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hoshigray · 4 months ago

Note

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!”

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure.

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby.

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet.

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room.

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff.

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows.

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.”

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold.

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie.

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes.

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly. “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by.

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies.

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit.

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!”

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.”

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more.

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?”

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure.

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance.

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

“Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict.

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity.

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.”

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax.

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth.

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior.

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub.

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane.

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?”

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh.

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year ago

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Femme Fatale Guide: Signatures To Discover For A Stronger Personal Brand

Personal brand colors (for your outfits, makeup, nails, socials, office supplies/decor, etc.)

Signature aesthetic choices (could you be identified as the woman always in a leather jacket, wearing red lipstick, always wearing crystal hair clips or full ear stacks, etc.)

Signature jewelry pieces

Go-to nail color/shape

Signature drink (alcoholic or not)

Personal sayings you're known for in your social group

Signature scent

Unique talents/hobbies/skillsets (Painting, cooking, computer skills/programming, negotiating, writing, etc.)

Your go-to restaurants, shops, etc.

Signature meals/particular food choices

Signature hostess gifts

Specific leisure priorities (she's the woman you'll always find at the Opera, contemporary art museum, dog park, watching Alfred Hitchcock movies, etc. in her free time)

Areas of life where you give the best advice

Causes/organizations you care most strongly about

Your greatest social competency (Telling the best stories, being funny, asking great questions, making everyone feel welcome and included, negotiating, planning the best trips/parties, being a social connector, etc.)

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creadigol · 1 month ago

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Hey y'all! I'm finally back and ready to write! Here is a part two of the 'Hero's special event' snippet. I don't know if it is going in the direction everyone thought, but sometimes the characters decide the plot, not me. I hope y'all enjoy!

Part One here!

It had started as a quiet night. For that, Hero was grateful. They really didn’t feel like dealing with anything more than the occasional small-time hood. They had chosen to come back on a Thursday specifically because the last night before the weekend always seemed to be the one every big time Villain took off.

“Finally back, are you?”

They thought too soon.

“Awful long time you took. No one can afford a honeymoon that long…well most not anyone. Thought you had retired for a couple weeks there,” the words were said with a slight chuckle.

Villain leisurely sauntered across the dank rooftop with a practiced ease. From where Hero was, leaning against the retaining wall overlooking the city, they could tell Villain thought the words much more important than how they were presenting them. Villain’s walk was relaxed, but their shoulders were coiled and tight.

Hero quirked an eyebrow, side eyeing them through the thin layer of their mask; “Almost did.”

Villain froze in their approach.

“But not for the reason you think,” Hero finished.

Villain folded their arms. “Then why?”

Hero dragged out a breath, regretting their decision to quit smoking all those years ago.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here now… ready and able to fight for truth and justice,” Hero hoped it didn’t come out as sarcastic as they felt. “And what are you doing here? You can’t possibly want to rob this place. It’s all low income housing.”

“I don’t rob anyone making less than 30k a year,” Villain shrugged. “I have standards.”

And morals, thought Hero. It was half the reason Hero went along with their casual chats.

They both stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Hero didn’t really know what to say. A part of them wanted to head to the nearest ladder, go home and call in Other Hero to cover the rest of their shift; and another, more confusing part of them wanted to apologize to Villain for being gone so long in the first place.

“So?” Hero settled for the third option. Awkward conversation.

“So?” Villain echoed.

“So, what are you doing here?”

Villain had the audacity to look confused. “Looking for you of course.”

That…wait…

Hero was not expecting that.

“A little birdie told me you’d finally come back. Came to see how the wedding went. Though after a two month long honeymoon I can take a guess.” Villain finished their way toward Hero and leaned against the wall next to them. Their shoulders were almost touching though neither looked directly at the other. Both their gazes were stretched over the city they each had very different plans for.

“Seriously, who takes a honeymoon that long anyway?” Villain huffed. “Hell, after that long I’d be ready for divorce.”

Hero subconsciously rubbed the front of their suit where a pocket would normally be in their civilian clothes.

“Not a problem when you're on the honeymoon by yourself,” Hero padded their pockets, knowing that logically there was nothing there. Seriously, why had they ever given up smoking?

“What?”

Hero finally looked at Villain. By what they could see of Villain's face, what wasn’t covered by the eye mask, there was a look of sudden shock and bewilderment.

“Do you have a cigarette?” Hero asked abruptly.

“By yourself…Hero why were you…wait, what?” Villain looked like an old Dell processor trying to compute dial up for the first time.

“A cigarette,” Hero stated. “Do you have one?”

They didn’t ask about a light. Their powers were more than sufficient to light a menthol.

Villain blinked a couple times, staring Hero in the eyes. “No. I don’t smoke.”

Hero huffed,

“Of course you don’t.” They pushed off the wall and started towards the ladder down to the fire escape.

“Hang on, where are you going?” Hero felt a light brush against their arm. Probably Villain having reached out and then thought better of it.

“To a corner store. There’s one two blocks down,” Hero didn’t break stride.

“For what?”

“A cigarette!” Hero barked. They turned to face Villain as they mounted the latter. “Obviously!”

“Since when do you smoke?” Villain kicked up a light jog across the rooftop to reach Hero before they stared down.

Hero rolled their eyes even though Villain couldn’t see it through the mask.

“I don’t..well I used to…” Their emotions were getting the best of them. God, why did they have to tell Villain they went on the honeymoon alone? It had just slipped out! Shit, they hadn’t even told the other Heros. It was just too humiliating…but of course, two sentences from Villain and Hero was spilling their guts. They knew they should have taken a longer absence.

“I do now…again!” Hero settled on. They hopped down two rungs before feeling strong grips on their forearms. Villain held on securely and they leaned over the latter to look down at Hero, their gaze intense.

“Let go,” Hero said.

“Not before I have answers,” Villain replied softly.

“I said, let go.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Let go!”

“Still no.”

Hero tightened their grip on the rungs that Villain held their arms to. In one fluid motion they took all their weight onto their hands, lifted themselves off the ladder and, in a move that would make gymnasts jealous, kicked Villain square in the chest.

It wasn’t the hardest they've ever kicked Villain, but it was enough to make Villain stumble back, releasing Hero’s arms and taking a deep breath from the impact.

Hero landed gracefully on their feet, once again on the rooftop.

“Thank you,” they said sarcastically, “for letting go.”

Villain let out one last cough and straightened up. “Okay…I deserved that. But you can’t just lay a bomb like that on me and then leave for…for a cigarette? Really?”

“Well forgive me for thinking that after five years I should be entitled to have one.”

Villain shook their head, “Oh, for the love of…after five years you shouldn’t be entitled to a smoke, you shouldn’t want one at all! But that’s not the point here…” “It sure seems like the point since you’re so invested in my lungs for some reason…”

“THE POINT,” Villain cut them off, “is you going on a honeymoon alone. I’m guessing that means what I think it means. And… the reason you’ve been gone so long.” Their voice softened by the end.

Somehow, the softening of their tone made the coiled frustration inside Hero ease a little.

“Yeah…yeah.” Hero sounded defeated.

Villain slowly approached them. Hero slumped their shoulders and leaned heavily against the ladder rungs.

“What happened, Hero?” Villain asked.

Hero felt their resolve, a hard frosted thing they didn’t even realize was surrounding them, crumble.

“Was it your father? Did he show up?”

Hero let out a rueful chuckle, “Oh yeah, he showed up alright.”

Villain tensed.

“But, as much of a nuisance as he is, he’s not what ruined everything. Surprisingly he was well behaved, despite crashing.”

Hero felt their throat tightening. God, this was so humiliating.

