#which is ironic considering i keep exposing myself to them

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

i forgot i really dont mix well with gorey stuff before i started watching hannibal lol

#halfway thru season 1 i feel nauseous but cant stop now #the thing is i love reading horror im not queasy around blood im fine with all of that #multiple classes im taking this semester deal quite a lot with violence and murder and all that #so in theory this should be fine #just mutilated bodies or dismemberement specifically make me feel sick #bloods fine just not...organs #which is ironic considering i keep exposing myself to them #but also genuinely im really enjoying watching this i love it so far #ez.txt

[suchine-toki]

Gintaka or Takagin?

Short answer:

Long answer:

The issue of who comes first in the ship's name is usually tied to who has the most power over the relationship. In heterosexual couples, 99% of the time the man is put first by default, but when this doesn’t happen, it’s more complicated and falls on the preference of each one.

I would like to examine their relationship based on canon. I’ll do it chronologically, analyzing only a few moments so as not to extend myself too much.

One of the ways that power in a relationship is measured is through physical strength, but we know that Gintoki and Takasugi are evenly matched in this regard because they keep track. This is striking because it reflects the hyper-competitive side of both, even from Gintoki, who usually avoids unnecessary conflict out of laziness.

Another way in which power is measured is in regard to the ability to influence the other, which I'll discuss below.

At the beginning of the relationship, it seems Gintoki has more control, usually being the one who teases Takasugi. However, we do know of other instances where Takasugi has teased Gintoki as well. This shows that since they were little, they’ve had a balanced dynamic in this regard.

In childhood they were more allowed to antagonize the other, which changes with the capture of Shouyo. Before they used to compete for his attention, now they’re forced to work together to rescue him. When they’re older in the Joui war, Takasugi seems calmer and more collected, while Gintoki remains relatively the same.

They continued the teasing nature of their relationship. Although one point I find interesting to highlight is how Gintoki allows himself to be hit by Takasugi without retaliation (immediate at least), which is unusual with the male characters in the series. This raises another point about their ability to compromise.

I know I said that I would only consider the canon material, but I wanted to cheat a little and refer to a moment from the second movie (BFY), which was written by Sorachi and I believe to be semi-canon.

Here Takasugi tells Gintoki to follow them, when there was no need to. I mean, where else he would go at that moment? This reflects Takasugi's bossy nature, which was likely reinforced when he became a general, and Gintoki’s more passive nature (in the strict sense of the word). Instead of getting mad, Gintoki just says he will follow, and he does.

With what I’ve expressed, it seems that Takasugi is the one who has the most influence on the relationship. However, it’s at crucial moments, such as the promise they make and Shouyo's subsequent beheading, that Gintoki's influence over Takasugi is evident. After all, it’s because of Gintoki that Takasugi lives on and continues his destructive crusade.

Continuing chronologically, their first meeting at the beginning of the series comes after 10 years without seeing each other. Here Takasugi presses his sword against Gintoki's back, who in response immobilizes it with his bare hands. In the manga it’s not shown, it can only be assumed the meeting ends with them leaving without another word. This would be the first time that both declined to fight.

Later in Benizakura arc Gintoki tells Takasugi to be careful if he catches him walking down the street. Ironically, their next meeting is in Courtesan of a Nation arc, in which they pass each other on the street, the second time they both decline to fight.

I expose these moments because they’re quite revealing in retrospect. The first time I watched the series, it seemed to me that Takasugi carried more emotional energy into the relationship, albeit in a negative way, while Gintoki was rather indifferent. How wrong I was. Reviewing these points after the end, it can be seen there’s a strong emotional energy that’s present throughout the entire series, with a feeling of longing on the part of both, waiting for the return of the other.

I also find it surprising that Gintoki, despite his self-deprecation, knows how important he’s to Takasugi and tells him so in the Shogun Assassination arc. Meaning, he acknowledges that he has power over Takasugi. Also, in this arc, Gintoki demonstrates his more possessive tendencies towards him, stating only he has the right to protect or kill him. In the same way, Takasugi has also spoken like this about Gintoki.

The second part of Silver Soul arc focuses on the relationship of these two. At first, it’s appreciated that Takasugi keeps some distance from Gintoki, but at the same time he wishes to be with him. The truth is Takasugi wants to protect Gintoki this time, he wants him to be happy. However, Gintoki chases after Takasugi and refuses to let him go. It’s a push and pull in their ability to compromise.

Their interactions in this arc were particularly interesting to me because you can see how the power dynamic changes, leaning more towards Takasugi on some occasions and more towards Gintoki on others. A good example of this is when they’re fighting over Shouyo's crystallized heart.

Takasugi takes leadership of the situation and messes with Gintoki before reaching the ship. However, when Gintoki demands he hand over the heart, Takasugi concedes. In this way, it can be seen how in certain cases Gintoki does what Takasugi wants, while in others Takasugi does what Gintoki wants.

Even if they spent years apart, in the end, they understand how important they’re to each other. That the other is an indispensable part of their own being, thus recognizing both the affection and the admiration they mutually feel. Both have an enormous capacity to influence the other.

Now, if you mean R18+ stuff… I'll just say I can't see one bottoming or topping all the time lol they’d probably keep track of that too 😂

In short, Gintoki and Takasugi’s dynamic is one of the most equal in the series in my opinion.

#Gintama #Sakata Gintoki #Takasugi Shinsuke #gintaka #takagin #and that's why I say both are good #this is also due to the difference between their personalities #Takasugi is a natural leader who acts on his own free will #Whereas Gintoki is more reactive and used to going alone #Both are high maintenance #constantly trying to get under each other's skin and then getting fed up at some point lol #I've been wanting to answer this for weeks 🙈 #But it's finally here #Ask #Analysis #my post

[ghostryders]

I just want to talk about what we know about what life is like for human biotics! I am aware that this reads as if I was talking to myself in a hypomanic episode. this is because I was.

We get a lot of interesting info from Kaidan, who was exposed in utero in flight 714 incident at singapore int'l spaceport on april 8 of 2151. He was fitted with an L2 implant at 17 (2168). If Shep is biotic, they were exposed in utero (2153-54) + at age 14; They were fitted with an L3 implant at age 17. which by the way literally how bc they were a minor at the time and there was no official biotics program at the time since BaAT was shut down, plus it was before Grissom Academy. ROTC type program maybe?

ANYWAY We know that biotics just tend to be more... static-y(?) in general. They tend to get small shocks from touching metal objects. Kaidan actually has a little throwaway line that his hair stands up a little on its own so he doesn't need to style it. the mass relay statue on the presidium makes his teeth feel funny and he hears a low humming sound, maybe this can be felt around eezo or large quantities of electricity in general?

On the day to day, it's really important for biotics to keep their amp ports clean, kinda like any medical port we have today. Due to their metabolism burning through calories to provide energy for biotics, they may have what could be considered symptoms of hypermetabolic disorders. Gaining and maintaning weight may be challenging, they're probably prone to anemia, and often feel hot/sweaty.

Typically there are only a few biotics in a unit. This is likely due to the expenses related to them. They need more food, amps, medical observation, and armor that is protective yet flexible enough for them to perform their physical mnemonics. Ironically though, they work best in groups where they can synchronize their abilities.

As we know, there tends to be prejudice and ostracization from other humans. There was even one instance where a biotic was attacked and killed by mob who was scared of them. There's a lot of misinformation about what they are capable of and fear from the general public, including organizations refusing to pay reparations to biotics they abused in their research. This is sort of the origin of biotic extremist groups.

I wonder if they face these issues in the Alliance. Of course publically, the alliance welcomes them and offers them huge enlistment incentives. and they aren't locked out of careers, their options of where they are accepted is mainly limited to the military. It's totally possible that on the day to day, alliance officers and crew distrust them.

i imagine that since biotics basically fire up your nervous system, it can make you feel overwhelmed or anxious, which is probably the source of psychological distressed that many L2's developed. It's also known that biotics kinda like glow during sex. By that logic I’d think biotics can also flare up with strong emotions or physical pain.

Government registration is necessary if the mission involving major kyle and chairman burns goes sour. Though I'd always imagine this is something the government would want to keep track of anyway for census, public health, and military recruitment reasons.

not 100% sure on some sources but hit post send anyway

#mass effect #commander shepard #kaidan alenko #biotics #me:le #mass effect lore #mass effect trilogy

[ruki--mukami]

🥀 am i greedy and curious? yes. 🧍🏃

💭 + viruki 👀👀 (it could be a headcanon about literally anything regarding these two ><. BUT ALSO! FEEL FREE TO DISREGARD IF YOU CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING!! ) 🥀

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.

"Virek is quite the idiosyncratic person. There are moments when I cannot figure the man out and moments when he shows me just a glimpse of what might be stirring in that confusing mind of his. Likewise, I can tell he is an avid reader, yet his knowledge of how the world operates is surprisingly lacking. Such is expected of a human who has only lived so many years on this earth, unlike a long-lived Vampire. Rather than reading about everything in books, I'd like for him to experience certain events and places for himself. Whether it's feeding him an actual homemade meal or taking him to a location that most humans can only dream of visiting, there is no one better suited for the task than me—one who has witnessed it all."

🧩 ✨ Viruki Headcanons ✨ 🧩

OKAY I KNOW THAT WAS VAGUE but I headcanon that, despite Ruki's canon tendency to stick to the indoors rather than going outside, he finds it a bit unacceptable that Virek has left hints throughout multiple occasions that he hasn't had the most enriching life despite his natural intellect. The Vampire is definitely a firm believer that exposing someone to new stimuli will help them flourish, and in Viruki's case, he'd like to see just how far their conversations can go if only the man had a somewhat normal life.

Writing this honestly made me remember the beach interaction and while that was originally written in a way that anyone could reply to it, for Viruki's case I believe he invited Virek because not only does he want to understand him better, but also because Ruki lowkey wants to find what might encourage him to open up. Which... is honestly very, very ironic, now that I actually think deeply about this.

So far in their interactions, Virek hasn't exactly given Ruki a reason to act cruelly towards him. Sure, he might answer in a nonsensical way, or act a bit aloof and taciturn, but for the Vampire it isn't exactly punishment material just yet unless Virek continues to constantly act this way even after much time has passed.

And honestly now I'm just chuckling to myself because it's so funny to me how Virek somehow managed to bring out a more human side of Ruki without him even noticing. Seriously though, he'd love to impress him with his culinary skill just to get a genuinely surprised reaction out of the guy and because he can probably name at least ten reasons why always buying/ordering food can be detrimental to a human's health which also plays a role in the quality of his blood and all that. 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

However, I do also think that Ruki might finally bite the man in a private situation where he gets fed up in some way. Either that, or he might feel compelled to one day reveal the truth simply because there may come a point where it's more inconvenient to keep it a secret. Which is weird because Ruki considers himself as someone who doesn't need friends (lonely bastard 🙄).

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #headcanon meme #virek sutcliffe #viruki #crimson-mayhem #(( sorry for the long read i ended up writing way more than i intended HAHAHA ))

[minseologs]

in places we dont belong ft. @brvshstroke

Her eyes furrow at the young man sitting where he shouldn’t be: in the arms of an older man. Truthfully, they both shouldn’t even be there. In a room full of older generation that gathered for the sake of underground business. What’s worst is concluding his duties being in the arms of said man, or two. She immediately knew to avoid those who have deeds with in the escorting realm as her family— ironically enough— do not wish to associate with deeds as such. Yet they were notorious for eliminating ones who have done them wrong. It was the first Minseo is trusted with underground business since she had just graduated university and is now exposed to a place where a mere young adult shouldn't be.

She approaches with a friendly smile seeing him left alone, but was immediately cut off with soft words—

“Sorry— I’m booked—“

“No—“ the assumption made pits her stomach in disgust of the thought. he looked so … young— “Uh.. I thought to say hi because we look the same age... how old are you—“

He furrows his brows, most certainly weirded out by this woman asking him a question. He felt unsafe and his face definitely expressed it.

“I was just curious— we might be the same age!” she pursed her lips in a thinned smile, feeling the need to kick him out of there so to protect with her instinct that he just shouldn’t be there. “I know you from somewhere I think— you’re from which family? I’m Minseo— with the Choi’s from—“

“I didn’t know Hyejung-ssi had a sister…”

“Yeah — I’m not mentioned a lot” she chuckles nervously, her name being summoned nearby that abruptly ends the conversation.

“It’s— it’s Yijeong.” The truthful answer felt like some kind of secret exposed. "I came from the Nams, but-"

“Yes—!” She was being dragged by an older man, who perhaps was her father, in an urgent state. “I’ll talk to you soon—!!”

Minseo comes across interesting faces underground once in a while, a curious eye to people akin to her own background. Most especially the ones who didn’t appear to have belonged there at all. Over the course of months, Yijeong had seen her presence more often than her older sister, who was the token child known for the opposite iron fist her younger one has. He had his guard up, after all, her family was the same as his. To only care of wealth, power, and maintaining an image. Even their own siblings emit hatred to their existence.

~

“I was also thinking,” his face was much fuller now, healthier than last she’s seen despite the injuries he’d acquired on a recent accident. His presence in the apartment had been different as they’ve made a deal for him to guard one of her sentimental homes. “—and I wanted to say- earlier you mentioned I looked like I need protecting. I don't want to be protected; I don't want someone to baby me or treat me like I'm a damsel. All I want is to feel safe with someone... and to know that they would fight for me; not make me an option, and not just walk away.”

“Even the strongest people need protecting I think,” she muses, leaning back and looking on as memories of old friends flooded her suddenly. “get what you're saying though. I didn't mean to baby you. Or any thing of that sort. You're a friend. I'll protect you as much as I protect those who consider me as a friend”

He smiles candidly, unsure of how to respond with such offer.

