit. Stopping you before you could sit down, Leorio had you over his lap as he lined his dick up to your entrance. “Sit.” he demanded as your mouth dropped open. He expected you to just sit? So casually too? He must’ve been mad. “I was already nice enough to prep you so why am I waiting?” He scolded, lustful eyes piercing through yours. “-ts too big.” You mumbled, head hung low in shame as Leorio tutted.

“It’s not, you’re not even trying to make it fit anyway.” He scoffed, tensions beginning to build up between the two of you again once more. Nodding your head, you shakily sunk down, eyes flying open as tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. Crying out, Leorio takes a grain of pity on you as he allows you to recollect yourself. “Last chance before I do it myself,” He warns. “I’ve been generous today, inviting you to my home, letting you borrow my notes and then entertaining your needs, give a little back won’t you?”

Your teeth grit as you prepare yourself to attempt once more, but not before getting in one last snarky response. “Wasn’t it you who was eyefucking me as soon as you opened the door? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted this more than me.” A harsh slap is stricken on your ass as you yelp. “Stop being such a brat, especially after you begged me to fuck you.” He hisses, frustration turning his tone almost angry. “You aren’t fucking me!” You cried out, tears of pent up needs becoming too overwhelming. Your fists are clenching the hem of your skirt and tears are streaming down your face as Leorio looks up at you.

His hands move quickly to his hips as you gasp upon the feeling of your body being pulled down. “You want me to fuck you? Fine, have it your way.” His grip on your hips is firm and you know there will be marks left later, but none of that mattered as of now. The only thing you cared about was having Leorio finally claim you as his in ways you’d imagined while pleasuring yourself most nights. Tears continued to drip down your face as you screamed out Leorio’s name as he plunged his entire length inside of your dripping cunt. It was painful, but slowly, your hips began to move on their own grinding up with his assistance until the two of you built a steady pace turning the pain into pleasure sending your head spinning.

Your tits are fully out and exposed by now, your flimsy top hardly stopping them from spilling out as they bounced at the same pace of your thrusts. Leorio’s eyes stayed focused on them for a while. His pupils gazing up and down at the same rhythm of your chest. He’d experienced the wonders of a female body before, the hunter exam he’d taken over a year ago giving him his first taste of what it really felt like to touch a woman, but this was different. This was a more personal experience, and the fact that he was the one making your body react like this only fuelled his movements as well as his pride.

“Shit- you feel so much better than I thought you - fuck - would!” You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. The praise is sent straight down to his groin as his thrusts are a lot deeper now, hitting against your cervix multiple times over as you start to see stars.

You cry out when he finally hits the right spot, your vision going white as your head tilts back, tongue dropping out your mouth. “There!” You sob. “Right there again!”

Seeing no reason to deny you when you’ve done such a good job of taking him so well, Leorio tightens his grip on your sides as drool begins to pool in your mouth. He leans in close and licks a stripe up your neck before taking a nipple into his mouth resulting in a loud moan to leave your lips. He sucks the sensitive bud as his thrusts show no relent, adamant on hitting the same spot as before.

You’re closing in towards the edge, the knot in your stomach unbearably tight as Leorio continues towards his goal of throwing you over the edge. Pulling away from your chest leaving a prominent bite mark from where he’d had his mouth attached to your nipple, he leans back in to gently lick over the mark. The gentle gesture contrasting the hard thrusts of his hips as he continued to assist in the shifting of your weight up and down his length.

A few more thrusts and you’re crying out his name, a thin line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth as you come hard all over his cock. You’re so caught up in your own high, you miss the way he smirks at you, but with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. You coming undone is easily the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your lashes cast a faint shadow over your cheeks as your head tilts back and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

While Leorio would love to keep you like this, stay inside you with your expression in place and cum dripping down him, he loses his own self control as just the sight of your fucked out face alone is enough to send him off the edge as he follows suit, loud groan as he fills his load into your dripping hole.

The warmth of his seed spreads through your entire body as your hands drop down from off his shoulders and rest of his chest, the two of you left to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for just a few more moments. The blissful silence proving all tension, pent up frustrations and emotions had been resolved, the air now perfectly clear.

You flutter your eyes open again, your breathing returning to its regulated pace as you return back to reality. Leorio’s still inside you, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulders, his breathing returns from ragged to regular.