“Come on Hero, give me something.” Villain leaned into their space, their tone taking on a light tone in an attempt to soften the conversation. “Don’t tell me you pulled a Friends moment and said the wrong name at the altar?” They patted Hero’s shoulder. Hero forced out a breath.

“I didn’t say the wrong name.”

The hand on their shoulder stiffened.

“You mean…no…your fiance?”

“Said the wrong name. Yes. Or the right name, if you want to think about it that way, since they're now planning their wedding.” Hero looked down. Tears threatened to leak past their mask and they didn’t want Villain seeing. It was bad enough they had dwelled on this for two months. They had told themselves they should be past this…but the look on their fiance’s face…the humiliation of it happening in front of their family and friends…and the heartbreak of finding out their love was not reciprocated…it was still so much.

“Oh, Hero…” Villain whispered. Suddenly, Hero felt strong arms around them and their head was pressed against a shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Their resolve turned to dust.

“I just…” Hero’s breath hitched and a sob escaped them. No one had just held them like this. After the fact, Hero’s family and friends and all tried to console them, words like it just wasn’t meant to be and there’s other fish in the sea were spoken again and again, but no one had let them just be. Just feel the pain and let it out.

“It was so humiliating,” Hero choked out into Villain’s suit.

“I can’t imagine,” Villain rubbed circles into Hero’s back.

“I wasn’t enough…I knew it…I know I’m busy all the time…but I thought we could get through it ... .god, I would have retired early if they had asked…but I just wasn’t enough…”

They couldn’t continue, sobs which had been suppressed for two months finally breaking free and flowing out of them like a tidal wave.

After what felt like hours, they came back to themselves and realized that Villain and lowered them both to the ground and was steadily rubbing comforting circles into their back. They sniffled and shifted. They opened their mouth to apologize when Villain said,

“You are enough Hero.”

Villain took a deep breath and the shaking of their shoulders, which hero hadn’t even felt at first with their own crying, lessened. “Hell, you’re more than enough. Better than enough. And you deserve someone who sees you as their whole world. Not just a spouse, not just a partner…but everything. They should see you as their everything.” Villain shifted and gently put Hero at arms length so as to look into Hero’s mask, “I know you can’t feel that now, but you will. Given time, you’ll realize that you’re better off and you deserve to be someone’s first and only choice, not a backup to the one they actually want at the altar.” If not for the conviction, Hero would have thought Villain sounded angry.

Hero nodded. They knew what Villain was saying was true, they had known it all along. It just hurt to have your heart broken.

“Why do you care?” Hero wasn’t sure what spurred them to ask that question, but it had slipped out nonetheless.

Villain pulled them close once more.

“Because I never would have left you at the altar.”

It was a solid minute before those words sunk in.

@thats-alittle-gay @fishradiation @dreamfyrethesadqueenprotector @ekira17

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aliorsboxostuff · 4 months ago

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I went insane on this self indulgent run in trying to get back into writing so here, a House x Wilson and Male!Reader son fic cuz i see House as a.... complicated figure in my life 💀

Menace

Tags: Greg House/James Wilson, Son!Reader, A/B/O Dynamic, Alpha!House, Alpha!Wilson, Alpha!Reader, Younger Reader, Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, Lisa Cuddy, Fluff, Crack, No Smut, for shits and giggles, idk abt hospital rules whoops, inaccurate medical terms, medical malpractice, malpractice MD, Established Relationship, Between S1-S3

All those 'Wilson has a Wife at home!' thing was all an innuendo. They're married. and they have.... a son? Come read as the ducklings find out how much of their boss's life they missed!

It was early in the morning.

Foreman had just entered the office while Chase was eating a bagel. Cameron was making her morning tea and the three were catching up over the weekend. They saw Dr. Wilson passing by and they waved at him, the man nodded and smiled shortly before he continued to his office. Chase says something about last week's case which Foreman laughs at, Cameron rolls her eyes before she takes a seat at the filing desk.

“We’re only starting the day and you're already filing down House’s stuff?” Chase tilts his head with a smirk, the brunette sighs while her hands are busy with a group of blue files.

“It’s not like he ever does it himself,” She answers as she sits. “Might as well chip around it,”

The computer boots up slowly when Foreman approaches the mountain of files. He picks one up and flips it open, his face scrunches in confusion. “This was… 2 months ago?”

Foreman levels his colleague with a stare at which Cameron only sighs. He deems it a suitable answer so he drops the file, busying himself with Chase instead.

Half an hour into meddling about, waiting for their boss to arrive, a sharp knock breaks the team's attention from each other's conversation.

Standing outside their meeting room is someone they're unfamiliar with. Not someone new to their department judging by their leisurely clothes, it went straight to someone fresh out of high school. However, what caught them off-guard was the jacket the man was wearing. It was House’s jacket.

They have a tall stature, though with how they’re slightly bowing his head, he levels just at Foreman's height. Something about his eyes resembles too much of a doctor they know, sending a shiver down Chase’s spine.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, is this Dr. House’s office?” He asks, a small unsure smile on his lips. Foreman cocks a brow while Cameron and Chase shared a look.

The boy blinks, holding a file folder in his hand. “I was just told to bring this to his office,”

He shakes the file slightly, his friendly smile unwavering. Cameron was the first to blink and immediately shuffled to handle the folder. When she approaches the boy, he stands straight once his anxiety ebbs out, and something oddly familiar suddenly flashes through her. The boy's scent has the burnt woody undertone House has. Her brain quickly connected it with House’s jacket he was currently supporting yet it was too strong and just different enough to not be another Alpha’s scent that stuck to the boy. Cameron subtly breathes to confirm it's the boy's scent. She stutters through her words, “I-i’ll get this through to him, he uh- he hasn't arrived yet,”

“Oh I know,“ He waves a hand. “I'm only here for a visit but I ran into Dr. Cuddy and she handed me this, she said she’s too busy to bother him herself,”

The boy laughs, a slight crinkle on the bridge of his nose. Cameron had to choke back a gasp, suddenly digging blunt nails into the case folder. The whole room was silent aside from the melodic laugh. The laughter dies down eventually as the boy gathers himself.

“Well that's my only reason to be here, I should get going,” he nods politely and bids them a short goodbye before leaving the room.

Another beat of silence.

Chase perks up. “I wasn't the only one that thought that was odd… right?”

“Why was he so…”

“Tall? Yeah, I got that too,” Foreman continued Cameron's question.

“Yes that but, who- did you guys hear what he said? When I said House wasn't here yet he said ‘Oh I know’,” Cameron drops the file on their meeting table. “How does he know?”

“Better question; was that House’s jacket?” Chase points an accusatory finger in the direction the boy went.

“Hooker?” Foreman tries, immediately shut down by Cameron.

“House hasn't gone into rut yet,” She reasons, standing her ground.

“Hey Alphas don't need a nice dicking down when they’re just on ruts y’know,” Chase crosses his arms. “Foreman's right, he could've been someone he slept with,”

“But that kid is way too young!”

“We can't assume our boss’ type, Cameron,” Foreman smirks. “He might like someone years younger than him!”

“Seriously? Chase’s the one that kissed a child,” Chase immediately gasps, hands flying up at what his colleague said.

“It was one time! And she was dying for god’s sake!”

The two laughs, while Chase rolls his eyes before huffing. “None of this still doesn't explain who that guy was,”

“And he smells… almost like House too,” Foreman blinks at his confusion. The three doctors continuously stared at each other, sharing glances as if it would yield an answer to their questions. Cameron looks back to the door, then to the case file, before deciding to open it. She reads the case and Cuddy was right, it’s interesting enough that House would find interest in it but…

“He mentioned Cuddy, didn't he?” Cameron immediately announces. The two men pauses, before the realization hits them. They were about to exit the office when suddenly House stood between them and the door, motorcycle helmet in hand, donned in his usual leather jacket.