"I like to keep my friendships intact, that's why I've been called a people pleaser or something-"

"Oh I understand people pleasing," he chuckles with a thought. "I've been described as someone who would set myself on fire just to keep someone else warm."

"Don't we all?" Minseo's gaze looks on, she hated to admit the truth being placed in front of her. "We're humans, after all. it's natural."

"You know what I really want to do?" She waits patiently at the pause, her lips forming a thinned-lip smile as Yijeong held suspense. "I just want to snuggle... watch a movie."

"I'm not a snuggling type, but we can hold hands. I trust you with that-"

"We don't even have to hold hands if you're not comfortable. okay?"

"It's not that..." physical touch is something to get used to. for me. "I can do hand holding or foot stacking."

A soft-hearted chuckle emits from him, continuing to talk about everything and anything. It didn't reflect where they were years then: Yijeong struggling with the off-course trajectory of his life, as to Minseo who had suffered the constant wrath of her family's arbitrary consequences of their impossible expectations. Today, they accompany one another, overlooking the Seoul skyline with little worries trailing behind.

"Noona, I'm good at being anti-tense, I think? Like a calming lotion.. in a person..." "Calming lotion-- You make me worry about you too much, please calm me now~" "Okay, calming right now! I'll put myself over you and the tension will just disappear~" "No, keep your distance--"

#cms:log #brvshstroke #lets pretend i didnt write this in october lel

[hlysins]

Kaina had long since forgotten what it felt like to be a hero. How could she have ever been considered one with the blood that stained her hands? It reminded her of her past sins, which could never be washed away. Her disillusionment with the societal structures of their world finally led her to make a stand, her actions dubbing her the treacherous hero. She was nothing more than their scapegoat, and she would forever be viewed as the villain. She couldn't help but find it ironic, standing before a man who could be considered neither hero nor villain. It was palpable for her to see the stark contrast between them. She was treacherous and betrayed every moral and value she had, jading her dreams of becoming a hero and making her nothing more than a weapon for the commission to use as they pleased. But him? It seemed he was in a gray area, accepted by neither side and yet whose services were requested.

❝ You throw yourself into their world despite how they view a man like you. So what are you, hero? ❞ The epithet was said with disdain. Anyone associated with that pathetic little school surely had to be a so-called hero. But the ones that the citizens and the commission held up on pedal stool were nothing more than a mask to keep everyone believing in a world that did not exist. She had become an underhanded person who schemes corruption and political chicanery behind closed doors — a name synonymous with betrayal and death. If only the world knew that people like her were nothing more than the commission's dogs. Perhaps that was why his presence angered her so, he was toeing the line just as she had done, and yet he hadn't been thrown to the wolves and left to rot in prison.

Anger and bitterness etched themselves across her features as her gaze narrowed. Now that she was out of tartarus she had no plans of going back and serving time for lies and something she didn't necessarily do upon her arrest. ❝ Your very nature is paradoxical, isn't it?❞ She inquired with contempt. Her anger was bubbling over as she tried to understand how someone like him could align himself with the U.A. despite how the rose-colored world viewed him.

For her, what this all came down to was simple: she thought his skillset could be better used to show the world the hypocritical ways of the society he was fighting to protect. People like her knew the ugly truth because she was a victim of a system that took young heroes' dreams and distorted them to serve a purpose. Even if that purpose was betraying everything she had fought so hard to protect in the beginning. ❝ If you're here to bring me back to that hell, I promise you it won't be easy. ❞ Her words served as a warning — she would not be taken so easily. Part of her wanted to serve as a warning to him; once he no longer fit their needs, he would be cast aside as if everything he had done in service to them meant nothing. She had long since forgotten the heroic name she had once been called. All she knew now was Lady Nagant and the treacherous hero in a system that needed both sides of the coin to maintain itself. Introspection led her to believe that the small window of time in which she was a hero surely meant nothing now.

❝ Think long and hard about what it is you will do next because I will not let myself be defeated here. ❞ Once more her words came as a threat, a warning to him and everyone else that she did not care about further villifying herself. She had one been idealistic in believing she could become a hero and make a difference and now she was nothing more than a ghost haunting the shadows — the cost of betrayal bitter on her lips. Out of everyone, he was someone she could relate to on the surface poised and perfect in the eyes of the public but beneath that smile held lies and sins. And if exposing the truth of her story meant falling even farther she would. The darkness that gnawed away at her as she watched the fragile illusion of justice filled her with rage. ❝ You really believe that this life means something when it is others who decide who the villian is and who the hero is? ❞ She inquired with bitter laughter accompanying her words.

Truthfully, she couldn't say she knew much about him but she was certain that she recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look that she once had — longing to become a hero the world needed all the while darkness filling the void in the place life once was.

// @spydcddy

#spydcddy #//hope you like it! if not come holler at me & sorry if she is rusty #//this became longer than intended but if you need any changes let me know! #✖kaina ic║you can tell a war story by its absolute & uncompromising allegiance to obscenity & evil

[mandoalorian]

Hot Springs [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2, EPISODE 2. [CHAPTER 10].

Summary: when The Mandalorian crashes his ship into a barely habitable and unfamiliar ice cold planet, he has to spend time on repairs. Little does he know, his bounty (you), has sauntered off into the depths of the crystallic cave, finding a hot spring to lounge in. When he discovers you pleasuring yourself amongst the thermal blue waters, he just can’t keep his hands of you. 

Warnings: SMUT (duh...) m receiving oral, p in v, lots of touching and affection.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only

Authors Note: The devil works hard but I work harder. Chapter 10 was literally released three hours ago and I’ve already knocked this up. The scene with the hot springs gave me ~thoughts~ and well, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

The Mandalorian was just about finished the repairs on his ship when the cooing of his child interrupted him. He put down the soldering iron, and turned to face the little green bean who was knee deep in fluffy white snow. After a few beats of silence, the child let out an incoherent garble and Din sighed. "Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to make yourself useful?" he quizzed, gesturing towards the Razor Crest. The child blinked momentarily and Din let out another huff of annoyance before returning back to solder together some pieces of wire

The child's next garble came only a few moments later and when Din turned around, he noticed that his son was gone. Din dropped the iron once more and raised to his feet, walking around the perimeter of the Crest until he saw the child again. The child turned to his father, babbling and pointing his finger. When Din followed the directions of the child's small claw, he realised that his son had been trying to alert him of something. Din flicked the tracking switch on his visor which highlighted the footprints through the snow.

"She's gone?" he questioned himself out loud. "Wait here." he told the Child, who slumped down in the snow and began to roll snowballs with his small hands.

Din followed your footprints through the depths of the ice cold caves until finally he found you. There you were, lounging naked in what could only be described as a pool of steaming tranquil water. It was a vibrant blue colour, comparable to the beautiful lakes of Naboo or rivers of Alderaan.

"I told you to wait by the ship." The Mandalorian's voice was low and dark through his modulator. There was something sultry about it. If you weren't engulfed in warm water, you might have sworn his voice alone could do things to you that no other man has ever. 

You took in his broad stature. Tall, wide shoulders, and covered in the most pristine Beskar armour. And he was just standing there, watching you.

"Just about all ice planets have hot springs," you informed the Mandalorian, dodging his statement only slightly. "They're almost always in crystalline caves, just like this one. They're heated by underground volcanic activity. I know what you're thinking— volcanoes on an ice planet? But trust me. Legends says they have healing powers and well, I believe them. The natural oils that these thermal waters possess make my skin so smooth." you drew out, kicking your leg out the water and rubbing your hand along your calf and up your thigh, humming in delight at the touch.

"Stars." Din gritted out as he watched you touch yourself. You noticed upon his entrance to the springs, he had completely stiffened up, not moving an inch. His eyes were locked on you. But you didn't mind. In fact, you kind of liked the attention from a Mandalorian. "So you knew about the hot springs here?"

"I knew there'd be hot springs, sure," you shrugged, continuing to drag the warm thick blue water over your skin. The oils in it made it slippery but all the more appealing to the Mandalorian. He shuffled in his boots slightly, dragging them across the thick snow beneath him. "I got bored waiting on the ship. Not much to do for entertainment."

The Mandalorian scoffed, but he couldn't exactly argue with you. "You could've put yourself in danger." he muttered, looking around. Your eyes followed his.

"Do you see anything?" you prompted him. "No? Exactly. It's safe here, I promise." After a long beat of silence, you took a deep breath and inhaled the fragranced air around you. "Join me." you murmured.

The Mandalorian was taken aback, but your offer became harder to refuse by the second. Maker, his cock was throbbing now, constricted and feeling tight under his pants and armour. He tilted his head slightly and watched as you let your hands grace your body and squeeze your own breasts. You knew exactly how to lure him in. You gently closed your eyes at the sensation, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Of course, the opaqueness of the turquoise water left very little visible to the Mandalorian's eye but judging from the way you were positioned and the slight slushing sound of the water, he knew you were touching himself. 

The Mandalorian wanted to hear that moan again. If that sound was the noise you made when you touched yourself, then he wanted to hear the noises you could make when he touched you.

You were utterly a sight to behold. He wanted to engrain the image of you, lounging in the hot springs, for the rest of his life. 

The thought of you pleasuring yourself in front of him created a fire in his stomach. He felt his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you. Your hair wasn't completely wet, but damp from the condensation in the air, sticking slightly to your skin. Pearls of sweat beaded across your hairline and as he trailed his vision down, he noticed the way it glossed over your collarbones— defining them.

"If I join you," the Mandalorian gulped. "I might not be able to control myself." he warned, a strong level of sterness in his voice.

You bit your lip and extended your arms, propping yourself up in the tub so he could see the way you spread yourself out for him. "Consider this an invitation." you gazed up towards him, fluttering your eyelashes which framed your doe-like eyes.

The Mandalorian discarded his armour one by one, the Beskar of his chest plate and knee pads clanking as he dropped them to the rocky ground beneath him. As he undressed himself, he didn't take his eyes from you, and so, you decided to give him a little show to watch.

You hopped up on to the side of the tub, exposing your naked body. You even heard Din's breathing hitch when he took sight of you. You crossed your legs over, not wanting to show him too much yet, but dropped your head back and your breasts together. The sudden coldness in the air hardened your nipples and made them sensitive as you ran the pad of your thumb over the little bud, pinching it now and again. You dipped your hands back in the water and gently let the warm, oily water drip down your body. Din watched, completely enthralled as droplets dripped down the curve of your breasts and pooled in your belly button. He wanted to spread you out— take you now. Fuck you fast and hard in the snow if he could.

But there was something so delicate about the way you performed for him. The way you gently touched yourself and your whimpers which echoed throughout the crystallised caves. It struck something inside of him. He wanted to take it slow, touch every part of you like it had never been touched before. Grace his finger along every edge and dip of your body.

It wasn't long until the Mandalorian had stripped completely down, his clothing pooled on the floor amongst yourd. You let out a small gasp as you took in his manhood which was hard and pressed against his tummy. Dark brown hair trailed from his belly button down to his crotch and you swallowed a lump in your throat that you didn't realise you were holding. You knew he couldn't take his helmet off, but seeing the colour of his hair on another part of his body awakened a primal feeling inside of you.

He stood there, awkwardly, almost like he was awaiting your instruction. His hand dropped to his cock and he began to rub his length slowly, up and down. It was in that moment you got an eyeful of the precum that was beading at the dark pink tip. Oh Maker…. he was desperate for you.

"Come here." you gestured with a finger that beckoned him to walk around the steaming hot tub. Still jerking himself, he walked to the edge of the tub where you were sitting and you continued to swirl your feet into the water.

When he stood before you, you took his hand and gently removed it from his cock. The loss of Din's grip made his cock bounce forward. You looked down at it, taking in the sight of all the bumps and veins and licked your lips at the thought of how he would feel inside of you. He was big, you knew he'd stretch you out, but you had hope in the oils from the springs that maybe they'd lubricate you before that time came. "I want to taste you, is that alright?" you asked, dipping your hand into the warm water and taking it back out before rubbing his length.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, jerking his hips deeper into your first. You tutted and slowly shook your head at his lack of patience. The oils from the thermal water had made your hands slick and wet.

You rolled your hand to the bottom of his girth and cupped his balls before skillfully swirling your tongue over his pink tip, earning a groan from him. Your lips curved into a smirk as you continued with the kitten licks, savouring every drop of precum that he had created. You wanted to be vocal for him, making sure you moaned when his salty seed hit your tongue. Licking your lips, making sure you could devour every last drop. "Tastes so good," you cooed before taking his full length in your mouth and bopping your head.

On impulse, Din grabbed a fist full of your hair, holding your head in place as you took him as far as you could. With his remaining length, you lifted your hand and began to pump him. You slowly drew back from his cock, a line of your saliva mixer with his precum drawn from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips.

"What are you doing?" Din growled, pushing your head back on his cock. 

"Cmon, I know you want to fuck my mouth. I see the way you jerk your hips. And I want it too. Fuck my mouth, Mando," you commanded, reaching up and pressing a hand along his v-line.

You parted your lips only slightly, but enough for the Mandalorian to push his length inside of you. You immediately found yourself hollowing your cheeks as he began to fuck your mouth, illicitng curses in what you could only assume to be Mando’a. You grabbed onto his hips, fingernails pinching into his ass as he thrusted inside of you. "S-such a good mouth for me," he praised. "Good girl. Take me so well." It wasn't long before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you drew back, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Join me in the water," you pleaded, hopping back into the tub and letting the wetness engulf you. The Mandalorian sat on the edge of the tub and carefully slipped in, the water rising to his chest. He shuddered at the heat and you couldn't help but smile. "You like it?" you asked him, and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, haven't felt anything this nice since- since-" The Mandalorian couldn't finish his sentence because you were already dragging him through the water and on top of you.