“Shit.” You breathe out, realisation finally sinking into your head.

“Yeah, shit.” He repeats, tone a lot gentler from before as he lifts his head up to look at you. “And to think you only came by to pick up my notes.”

You laugh a little, his comment stirring not irritation, but genuine happiness through your chest as he offered a gentle smile your way.

“Well,” he spoke, as you gazed back into his now endearing eyes. “I suppose it’s too late for you to walk home.” “If I can even walk at all,” You mused. “You were a lot rougher than anticipated”.

He laughs. thumbs drawings gentle circles on your sides over the harsh marks he’d left on your skin from his tight grip. “What sort of business man would I be if I wasn’t just the slightest bit deceiving?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be a doctor.” You humoured back, your hands now finding home  around the base of his neck.

“I do, that was a joke,” He said, forehead now resting against your own. “But alongside being a doctor, what I really want,” His voice quiet, barely above a whisper as you nod for him to continue. “Is for you to give us a chance rather than fighting it any longer.”

You smiled and pulled away from him. Head nodding firmly as he gently squeezed your sides. Leorio was right, while the two of you may have had your clases from time to time, there was no denying that there was mutual attraction from the start. Something drawing you into him and that same thing refusing to let him leave.

While the two of you had wasted so much time with petty competitions and arguments, you were certain that now you’d communicated properly, things would be smooth sailing for the two of you from here. Although, you thought to yourself, miscommunication had led you to this very situation. So while you nodded your head agreeing to give the two of you a shot, maybe you’d just have to be a little difficult every so often. Just for the sake of reminiscing and no other reason of course.

#bye no because i’m never writing for him again #i hc him as gen musty and just.. sweaty #i had to imagine someone else while i wrote this sobs #l:eorio stans #this is my pity piece to you i’m sorry your tag is so dry #i’m also sorry i lied #your man doesn’t have the dick i described in the fic #but rather a skinny limp one IM SORRY #i also don’t think he cuts his fingernails even though he’s a doctor #maybe he does idc but they just feel.. yuck to me #ALSO HIS BREATH PROBABLY STINKS IM SORRY #okay.. i’ve got that out my system #followers my beloved.. pls forgive me i’m never writing for him again i promise #i swear on it actually #IT WAS HORRIBLE 😰 #BUT I HAD TO SAVE THEIR DYING TAG #leorio smut #leorio x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader smut #🗯pussytalks #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader

[genshinobsession]

About the sentience au, i have no idea if u take request/ consider ideas so feel free to ignore

I got some thoughts so i hope u don't mind me ranting here hehe

But here's the thing, if the character somehow got to our world and found out that their life was created by someone for ppl to pass time and entertain themselves, what would be their reaction to the fandom (fics, ships, reader insert stuff, fanart and other fan made stuff), the creator (and them getting profit or being responsible for their suffering and creating them the way they are? Like flaws/ appearance/ personality n that shit), the gatcha, other characters that they knew, and just generally to the whole thing about them being a fictional character from a game in a different world

Thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

Sentience Au

characters included:

Diluc,Kaeya,Zhongli

(More is coming after, I just didn’t want there to be do much scrolling to get to the character you want)

Diluc

“So, what you’re saying is I’m from a video game, and I am a very desired character. And because of this many people draw pictures of me.” He asks, standing with his hand on his chin as he tried to process this.

You nodded and you got your phone and looked up a simple

“Diluc fanart”

And showed him the results.

He was a little put off now knowing that there were so many people watching him at all times. Not only were they were watching him but they liked him enough to draw him.

“Well, they all are very talented, but why is this one titled ‘Daddy Diluc’ with my shirt off?” He asked, and you snatched your phone from a him as quick as possible and closed out of whatever file or photo album he scrolled to.

With a nervous laugh you turned back to him hiding your phone, not wanting to admit to what he had seen.

“How about we look at some fanfics instead.” You suggested, changing tabs on your phone. You showed him the Tumblr thread as he began to scroll.

“And these are-?” He asked as he looked back at you.

“Stories about you and other characters, or somethings you and the person reading. Those are called self inserts.” You explained, he nodded, slightly understanding until he had scrolled to an NSFW story.

“What does NSFW stand for?” He asked, you shot up from your chair and smacked the phone out of his hand as quickly as possible.