He stares at his team, all supporting various degrees of surprise and confusion before he rolls his eyes. “I’ve only arrived and you’re already going out to run tests?”

His team is still dead silent. House huffs before barging past them and dropping his bag atop the piles of folders.

“Gimme here,” House reaches out for the file Cameron is still clutching. “Cuddy says this one will blow my cane off,” His voice heightens in pitch, mimicking Cuddy herself.

Cameron reluctantly gives the file to her boss, the Beta watching for signs of anything from House. As the Alpha starts reading the file, his team slowly files into their normal seating. The room’s tension was apparent, especially annoying to House as he practically felt it with his sense of smell. He looks up from the file, fixing the group with a glowering stare. “Did you all see a ghost or did I miss the memo of being mute for the day?”

“We uh-” Cameron starts “It's just… Someone came by, he was the one that gave us the file…”

“Huh,” He pauses before raising a brow. “I must be losing my annoying Cuddy streak, she didn't even come by to give it herself,”

House shrugs and drops the file onto the table with a slap! “But she was right, this is an interesting case…” He turns to his board, his cane thuds dully. “Differential diagnosis, go.”

—

The next time the group spotted the mysterious boy, he was leaving Dr. Wilson's office in the middle of the day.

They had just finished going out for lunch, walking together when they saw the door to the Oncologist's office open to reveal the boy they had seen earlier. A wide smile on his face and an equally glowing smile from Wilson was what shocked the group. They know Wilson as a very patient and empathetic man, but to see him smile so carefree it almost scared the three.

Foreman was reluctant but Chase pulled at his coat first which led them into hiding behind a corner, ears pressed to hear what Dr. Wilson and the boy were conversing about.

“You should’ve seen their faces,” The boy laughs, House’s jacket draped over his arm.

“They’ve never seen you come by before, I'm sure they were pleasantly confused,” Wilson replies, a coy smile on his lips as he pats the boy’s shoulder.

“Maybe I should visit you two more often,” His tone was light, his head tilting at the request. They hear Wilson repress a laughter before it chokes out as a short chuckle.

“If you’re not too busy, we won't mind seeing you here,” Wilson nods. “Just anywhere but the ER, got it?”

At that, the boy sighs though it seems to be out of fondness if the softness of the man's next word could be an indication for the three; “I won't, I promise,”

“Then we’ll see you at home,”

“Awh but I'm bored! I don't wanna go home yet!” The two laugh.

They immediately plaster themselves to the wall, Chase’s eyes wide while Cameron’s eyes shoot in different directions as if connecting invisible strings. Foreman sighs, wiping a hand across his face, before concluding. “A polycule?”

“A- What?” Chase balks. “You think Wilson and House and that guy…?”

“It makes sense, right? They share living spaces,”

“Wilson keeps saying ‘we’ I think he does mean it’s him and House.”

Chase and Cameron cross arms simultaneously. “I can see House and Wilson being together.” the brunette concludes.

Chase blinks before he turns to the girl. “Sure but House only has eyes, and love for Wilson, what makes you think that–”

Suddenly, all three of their pagers beep and god for once they wished their patient stayed stable. They quickly made their way to the room, passing by Wilson and the boy, the two sparing a glance at the hurried steps of the three before they turned back towards each other.

—

“Is House and Wilson in a polyamorous relationship?”

Cuddy blinks, closing the patient file slowly and placing it atop her desk. Her eyes glance up to meet Camerons. She manages a tired glare that only works on anyone but House, though it seems he’s been teaching his ducklings bad habits because Cameron only stood and crossed her arms, which makes the dean of medicine raise a brow.

“What makes you think I’d know that information, Dr. Cameron?”

She shrugs. “You’re closest to them. They tell you first before us, and aren't you always on top of coworkers dating each other and all-”

“Yes, but that's in case it’ll affect the efficiency of our work. House and Wilson-”

“Are an exception?” Cameron’s eyes widen inquisitively. Cuddy promptly rolls her eyes.

“No. House and Wilson would be the last person to inform me of their relationship,”

“And why aren't you asking them anyway? I wouldn't want to butt into whatever those two alphas are doing,” Cuddy shakes her head, placing her attention back into her files before Cameron sighs.

“Because we saw a kid earlier this morning. Not a staff, not a student. We don't even know who he is but he was wearing House’s jacket and talking with Wilson.”

“So? Someone could be House’s hooker and Wilson’s patient-”

“He said he knew you. You gave him a patient file for House because you were too preoccupied to give him yourself!”

Cameron shot her arms up, exasperated, while the woman sitting in front of her deadpans. Suddenly, Cuddy’s brows furrow, before she belts out a laugh, tapping the hilt of her pen to her desk. The ímmunologist blinks, her arms hovering lamely, confused and slightly scared by what Cuddy is about to say.

Cuddy steadies herself, before easily replying. “Oh him. Yeah that's House and Wilsons’s son.”

“... What?” Cuddy will have to check the cameras later because the shocked face Cameron supported before running out of her office was priceless.

—

House and Wilson were in the diagnostician's office. The boy was leaning on the wall between them, the two doctors sat face to face, divided by House’s desk. They were enjoying a cup of coffee, House had his patient's MRI results in his hands and went over it with Wilson, seeing as his ducklings were off doing tests.

House figured it would be another hour before they bothered him again when his expectations plummeted by the three bursting into his office.

“You have a son?!” Chase shouts.

“He’s your son?!” Cameron pointed at the surprised boy.

“You two are together?!” Foreman motions between House and Wilson.

House groans loudly. Wilson looks to the side. The boy takes a slow sip from his cup.

The diagnostician drops the MRI scans, promptly putting his legs down from the desk, annoyance evident in his frown. “Yes, yes and yes– I thought I sent you three to do blood tests,” He extends a hand. “I’m assuming it’s done so now give it,”

“The results will be done in another hour. You never bothered to tell us?”

“You all never bothered to ask,” House replies easily. He grabs his cane and stands, making his way to stand between Wilson and the lanky boy. House’s son.

“For a group of diagnosticians you three are really bad at picking up very obvious hints,” He sighs. “Especially you, Chase. You’ve worked with me for years now! I'm very disappointed in you young man.”

“Wha- How should I know? You and Wilson were always this weird… Thing,” His hand flairs to gesture to the two doctors. “And you never brought the kid around!”

“That's because he was in high school,” Wilson shrugs. “A lot of after-school programs,”

He replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. The three doctors are still standing dumbfounded. House supports a smirk before he brings the boy to stand beside him, an arm around his shoulders.

“Everyone, meet me and Wilson's adopted son.” The kid laughs slightly, waving at the group. “Oh and yes, me and Wilson are together, in case you all didn't get that,”

“You two are married?!” “Oh yes, til death do us part and all, the whole gimmick,”

Wilson sighs. “Gimmick it may be, you still cried that day,”

“And you’re going to blackmail me, Wilson? Oh you wound me, pookie,” House pouts at the Oncologist at which he raises a brow.

“Wait wait-” Foreman shakes his head. “You never wore a ring and- Only Wilson does!”

“Im allergic to gold,” House sneezes when the said ring Wilson’s supporting glints. “It also doesn't match my edgy, cool doctor outfit,”

The boy beside him laughs, shaking his head. “You’re lame, Dad. Lame, not cool,”

“My own family is against me!” Wilson chuckles at House’s reply, which also makes his son laugh louder. A beat of warm laughter before Cameron pushes another question.

“Is- is this true?” He gestures towards the boy. He smiles, patting House’s hand that's still resting comfortably on his shoulder.

“Yes. I am Dr. House’s and Dr. Wilson’s son. A couple of months after they got married, they adopted me. I’m pretty sure I was in middle school when they took me in,” He smiles, glancing between his parents. “I’ve been with them ever since.”