Once again, you leaned against the side of the tub and brought the Mandalorian warrior in between your legs. You hooked your legs around his waist and the water pushed his cock against your wet folds, a soft moan escaping your lips. Liking what he could hear, the Mandalorian teasingly rolled his cock over your clit, and your fingers dug into his back.

You didn't think it was possible, but somehow you managed to get closer to him. You pressed your breasts up against his chest and rested your chin the crook of his neck. He pushed the hair out of your face, revelling in your beauty.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself inside of you, desperate for some kind of release. You screamed, fingers digging into his tan skin. His back was strong and muscular and he held himself there, inside of you, warming his cock. You traced his back, enthralled in the way he was using his upper body strength to hold you up against the side of the tub.

"Move." you begged, pressing your lips into his shoulder blade. The Mandalorian groaned at your soft kisses. He hadn't felt such affection from anyone before. His hips moved slightly but his cock still filled inside of you, throbbing as your walls contracted around him. You bit down on his skin at the sensation. You loved how long and thick he was. You loved the way he filled you up. "Move." you repeated, but this time it was a cry of desperation.

The Mandalorian obeyed your order, slowly and somehow pushing himself deeper inside you. His cock curved and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Fuck, he was good. You whined, rolling your hips and meeting his every thrust. 

"Stars, you're so tight," he cursed and you clenched around him once more. He was certain you'd milk him from his seed shortly.

"Mando, you don't have to be gentle. I need you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast." You whispered, your breath tingling his skin. He wasn't going to say no to that.

The Mandalorian increased his speed, and his thrusts became more erratic. As the oils of the thermal waters seeped into your cunt his actions became sloppier and he had to clutch onto you like he was afraid you'd break beneath him. The waters of the hot springs rolled over the edges of the tub and splashing noises, as well as your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the caves.

"I'm close," he warned. "Fuck. Your cunt is so soft. Ngh- feels so good around me."

"Mando," you wailed, your hands wrapped around his helmet for support as he continued to messily thrust into you. He lowered one hand under the water and found the bud of your clit, rubbing at it as he continued to fuck you. "Shit, don't stop that. I'm gonna cum."

"Yes baby," The Mandalorian growled. "Cum for me like a good girl."

The words spurred you off and you dropped your head back, your entire body shaking as he fucked you through your climax. Your walls clenched around his cock and he started twitching inside you. "Fuck!" he cried out, holding you by the shoulders.

"I'm safe," you gasped, as he continued to thrust deeper into you. "Please cum inside of me. Please."

"You take my cock so fucking good." He praised, his modulated voice echoing through the cave as his hips snapped into yours. His hands drop as he holds your lower back and the pressure feels sharp. He's rough, he's hard just like you had requested of him. You could feel every edge and vein of him as he slammed inside of you, groaning out your name with each savage thrust.

Before long, Din spills inside of you. And he was containing a load. You feel his sticky heat rope your and coat your walls as you yelp in pleasure. He stays inside of you, letting the cum bury deep within you before he softens and gently pulls out. You whine at the loss of his fullness, your eyes fluttering shut as he doubles back.

Both of you are a heaving panting mess, standing before each other in the hot springs. Your legs felt shaky, like he just fucked every last beam of life out of you. You grabbed onto the edge of the tub and pulled yourself up, letting the cool air dry your body.

The Mandalorian took another good look of your body and he felt himself get hard again. Fuck, no credits could amount to that experience. There was no way he could return you now. You were his to keep.

Permanent taglist:

@goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal icons #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal smut #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #star wars #star wars smut

[lizzy-williams]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

🐺Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamic, SMUTTTT, neediness, language, mature themes, dubcon?

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: Every Omega knows that going into heat is rough, especially when unclaimed. All eyes are on you. So when it hits you in the middle of a coffee shop with your friends, a particular alpha is very willing to help.  

🐺Theme (All I Need by Radiohead)

🐺A/N: Lol we gonna get dirtttyyyy. By the way, you’re small in his, like body proportion wise, like 5′4 small so there’s that. I know people want the ‘independent strong hardheaded alpha female’, but in this one ur compliant, sorry if ya don’t like it. There will most likely be a part 2 :)

“Y’know, I dunno how you drink that stuff,” Anna-Lynn said from across the table, making [ y / n ] roll her eyes and look up.

“You’re just jealous cause your tastebuds are weak,” she retorted, taking a teasingly long sip of her dark black coffee. 

It was nice having a day out like this. Especially when everyone seemed so busy with preparing for the spookiest holiday of the year. Paper bats and small pumpkins littered the store-fronts of London, the summer weather fading with the light chilly breezes autumn seemingly brought. 

The calm warm light streamed through the window of the coffee shop the three young women were in, the dusk just hitting them. The tree leaves complimented the light as it covered the area in a soft blanket of pink and orange hues. 

“So, um,” [ y / n ]’s other friend, Elizabeth, began to speak, clearing her throat and shooting a daring look at Anna-Lynn, “Have you thought about Ethan at all?”

Ah, yes, Ethan. He was Elizabeth’s younger cousin, just then turning 19, a simple beta with no claimed mate. 

[ y / n ] shook her head, and to this, the two girls let out a defeated huff, “You need to chose someone,” Anna-Lynn’s voice was clipped as she huffed, but it had a hint of concern. Worry even. 

And of course there was a stipulation to one of [ y / n ]’s favorite seasons. Because for her kind, not only was it autumn, but it was also mating season. A dangerous time for any omega unclaimed. If you were unclaimed when the time came around, you were easy pray, and other alphas and betas could smell you much much easier. 

You would become a target. Even more so if you were in heat. 

“I’m not worried about it.” [ y / n ] sighed, nonchalantly, taking a large gulp of her drink before setting it back down. But deep down she truly was.

“We just don’t want you to become like one of those other omegas... you know, getting claimed by someone on the street during their heat... someone they don’t love at all and being forced to have pups, it’s just barbaric.” Elizabeth glanced down at her dwindling hands. 

“I understand that. But I’ve had no issues with this before. I’ll just... lock myself up in my room with a vibrator and some porn. That’s worked before,”

“Bullshit, you were a grump for like a month because you had built up aggression. Ethan’s a good guy. You should really consider it.”

Yes, Ethan was nice. But when it came to [ y / n ]... she just felt as if they weren’t meant for each other. And there was no way that she would consider having pups with him and-

Speak of the mother fucking devil-

It was as if she was hit with a million bricks at once, her body becoming hot, a powerful wave of uncomfortable warmth crashing through her body like a tidal wave, her mouth clamping shut tightly. Her breath hitched, her thighs tightening around nothing, her legs shaking as she felt herself feel as if she were going to throw up. The moisture between her thighs was uncomfortable as she felt her panties stick to her mound.

How could she be so careless? Now she was in heat in public and she knew that nearby alphas and betas had already caught onto the scent, most likely heading their way. She knew it was roughly the time she would go into heat. And it was hell on earth right now, knowing that now that the sun was just now taking it’s last breaths over the tall buildings, the night heightening her kind’s senses acutely. 

Her friends caught on almost immediately, knowing the mannerisms of the heavy breathing and the quivering lips. Her eyes were wide as she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, trying her best to keep her whimpers and whines in the back of her throat. 

Thoughts raced through the young woman’s mind. Thoughts of her being taken in the most delicious ways possible by any man that just so happened to look her way. And her friends could tell that there were already at least a few alphas coming in hot, the sudden howling through the now darkened air making the 2 other girls’ senses hyperactive. 

What was ironic was that there was a conversation going on between two baristas behind the counter, “The dogs are at it again, they’ve been a lot noisier than usual.”

“We need to get her home, right now.” Anna-Lynn commanded, Elizabeth giving a chaste nod before flipping through her phone as a poor, squirming, [ y / n ] sat right across from them, panting in her intense discomfort. 

She shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the ache in her core. She wanted, no, needed to be filled up. To be claimed. But the thoughts only drove her down deeper, desperation seemingly seeping out of every pore. 

As soon as she was called an Uber, it was an agonizing amount of time before it finally came to a stop, the driver flashing concerned looks at the poor squirming girl in her back seat. Throughout the whole ride, it took everything for [ y / n ] not to touch herself, and all she could do was shift her thighs together, and thankfully, (soon enough), the car came to a stop. 

[ y / n ] let out a strangled ‘thank you’ to the driver before getting out, and after the woman drove off, she found herself stumbling into an alleyway. Her whole body was on fire and she needed release, any release. 

Her back violently hit the brick wall of a darkened alleyway, her loud and labored breaths echoing through the seemingly empty face. She needed tension. At least a little bit. 

As if her legs weren’t her own, [ y / n ] spread her legs only a small amount, just enough to slip her hand under her pants and softly drifting her fingertips over her clothed clit. 

A smooth and controlled rubs soon turned into harsh and fast circles, her needful thoughts forcing her mind to tune out the howling that was getting closer and closer to her. It wasn’t until a low and terrifying growl resonated through the hollow space, making her stop in her tracks, yanking her hand out of its position, doing her best to stand up and steady herself. 

But it was far too late, because by the time she finally started bolting towards the opening in the cold alleyway, her body was caught and thrown against the frigid brick, a pitiful yelp leaving her lips, unleashed tears forming in her eyes. 

“You smell fucking delicious,” a dark voice spoke, no doubt an alpha, and [ y / n ] wouldn’t dare look up and meet his eyes. 

“P-Please, I c-can’t-”

[ y / n ] didn’t even know why she was saying please, for there were so many reasons she could be saying it. 

Please don’t.

Please help the pain.

Please touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

Please.

But the young woman’s thoughts were cut short by a violent tug to her hair, forcing her gaze on the person in from of her. He had bright red hair, freckles apparent, even in the dull light of the closed off space. He wore a jet black hoodie, and that was all that [ y / n ] bothered to take in. 

“You’re a pretty one...” his words rattled through her mind, muffled by the sharp ringing in her heat from the sudden contact to the wall only moments earlier, “Glad I claimed you before anyone else could,” he paused to chuckle to himself, “Would hate to touch damaged goods.”

[ y / n ] whimpered and almost recoiled away, but she knew better. This alpha seemed ill-tempered, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she dared to disobey. 

He gave a rough tug to her hair, standing her up, and immediately started to kiss her neck in hopes of warming her up a little bit more, not that she needed it, but nonetheless, his lips continued their assault on the young woman’s neck, whimpers and whines escaping her lips. 

“Just one little thing, pretty girl, you’re unclaimed, I can smell it on you.” he spoke before leaving a long, sinful lick up her throat, “I’m going to bite this pretty little neck and make sure that nobody else is going to touch what’s mine.”

The girl’s body shivered violently. He was talking about a claim mark. If that happened, she could never escape him, it was a tracking device. Where ever she decided to go, he would know exactly where she was. 

“Please, don’t, I-”

But a violent growl made her blood run cold and her words pause half-way up her throat. But it wasn’t from her captor. His head was already snapped towards the source of the sound, which was at the opening of the alleyway, the minimal light caused by the streetlight exposing a clothed figure with its hands in its pockets. They weren’t tall but they weren’t short, but their stature was confident. 

Great. Another alpha.

“Drop her.” the voice spoke, straight to the point and commanding. 

“Fuck off, she’s mine, I got to her first.” the ginger male snapped, his eyes now a vibrant scorching gold, shining in the darkness. 

“Drop the fucking girl or I’ll rip you’re fucking head off.” this time it was a vicious growl, strong and unwavering that sent goosebumps down [ y / n ]’s spine. 

“That a challenge, pint-size?” the ginger taunted, referring to the other alpha who only stood at a good 5′8, while he stood at a large 6′1, slamming the girl onto the ground making her yelp out in pain.

Finally, the young alpha stepped into some form of light, making his face visible, and the ginger’s expression of defense faded into a face of fear and regret, the eyes that once glowed yellow dying down to it’s original color. 

“T-Tom, Jesus, man, excuse me, I didn’t-”

The alpha, apparently named Tom, harshly grabbed the ginger’s shirt, pulling him in and looking up at him with deadly eyes, “Leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, and hopefully never going to be seen again. 

Tom’s expression turned soft when he saw the poor writhing omega in a mound on the hard concrete of the ground, small whimpers of discomfort making his chest clench. 

“You live here?” he questioned, motioning to the building she was now leaned against. 

All she could to was let out a whine of confirmation, nodding her head slowly as she clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible. 

“Come on then, can’t have you out in the open, there’s already talk, let’s get you inside,” he said, kindness and understanding in his tone, holding out a hand to [ y / n ], who in turn took it almost immediately. 

It took her a second to walk, her knees weak, not to mention it was hard not to notice Tom’s muscles, and his face. God, he was truly attractive. 

She let her mind wonder as they began to walk, his arm firmly around her waist, trying to keep her steady. She wondered what it would look like when he came, filling her up to the brim, making her full, a thin blanket of sweat covering his body, his eyes glowing, hungry, and she let out a whimper at it. 

“You’re staring.” Tom smirked as they stepped into the elevator of the complex. 

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake the embarrassingly dirty thoughts from her mind as she continued to try and focus on just getting to her apartment. 

The sooner she got there, the sooner she had her vibrator, the sooner she had release. She was convinced, at least, that that would solve her problems, at least temporarily. 

She led him to her apartment, still holding onto him for dear life as her core throbbed with need and want. When the door unlocked with a small click, she turned the doorknob, almost collapsing through the doorway. 

“Do you need any help?”

This could have meant many things. But of course, [ y / n ] was oblivious in her response. 

“N-No, I think I can manage to put myself to bed.”

Tom gave a small chuckle as he sat her down on the couch, sitting next to her as she slouched back, “No, I mean I can help with your problem... that is, if you want me to,”

[ y / n ]’s mind was clouded in a haze of neediness, so with no hesitation, she whimpered a small yes, before immediately unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down a little bit to eagerly. 