“Okay maybe that’s not a good idea either.” You laughed nervously again as Diluc stared at you curiously. As far as he was concerned NSFW was just a couple of meaningless letters thrown together, but your reaction makes him think it was obviously more than that.

“How about I explain it this way. Because you’re a very desired character, many people are attracted to you,” You began. He nodded, understanding.

“myself included,” you mumbled, he didn’t catch it so you cleared your throat and continued.

“Many of them make art of you and other characters together and more often than not it’s because of a ship.”

Right at that moment you completely lost him. He looked at you confused,

“What do boats have anything to do with this?” He asked, his eyebrows were furrowed together as he tried to think of a logical way that a mode of water transport would have anything to do with him and other characters.

“No no, this kind of ship is a pairing of you and another character, like a relationSHIP.”

Diluc nodded in response,

“So wait, people pair me with other characters? Like who?” He asked, you sighed knowing the question was going to come up sooner or later.

“Well-“ you began as you listed off every person he had been shipped with. As you went on Dilucs face began to contort out of confusion and slight disgust.

“Just... don’t ask and we can both forget about it.” You suggested and he nodded in agreement.

“Gladly.”

Kaeya

“Well this is... interesting.” The blue haired man muttered as he had scrolled through the object that he held in his hands.

He had just seen it lying face up on the counter and his curiosity got the better of him.

And he was very surprised by what he saw.

Just, pages and pages and pages of him in different poses with different people, in varying levels of... intensity.

He was very confused at first, unsure of how to respond but as he wen through he realized each post had a red heart underneath it.

What could that possibly mean?

As he scrolled through he eventually got into the works of writing, all with the same ‘Kaeya x reader’ underneath their titles.

Before he could scroll any farther he heard the door creak open as you walked into the room with a warm joyous smile on your face.

Well until you saw Kaeya with your phone.

“Kaeya, why do you have my phone?” You asked, he looked down at the bright object then back at you.

“So that’s what it’s called, well you did just leave it open so I decided to have a look.” He admitted with a shrug.

You quickly snatched it from him and looked at it realizing he had been through all your posts that you had saved under the label ‘Kaeya’.

Your heart pace quickened out of embarrassment,

“How much did you see?” You asked, he chuckled and moved closer to you, he lightly lifted you chin so you’d look at him, he leaned into your ear and whispered,

“You seem to like me in some interesting positions.” He teased, and let go of your face.

You covered your face, not wanting to look at him.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, its quite cute that you like me that much. I find it, oddly endearing.” He admitted, patting your head lightly.

You finally took your head out of your hands as you looked up at him. He smiled at you as he leaned in close to your face yet again.

“Although, you should be more careful about having your ‘phone’ open to such a... suggestive image.” He teased yet again as you backed up from your face and walked out of the room.

You looked down at your phone which screen has been dimmed a bit, as you raised the brightness you saw a picture of Kaeya you definitely would not be able to unsee for a long while.

Zhongli

Zhongli is definitely a fan of stories,

But the stories he found were definitely not the ones he had in mind.

You didn’t know how to explain to Zhongli that he’s from a game and people all over the internet love and adore him, without showing him.

He doesn’t even know what technology is, let alone the fact people use it to create artwork of him.

“Traveler, I apologize if this is a bit odd, but I saw you looking at some paintings of me on your phone item. How do you have so many? Did you make them also yourself? You’re quite talented if so.” He asked, as you looked from him, to your phone, then back up to him.

He was just patiently standing infront of you, waiting for an answer.

You sighed slightly as you put down whatever you were doing and grabbed your phone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that not something I was supposed to bring up?” He asked, confused by your reaction.

You shook your head as you patted the spot next to you, gesturing for him to sit down next to him.

“No no, you were going to find out sooner or later.” You said as he politely sat down next to you and faced you, ready to listen to whatever story or explanation you were going to give him.

As you explained he asked a few questions, which you answered as best you could.

After you explained how the world Zhongli came from was not exactly real, he was just a character in a video game, and because of that, many people around the world love him and make things to show their love and appreciation for him.

He nodded, trying to understand,

“Well that’s definitely not what I expected. I’ve always had some sort of following but this, admittedly was not what I expected. So all of these people know about Rex Lapis?” He asked, to which you nodded in response.