“It’s semester break right now, so rather than spending my time at home, i’d rather bother my dad’s here at work. I won't bother you all!”

The boy flashes a false smile suddenly. “No promises though.”

Cameron sighs. “Oh god there's two of you…”

House met his son's eyes. Something glints between them, before the two Alphas turn to the group sharply. House levels them with a smug stare while his son grins, all sharp teeth and menace, the two oozing dangerous dominant pheromones. Cameron and Chase locks up, Foreman only sighs at the two’s display. Wilson, still sat with his warm mug in hand, only sighs and rolls his eyes. If his husband and son is going to scare the shit out of the diagnostic department, he might as well enjoy the spectacle. It’s not like his son would stay here for long, he’ll get bored eventually and spend his break elsewhere, right?

What happens in the next couple of weeks into his son's break would prove him wrong.

reblogs save lives. Requests opened!

#house md #greg house x james wilson #house x wilson #house/wilson #dr house #gregory house #hilson #hilson fanfiction #malpractice md #james wilson x gregory house #james wilson #male!reader #kid fic #fanfic #alpha beta omega #a/b/o dynamics

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yvaineswonderland · 6 months ago

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✎ᝰ 2/5/2024 (Thursday) ˎˊ˗

Today was truly a day of productivity as I completed 1 full chapter of Physics, and I was finally able to start Maths, still having troubles on the Chemistry part but it's getting better!!!

From now on, I'll also be writing down what I have completed on each subject for the day, particularly Chemistry, Physics and Maths (+ English and Computer Science later on as school starts) and maybe even Spanish and Hindi too!

Chemistry: Completed 1 topic (+ 5 sub-topics) along with 6 example problems (which I spent a long time understanding)

Physics: Chapter-2 (All)

Mathematics: Intro to Chapter-1, and I solved about half of the 1st exercise

Overall Time Studied: 2hrs 56mins

Self-rating: 4/5 (Pretty proud with myself as i managed my time quite well, both for my studies and leisure time)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

#study blog #studyblr #stemblr #study motivation #study aesthetic

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mothwingwritings · 7 months ago

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Dreaming Of World's End

Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Waaah it has been so long!!! I apologize for the absence! I have been working on and doing all kinds of stuff (fics included) as of late so I did one of my classic dip outs there for a moment, but I’m here! Just plunking away as usual. :)

With Dawntrail coming up I have been focusing a big chunk of my free time on trying to beat Endwalker (I am slow in all things, video games included lul) because I wanna be there with the herd with Dawntrail comes out!!! I have no idea if I am gonna make it, but I am doing the best I can to catch up!!!

That being said: Zenos brainrot propelled this fic from my brain, to my computer, to you. Was I and am I also writing a bunch of other things? Yes. Is this the only thing I could momentarily focus on writing-wise because I have been compromised by my love for this fucked up man? Also yes. I’m sorry. It’s bad. I was already obsessed with him in Stormblood and now that I am deep within the clutches of the Endwalker msq… It’s over for me guys. It was a good run, but rip to me. My WOL may be playing hard to get, but I’m sure not. Zenos if you are reading this, you can just have me.

So without further ado, here is a Zenos fic I have been working on! My love for him aside, I think Zenos is a super fun character to write for, so I really hope I did him some justice! This is a reader insert fic, but you are the Warrior of Light in it so feel free to insert your OC’s and WOL if you like! I tried to keep the reader neutral, but I will say it’s def aimed more at a female reader/character and if you are a shorter race like a Lala it will probs be a little wonky, so my apologies. Also, I am about half way? A little over half way? through the Endwalker main story, so potential spoilers up to that point. This fic takes place sometime between post Shadowbringers and the first part of Endwalker.

Nothing overly explicit, but due to the nature of this fic it is 18+ please!

Thank you so much for reading!!! <3 I truly hope you enjoyed!

WARNINGS: Unhealthy relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), intense infatuation, implied noncon, noncon mentions, a lot of fighting and mentions of fighting, mentions of death and the end of the world, unwanted touching, Endwalker spoilers.

It was always the same dream.

Amaurot. The end times. Death, destruction, chaos. Streets tainted by endless misery, stifling woe permeating the air as people ran about frantically, picked off left and right by horrendous, nightmarish monsters. Screams pierced the air as the remaining survivors struggled in vain, desperate to escape a fate that they could not avoid.

Just as any other night, he would watch it all unfold with cold indifference. Walking through the crumbling, fire charred lanes of this shell of a once bustling city, he would take it all in at a leisurely pace, maintaining a stride no more rushed than if he were taking a pleasant stroll. His features would be void of distress or malaise, his face a blank slate as he paraded down roads lined with bodies and devastation.

Zenos could say it was because he had grown accustomed to it, have the same dream each night and the grisly scenario that laid in wait past your closed eyes was bound to no longer shock you. But that would be a lie, as this ghastly nightmare had never truthfully bothered him to begin with. He simply didn’t care, not about the dying planet, nor its inhabitants that suffered the same fate. This scene from another time, this moment from a faraway place that no longer existed, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any form of remorse for the phantoms left to wallow helplessly in this endless, hellish loop, even if his own star was on track to share the same fate.

An echo of the past was just that, to dwell on it was a fool’s errand.

But tonight, it was not the end of times that greeted him when he closed his eyes. In its place stood an immaculate hall appearing to belong to some manner of grandiose castle. Pristine and orderly, he sat upon a large throne questionably positioned in the middle of the walkway, facing so that a vast expanse of the hall was clearly within his view.

Had he been here before? It was hard to say, having been trapped by palace walls most of his life they all blurred together after a certain point. Perhaps this wasn’t even a castle, but some manner of fortress. The varying weapons displayed neatly along the surrounding walls certainly made it feel as if this was more than just a mere abode for royalty to live out their boringly opulent lives, perhaps it doubled as an armory of sorts? Every sword, spear, and battle axe looked immaculately cared for; their blades so sharp simply looking at them made you feel as if you had been sliced.

His time to dwell upon the mystery of his surroundings was quick to dissipate however, as he felt a familiar presence approach him from behind. He remained still when a delicate hand was placed upon him, crawling from his arm to slide unhurriedly across his broad shoulders. The caress occupied the entirety of his thoughts, manicured nails scratching lightly against his flesh as they raked across his back, pressing just hard enough that they left a pleasant burn in their wake.

“There you are,” a deceptively alluring voice purred in his ear. Phantom arms draped themselves loosely over his shoulders, their fingers moving to trace a swirling pattern upon his chest. Goosebumps littered his arms at the brief contact. “Were you hiding from me?”

A small smile spread across his lips. What elation merely hearing your voice caused.

Were he not already aware of it, he would recognize he was in a dream from this interaction alone. You, only you, would be welcomed to touch him this way. But even were he to offer invitation, you would never do so of your own free will. There was a mixture of pride and revulsion that kept your interactions with him void of skinship, save for the fleeting contact that occurred when you were locked in combat.

His motivations, the way he chose to experience the world, your differing values and opinions. Like night and day, they barred you from reciprocating his feelings towards you. Because of this, he was left to revel in your touch exclusively in the realm of dreams.

“On the contrary,” he hummed, “you have been the one to keep me waiting.”

A low chuckle reverberated from your chest, sending a shiver down his spine. You rose to your full height, pulling away slowly until you disconnected from him completely. Even if the contact was nothing more than an attempt at provocation, he missed your touch the moment you detached yourself.

“Well then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord,” you enunciated his title tauntingly, the playful lilt in your voice exciting him further. He heard you take several languid steps away from him before you spoke once more. “That is, if you even have a heart that can offer forgiveness.”

Zenos rose to his feet, turning to finally face you. Your back greeted him as you stared up at the myriad of weaponry covering the back wall, the hand that was moments ago atop his chest now gracefully running across the hilt of a long sword. Your fingers lingered on the handle, moving as if you were going to grip it, but never completing the task.