She knew this was happening to quick, almost irrationally quick, but the need in her pounding cunt was much more important to her at the moment than her petty morals and reason. 

“Are you sure?” he looked at her with sincerity, watching as she shifted out of her pants and took his hand, placing it on her covered mound. 

“Please, just touch me, Tom,”

Hearing his name on her lips was almost enough to make him lose his control and say ‘fuck it’, but he figured that if her were to do this, he might as well try to do this right. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling,” he muttered, easily finding her sensitive bud, even through the material of her panties.

She let out a soft and breathy moan, taking her hand of his own and moving it to his bicep, squeezing, as if it were anchoring her down to Earth, because she had never been touched like this, especially by someone else. 

As if Tom had read her mind, he looked up at her, drinking in her reactions before speaking, “Are you a virgin?”

She nodded her head, his pace never faltering. 

“I’ve been waiting- ugnh - for the right person... I trust you,” she managed to get out between moans.

“You barely know me,”

“But I want to. There’s - ah, fuck - something about you. I l-like you,” she admitted, the filter between her mouth and her brain nonexistent as she felt nothing but pleasure and a release from the uncomfortable pressure she was feeling only moments before. 

“Fuck,” to Tom, it was nice to hear that somebody needed him, trusted him, especially with something like this, so sacred and meaningful. She was giving him the gift that could only be given once, and he was happy to receive. 

After a few moments of him rubbing her in all the right ways, he hesitantly pulled his hand away from her, hating the noise of protest that she released. 

“Come on, princess, let’s take this to you're bedroom, yeah?”

[ y / n ] was compliant to his suggestion, standing up best she could without Tom’s help, but soon leaning on him as she directed him to her bedroom door. 

The door was busted open, and she was thrown onto the bed, and as soon as she hit the mattress, she stripped off everything else, leaving her completely nude, and her actions inspired Tom to do the same. 

He quickly got on top of her, grinding the length of his cock against her soaking wet folds, making him growl. 

“Fuck, darling, I’m not even inside you yet and you feel heavenly-” he hissed, the little omega nodding in response. 

“Alpha, please, I need you inside me, I want you to fill me,” she desperately pleaded. 

Tom let out a feral snarl at the use of the word ‘alpha’, surprised it had so much of an effect on him being used like this. It was so fucking hot. She had him wrapped so tightly around her pinky and didn’t even know it. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he muttered, lining himself up and ever so slowly easing himself inside his new mate, a pained whimper escaping her, his cock seemingly splitting her in half. 

Tom finally remembered that she was a virgin. And that made him even harder inside her. He waited for him, for her mate, while he was out fucking every omega that crossed him. But with her, she wasn’t just an omega. And he wanted to prove it to her. 

He took his time, almost cockwarming, staying still inside of her as her body naturally adjusted to his size, feeling so close to each other, it was enough for the two of them to almost fall in love right then and there. Tom finally took in how perfect she was to him. Someone he knew he wanted to keep around in the long run. Someone he knew he wanted to protect, even when she didn’t need protection. 

[ y / n ] scratched up his back, signaling that she was ready, and confident that he could move with little to no discomfort from her. 

The alpha started to move his hips, her tight cunt making his eyes roll back in his skull as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving soft and reassuring kisses to her neck as she made the most delectable noises, making him addicted, almost like his own brand of opioid. 

“So fucking tight, princess, you feel like fucking paradise,” he praised as he drank up the omega’s reactions as she experienced her first time with him. 

She’s like this for me and only me.

Her face was scrunched adorably in pleasure, her eyes shut tight as she felt the moment, his skin under her finger tips, the burning that was set in her core easing as she finally had pleasurable relief. Like getting a refreshing drink on a particularly hot day. 

Tom couldn’t help himself, and as if his body wasn’t his own, primal instinct took over as he began to make his strides harder and quicker, making the most pathetically cute noises release from her mouth. 

“You like that, darling?” he panted licking and sucking her neck, making one of her tiny hands weaving itself though his chestnut curls, “Why did I bother asking, of course you do. You love it when your alpha fucks you.”

All she could do was nod her head as she felt a coil inside her tighten. Tom felt his cock inflate as he continued to drive into her, pounding her into the mattress as he growled praises into her neck, her moans and whimpers never stopping. 

Soon the praise turned into a single word, falling out of his mouth like a prayer, even though what they were doing was the farthest thing from holy. 

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The omega could take it anymore, whimpering out, “P-Please, I... want you to b-bite me. Please, I need you to claim me,” she begged, which made his assault on her cunt falter slightly, slowing down to a calm and intimate pace. 

He knew what that meant. When an alpha bites an omega, she’s claimed. It means that nobody can touch her. Almost like an unbroken bond between two of their kind, and it meant a lot. 

And though they had just met only a half an hour prior, he knew that she was special, and he knew that this was who he was meant to be with, and his heart swelled at the thought of getting to know her inside and out. A true connection. 

“You want me to claim you, huh?” he paused his movements, [ y / n ] nodding frantically, wanting more than anything, “I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to feel nothing but you inside me while I claim you, nothing but rapture as I claim you as mine.”

[ y / n ] nodded once again, to while Tom protested, “Words, darling,” 

“Yes, alpha, I understand, I- OH FUCK-,” she yelled out. And she thought he was going hard before, but that was nothing compared to the pleasure she was now presented with, his cock properly railing into her as he left a long and sinful lick up her neck before taking a bite, his eyes glowing a bright fluorescent gold as she let out one of the most pornographic moans she had ever heard. 

The copper taste in his mouth tasted like candy, and home, the sweet substance covering his lips as he finally pulled back, knowing that she was close. 

And close she was. She was so close to release she could almost taste it, and god did it taste good. Without warning, the coil inside her snapped, making her vision cloud, her thoughts unable to collect themselves as her vision clouded, and she swore she blacked out for a second. 

She was so overcome with pleasure, she didn’t notice that he had cum himself, the sensation of him pulling out and his cum spill out of her enough to get her riled up enough. But if what just happened didn’t vanquish the heat she was experiencing before, God only knew what would. 

Tom stepped back, taking in the sight of his new mate, completely fucked out and covered with marks, his cum dripping out of her like a faucet. He wished for this image to be branded into his mind so he could see it every time he closed his eyes. 

“Absolutely stunning.” he praised, his hands now running up and down her thighs. 

[ y / n ] was finally Tom’s, inside and out, and Tom couldn’t be more proud. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love, yeah?”

The morning was soft and filled with nothing but admiration to each other, the two staying in bed most of the morning until they finally went to the omega’s kitchen to make breakfast/lunch.

[ y / n ] was cooking the bacon and eggs when she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind, a chin resting on her shoulder. 

“How’re you holding up?” he questioned, and it make [ y / n ] blush at how considerate she was about her state, his fingertips dragging lightly over the violent-looking bite mark on her neck.

“I’m absolutely perfect,” she smiled, “Feels nice to belong to someone.”

“You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

And for once, the two of them were truly excited for the future. 

#werewolf au #alpha #omega #alpha!tom #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #marvel x reader

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

____________________________________________________

« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

[celestialgaea]

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something for brotherhood Ezio - either fluff or smut (maybe a hybrid if such a thing exists?)

These requests really make my heart soft :,) It’s definitly not troublesome at all, darling! a smut/fluff is coming your way :)) enjoy reading! 

btw, I always had the concept in mind of Ezio being a nude model for a painter/paintress so I used it as inspiration for this request, I hope you like it!

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, mature content

summary: Ezio convinces you of using his nude body as reference for your painting and that’s where things start to get heated.

A sound of raging growls left your throat as it was the sixth time you scratched away the slender torso that was sketched upon the parchment. It was slender, too slender for it to be still considered human. Ironic. The Greek gods were inhuman, but you were unable to project the divine muscles that roamed in your thoughts onto the piece of dried lamb skin. You missed Florence, dearly, and since the first week that you had left the vivid city to live in the unknown town of Monteriggioni you thought that the quiet farms, where trees of oranges grew, would help revive the inspiration to paint a Magnum Opus but it only dried the river of colour in your head. You couldn’t compare Florence to a third rate town as Monteriggioni. You could still recall the smell of paint and the dusty marmer that stained the Florentin air of the market, and the sight of novices carrying their painting supplies as they were on their way to class. You missed how you used to visit churches, not to pray, but rather to admire the fresco’s. Now it was all gone. No inspiration and the few churches that existed in this village were sober and only consisted of a giant crucifix and a statue of Madonna holding her child.

bang bang. Someone knocked on the door of your atelier. With a dissatisfied grunt you threw the charcoal pencil on the ground and shoved your seat back with a strong force, causing an abrasive sound to be heard from outside the small building.

‘Who is there?’ You asked sharply as you walked towards the wooden door. You tried to regain your patience and freshened your cheeks, which was red of annoyment, by pressing your abnormally cold palms against them. 

‘It’s me, Ezio.’ His voice was unclear due to the door that seperated you, but it did not spoil the low rumble that was always present in his speech. You pressed your eyelids together rather harshly and groaned in regret. How shameful musn’t it be to shoot invisible daggers towards Ezio as just the thought of his intimidting gaze locked on your face after your scene of lost temper made you wish you hid instead of confronting him. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of embaressment.

You opened the door to the sight of Ezio leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in question. 

‘I came to check up on you, ragazza. It sounded as if you were fighting off pirates in there.’ You felt how your face heated up against your will and you tried to laugh it of with a breathless snicker. ‘The only thing I was fighting with were my sketches,’ You stepped aside, exposing a part of your artist studio. It was not big, as it was perfect to fit in a few tables and art easels with canvasses of variating sizes, but it was practical enough to be able to craft in peace. But it seems that the serene peace wasn’t present anymore these past weeks.

‘Where are my manners, come in.’ With a faint smile he swiftly entered and closed the door. 

‘Lack of inspiration?’ He asked. You nodded. ‘Not only that, It is impossible to find any references to bodies as muscled as those of the Greek Gods. Monteriggioni isn’t filled with art as in Firenze, thus making it difficult for me to find those references.’ As you looked at him from the side, you saw how perfect his body posture was to be used as reference; It was flexible and broad, yet it was intimidating and yet not graceful enough to be that of a dancer. 

Ezio hummed in understanding. He was slightly proud that he still had the ability to make you blush, even in his forties, when he caught your eyes wandering through his clothing.  ‘Why don’t you use models like Leonardo does? You could ask him to lend some to you,’ You grinned. ‘Ezio, my dear. The only references to human bodies that Leonardo uses are either dug up from their grave or strangers with the most inhuman facial complexion. Leonardo is fascinated by the misshapen, not the divine.’ 

‘Well, if the ancient Greeks believed that women were the misshapen copies of men, then I confirm myself as being fascinated by the misshapen. My dear.’ He mocked. His lips curled into a sly smirk and he winked at you, but you merely scoffed playfully as you shook your head and walked towards the chaotic scene that played upon your desk; Scattered parchment with incomplete sketches, charcoal pencils and quills thrown all over the table and, at the moment, irrelevant attributes such as a skull and a terracotta bust of Bacchus -A marmer bust was way too expensive for the meager loan you had to live with-

‘Charmed.’ You said, not impressed. Maybe slightly impressed.

‘As I thought you would be,’ 

The open space of the studio behind you felt enclosed as the soft touch of Ezio’s breath caressed the nape of your neck. His eyes roamed over the table, observing every object -he even squatted down and stared into the dead eyes of Bacchus-, and trailed alongside the lines of your sketches with his middle and index finger pressed together, the two fingers levitating above the charcoal lines.

‘Why did you scratch them? It is beautiful. Well, I am not going to lie, it looks a bit...how should I word it?’ He mumbled. ‘Bad?’  ‘A bit out of proportion,’ He trailed alongside the torso with the same two fingers. ‘See,’ Ezio said. ‘The torso is a bit too long, and the muscles are too muscled.’

You scoffed, a small laugh plastered on your face. ‘Too muscly,’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Ezio, I don’t know if you have noticed but I do not have any male models nor have I seen a man naked before. No, I mean, not that I am a virgin. But I just haven’t seen a naked man with the right size.’ Good Lord. Ezio grinned, not ashamed for the innapropriate phrase that kept resonating in his head, and locked eyes with you as he raised one eyebrow. You shivered. It was that one raised eyebrow that made his face so intimidating, so intense. ‘Not the right size, huh?’

‘You know what I mean, old man.’ He scoffed. His hand covered his breast and he pretended to be in pain. ‘You wound me with your words, bella.’ 

Oh Ezio. He was so entertaining. He was probably one of the very few reasons your stay in Monteriggioni will last for a very long time. Leaving him would make you feel empty. Ezio had a way of pulling women (and also men) towards him, chaining them with such a scorching desire that it would feel injust and even sinful to break the invisible attraction He brought those small moments of thrills and excitement with him whenever he just walked by making you want his attention to be focused on you and solely you.

‘I could send an apprentice of mine to model, but only if you’d like?’ ‘Are they quite muscled? I need a body that represents the gods and not 17 year old boys who are only interested in horses and girls.’ ‘No, judging by the statues I have seen in Florence they wouldn’t be a very great choice. And besides, I don’t think that they can stand still, naked, for a few hours while a beautiful lady has a clear view of their cazzo without, you know, the visuals showing their excitement.’

Your facial expressions showed slight disgust as you were imagining their erect member and face, reddened with shame, while they were posing as one of the Greek deities. Well, to be fair, you couldn’t expect less. They were boys with raging hormones, and you were a young adolescent that was not able to conceil her raging hormones from experienced and charming men. Or shortly said; Ezio. 

Speak of the devil. 

Ezio noticed the disgust on your face and emitted a low and rumbling snicker as he patted your back, the impact of his force causing your shoulder to be shoved forwards. ‘Keep your sneaky little mind away from my apprentices private parts will you?’