“I see, well. There’s not much I can to about it now I suppose.” He said, turning back to you with a slight sigh. All the effort putting into hiding and it was, somewhat for nothing.

Liyue was going to have to learn how to be on their own regardless, so leaving wasn’t going to affect them to much, which was comforting to him.

“Thank you, traveler, for answering my question. I understand it was probably hard to explain this to me but I believe I understand now.” He thanked, you nodded accepting it and smiled at him.

However, your smile faltered when you saw Zhongli so lost in thought. You supposed it was because he basically left behind the only thing he’s every known.

You lightly put your hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Why don’t we make some tea, I feel like you’d want to try these flavours.” You said, as he looked back over to you, he recognized this as a way to cheer him up and appreciated it.

“That would be wonderful.”

(Next part coming out is ‘they escape Part 2 pocket edition’)

-Birdy

#fanfic #genshin x reader #genshinimpact #genshinimpactfanfic #imagines #my fic #prompts #reader insert #wattpad #writing #kaeya fluff #kaeya imagines #kaeya genshin impact #kaeya headcanons #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich #diluc x you #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x traveler #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc scenarios #diluc imagines #zhongli x you #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli #sentience Au

[intheticklecloset]

Control (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

I really love writing about these two, whether platonic like it is here or romantically like in one of my previous fics. Their dynamic is so great, and I really love what little I’ve seen of their friendship so far. Thank you for the fun prompt! I had a blast exploring Shinsou’s quirk a bit with this one. ^^

7. “Don’t look at me like that!” “Like what?” “Like you’re going to…do something!”

~

Shinsou was starting to hang out around the 1-A dorms more and more these days, and Deku couldn’t be happier about it. Despite his standoffish nature and I-don’t-want-friends attitude, the boy from 1-C didn’t seem to mind that Kaminari and Ojiro had become attached to him. Deku would often see the three of them together in the living room chatting, or outside sparring, or walking to and from the school building together. It made him happy to know Shinsou was starting to feel more comfortable around their neck of the woods. And, if he was honest, he was hoping to start forming a friendship with the purple-haired boy as well.

“Hi, Shinsou,” he greeted one evening after school as Shinsou stepped into their residence, his blonde companions by his side.

Shinsou nodded at him. “Midoriya.”

This would often be how their interactions went. An enthusiastic greeting, followed by a polite return of some kind. As time went on said returns became slightly warmer, but only marginally. Deku didn’t mind. It was a start.

“Hey, Midoriya,” Ojiro said, waving at him. “We’re going to introduce Shinsou to Mario Kart. Somehow he’s never played it before.”

“What?” Deku exclaimed, staring. “You’re kidding!”

Shinsou shrugged.

Kaminari beamed. “I know, right? You want to join? It’d be cool to have four players.”

Yes! Deku leapt out of his seat. “Of course! I’d love to.”

That game – while not one-on-one – was a good ice breaker for Deku and Shinsou, as the former naturally bantered and exclaimed and laughed along with Kami and Ojiro while the latter occasionally spoke up and held conversations but mostly muttered about how his character always seemed to be going the wrong way.

After that, their greetings became much friendlier.

Deku stepped into the backyard of their dorm one Saturday afternoon with the intention of getting some fresh air. He’d been sleeping much better lately, and now that it was getting warmer outside he enjoyed spending time in nature when he could. When he opened the sliding door, he was surprised to see Shinsou sitting on the patio, staring intently into the near distance where his blonde friends were currently duking it out.

“Hi, Shinsou,” Deku greeted, taking a seat beside him.

“Midoriya,” Shinsou replied, offering a small smile.

“Are they sparring or actually fighting about something?”

“I honestly can’t figure it out myself.”

“Oh, boy.” Deku laughed, stretching and then leaning back to look up at the sky. “Nice weather.”

“Yeah.”

There was a slight pause. “Hey, do you want to spar?”

Shinsou turned to look at him, deadpan. “Midoriya.”

Deku realized how silly that sounded, now that he was getting that look. He chuckled sheepishly. “I mean, we could go quirkless. Just physical combat.”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“You know, keeping in shape. Staying on top of our reflexes.”

“In what situation would a villain ever fight without their quirk?”