Zenos smiled. You were toying with him.

“You jest,” he spoke, taking a measured step your way, “if anyone has intimate knowledge of the existence of my heart and whom it beats for, it is you.”

Your posture stiffened in acknowledgment of the insinuation, yet you refused to turn his way.

“Is that so,” your voice seemed distant, as if you were unwilling to accept the burden of the intense desire he held for you, “Forgive me, I must have misread the situation. Due to the nature of how our meetings always end, I figured you only ever wanted one thing from me, and that is my blood.”

A low chuckle rumbled from within him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. For all that you were, all the skills and knowledge that you held, you could certainly be dense.

“I desire all you have to offer,” he answered plainly, “Your fury and malice, your rage and rancor, your disdain and desire,” he continued to approach you, each step slow and deliberate as he closed in on your staunch form. “Your love and affection are no different. I want to consume your every thought, just as you consume mine. I want you to taste me in the air you breathe and feel me crawling under your skin, even when I am far removed from your presence.”

He stopped several steps away from you, keeping his distance but lingering close enough that it bordered on intrusive. He raised his hand calmly, reaching out to grab a stray lock of your hair between his fingers. He gingerly caressed the silky strands, smirking when he noted that even such slight contact caused a shudder to lurch your otherwise statuesque form.

“You can play the fool all you want, but you cannot hide the fact that the same beast that dwells in me is also within you. They call out, craving each other to the point of madness. We need each other. This dance we share must continue in perpetuity, lest our fierce yearning for each other’s presence turn us to savages incapable of rational thought, driven to the point of committing mass, undiscriminating destruction as a means to appease ourselves.”

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss atop the tendrils in his hand, before letting it slip from his grasp completely. “And you would do anything to divert that misfortune, would you not hero?”

Your shoulders began to quiver, shaken by the threat of violence he could and would commit simply to be by your side. An impatient sigh escaped his lips, “So come, what better way is there to quench each other’s thirst and prevent calamity than through a mutually beneficial rendezvous? Surely even someone as set in their way as you are is in agreeance.”

“I was under the assumption that you planned on battling me until the world was torn asunder, regardless of if I entertain your perversions or not,” Your voice dripped with disdain as you spat your response at him, “If that is the case, pray tell why I should not cut you down where you stand? Why must the dance continue if the outcome is all the same?”

Your words made the smile on his face grow, stretching his lips to an unnatural degree. Taking another step forward, he leaned in until his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. Placing his hands firmly atop your shoulders, he gave a tight squeeze as he responded.

“Because we share one destiny,” he pressed his cheek flush against your head, inhaling deeply before releasing it in a slow, shaky sigh, “even now as you try so hard to deny me, our fate is intertwined, my warrior. You cannot escape me, and I have no desire to escape you. The dismantling of this world as a result of our conquest is all but inevitable and I welcome it with open arms.”

“I won’t let the world crumble to ash.” Your bold declaration was spoken as if it were fact, the conviction in your voice sending a surge of wanton excitement coursing through his veins. “Say and do as you like, the future you seek will never come to pass.”

Oh, how he adored you.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “You can try and stop me, but you cannot escape what has been predestined.”

During the course of the conversation, your hand had had traveled to the base of an axe, your fingers wrapping around it to grasp the handle in a constricting hold. All of the anger that had been bubbling up reflected in the whites of your knuckles, the tremor of your hand becoming more apparent as your composure slipped further and further. The cool demeanor you initially donned had completely shifted, overridden by the immense agitation his presence was inviting.

The axe was ripped swiftly from the wall, lacking fluidity. There was no care for keeping the wall in tact or making sure all the other weapons that surrounded it stayed in their spot. You ripped it down with one great tug, bits of stone and surrounding armaments clattering noisily into a massive steel heap on the ground as you finally spun around to face him. Zenos had seconds to react as you swung down in a wide arc, the finely sharpened blade slicing easily through the decorative tiling that coated the floor, decimating the ground where he once stood.

“There we are,” Zenos growled in anticipation, sizing you up with a bloodthirsty grin, “you are a vision to behold when you let your ferocity consume you.”

You deigned to answer him, your icy countenance his only response as you straightened your posture, considering your next move. Your distaste for him was clear as you hefted your axe from the ground, dust settling around you as it was freed with a mighty yank. Weapon in hand, you came for him in a relentless torrent, striking at him in a flurry of breakneck swings. In the ensuing madness, he grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach-a sword that was more ornate that functional, but it would serve its purpose for the time being.

The enmity increased as he reciprocated your attacks. Parrying each blow with a steady hand, he responded to your blows with calculated strikes of his own, expertly countering your aggression. The air around the two of you had become electric, charged with hostility and fervor as you hacked away at each other time and time again.

Though frantic, the assault was far from inelegant. Each swing of your axe and swipe of his blade was an orchestrated maneuver befitting the couple who performed them. It was as beautiful as it was fierce, a true force of nature. To an untrained eye the activity would appear as nothing more than a blur of chaos, annihilating all that was in its wake. But to Zenos, a man who had dedicated himself to your study, it was a sight that made his heart ache.

He was witnessing a glorious preamble, a promise forged in battle between himself and his righteous and powerful hero, the only person with whom he ever felt a true connection. This battle, amongst all of its other perks, gave him purpose.

Fighting you, he felt alive. To be the sole receiver of all your ire, your discontent, your undivided attention… it was like a dream. He realized this encounter was most likely just that, a conjuring of your presence from his sleep addled mind, a side effect of his constant ruminations of you. You already occupied each of his waking thoughts, it only made sense that having you visit in his dreams would soon follow.

Be that as it may, the knowledge that this moment lived solely in his mind did little to dissuade his desire to get lost in it, to get lost in you. If he couldn’t have you in the waking world, his dreams would have to suffice, at least for the time being. Besides, there were things he could accomplish in his dreams that would never be plausible elsewhere, moments of intimacy he could forge that would never present a chance of happening in reality.

A particularly rough blow sent Zenos reeling. The sword knocked from his hand scattered just out of reach, his body lurching to an abrupt stop as he collided with rubble that had piled up behind him. A quick glance your way revealed a small smirk ghosting your lips, a hint of satisfaction shining through your hostility. He could see the assurance reflected in your eyes, a swell of pride over the victory you would soon be relishing.

Zenos mirrored your glee, pleased you were having as much fun as he was.

As you hoisted your axe high, thoroughly preoccupied with your pending achievement, Zenos took the moment to strike. Launching himself from the ground, he rammed his body against yours, hitting you hard and fast. The speed at which he closed the gap astounded you as much as the collision had, causing the axe to topple from your hands, skittering out of your reach. A pained grunt escaped your lips as you collided with the ground, Zenos following suit atop you. His hand cradled the back of your head as you fell, catching hold before it could crack against the stony floor. It would do no good to have you suffer injury and pass out now, not as things were about to get truly interesting.

Positioning himself atop your fallen form, his body caged you in as you lay beneath him, panting and exhausted. Splayed amongst the rubble, your confusion morphed into a look of annoyance as you realized your situation had drastically changed. Your success had been stolen from you and now the thief had you cornered, trapped right where he wanted.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you in this moment,” Zenos spoke between his own labored breaths, pressing into you ever further as his face hovered inches from your own, “Disheveled and feral, transformed by your bloodlust, you have never been more breathtaking.”

“I’m not like you,” you retorted sharply, “I don’t revel in such acts of savagery.”

Zenos chuckled, “And yet you seemed quite delighted moments ago when you were convinced victory was within your grasp.” You frowned as his hand found purchase on your chin, gripping it in a tight pinch to keep your focus fixed his way, “But here you are now, bested and at my mercy.”