‘Ezio!’ You hit his arm, your mouth open and pretending to be shocked by his remark, but you couldn’t help but curl your mouth into a smile. ‘Back to our previous topic,’ You said, recovering from what just had happened. ‘I really need to find a male model for my project, Ezio.’  Ezio happened to show empathy with you as he began taking off his boots. 

‘Ezio, what in heaven are you doing? Put those back on! Ezio what are you thinking?’ Nailed to the floor you looked at ezio who was only wearing his trousers and chemise, its string loosened and showing the flesh upon his chest, and had his hands on the sides of the edge of his pants, ready to take them of and show the world what momma gave him. ‘I am sacrificing my pride for the sake of your painting.’

Your eyes widened. ‘Would you do that for me? Really?’ ‘Bella, what does it look like I am doing?’ He grinned, taking off the rest of his clothing as you had turned around to reorganize your table and prepared the small podium on which Ezio had to model.

‘And besides, what did you mean with Sacrificing your pride?’ You heard Ezio sigh while you sharpened your charcoal pencils. ‘All these men on Classical paintings have a...well, you know, a small penis, so you will have to reduce mine...a lot.’ You laughed, placing the pencils on the table. ‘Oh, Ezio, I don’t really think it will be necessary.’ You said teasingly. You sat down behind the desk when you heard his voice floating around your ears as he walked towards the small podium, every inch of his skin exposed for you and only you. ‘Prego?’ 

It was difficult to keep your gaze off his private part. It was just...hanging there,  minding its bussiness. It was as if your insulting remark about his member just spat back at you with double as much spit. You managed to clear your throat in a subtle way without choking on your saliva. ‘You’ll have to lay down.’ You said. You stood up to grasp a few layers of cloth to cover the small stage to save Ezio’s behind a bit from the harsh ground. It felt weird to be so near him; He was naked and you were clothed. 

You quickly smoothened the cloth onto the stage, fixating your disorientated eyes on it, and walked, almost ran, with rapid speed back to your desk.

It still felt like a fever dream. You were able to get the most skilled murderer fully naked in front of you, without asking once. As it felt surreal, it simutaniously felt forbidden too. He was way older, a teacher of a kind, how many women wouldn’t have killed for this chance. For seeing Ezio naked, almost vulnurable without his armour. Vulnurable for attack as told by the white lining of the remaining scars on his body. 

‘Lay down and lean on your elbows,’ And so he did. ‘Put one knee up. No the other knee, Ezio. Not so high, go a bit lower. Not that low. Yes, stay like that!’ Ezio grinned softly. ‘You are very demanding, aren’t you bella?’ ‘You iniated on being my model, Ezio,  so do as I say.’  Ezio raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head, sucking air through his teeth, sounding similar to scorching metal in cold water. ‘My apologies, maestro.’ 

His body was beautiful. Not too brawny and not fat. Broad muscles showing through his skin and simultaneously a layer of soft fat hugged around his torso, but it didn’t hang nor did it seem loose, It was tight and gave Ezio’s body comfortable for burning cuddles. 

You gave a last look at Ezio’s position, observing it, but something felt wrong. It felt plain, flat. It didn’t have your desired dimentions. 

‘Ezio,’ He turned his head towards you. ‘Could you touch the ground with your left hand and move your torso towards your lifted knee. Let your right arm rest upon that raised knee, yes, just like that.’ It was better. More rounded than flat. And the most beautiful of all was how above his pubic hair, which was trimmed, small layers of skin bundled upon each other, giving more dimention to his body.

You picked up the stylus - a metal pen- with satisfaction and began carving lines onto the parchment. Those lines slowly became basic shapes until more shade and more complexity was added to them. Ezio’s eyes kept sailing from around the room to your concentrated face. It must be intimidating for him whenever it took only fractions of seconds before you raised your eyes to look at him every single time. And every time he wondered how many seconds it would last this time before you watched him again. 

‘Do you do this a lot? Using nude models?’ Ezio asked. You stood halt in your drawing to look up at him. ‘Well, No. Back in Firenze I was too ashamed to ask for one. If the word would spread about a women making a carreer out of brush strokes instead of a man stroking her to let her bear him a son, they’d burn my paintings. And they may burn my paintings, but i’ll still use the ashes to draw a big cazzo on the front door of their homes.’  You said, slightly flinching at the thought of your face being tortured by the sweltering flames that are devouring your art works. Ezio laughed. His wide-opened mouth created deep curving lines next to it, sparkling eyes squinting at you. 

How did he do it? How was he capable of making you desire him with just a smile. A smile of confidence. A smile of which hundreds of women fell for. Let alone how his body would call for company as melancholy and charm hung like a perfume around him. 

‘Eccezionale,’ He grinned in a breath. ‘And in Monteriggioni?’ ‘The average male in this village is almost expired. They’re at least fifthy.’ 

‘You don’t older men?’ He asked teasingly. Yes you did, especially him. ‘There is a difference between older and old. Old men are almost expired. Older men, on the other hand, are more matured and experienced.’ 

With a last look at the sketch you laid down the stylus and motioned for Ezio to move again. You quickly added some shadows around the sillhouette around the body as you felt Ezio stand behind you. 

‘And what is “older” to you?’  ‘You ask a lot of Questions, Ezio. Aren’t you  Il mentore?’ His broad shoulders casted a shadow on your cheek that was turned to his side. ‘I’m curious. Isn’t a man allowed to ask questions? Especially if he’s as expired as me?’ You scoffed.

‘Ezio, you are not expired. You aren’t old.’

‘I’ll be turning fifthy in five years.’

‘That’s still ages away from now.’

‘Time flies, bella.’

‘Well, mentore, I don’t perceive you as old. In fact, you are mature and very sharp.’ You stole a quick glance of his private part before letting your gaze wander towards the floor. How was he able to keep himself so tame when the tension was creating a heated knot in your lower stomach? The knot kept contracting with every breath from Ezio’s soft lips that brushed against your neck and the radiating heat from his naked body caused by the Florentine sun that tortured his skin underneath the layers of his heavy assassin robes. 

You turned around, trapped in between the wooden desk and Ezio’s nudeness, and placed a hand on his bicep. ‘How aren’t you burned yet underneath all those layers of clothing.’ Your eyes locked with his. ‘I have very thick skin,’ He palmed your hand in his and lead it down his muscular arm, rubbing against its hot skin, let it follow the curves of his muscles back up to his chest. You didn’t even need to glance down to see that his good old friend has “awakened”. 

Ezio’s hand caressed your collarbone and slid down, only to stop at the cleavage of your gown. With his index finger he easily pulled the piece of fabric away from your chest, exposing your breasts that were visible through the thin night gown. 

He hummed in satisfaction.

Ezio disposed you of your clothes in a slow and agonizing manner until your naked body was hugged by the warm air that filled the art studio. His eyes, filled with passionate lust, wandered over your whole body, absorbing every inch of naked skin.  Ezio pressed his body close to you and you felt how his manhood, swollen with blood, was pressed against your stomach. Ezio kissed your lips. His lips covering your upper lip as you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. His tongue wetted the entrance of your mouth before the warmth of his saliva got mixed with yours. Ezio’s hands roamed your whole body, he wanted to take all of you, touch all of you, feel every piece of your hot skin lingering against his. His hands trailed back to your upper thighs and rubbed them as his fingers curled to grip the soft flesh of it. His warm hands felt rough and experienced against your inner thighs, it felt like everything that desire is. 

Ezio pulled your legs around his waist and carried you the the small improvised podium of layered blankets as his one hand held the fold at the backside of your knee and the other was pressed against your lower back. 

You couldn’t describe how overwhelmed you where with all these sensory feelings. Your contracting stomach, heating core and tickling neck, caused by Ezio’s lips and teasing nips, made you close your eyes and press your legs tighter around his torso. You pressed yourself against Ezio while you yearned for his body engulfing yours in this passionate warmth as Ezio’s hot breaths left humid spots on your neck. 

His lips kissed your collarbone and so he went down with smouldering and slow kisses down to the curve in between the mounds of your breasts. His hand cupped your breast and massaged your nipple with his thumb as his mouth place kisses on the side of your other breast before tracing to your nipple and holding it between his lips. 

your breathing became irregular, some were sharp and some were pitched. Your hands took a grip on Ezio’s broad back and you couldn’t help but groan in a breath. His body slid down on yours until he stopped above your pubic bone, a trail of saliva covered your torso. Ezio placed your legs on his shoulders, holding onto your thighs, and he breathed so softly against your humid entrance. 

It felt tingly and increased your need for him to touch you. Ezio’s fingers caressed your labia as his hot and humid tongue slid up your crease. Your breath hitched. His lips covered your clit, his beard tickling your inner thighs, kissing it before taking it between his lips and sucking on it. You groaned. Your clit was pusling and you felt how your entrance was filled with so much ecstasy. Ezio kept licking, nibbling and just making you feel on cloud nine until you felt how tension was layering and building up in your core and you felt how it was almost going to explode in bright colours of the sweet relieve. But Ezio stopped before you could taste that pure sweetness and how much you disliked it, the builded up tension slowly died down.

‘Why did you stop?’ You asked defeatedly. Ezio smirked. ‘I want us to finish together,’ You were surprised. ‘Because I can’t wait any longer to be inside of you.’  Ezio slid back up so his lips could reach your mouth again. You enveloped your leg around his waist and Ezio gripped the fold of your knee, slowly pressing your thigh against your chest. 

He groaned as the tip of his manhood entered slowly. He stopped after a few inches of his manhood had entered so you’d adapt to his lenght and width and began pumping slowly before he’d let his whole penis enter inside of you inch by inch. He filled you so good.

Ezio began pumping in and out between your slick walls and went rougher. The sweetness and lust of the moment made both of your groan in synch. But the more he motioned inside of you, the more your groans became heartfelt moans. You grabbed ezio’s back as you bit on his shoulder. With every push and every thrust of his body against yours the sinful sounds of hitting skin was like background music for the hymn of your moans. Ezio grabbed your thigh and pushed himself deeper, which you doubt was still possible, and the poor man was lost in deep groans. He kept you close to him as he filled you until the building up layers made you speed up, shortening the silence between every clap of skin. ‘Ezio,’ You whispered in lost sweetness. The more tension that build up, the more the yearning for that sweet relieve became. ‘(Y/N),’ He groaned in your ear, huskily. 

Only a few strokes and you were there, both of you. Oh, sweet Lord, how you were losing your mind in a blurr of white light. Just those few last strokes and you’d explode. You were almost there...almost...and ‘Ezio!’ The ball of squeezed tension exploded into a firework of sweetness and fire. Ezio came inside of you with squeezed eyes and a groan before he let himself relax onto you. Your chests were elevating in an irregular rythm. 

‘Mio Dio,’ You whispered in amazement. Ezio slid out of you and took the excess length of the cloth to cover both of you.

‘So when are you free to come back? To finish the painting?’ 

‘Very soon, Bella, very soon.’

#ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio auditore fanfiction #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed brotherhood #ezio x reader #older ezio x reader #smut fanfiction #ezio auditore smut

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theodorus, and le Comte’s Reaction to MC saying “I love you” first

Anon asked:

Hey there! I really like all the stuff on your blog, so could you do the suitors reactions to you saying I love you for the first time (like, if the route plots didn’t really happen). If all of them are too much, maybe just Napoleon, Theo and Comte. Maybe also include a little scenario? Thanks in advance.

✧✎ A/N: Heya, sweetest anon! Thank you so much for this request (and for including three of the daddy line), this was really fun to do~

Theo’s got... slightly longer than the others (almost a whole scenario by itself whoops). Don’t worry Napoleon. I have a WIP of yours. Thanks @juminly and @delicateikemenmemes for helping me out with Theo, and @marie-quentin for giving me a quick crash course in French. Drink water, y’all :))))

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, and implied sexual activities.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Pardon? Could you run that by him again?

It had been a morning like any other, welcoming the culprit who’d come to wake him up with his wonted kisses

However, this time around, he hadn’t met an interfering hand—which was by far his favored option. The other ones entailed pillows, fists, and even a certain someone’s foil

So when he met lips, molding together with his like a familiar imprint, he immediately shook off his fatigue, surprised to see his lover before him

His astonishment didn’t stem from the kiss itself (as you’ve done way more than just that), but you’ve never indulged in his habit before

Not only that, but it felt so much more...

Intimate. Passionate. Amorous...

Romantic. Purely romantic.

Your hands rose to his cheeks, cupping them in an ever so gentle embrace. Feeling almost weightless within your gentle expression, he sighed in the intimate comfort only one’s other half could provide.

“‘Leon?” The most idyllic melody made his eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun’s flaxen rays. He had to halt a few moments, for as his eyes managed to adjust, the golden glow hugging your form truly made you appear out of this world.

“Yes, nunuche?” Your loving and tender gaze almost made him melt, and it was a miracle that his question sounded as nonchalant as he was hoping for it to be.

“I love you.”

Napoleon couldn’t help the pounding of his heart. In all his years, no one had ever managed to make him feel so precious. Of course, he’s had his previous lovers, but as you stood before him like an angel of fortune, holding his head up in a pretense of it being the most wondrous diamond...

He couldn’t help the laughter spilling from his lips. At your affronted expression, he pulled you to his side, your cheek squished against his neck. Closing your eyes against his laughter’s shock waves—tens on the Richter scale—you couldn’t prevent the pout from conquering face.

Napoleon halted his laughter, although not completely, and his arms cocooned your midriff to lean in. Your toes curled as his lips brushed your ear.