Deku thought back to the quirk-ereasing serum, but then shook it off. “That’s a fair point. It was just a suggestion; we don’t have to.” Silence settled again, but a few moments later he took his notepad out of his shorts pocket and scribbled something down.

Shinsou glanced at the pad in his hand. Does he always keep writing material on him? he wondered, then froze when his eyes caught what was written on the page. It was a list, with his own name at the top. Deku was currently writing “doesn’t prefer quirkless combat” directly underneath a bullet with an entirely different theme.

According to Ojiro – really ticklish?

Shinsou felt his cheeks heat up in a blush and he snapped his eyes back up to Deku just as the boy finished writing, closing the notepad and storing it away once more. When he turned to look at him, Shinsou quickly averted his eyes, staring not at his friends in the field, but at the ground.

“Shinsou?”

Crap. What do I do? There’s no way he doesn’t notice I’m blushing.

“Are you okay?” Deku asked, sounding worried. “You look really flushed all of a sudden.”

“I-I…um…” Pull it together! “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just getting a little warm out here.”

There was a pause. “I mean, I guess it is kind of fluctuating between warm and cold.”

He knows I’m lying.

“Midoriya,” Shinsou started, then stopped. Great. What do I say now? He’s looking at me. Say something! “I…I’ve changed my mind. I wouldn’t mind sparring.”

Deku blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, uh…kind of.” What am I doing? “I want to…try something. But…it would require me using my quirk on you. Only if it’s okay. I’ll never use it on you outside of combat.”

“Isn’t sparring combat?”

I am digging my own grave here. Shinsou was growing more flustered by the moment, but he plowed onward, uncertain why he was suddenly following this strange train of thought. “What I want to try isn’t exactly sparring. It’s, um. Endurance training.” Oh, brilliant. Truly genius, Shinsou.

But Deku looked intrigued, which encouraged him a little. “Endurance training? Enduring what?” When even more color flooded Shinsou’s cheeks, Deku hesitated. “What…what exactly are you going to make me do?”

“I won’t make you do anything,” Shinsou replied quickly. “Not if you don’t want to. But it’s not…nothing untoward. I just…” He let out a groan and ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it. It’s stupid, it doesn’t make any sense. It probably won’t work anyw—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” Deku protested, sounding earnest. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

That’s what he’s worried about? Shinsou gave him another tiny smile. “You won’t.”

After another moment, Deku nodded. “Okay. Sure. As long as you don’t make me hurt you, you can use me to test whatever it is you want to test.”

Shinsou couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Midoriya, are you sure? Do I have your permission?”

“You can brainwash me, Shinsou.”

And with that, his face went slack, his eyes lost their shine, and he was under Shinsou’s control.

What am I doing? Shinsou thought frantically as he watched Deku’s unmoving features and body. What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing?!

Still, he’d passed the point of no return. He’d followed his gut reaction to seeing that note about himself this far down the rabbit hole; he might as well go all the way now. He cleared his throat, shifted a little. Heart racing, he mustered up the courage to speak exactly two words.

“Tickle me.”

Deku moved to obey, making Shinsou flinch slightly, but he forced himself to stay put as the green-haired boy found his sides and started digging. Shinsou sputtered, giggles spilling out of his mouth uncontrollably, his cheeks heating up with flustered embarrassment as he watched Deku’s expressionless face. He knows what’s happening. Somewhere in there, he realizes what I’ve asked him to do. He knows. He knows. He knows…

And yet, Shinsou still had control. He whined, then forced himself to speak again. “Hahaharder.”

Deku increased the pressure of his tickling, moving up to Shinsou’s ribs, steadily pushing him down so he was lying on his back on the patio. Absentmindedly, Deku knelt beside him and continued tickling even harder, drawing louder giggles out of Shinsou.

I’ve still got him. “Hahahahaharder,” he said again, and again, Deku complied. Shinsou could feel his control wavering, but he still had it. “Hahahahahaharder!”

Soon Shinsou realized it wasn’t the amount of pressure Deku was applying that would make him lose control, as he was tickling about as hard as he could in this spot and the boy from 1-C still had him under his command. The only way to really test this would be to switch spots. “Stohohohohohop!” he commanded, and Deku obeyed.

Shinsou was blushing furiously, but he was also genuinely curious now, so he continued in his mission. “Straddle my thighs,” he said, “and tickle my hips as hard as you can.”