You grimaced, “I have yet to lose to you. I refuse to concede defeat.”

In response to your bold declaration, he gave a throaty, booming laugh. How was it that you always knew just what to say to drive him absolutely mad with desire?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Zenos smashed his lips to yours, capturing you in a heated and hungry kiss. Your brain took a moment to comprehend the abrupt action, but as it did you began to struggle against it, thrashing and clawing at him in an effort to create distance. Zenos remained firm, making it clear that you had expended far more energy than he had, leaving your assault lacking the power needed to stop him. Whines of displeasure snaked from your mouth as his grip tightened on your chin, squeezing so roughly you couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Eagerly seizing the opportunity, he muscled his tongue inside of you, lapping at the inside of your mouth aggressively. He groaned as he savored the taste of you.

When a need for air arose, he pulled back slightly, staring down at you with lidded eyes. Your saliva coated his lips, giving a glossy sheen as they curled into an offputtingly tranquil smile. His hand moved from your chin to drag languidly across your cheek, the brief touch of his rough finger tips sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze wavered the longer you stayed trapped in this awkward position, your eyes brimming with uncertainty. You seemed unsure of where to look, what to do, how to escape. In his wishful thinking, Zenos wondered if perhaps you were even unsure if you truly wanted to escape.

Amongst your numerous charms, Zenos found your enigmatic personality to be one of your most appealing. Being such a virtuous being, your motivations, ambition, and drive were all easy enough to sort out. You are Hydaelyn’s chosen, the Warrior of Light, the people’s champion, and you live up to those titles and more. You are a hero through and through, a source of salvation for those you protect and a complete nightmare for those that offer opposition. There is no doubt that you are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the encounter or situation may be.

And what good hero is without a nemesis? It’s a role the disgraced Prince and betrayer of his kin plays well. In his illustrious life he had gone through the motions, donned many hats, played countless roles, many of which were not of his choosing. But of all his grand titles, your adversary is most certainly his favorite, the only one that gives him any sense of pride. Your existence gave him purpose, and for you alone he kept up the hunt.

But he knew it was different for you. Though cut of the same cloth and driven by destiny to engage him, your feelings did not completely align with his own. You were driven by more than barbarity, more than a duty to save your people and your planet. There was something inside of you, something that made you YOU, that he could never truly know, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

You were his greatest conundrum, a true mystery, and when you look at him as you were now with those eyes that swirled with anger, uncertainty, grief, and something yet unspoken… What was he to do but become a slave to this maddening, consuming attraction?

He gloated about being the victor, but it was clear you would always have the upper hand.

“Get off of me.”

The demand brought him back to the present, sheer determination replacing the conflicting emotions that fought for dominance within you. He could tell by the bite in your voice that your vigor was returning, and given a bit more time and provocation, the battle would gloriously resume.

“Eagar to carry on with our dance, are you?” He responded, an almost teasing lilt to his voice, “Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of defeat at my hands?

“I already told you, you didn’t defeat me,” you glowered, your rage becoming palpable the longer his unwanted presence loomed, “I came here to end this farce and I plan to do just that.”

A beat of silence passed, followed by a sigh. Parting your lips to speak, your voice came out quieter, more desperate than it had previously.

“I wanted to keep this is civil as possible and respect your wishes as best I could, no matter how twisted they may be. But even for your own benefit, you refuse to entertain the notion of making this situation even the slightest bit amicable. You speak of such lofty things as fate and destiny, but all I am witnessing is you causing unnecessary suffering, hiding behind my name to do so.”

For a split second, another flash of uncertainty danced across your features. You bit your bottom lip in vexation, a glimmer lighting your eyes as they swept across his handsome face, “There is more to this world, more to this life, than waiting for its untimely end. To live out your days perpetuating death and blind havoc is no way to exist, it’s a tragedy. Why can’t you see that? Zenos, I-“

As if taken by surprise, you cut your own words short, silencing the previous thought that had been brewing. Zenos felt as if you looked pained, staring at him with pleading eyes, face scrunched up in frustration. Even with all the hate you carried for him, you were still trying to understand him, still clinging to the hope that maybe you could save him too.

Here, on the cusp of annihilation, you were doing all you could to fulfill the role of hero and protect the people that you loved. In order to fulfill that duty, it meant he must be defeated. There could be no other ending, the inexorable conclusion to all of this was always cold and endless death. Whether it would be all of humanities or just his own was still to be determined, but it did little to change the fact that there was no future to plan for, only a violently rapturous and melancholic end.

To be cherished by you, to feel your love as if he were one of your dearest companions… It was a thought not meant to be dwelled on, but one he found hard to completely shake from his head. How would it feel to be earnestly and unequivocally loved by you? Perhaps in another world, another time, your souls would be reborn and given another chance. A fresh beginning to grow together, an opportunity to nurture something more than the misfortune this world had thrust upon you. Maybe in some alternate telling of this tale the two of you were together and happy, with nothing but a bright future awaiting you on the horizon.

But that was simply a foolish daydream. All that he had, all he could hope for, was the here and now.

You sighed again, steeling your resolve with a shake of your head, “Never mind. You have already proven to me mere words cannot move you, so I will save my breath.”

Raising your torso as much as his hold on you would allow, your eyes bore into his, fully accepting the challenge that lay ahead. Though still restrained, there was an aura of dominance that surrounded you. It was a warning to Zenos that your binds were temporary, whether he released you willingly or otherwise was his decision, but regardless the outcome would be the same.

“If it’s the end you want, it’s the end I will bring you,” your soft words clashed with the look of malice reflected in your eyes, your breath fanning his face as your noses nearly touched. For an instant your eyes darted to his lips, and Zenos wondered if it would be you to instigate the kiss this time.

“I will fulfill my role. I will be your end and your salvation.”

Your words pierced him, the proclamation sending sparks of excitement to course through him, igniting his soul. His whole body burned for you, intense and consuming, his need for you was beginning to show itself in ways beyond his control. Pressing his hips flush between your spread legs, he made his intentions known to you, a shiver wracking his body when you released a small gasp of surprise.

Clutching the remaining shreds of his sanity, he grunted as you writhed against his growing arousal, pulling your body up towards him until he had engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“Enough time has been wasted,” he snarled into your neck, his chest rumbling as his grip on you tightened, “let us deliver a ruin unto ourselves so extraordinary, so beautiful, that naught will remain but the scattered fragments of this forsaken world.”

Loosening his grip, he pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste, yet gentle, kiss. Your brow furrowed at his touch, shoulders tensing as you drew yourself back from him, recoiling at the small display of adoration. He found the reaction endearing, even with his intentions laid bare and and his hardened cock pressed firmly against your core, it was the smallest token of his affection that caused you to squirm.

Repugnance, hatred, scorn- whatever you felt for him in this moment, none of it mattered, none of it deterred him. He loved you, and he would make that love known in the only way he knew how, while he still had time to do so.

“This shall be my final gift to you,” he purred into your ear, his grip latching securely to your tunic. With nimble hands he started to pull, exposing yourself to him bit by bit as the fabric turned to tatters in his hands. “Let us relish it my friend, my warrior, my beloved. Destroy me, and I shall be your devastation in kind. ”

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tanadrin · 1 year ago

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I'm curious about what subjects in secondary school people found most useful in retrospect, but "useful" here just means "I'm glad I learned it." I'm not (necessarily) interested in what skills people think made them most employable, or which subjects feel most prestigious, unless employability or prestige are things about yourself you personally value highly, and which you think a high school class helped with.