“Je t’adore, nunuche.”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You might have to bring him to Isaac or Leonardo to fix, because you’ve completely broken this guy

He always expected to say it first, so he’s kinda mad??? But also really touched??? Fix him, please

It was no secret that Theodorus Van Gogh considered himself to be very domineering

Not because he wants the other person to feel save and protected... it was simply due to convenience pssst don’t tell him

Of course, he found it more than endearing when his girlfriend took the leash from time to time, and he genuinely enjoys her initiations of affection

Everyday, it took Theo all the self control he could muster up not to break into a smile at the sight of you, not to pick you up and whirl you around, not to throw you over his shoulder to carry you to his room...

Anyway, if you were to tell him the famous three words first, he’d be pure molasses in your hands

“Do you need more syrup, Theo?”

While the amount of liquid gold suggested the attendance of the entire mansion, it was only himself and his lover at breakfast. You had risen later than usual (due to certain nightly activities), and Sebastian was so kind as to allow you a day off.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, nevertheless thanking you when you brought him more with a disbelieving snort.

As you ate breakfast in the kitchen, not wanting to bother yourselves with setting everything up in the dining hall, he did not let your “inconspicuous” array of glances go unnoticed. Whenever he caught your eyes, you’d quickly avert your own, a faint blush dusting your skin. Perplexity marred his mind at your bashful actions.

Just when you stood up to do the dishes, he grabbed your arm, turning you around to trap you successfully underneath his form. Bewildered, you squirmed in his grasp, but that only made him pin your wrists in place. While this might not be your first time in this particular position, you could still only huff at his stern expression. “What did I do now? Do you always have to—“

“Quit your yapping, Hondje. Is there something on my face, or why do you keep on staring at me?” he spoke, as blunt and stoic as ever.

You chastised yourself— should have been aware that nothing could escape his detail-oriented eyes. Nonetheless, there was something... disparate about this morning: the hushed words of devotion, the warmth of nonchalant pecks—dare you say, it was almost domestic. It caused feelings of joy and felicity to ignite in your chest, and a certain sentence to cross your mind.

“...I love you, Theo.”

It was apparent that he’d been caught off-guard, a hand flying up to cover a short fit of coughing. And as his grip on you faltered, you flung your arms around his neck, urged by both embarrassment and closure.

“Y—you. Gadver...”

“Have I rendered the great Theodorus Van Gogh speechless?” You couldn’t help the teasing remark; eager to see his flushed expression, you peeled yourself out of the embrace. However, just as swift as he had faltered, his iron grip on you toughened once again, this time around closing the proximity to an intimate distance.

“Have you finally lost what little sense you had before?” His tone’s giddiness betrayed the harshness of his words, despite his best attempts to suppress that. As you tried to focus on anything apart from his breath caressing your neck, you espied the brilliant blush raging on his cheeks.

Deciding not to comment on his obvious joy, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Don’t you have to punish me, then? I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

When you pulled back to look at you love, you were met with his wild cerulean orbs. You’ve heard of people comparing them to ice, but you likened them to the tropic’s water; it might look trifling at most, but once you dive in, it would tell tales of colourful facets. Just like a big misunderstanding, crying out to be revealed.

You couldn’t care less that you were in the kitchen, that anyone could walk in on you, as he pulled you closer to himself, your legs finding their way around his waist.

Comte de Saint-Germain

He’d definitely be shocked at first, widening his eyes at your forthcoming admittance

After all, these three words might seem minuscule to a lot, but they held enough power to truly cement a relationship

Whenever he looked at his chérie, he felt the need to tell them to you 24/7, but he reconsidered that it was only right to give you more time to grow accustomed to him (and his period)

After a few months of living together, and a solitary trip back to the past (which proved itself vain as his offer was declined once again), he resolved to tell her these fateful words

He heard his amour before he saw her, the sound of your steps hurrying down the staircase growing more and more pronounced. Ere he was able to turn around to greet you, you practically pounched onto him, fingers clasping by his waist as you embraced him from behind. You squeezed his middle section gently in an effort to breathe in his scent.

Shock subsiding, he enbosomed your hands with his own, having missed your warmth—your devotion—as it crowned him with more than the sun could ever wish to.

“I have something—“

“—to tell you.”

Both of you spoke up at the same time, prompting you to smile in delight. Hearing composed, albeit joyful, laughter spilling from your lover’s lips, followed by the incessant remark of ladies-first, you uttered the words you have been longing to say, “I love you.”

The gentle rising of his torso came to a sudden halt, and he twisted around to face you. He might not have been gone for too long, but you’d missed each other regardless.

You knew the feeling was mutual as his golden eyes burned with desire, his walls coming down bit by bit, exposing a rare sight of the count’s vulnerability. With his hands inching just above your lower hip, the not so innocent innuendo of their barely proper distance to your butt was duly noted.

“I’ve been hoping to tell you these words myself, ma moitié.” His mouth traced the shell of your ear, and you felt him smile against your skin—as gentle as flower petals, yet just as seductive. “Perhaps we could arrange my reciprocation in private?”

Tag list: @juminly, @kisara-16 (I totally forgot that you asked me to be tagged quite a while ago... I’m sorry (*´Д｀*))

#ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen headcanons #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen napoleon #ikevam napoleon #ikemen theodorus #ikemen theo #ikemen le comte #ikemen comte #ikevam theodorus #ikevam theo #ikevam le comte #ikevam comte #napoleon #theodorus van gogh #comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikemen vampire fanfiction

[bipercabeth]

hi miss emmaaa you know i adore every single word you write—you are simply unparalleled😌. if you have time “i need a hug”, “i have an idea”, and “it’s freezing in here” for the prompt cocktail please :)🤍

i swear i could KISS you for this prompt. i’ve been kicking myself for not writing an “our shitty radiator is broken oh no we have to huddle for warmth” scene for roommates for months. didn’t fit in the fic itself, so here it is <3 

(takes place between new year’s and the blowup with sloan)

Annabeth tugs yet another sweatshirt over her head and throws herself back into bed. Stupid fucking radiator. Stupid landlord. Stupid New York City for being so stupidly cold. Despite the heavy comforter, fuzzy socks, and layered clothes, she’s still shivering. For a brief moment, she considers bundling up in Percy’s bed—if only to escape the cold creeping in from her window—when she hears the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock. 

She throws peels off the covers and winces as the air bites at her exposed skin. With her hands shoved in her pockets, Annabeth trudges to the kitchen where Percy shuffles around with groceries. He’s as gorgeous today as ever, sporting a coat over a blue sweater his mom knitted him and the usual jeans and sneakers. It shouldn’t be enough with how cold it is outside, but he appears infuriatingly unbothered.

“God, it’s freezing in here,” he says in way of greeting. His voice echoes in the cabinet as he puts away cans of soup, taking full advantage of his long limbs to reach the top shelf. Then he turns, and his grimace becomes something softer, bringing just a bit of warmth into the apartment. His eyes flit over Annabeth’s lumpy frame with a gleam. “But I’m guessing you knew that.” 

“Have I ever told you that you’re one of the most obnoxious New Yorkers I’ve ever met?” 

Percy smiles and reaches for something on the table. “Even when I walk four blocks out of my way to grab you hot chocolate from the best truck in town? You should appreciate my pretentiousness, Annabeth. I could’ve picked up that watered down monstrosity you sell at Starbucks.” 

“Have I mentioned that you’re also my best friend and the light of my life?” Annabeth reaches for the cup, her pulse throbbing in her freezing fingers. 

A rueful smile spreads over Percy’s face as he raises the cup out of her reach. “I’m sorry, am I obnoxious or the light of your life?” 

“Light of my life,” she grunts as she presses onto her toes. 

“Do try to sound more convincing.” 

She lays her hand on his chest. “Percy Jackson, you are the light of my life and the best person I know. You have brought the elixir of the gods into our humble home. Please save me and my old bones from the cold that has descended upon—” 

Percy laughs and shoves the cup at Annabeth. Warmth floods her hand, both from the drink and the brush of his skin. “Better?” 

Her response comes in the way of gulping the hot chocolate. It’s meant to be savored, obviously, but Annabeth has been too cold to do much of anything today, and her body just kind of takes over and downs it. 

Horror is written all over Percy’s face when she finishes mere moments later. “Oh my god, you’re a monster.” 

“Thank you.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Then why are you smiling?” she counters. And it’s true—there’s an endeared uptick to the corner of his mouth, even if it’s currently open in dismay. “Is there something on my face?” 

“No, I—” He shakes his head a little. “Just. Your nose is pink. How long ago did the radiator give up on you?” 

“Right after you left this morning.” 

Percy’s eyes dart to where the city lights twinkle against the night sky, almost like stars. Annabeth watches him count the hours in his head before he unbuttons his coat. “C’mere.” 

All too eager, Annabeth knocks into his chest and sighs when he brings the coat tight around her shoulders like the best burrito. Her arms snake around his waist and slip under his sweater, relentlessly seeking warmth. 

He jolts like she’s shocked him, pressing away from her hands and closer to her body. It’s a win-win, really. 

“You’re a monster,” he hisses. 

She hides her smile in the sweater. “What? I need a hug.” 

“I will kill you in your sleep.” 

In way of retaliation, she shoves her icy nose into his neck. 

“Okay!” Percy frees himself of her iron grip. “I have a better idea.” 

He palms her face, smushing her nose with a laugh that’s a bit too smug for Annabeth’s liking. She smacks away his hand, but he catches the strings of her hoodie and pulls them tight, trapping her in darkness. Normally this would mean war, but it’s been a long day. Loneliness seeped into Annabeth’s bones alongside the cold, as is the cruel trick of winter, and she finds that all she really wants it to be held. Of course, this only serves as a reminder that she cannot be held by the one person she wants in that capacity, which is worsened by the fact that he is right in front of her and willing to do it if she asks the right way.

Ever intuitive, Percy’s smile gives way to a concerned frown, the one that makes Annabeth want to roll her eyes and kiss him at the same time. Still, it takes no thought to slip their hands together when he offers. 

Warmth immediately envelopes Annabeth’s fingers, traveling up her nerves lazily. Its pace quickens when Percy raises them to his mouth, his lips pressed against her pinky and ring fingers as he blows hot air. Annabeth hums, somehow both content and absolutely on fire. At least her face was already red.

Later Percy has changed into comfier clothes and lounges on the couch, one leg thrown over the back while Annabeth balls up under a blanket on the other side. One of his arms is behind his head, dragging the sweater away from the waistline of his sweatpants. It’s ridiculous, honestly, that Annabeth can see him in a speedo for three days straight and survive, but this sliver of skin undoes her. Maybe it’s the intimacy of being at home. There is no crowd, no frigid metal bleachers, and Annabeth isn’t sitting next to Percy’s mom while trying to hide her oogling. There is only the soft cushion of the couch and the warmth emanating from Percy, who is close enough to touch.

God, she wants to touch.

He clears his throat. “So are you proving a point by freezing alone, or are you gonna come over here?”

Annabeth wrenches her gaze up to meet Percy’s, which is alight with the kind of amusement that makes this whole thing feel like a game to see who will break first. It’s the closest they come to acknowledging this unspoken thing between them.

All she can do is stare until Percy holds out his hand. She doesn’t know what assumptions he makes, but he makes no move to embarrass her, so they must be kind. Instead he coaxes her across the couch, laying back and smiling when Annabeth knocks the air out of his chest.

He pulls the blanket up her back and anchors it with his arm. “Better?”

Annabeth thaws enough to nod against his sweater. “Better.”

Percy slips his hand under Annabeth’s hood and settles it in the curve of her neck, his fingertips drawing small circles against her scalp. It hurts, how well he fits there. He feels made for all of her empty spaces, like the universe knew Annabeth would someday need to be held this way and crafted Percy specifically for it.

For now, he keeps the lonely grip of winter at bay. And for once in her life, Annabeth is not thinking about how cold it will be when he lets go. Letting go doesn’t even cross her mind.

#no editing we die like men #thank u for this prompt it is so extremely up my alley #not wildly proud of this but the second to last paragraph? slaps #drabbles #pjo fics #my fic #my percabeth #and they were roommates #iris messages #connabeth

[dishwater-blondie]

Why do you suppose Gabriel is so cold to Adrien? It seems like he doesn't care much about Adrien outside of his relation to Emilie. Given how bad things are between them it's hard to imagine how their relationship can be healed in a satisfying way

I do have a lot of thoughts on this and they are grounded mostly in pure speculation. I admit the show itself seems to suggest that the majority of the affection Gabriel holds for Adrien is related through Emilie, or at least the majority of affection that isn’t implicit paternal fondness (if that even matters with someone as emotionally flaccid as Gabriel). And honestly, this kinda sucks. For people to do try to enjoy Gabriel’s character like myself, his relationship with Adrien as presented does serve as one especially shitty detail in what is already quite the shitshow. But what really bothers me is that there is immense potential for some compellingly intricate family dynamics in the Agreste household that is oversimplified by the idea that Adrien is a reminder of Emilie to his father and nothing more. Here’s an explanation of what I believe should be the situation:

I’ve already offered plenty of analysis on why I think Emilie should be a villain and the evidence we have suggesting this might be the case, so I’ll spare you all of that right now. What I’ve talked much less about is how Emilie herself could have thrown a wrench in the relationship between father and son. From what we’ve heard about her so far, we are to understand that Emilie was always the warm and affectionate parent, while Gabriel, given his rigidity and general coldness, was likely the disciplinarian. However, since it’s been theorized at length that Emilie must have been majorly responsible for Adrien’s isolation growing up (at least equally to her husband), one conclusion that I have drawn is that Emilie could have been the one making these rules, tasking Gabriel with enforcing them. That’s not to say Gabriel didn’t also believe in these rules. I’m sure he did. But it’s beyond obvious that Gabriel has an unhealthy devotion to his wife, so who is to say Emilie didn’t manage to convince Gabriel of a structured lifestyle he wouldn’t have otherwise favored? It’s possible (especially when you consider based on Audrey’s dialogue that Gabriel was probably the lower class of the two who had to work and marry his way into wealth).