Deku swung a leg over so he was sitting on Shinsou’s legs, pinned them to the patio, grabbed his hips, and tickled with everything he had.

Shinsou tossed his head back and screamed with laughter. He lost control instantly, feeling the thread connecting his mind to Deku’s snapping in half like a twig, and after a few more moments, the tickling stopped as well.

Deku stared down at the usually quiet boy in awe. “You…you wanted me to tickle you?”

Shinsou covered his face, too embarrassed to look at him. “I wanted to know if I could maintain control while being tickled. It’s a pretty distracting thing. Clearly, when tickled in the right spot, I can’t stay in control. You can put that in your notes, too.”

“What?” Deku sounded surprised. “Wait…did you see…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, man.” Now Deku sounded embarrassed. Shinsou dared a peek at him. Sure enough, he was blushing now, too. “I’m sorry. That was probably weird to read.”

“It turned out to be a win-win for us both, though. I got my answer, and you got to see for yourself how ticklish I am.”

Deku frowned. He still hadn’t moved from his straddling position. “I mean…technically. But I wasn’t myself. I’d hoped to catch Ojiro tickling you sometime, or maybe Kaminari.”

Shinsou looked up at him. “Is it true? Do we share a death spot?”

Deku glanced down at his hips, and something seemed to change in his expression. He went from looking slightly bothered to looking incredibly inspired and mischievous. He grabbed onto Shinsou’s hips and kneaded. “Well, let’s see.”

“GAH!!” Shinsou yelled, unable to help the flood of laughter that bubbled up and spilled out of him in response. “MIDORIYA!!”

“It certainly seems to be a good spot, but there are plenty of other places I didn’t try just now,” Deku mused aloud as though he were mentally taking note. He probably was. His fingers moved up Shinsou’s sides, skittered across his belly, tweaked his ribs, scribbled in his underarms. Shinsou was kept in constant giggles, squirming as much as possible and hiding his face a lot, but never protesting.

Finally, Deku moved back down to his hips and dug in again, beaming at the laughter he produced. “Yeah, I think we do share a death spot, Shinsou.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” The purple-haired boy pleaded, squealing and shrieking. “PLEHEHEHEASE, NOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

Deku couldn’t help but laugh. “You even sound like me!”

That’s exactly what Kaminari said!

“I have to admit, it’s kind of fun tickling someone else who has the same worst spot as me.” Deku chuckled. “Now I can see what I look like to the others. No wonder everyone goes for that spot so fast. It’s fun to tickle you here!”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Shinsou cried, trying to grab at Deku’s wrists and failing. “MIDOHOHOHORIYAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! I’M SOHOHOHOHORRY!!”

Deku did stop, frowning down at him. “Huh? Sorry for what?”

Shinsou gasped for breath, trying to circulate enough oxygen to his brain to formulate a response. “For…um…I-I don’t know…brainwashing you?”

“I gave you permission.”

“F-For…ah…for looking in your notes? Ruining your chance to see how ticklish I am while still in control of yourself?”

Deku smirked.

Shinsou’s heartrate sped up. “Midoriya…d-don’t look at me like that…”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to…do something…”

“Oh, well, sorry about that, Shinsou. But I am going to do something.” Deku grabbed the taller boy’s wrists and pulled them down to his sides, pinning them there with his knees. “Because you haven’t ruined my chances to see how ticklish you are.” He grabbed his hips but didn’t tickle yet, enjoying how Shinsou gasped and flinched with a look of clear excitement on his face. “There is one thing I have to ask you, though, that I won’t be able to figure out on my own.”

“W-What?”

“Ojiro told me you ‘don’t mind’ being tickled. Since we’re already so similar when it comes to tickling, does your saying you ‘don’t mind’ actually mean you like it? Because that’s what I mean when I say I don’t mind.”

And that’s exactly what Ojiro said, too!

Shinsou couldn’t help but whine, flustered and embarrassed and blushing so hard he felt the heat of it on his cheeks. But having Class 1-A’s most fascinating student on top of him like this, so close to making him laugh again, made him give in.

“Y-Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I like it.”

Deku smirked, and he pressed his thumbs into his hipbones, and Shinsou was lost to his laughter.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #izuku #midoriya #deku #hitoshi #shinsou #shindeku #fluff #friends #control #tickling #ticklish #tickle