Unfortunately for space reasons the options are necessarily condensed, and kind of arbitrarily, but this easily could have been a 30-option poll if Tumblr permitted it. But if you feel like it, please specify or elaborate in the notes. "Languages" includes both ancient languages like Latin, and modern languages, including modern languages with a small number of speakers like Irish. Since this is a poll about whether the class was useful, if you ended up learning a language that you took a class in, but you feel the class itself did a poor job teaching you the language or its basics, pick another subject. For space reasons I had to condense some options; if you chose "algebra or trigonometry," for instance, please feel free to specify in the notes which one. This would be especially useful for a music or art class.

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specialagentlokitty · 9 months ago

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Harry hart x reader - killing boredom

Hi, I think your writing is really amazing. I was wondering if you still write for Kingsman? If so would you be able to make a Harry Hart (from Kingsman) x Reader story where reader is a Kingsman agent? Saw this prompt “I’m bored.” “Don’t you have a job to do?” “Nah.” in your prompt list so maybe something with that? Otherwise just anything really. Of course you don't have to write anything you don't want to. Also if this is the wrong spot to send requests please let me know. Thank you :) - @shadowyfriend53💜

You knew if he wasn’t at HQ there was only a handful of other places you would be able to find him, but you were lazy and didn’t want to search all of them.

Sitting at your computer, you did a few things to it and you sat at your desk, kicking your feet up on it as you waited.

It wouldn’t take long for him to get there, but the waiting around was still boring, so when there was a knock on your door you turned to it as it opened.

“Hey, Harry sent me to come check on you, he said you messaged him claiming it was urgent.”

You looked up at Merlin.

“Is he coming?”

“Of course he is, but he just wanted me to check on you since I’m here.”

Merlin chuckled a little bit, shaking his head as he leant against the doorframe.

“You know using the code word you two have just because you’re bored isn’t why it was created (Y/N).”

You grinned a little bit.

“How long until he’s here?”

“He’s ten minutes away.”‘

With that, Merlin left your office, letting you go back to waiting impatiently for the man to arrive and burst through the doors to your office.

Which after 15 minutes of waiting he did, he threw the door open and looked at you sitting leisurely at your desk.

Harry sighed, closing the door behind him as he walked in.

“So, I assume that there is no serious threat?”

“Nope, but I knew you would come if I texted the code.”

Harry looked at you, sitting down on the other side of your desk, picking up some of your papers so he could go through them.

Usually the pair of you worked on missions together, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to you when he started to go through your work.

“So, why did you deem it appropriate to text me this code word even though you were far from being in mortal danger?”

He had a disapproving tone, but he wasn’t angry and that you knew.

He just found it amusing that you would use a code which was only for life and death situations just because you wanted him to come all the way to HQ to be there with you.

“I’m bored.”

Harry hummed a little bit, setting some of the papers down.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” He asked.

You shrugged a little bit.

“Nah.”

“I believe this mountain of paperwork would disagree with that.”

You grinned a little bit at Harry, turning your head so you could look at him.

“I’m just bored Harry, and you’re not working today.”

“That is because some of us do happen to take days off, unlike a certain workaholic who still insists on coming in even on days off.”

Standing up, you walked over, draping your arms over his shoulders, resting your chin on his head.

Harry leant back a little bit.

“Well, what would you like to do?” He asked.

“Can we go get something to eat?”

“Of course.”

You got up, letting Harry stand and he grabbed your jacket for you as you happily wondered out of the room without it.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?”

You hummed, turning around and began to walk backwards as you grinned brightly at him.

“Next time just ask me to come and see you.” He chuckled.

He held your jacket up for you and you stopped so he could put it on for you.

Once he had done up the buttons of his jacket he held out his arm for you which you took and walked happily down the hallways with him.

Harry was never one to say no to you, you could halfway across the world and if you asked him to come see you he would without a question, he just had a soft spot for you

#the kingsman #the kingsman x reader #the kingsman x you #the kingsman imagine #Harry hart #harry hart x reader #Harry hart x you #Harry hart imagine

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partially-controlled-chaos · 2 months ago

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Who needs WIP Wednesday when you can post it on a Monday?

So I had fully intended on getting this story wrapped up Sunday/Monday, but not to my surprise there's been a slight delay because I didn't have access to my computer. I'm hoping to have it up by the end of the week? Or like the weekend? I don't have much time after work to work on writing so I have to squeeze it in during the last hour before I go to bed or have an off day. Anyway, I can slightly make up for it with a WIP Monday? I have a revamped/expanded version of this WIP Wednesday from forever ago that I've been able to flesh out more now that I have the time and the headspace to write again. This little drabble is relatively SFW, although the finished piece absolutely won't be. Halsin's line of "that was something I had dreamed about for some time” after spending his first night with him has always been a favorite of mine. So, naturally, you can’t tell me this man absolutely didn’t fantasize about the player while alone in his tent at night and of course I had to write a smut piece for it.

Halsin’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasy, unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He imagined himself elsewhere. Far away from the shadows, away from the ever pressing darkness and chill the curse offered; a place that was warm and bright, nestled somewhere in a heavily wooded forest. Not the Grove, of course, for it was far too political and too demanding with little care going towards what actually mattered. But instead, he imagined a place where the shadows of the present ceased to exist and land could flourish in harmony and tranquility. Perhaps he was dreaming of a world of fantasy and indulgence, but it was a place that brought him inner peace. A gentle calmness washed over his racing mind, bringing the thrum of his heart to a slow, steady pace as he imagined his back settling against the form of your body in this fantasy world he had created.

He could almost feel the softness of your body against his back as he reclined against you, his large frame seated perfectly between your legs, his back resting along your chest while his head fit perfectly under your chin. From here, he could imagine himself getting lost in your gentle touches and soft voice. He found himself leaning against you like a drowsy cat in the mid afternoon sun, simply enjoying the warmth of your caresses as your fingers played with his hair, twisting and braiding locks between your fingers with ease. Your cheek rested along the crown of his head, all while soothing his worries with the delightfully gentle sound of your voice. Halsin smiled to himself within the confines of his tent, the image of you being the balm to soothe his restlessness. Instead of sleeping, he simply allowed himself to sink further into his imagination, bringing one of his arms from his side to rest underneath his head, his eyes happily closing as he relaxed into his bedroll once more.

Halsin then imagined your hands cupping his cheeks, mimicking your caress from earlier, your thumbs lightly stroking along his cheek bones with your fingers tracing along his lower lip and chin. You would whisper sweet things against his ear, smiling against the outer shell as your warm breath tickled against his sensitive tips and cause the skin along his neck to prickle. Your plush lips would lightly pepper his cheek with the most tender of kisses, tracing along the shape of his twisting tattoos at a leisurely pace.

The simple thought of having your lips dancing across his skin made his heart flutter in his chest and a light blush to begin forming along his cheeks. He turned his head on his pillow, as if actually giving you access to the tattoo along his neck would somehow manifest you beside him in the tent, but he had gotten too lost in his fantasy to try and rationalize his movements. With his face now turned from the opening of his tent, Halsin’s imagination continued on with his visions, his mind quickly imagining your lips traveling form his cheek to the bright red swirls adorning his neck as the tips of your fingers toyed with the scar that sliced into his lower lip.

As time inched along at a deliciously slow pace, your demeanor changed. Your kisses were more firm now, making proper, lingering contact with his skin with each passing moment. A shudder rippled down the druid’s spine as he imagined your teeth lightly grazing the skin of his throat, quickly soothing it over with a swipe of your tongue. It wasn’t long before your hands left his face, bypassing his neck and resting near the height of his chest, your nails lightly grazing and stroking along his collar bones.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x gender neutral reader #halsin x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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happilysmythe · 1 month ago

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hey queen!

you already know what I’m here to request!

could we get some Freddy x photographer action plssss;)

- ❤️ ky

hi queenie!

guys i'm back [proud]. who cheered?

i had the worst writer's block you could imagine and school was kicking my ass.

anyway, i started writing this back in june and i finally finished it tonight, so i hope this is still up to par with the rest of my stories :)

WARNING: smut under the cut!!