But expanding on this, we also have ample evidence that Emilie liked being idolized in her own house. Why else would there be giant golden portraits, statues, and a beautiful multi-story repository/garden - at least two of which had to have been prepared before she had fallen asleep? Might we speculate, then, that Emilie liked to be the center of attention? That she reveled in this overzealous dedication Gabriel exhibits towards her? And if she likes it from Gabriel, why wouldn’t she like it from her son, who doesn’t seem to register that she had to have played a considerable role in keeping him sheltered from the world? Adrien’s isolation is blamed on Gabriel even though he has more friends and freedom now than he’s had throughout the rest of his life. Yet, Emilie is still thought of as the better parent.

To a great extent, of course, she was. At least in terms of giving her son the time of day and being emotionally available to him. But what if she closed Gabriel off from this role? What if she made him play bad cop, enforce the rules she liked while she got to swoop in with her love and comfort and ignore that she was just as responsible for the way things were? What if she facilitated these parenting roles, ensuring she was always painted in a good light and never blamed for her son’s hardship?

[I mean, look at Amelie, who blamed Felix’s bad behavior on the fact that his father was no longer around to keep him out of trouble. She’s not responsible. His dad was the disciplinarian. Not her. She can’t control her son (even though she very much is)].

Now Emilie is gone and Gabriel doesn’t know how to step into the role she’d played all their son’s life. He seems so uncomfortable with Adrien showing him any kind of affection. Like it’s new to him. Like he doesn’t know how to be what Emilie had once been. Like he even feels guilty for filling that space.

Remember when Gabriel expressed that all he has left of Emilie is the grimoire and Adrien? Well, he is obsessed with that grimoire (or what it represents, the miraculous endeavor as a whole). But he keeps Adrien at a distance. If memory is all Adrien provided for him, wouldn’t he taking advantage of that more? If he truly values Adrien only as something Emilie left behind, I feel like they’d have a different relationship. Still a very, very unhealthy one. But different. “Closer” feels like the wrong word even though I do mean “less distant”. 

But no. Adrien seems almost emotionally off limits to Gabriel. He’s not brushing Adrien off because he’s too painful of a reminder - Gabriel literally never stops reminding himself of Emilie. Gabriel brushes Adrien off because he doesn’t know how to be something other than what he’s always been - the iron fist. The bad cop. The disciplinarian. Being as loving and warm as Emilie used to be would not only force him to confront the fact that they don’t need Emilie anymore, but it would also betray the hard and fast structure of their family functions, the structure Emilie implemented to secure her place in the emotional center of her husband and son’s worlds. 

As for how to heal their relationship, I talked a little bit about this in my post about Gabriel’s redemption, but I want to add that I do think it’s imperative these dynamics are exposed and both Agrestes realize how their relationship has been manipulated and that they properly communicate about it. 

Thank you for this ask! This was some fun analysis. 

#gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #fuck emilie juice #agreste family #ml analysis #miraculous ladybug

[astroaedes]

☽ JAEHYUN’S MOON ☾

This is in response to this ask and also in celebration of my Jaehyun as a Boyfriend post reaching 100 notes. Thanks everyone! 🧡

Moon in Taurus

The Moon is exalted in Taurus so this is a very harmonious and balanced placement. Taurus is ruled by Venus (the planet of love, pleasure and beauty) and is of the earth element which makes it a very indulgent and sensual sign. Jaehyun is a lover of everything luxury and high-quality in life. He seeks emotional comfort in the material world and is likely prone to excess when it comes to food, drink, sex, clothes, shopping etc. Taurus is also known for their sentimentality and warmth so Jaehyun has a very nurturing, compassionate and romantic side to himself. He has an emotional stability and reliability which makes him a source of strength and reassurance to those close to him. In his relay cam from last year I remember thinking how much his room reflects his Taurus Moon - the fan letters he kept, his record collection, his scented candles, the wine fridge 😂.

Taurus is also a fixed sign which can make it so. incredibly. stubborn. Jaehyun can sometimes be very stuck in his ways and is prone to a reliance on comfort and the familiar. He may find it hard to take risks with his emotions. Taurus Moons can have a rigidity and straight-forwardness that can make them seem emotionally closed off and unreachable - which is a shame because they are so caring and nurturing. I often find that their slow pace and mellow-ness can come across as disinterest especially to people with Fire or Water Moons.

Moon in 2nd House

The house a planet falls in determines which area of your life that planet’s energies and themes are most apparent. The Moon represents our emotions, instincts, subconscious and the introverted self while the 2nd House relates to our possessions, money and body, as well as our values and desires. With Jaehyun’s Moon in the 2nd House his material security is directly linked to his emotional and personal satisfaction. Financial stability and material possessions are a major source of stability for Jaehyun which is ironic considering those with this placement will likely experience fluctuations in wealth throughout their life. The 2nd House is ruled by Taurus so a lot of his Taurus Moon qualities are amplified here. Jaehyun places a lot of emotional value on beauty and splendour so surrounding himself with beautiful, well-made things creates a comforting and soothing atmosphere. He is most likely very conscious of money and his spending habits and you will never catch this man in debt (both financial and personal debt). This placement can also indicate a certain level of vanity. Jaehyun has high standards for his physical appearance and if he does not receive approval from others he is prone to insecurity. 

My Moon is also in the 2nd House and here are somethings I’ve noticed:

I’m prone to eating my feelings and using shopping as a stress reliever

I’m so incredibly uncomfortable with debt - both owing something to others and others owing something to me

My physical space is a reflection of my mental state. Messy house = messy mind/emotions

I am so particular about the things that I buy. I have multiple wishlists and I will deliberate for weeks if not months before I buy anything

Big physical insecurities and high beauty standards for myself 😬

I genuinely don’t understand people who give no fucks about what their living space looks like

Moon Square Venus

This is not the most favourable aspect to have in a natal chart and it’s one that I share with Jaehyun so I’m kinda exposing myself here. Jaehyun will struggle balancing his emotional needs in close relationships. People with this aspect really value harmony and may sacrifice their own desires in order to satisfy their partner and keep the peace. Inversely they may also sacrifice or neglect a relationship in order to meet their own emotional needs. It will be a constant balancing act. Jaehyun may have a lot of fears regarding his responsibilities in an intimate relationship and as a result may find it difficult to be emotionally vulnerable with others. He is uncomfortable with expectations and, I know this sounds horrible, but would prefer for others to expect only the minimum requirements of friendship from him. Jaehyun will of course exceed those expectations but when people expect too much from him he panics and will close himself off. He has a strong need for approval and acceptance and is highly concerned with appearing attractive - both physically and in terms of his personality.

Sun Square Moon

Another not so great aspect and another one that I also have in my chart 😬. This aspect represents a tension between the conscious self and the unconscious self. What Jaehyun wants and what Jaehyun needs are likely to be two different things. He has tendency to suppress his emotions potentially out of a subconscious feeling that he is not appreciated or wanted. Success for Jaehyun will not come easy, it will be a hard won effort (which makes it all the more satisfying). However he feels as if he has something to prove to the world so he will persevere regardless. Jaehyun’s head and heart are not in alignment - he second guesses and places excessive emotional pressure on himself. There is a conflict between a need for nurture and a desire for independence which is only amplified by his Aquarius and Taurus Sun and Moon placements. This aspect indicates that there may be some sort of tension or misunderstanding between his parents or between himself and his parents.

If anyone shares these placements or aspects then feel free to tell me your experience with them!

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #nct astrology #kpop astrology #astrology #moon #taurus moon #moon in 2nd house

[zaddyzemo]

helmut zemo x reader x heinrich zemo

⚔

cw: power imbalance, sexist language, abusive behavior, emotional manipulation, dub-con, attempted impreg

summary: your loyalty to the House of Zemo is tested when the 12th baron travels through decades to aid his son in restoring their legacy and carrying on the bloodline

author's note: for more context, check out this Avengers: Ultron Revolution clip and the two pre-serum Helmut Zemo x Reader drabbles written in that universe

as an octogenarian, Helmut Zemo is now older than his father ever was. however, watching Heinrich remove his purple cowl for you to assess the damage done by Captain Roger's fist to his face, he saw that thanks to the Super Soldier serum and time displacement, the two of them were physically the same age. "the swelling should go away by morning, sir," you smile at the face you've become familiar with through faded photos and the genes his son inherited from his side. "there is no damage to your cranium." Heinrich hissed when you touched up his stitches. "if it weren't for Zemo 2099, a little bruise would've been the least of my worries."

he wasn't talking to you, however, and he hadn't been since Helmut had brought him back to his now old castle along with the cyborg Zemo 2099. he ignored you in favor of berating his son, and you hadn't seen the baron look this humbled before. his mask was still on his hanging head and you suspected he kept it on to hide his pained expression. "I am grateful for his assistance in our battle against the Avengers. and for keeping you safe, Vater."

"his assistance? he practically fought every single one of them off on his own while you stood there like the weak link you are." Heinrich pushed you aside so that he can properly yell in Helmut's face all the insults your master would've plunged his sword through the one speaking them, but he didn't dare move a hand against his father. standing perfectly still and silent, he was falling back into the role of the perfect soldier since he failed at being a good son. he only shifted when the man screamed "the only reason you're still standing here is that you're my true heir's great grandfather."

the thirteenth baron was nobody's great grandfather. truth be told, he was nobody's father. in eighty years, there's been no shortage of women between his satin sheets and there's been more than a few men. however, there's never been a baroness. so preoccupied recreating his father, Heinrich Zemo's work and restoring their legacy he was that he ironically didn't spend a single second on producing an heir. you suspected that he didn't wish to subject his supposed brood with the same trauma he went through. he's always had a soft spot for children and you only found out once he took you in that the orphanage you grew up in was one of his many estates. he grew up an orphan himself, but he's always had his blue blood to help him gain access to all the resources he needed. as far as he was concerned, every child in every orphanage he ever built was his heir.

however, Henrich Zemo didn't see it that way. he saw his son flinch at the mention of offsprings and figured out that he doesn't have a grandchild in this timeline. "you've not produced an heir?" when Helmut couldn't meet his eyes and the shame in them was visible through the mask, Heinrich raised his voice again. "YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GIVEN ME AN HEIR? HOW IS THE HOUSE OF ZEMO SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE WITHOUT AN HEIR?"

"Vater-"

"did you try and fail as you do in everything? did you not even try?"

"Please, Vater-"

"what about das mädchen?" he pointed you out as you were packing the medical supplies. "did you not sire a child by her? i'd even name a bastard born from a bed wench my heir if it meant the Zemo name will survive until 2099."

"she is not a bed wench, she is my apprentice-"

his attempts at protecting your honor were weak and so was his voice. as powerful and proud of a man he was around his allies and even enemies, he was pathetic in front of his parent. he was silenced with nothing but a slap.

"how you survived all these decades without me I do not know and, truth be told, I do not care to know." Heinrich Zemo watched his son straighten his crown on his head and his mask on his face. he was not just disappointed, he was downright disgusted. "if it weren't for my title, my fortune, and my Super Soldier serum, the house of Zemo would've died with me."

"with all due respect, baron," you snapped, smoothening the bed sheets where he sat earlier. "your son has sacrificed everything for the survival of the Zemo name. if it weren't for him, you wouldn't be here in the first place."

he looked at you as if you were a stain on his boot. "how dare you speak to me that way? Helmut, how dare you let her speak to me that way?"

"you are dismissed, mein fräuline."

"even if she were a lady, she should know not to speak unless spoken to."

that was when Heinrich Zemo acknowledged you. and approached you. his eyes he had passed on to Helmut, but you've never seen them look down on you as if you were the dirt under his sole before.

"I'll see to it that she never speaks to you that way again, Vater," Helmut made one last attempt at deescalating the situation, but he already had you backed against the bed. his old bed. "she will be punished for her insolence."

"yes, she will." Heinrich raised his hand up in the air and struck you across the face with the back of it. "she will learn her place in my palace." the lesson seemed to be going well as you were too shocked to say a word and your master was practically mute where he stood frozen in place. the sting of the slap didn't hurt nearly as much as the shame. "she belongs beneath us." he grabbed you by the jaw and forced you to face him again. "and she will not speak over us. do you hear me, madchen? you are never to speak unless spoken to. is that clear or are your little peasant ears so dirty and clogged that you haven't heard a word I said?"

you tried looking back at your master, the thirteenth baron, but the twelfth wouldn't let you. he squeezed down on your jaw. "yes, sir."

"now was that so hard?" he loosened his grip and stroked the handprint he left on your cheeks and the tears that fell on top. you nodded instead of opening your mouth again. "of course not. you were born to obey, mein kleines lamm. and i was born to lead you lest you wander astray. no harm will ever come to you as long as you do as you are told. you will be safe, as long as you serve the house of Zemo. have I make myself understood or should i speak plainly so that you can follow along?"

"I've read all the books in the castle library, sir, including your journals. I can follow along with your words just fine."

when you saw him smile for the first time, you recognized it as Helmut Zemo's lips stretched across a row of carnivorous teeth. they were lions who've developed an appetite for lowly little lambs like you. "she's a mouthy one, isn't she? clever, too." father then turned to look at his son as he pushed the hair off of your shoulders and exposed your cleavage. "I see why you'd keep her close and even let her wear your own mother's clothes." then, he yanked your hair back and twisted it along with the rest of your body. when your back was against his chest, he came close to your ear and caught it between his canines. "you're lucky us Zemo men have a weakness for reckless women. you're always asking for it and we're always willing to set you straight."

"Vater, what are you-" Helmut found his voice, but he had yet to find the strength to step in between you and Heinrich.

"if you won't make a baroness out of this peasant girl, then I will." he licked the bitemark and buried you face-first into the bed covers. "my lineage will not end with you," he held your head down while lifting your skirts. "if you are too weak to sire an heir, then I'll do it myself."

you struggled, but he was too strong. his hands on you had a powerful grip as they parted your legs and ripped your underwear on the furst try. his hands also awakened the same ardor his son's did whenever he touched you. you were burning with shame and need in equal measure.

"you've kept a young, clean and ripe little cunt in my castle for years and you didn't even once consider it," Heinrich placed his pelvis between your thighs which were trembling in fear and anticipation. one of his fingers, his thumb, traced the lips and the leakage they were covered in. he did this several times, testing you. "look at this, Helmut. she's already wet and ready to receive me. she was made for this," he sinks his finger in and your cunt closes its warm and wet wall around it. "look at how she swallowed me whole. she was made to carry my royal brood," he chuckled, ecstatic to be so enthusiastically enveloped by you. "as lowly as you are, I'll turn you into the lady this fool never could, little lamb," he addressed you, but his words were meant to provoke his supposedly foolish son. still, you moaned into the mattress and even moved against his thumb, your body ready to be bred just like he said.

you almost missed the sound of Helmut hitting his father across his already bruised face, you were that preoccupied with whining pathetically at the loss of the feeling if being penetrated. all of a sudden, you were flipped over, your spime sinking into the mattress as your master - your true master - looked down at you with a bare face and a lustful gaze.

you sucked in air, breathless from Heinrich's ministrations and Helmut's manhandling. you didn't dare fight him ripping open your corset. finally, you could breathe snd he could behold your heaving breast which he marked as his with his teeth every night.

"I never impregnated her because I didn't want to, not because I couldn't," he looked back where his father lay on the floor. "i watched her grow under my own eyes, under a microscope, and I am very much aware of her fertile womb, father. and it is mine to turn into a bed wench, servant, assistant and even the mother of the next generation of Zemos, if I so desire." his large hands grabbed you under your knees and spreading you wide enough for him to slot himself between your legs. "she is mine."

"finally," Heinrich found his voice and his footing again as he stood up. "a show of strength," he watched you surrender to his son fully, arms flailing as you scratched the sheets in search of a grip. Helmut had entered you up to the hilt and split you open in one stroke. seeing his boy bury himself into your belly fully and noticing the bump his cock created in your abdomen, he grabbed him by his wide shoulders from behind. "you sound like the lion cub i never got to raise. you almost make me proud."

Helmut was heaving, his wide chest expanding as he lost himself in the luxury of your luscious cunt. he turned towards his father and his words of praise. "I am not a child anymore, father. I am a man. I take what is mine and tear apart all those who stand between me and what is mine." at this, he pulled out only to plummet back in. in a flash, his pace was fast and you found yourself mewling, a cat in heat or maybe a sacrificial lamb. you were his to devour.

"yes," Heinrich rubbed at Helmut's shoulders as his breathing got heavy. "yes, that's it," his hands moved lower, sliding down his spine and holding onto his lips. when the song stopped to slap the underside of your thigh, the father chuckled. "that's my boy," he squeezed his sides as they snapped against you, the sound of skin slapping against skin bringing the smirk back to his father's face as his son chased his carnal release. "mein guter junge," he nuzzled his ear. "now, come inside. come inside that cunt. that's your cunt, my boy, now claim it."

you tossed your head back as he lifted your hip up in the air and slid his cock so deep in your cunt, you saw stars on the ceiling.

"fräuline," Helmut grunted, burying himself deep inside your guts. "fräuline, you're mine." he tossed his head back against Heinrich's shoulder. "give me a son, mein fräuline."

"yes," your tongue lolled out as your eyes rolled back. your brain was a blur as you agreed to be a broodmare for the house of Zemo. "yesyesyes."

"come inside," his father pressed his lips against his earlobe. "make me proud," he kissed the shell of his ear. "come inside that cunt and give me an heir."

there's nothing he wanted more than to spill his seed inside of you. well, maybe getting more of his father's praise. once he emptied himself inside your womb, he got a pat on his head, sweaty head slicked back as you got a pat on your full tummy. "mein guter junge."

"Vater."

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #heinrich zemo x reader #heinrich zemo #helmut zemo

[luninosity]

*wanders by* Look what I worked on today...

Warnings for…NOT actual self-harm, but Jason spotting a scar on one of Colby’s hands, a scar he doesn’t know the story of, and briefly considering that possibility. (The actual story is much more of a cooking-related accident!) Plus general warnings for brief mention of Colby’s Awful Exes and family, & related emotional abuse.

#

“How’s this?” Jason waited, fingers resting over Colby’s hands in his. The hotel room wrapped comfort around them; it’d begun as nondescript, but had welcomed Colby’s rainbow cascade of scarves and Jason’s tidy unpacking. It was their home now, for these next two weeks of filming on location. “Helping?”

 “Very much helping, thank you.” Colby obediently didn’t move, holding both hands out. They were sitting on the bed, having changed into pajama pants and t-shirts—Colby’d borrowed one of Jason’s shirts, too large but in a cuddly flattering way—and the day had been long. They’d been filming into the evening, because Jill had wanted the specific light, dwindling away as Colby’s young and brilliant magician character got imprisoned and bound by iron and tortured, refusing to give up and lead the villains to Jason’s hero.

 The chains and cuffs had been fake, of course. Hollywood movie-making magic. A vast leap from real iron.

 But that didn’t mean they were soft or forgiving. They’d had hard edges, angled in spots, heavy, with no real padding. He’d had to struggle against them. He’d had to kneel while the villains shoved his hands to the floor and—cautiously, weight judged for performance—stepped upon them, pretending to shatter bones. The floor, and the impact, hadn’t been soft either.

 The bruises and scrapes and cuts were all too real. Colby winced as Jason spread healing salve across a tender spot. “Ow. Sorry, sorry, I know you’re being careful, I’m not complaining.”

 “Tell me if it’s hurting too much.” He tapped a finger over the back of Colby’s wrist. “And don’t apologize for it. Are you sure you don’t want me to get the medical people to check you out?”

 “They did, right after. I know you know; you were there. It’s fine, it’s not—ow—serious. It’ll heal.”

 “Might need some wrapping, though.” Jason eyed the bruises, the nicks. They shuffled purple and red across Colby’s skin, shame-faced. He didn’t like them existing, though he knew they weren’t anyone’s fault. “Just for tonight, to keep all this on. Not too tight.”

 “Whatever you think works best,” Colby agreed. “You’d know better than I would, as far as stunts and injuries. Ow, oh, drat, that one hurts a bit more.”

 That one was probably the worst, Jason judged: scraped raw, layers exposed, across Colby’s left wrist. The edge of that cuff had been both rough and sharp. And obviously his touch hadn’t been careful enough. “Shit. Sorry. Love you. Is the numbing part working, at all? It’s supposed to be helping.”

 “Oh yes,” Colby said, obligingly. “It’s already better. Thank you for doing this.”

 Jason sighed.

 “It’s true,” Colby protested. “I honestly do feel better. I’d tell you if not.” Hair tumbling to his shoulders in loose dark waves—not a wig, but extensions, left in for fantastical mystical effect—he was elfin and pretty and earnest, wearing Jason’s too-large shirt, eyes huge and blue and searching Jason’s face.

 “I know you would. But I also want to know if it’s not helping enough, okay?”

 “Yes,” Colby said meekly. “I’ll say so if it’s not working, I promise.”

 “Okay, then. Just checking.” He tried to make his touch as gentle as possible. He tried to be as soothing as he could: a protective bulk, not a threatening one. Hands offering care, not more harm. Weight and breadth positioned harmlessly on the bed, no demands.

 He knew Colby trusted him. He felt a small glow of pride that Colby did: enough to admit to being in pain, to wanting care. He loved Colby and would care for Colby with all his heart, all his strength, all his soul; not a question, not ever.

 He still hated seeing Colby in pain. Always had, always would.

 That’d be true for anyone he loved, of course. He’d had some discussions with their therapist about that, about grief and loss and Charlie and Jason’s own desperate need to save people, to be strong. He knew that about himself. But it was worse, it was the worst it could be, when the person in pain was Colby.

 Colby was the other half of his heart. The brightest piece of his life, the piece that’d dived in and reminded him how to swim and that he liked baking, the piece that’d made him laugh and drawn him into whimsical chattering conversations about wizards and dragons and romance and coffee. The piece that liked pink shirts with sequins on the sleeves, and anchovies on pizza, and history and stories and words that could steal an audience’s breath away.

 And Colby had been hurt before, so very badly, for so very long. Inside and out, physical and emotional bruises, day after day. Jason hadn’t been there then, hadn’t known him for the worst of it. But he knew now, at least as much as anyone could, after the fact.

 He’d seen Colby flinch from an unexpected touch, get wide-eyed at a large body hugging too tightly at a convention, and—the scariest of all—go silent and someplace else, someplace not present, at a drift of familiar cologne and a flash-flood of memory in the air. He knew what Colby had told him, which was enough to make Jason carefully store up a lot of emotions and then go down to the gym and beat the hell out of a punching bag for long enough to get his reactions under control.

 He knew about Colby’s family, too. The layers of those bruises—not physical, but emotional, a slow brutal evisceration of Colby’s sense of self and self-worth—went back decades. They were working on it; their therapist said that Jason being here, not leaving, not making Colby earn any crumb of affection, was the exact best thing he could do. Jason hoped so.

 He wished he could do more. He wished he could fight all of Colby’s demons. Like his character in this film, raising a sword. Lifting a shield. Fighting for a cause.

 He knew Colby’s hands pretty well, by now. He knew the way those slim graceful fingers felt in his, on his body—in his body, and oh that was always fun, Colby teasing him open and stroking him and pressing inside him. He knew Colby’s gestures on and off camera, the weight and shape of his palms, the backs of his hands, the old scars from period-piece swordfighting lessons and some small-scale stunt work, comedy pratfalls and in-role clumsiness. He knew about the short jagged line on the outside of Colby’s little finger on the right hand, from hopping a fence while filming a scene for that high-school coming-of-age comedy.

 He knew he didn’t know every smallest detail—he didn’t have a photographic memory—but he had a decent idea of Colby’s hands, he thought.

 Which was why his fingers slowed and came to a stop, as they felt something—as his gaze landed on something—that he didn’t recognize.

 Thin. White. Just above the heel of Colby’s left hand, across his palm. Long-healed—no texture at all, only noticeable if someone was paying extremely close attention, but enough to’ve left a line. Liam, Jason thought first, with a shock of anger like scarlet blood—but no, this was older than a handful of years, older than any injuries at Colby’s ex’s hands. Clearly so.

 Colby hadn’t seemed to notice—he’d been looking at Jason’s other hand, which had scooped up more salve—but he noticed the pause now. His eyes came up to find Jason’s, huge and flower-blue.

 Jason turned Colby’s hand more upward. Touched the line, very very lightly. His fingers shook.

 “Oh,” Colby said, soft with love, wry in the way of someone realizing, “no, it’s not what you’re thinking, and don’t say you weren’t thinking of at least two possibilities. It’s not either of those. I, er…well, I was about eleven years old and I’d been trying to prepare dinner for myself and I had absolutely nonexistent knife skills with regard to chopping carrots. And my father’s chef kept his knives very sharp.”

 “You were making dinner…for yourself?” He touched Colby’s palm again, traced the scar above the heel. It had plainly been a clean cut, straight, but deep enough to leave a mark once healed.

 Colby did that familiar nose-scrunch at him, the one that meant you won’t like this story. “You won’t like this story. But it wasn’t that bad.”

 “Tell me? If you want,” he amended. Not an order, not a demand. The freckle near Colby’s collarbone winked at him, playing peek-a-boo with the loose neck of Jason’s shirt.

 “Oh, of course. It’s hardly a secret.” Colby wiggled salve-smeared fingers at him. “So we were living in Paris then—Dad having been appointed as an ambassador and all, you know…”

 The storied instrument of his voice became, for an instant, more American than anything else, on the word Dad; Howard Kent personified the type of United States politician who embodied privilege, money, and self-interest above everything, including his marriage and his son.

 “…and my parents, being, er, my parents, did tend to do things like go on holiday without remembering that I existed, which meant the staff also generally forgot I existed, or took their cues from my parents, or assumed someone else had made some arrangements somewhere. So I was eleven and a bit, and I’d got used to making sandwiches and things, but I thought perhaps I’d try to cook, because I was trying to learn, you know, so I wouldn’t have to bother anyone.”

 Jason opened his mouth. Shut it.

 Colby lifted both eyebrows, inviting and amused. “Yes, go on, say it.”

 “You know everything I’m gonna say.”

 “I do. It’s all right; I’ve got you now.” Colby leaned against him, on the bed: easy contact, unremarkable, except for how it was remarkable, it was a marvel, given everything Jason knew.

 He wanted to cry for the boy Colby’d been, precocious and shy and so very alone.

 He held Colby’s hand. “I’m here. I’m always here. I’ll chop all your carrots if you need me to.”

 “You would, if I asked, wouldn’t you? Well, in any case, I managed to slice my hand open, as you might expect under the circumstances, and then I very nearly passed out from the sheer shock of it, and then after a few minutes I pulled myself together and found a first-aid kit and tried to patch it up, though it didn’t work terribly well because I was trying to do it one-handed.”

 “Jesus, Colby.” He could’ve demanded, why didn’t you call someone, a member of the security team, the household staff, a doctor, an emergency number, your parents? He didn’t.

 He knew why Colby wouldn’t. Not causing a fuss, not giving anyone a reason to disapprove or to not want him, not believing anyone would come or answer or care…

  His heart cracked open and bled more. Like younger Colby, huddled on a kitchen floor with a first-aid kit. “What happened?”

#character bleed #jason and colby #fic in progress #i've missed them #wip #original fic