- - -

he was a forbidden fruit, and she was eve.

Ah, Sunrise, Florida.

The perfect destination spot for a relaxing vacation. Lots of retirees, warm weather, beautiful scenery—what more could anyone ask for?

Of course, to your crowd, it was the home of the Florida Panthers. And you were there on a business trip. But unlike most professions that required a trip, being a sports photographer allowed for tons of leisure when traveling.

It was a beautiful night—a crisp 65 degrees in the middle of February, unlike Boston’s whopping 30. You finally had the chance to sit down after the game—not before taking a shower, of course—and had to go through the extensive process of sifting through your photos to determine which would be published. One unique aspect of that process was that you often liked to hear the players' opinions. They were your acquaintances, some even your close friends, and it gave more perspective to your work when the subjects helped publicize it.

So you frequently had the guys moving in and out of your workspaces—whether it be an office at Warrior or the varying hotel rooms across the country—huddling over your computer screen as you showcased and picked through your work.

You plopped down into the desk chair in the corner of the small hotel room and opened up your laptop, pushing the chair in and setting up the space as the screen booted up. You leisurely scrolled through the photos you snapped a few hours earlier, sipping on a late-night refresher and deleting the duds.

Trent Frederic, the feisty 26-year-old forward, dumped the puck in the net twice that particular night. It was safe to say that he was the subject of numerous pictures.

Not that you'd complain, of course.

A telling grin pricked at the corners of your lips when you saw them. Alright, maybe it was slightly unprofessional to look at them that way. You knew that. But what was wrong with having a little bit of a work crush, for lack of a better term? Nothing, as long as you didn’t treat him differently or act on anything. Hell, if you were being honest, at least 80 percent of that team was good-looking—so there was nothing to worry about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to be able to sleep at night.

Regardless, you’d have to set aside whatever it was because you had pictures to sift through. And with your hands-on way of doing things, he’d be in that very hotel room within the next ten minutes.

in my room looking through pics. stop by and run through them?

You quickly shot him the text and sat back, awaiting his response. You had a system in place—they would have ten minutes to reply, and if they didn't, you would move on to the next or go to sleep yourself. They knew not to show up past the mark.

Then, your phone dinged.

Be there in 5

So you waited again, taking the time to prepare yourself (as you usually did). Although you wouldn’t admit it, you took a few extra seconds to dial in when it was him. And this time? Well, you’d need it. All of those pictures didn’t take themselves.

Especially the one that had been open on your screen for much longer than necessary.

The knock on the door interrupted your witless staring and you quickly minimized your screen. You took a breath and stood up. Opening the door revealed Trent standing behind it, curls still damp from his post-game shower and white shirt hugging his upper body. You swallowed, no doubt offset by the sight, and promptly cleared your throat to disrupt the silence.

“Hey, Fred,” you put on a smile. “Come on in.”

He calmly followed you over to the desk, eyes roaming around the room before focusing back on you—now sitting back in the chair as you were before. “Is there another chair?” he finally spoke.

“Oh, shit. I don’t think so,” you answered, lips flattening into a line. “Here, uh.” You stood up and looked around—there was no good substitute, and likely no room for two people at the desk. “Let’s just sit on the bed instead. More room, anyway.”

“Alright.”

Thankfully, he helped move your computer to the bed and keep the camera on the desk, which sped up the process and made it less stressful. With the laptop at the foot of the bed, you both rested flat on your stomachs. You left some space between, but you were still apprehensive about his proximity. You couldn’t help but feel like a teenage girl with a crush at school.

“So,” you finally began, scrolling through, “there were a lot of throwaways. Just borderline unpublishable.”

He laughed, “As usual.”

“But I think some of the best ones were from the first goal,” you maximized the size to see the array of photos from the goal. “This one,” your cursor hovered above, “—you were in the corner with the celebration. That’s pretty good.” You focused on another, moving the cursor over to it. “Celly line. You had your leg popped. Might be cool for the socials.”

“And in this one, you had Pat there in the hug,” you pointed to another. “He’s become a good fan-favorite, so that could work,” you clarified.

He nodded, listening to your ample breakdown of each shot you decided not to delete before he came. “What’s that one?” his finger pointed.

To your unpleasant surprise, the image was all too familiar. It was the one you stared down earlier until he knocked on the door.

It was between whistles. Late in the second—not that it mattered. He was conversing at the face-off dot and waiting to get into position. From your angle, it seemed as if he were laughing—likely at something a teammate said—and your finger snapped the picture almost subconsciously from the sight of his smile. At that moment, it was nothing—but having him beside you brought forth your underlying embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s just,” you hesitantly clicked on it, “—I took it in between whistles.” You swallowed, discreetly side-eyeing him and trying to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

“Thought it would be cool for one of those ‘post-game smiles’ posts,” you lied. “Sometimes they post ‘em on Twitter and Instagram. They get good traction from the fans,” you began to ramble.

You almost made it through without slipping up.

“—And you looked cute.”

Almost.

He turned to face you. “Looked cute, eh?”

You looked back over. Of course, he was grinning—he was…sort of arrogant sometimes. Not in a way that made him an asshole—you found him to be one of the friendliest on the team—but sometimes, you could just…feel the cockiness radiating off of him. Truthfully, it might have only been when he was with you because you were poor at hiding things.

“Yeah? You know, for the pictures.”

“You lying?”

Silence.

Your focus shifted back and forth between his eyes. Then around the room and back to his face. Your eyes flitted down to his stretched lips and back up, studying his features, hoping to find some sort of belief in his expression. You already knew you were fucked.

But for some reason, you weren’t feeling so rattled anymore.

“Yeah,” was what you decided on.

His eyes narrowed and you felt him drawing closer. The heat from his body radiated onto yours. In a similar manner to yours, his eyes moved down and trailed back up.

“You’re not slick, you know,” he whispered, lips slightly upturned.

“Never claimed to be,” you retorted. You were moving closer—leaning forward as if your body were in control instead of your head, and maybe it was. Warm breath fanned your lips, his white teeth peeking out, and intruding thoughts of grazing your tongue along them disrupted your already-faltering composure.

“And maybe I wasn’t trying to be.”

His lips finally linked with yours, together moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. He wrapped an arm around your waist and settled his palm in the small of your back, allowing him to effortlessly pull you into his body—turning you on your side in the process. His other arm reached outward and closed the screen of your laptop. The faint thud as it dropped to the floor caused your body to jolt and he tugged you closer.

When you asked him to come down to your room, you didn’t intend to have his tongue in your mouth. But sometimes that’s just how the cards fall, right?

Your fingers weaved into his dark red curls, still damp from his post-game shower. And you couldn’t resist sliding the other hand under his white t-shirt to feel the warm skin beneath it, trailing upward to the chain you knew was concealed by the cotton material; you were present the morning his compression shirt was ripped at the chest and it never quite went unnoticed after that.

Trent’s hands tenaciously gripped your sides and pulled you on top of him. He rolled onto his back, head at the foot of the bed and hair dangling over the edge. You were then sitting in his lap, his hands keeping you grounded, and although it was wrong—and so jeopardizing to your job—it felt so right to give in to the insatiable need for him that you’d been harboring for far too long.

Contrary to your own beliefs, you were rather good at hiding your attraction to him. He and you had been good friends—similarly to the rest of the team—and he shockingly wasn’t aware of how you felt until you gave yourself away just moments ago. His earlier accusation, in his mind, was baseless.

You bent down and captured his lips in another kiss, tongue slipping past them again as his fingers pressed into your hips. His hands slid under the thin t-shirt you often wore to bed and began to lift it. It remained bunched up at your chest until you lifted your arms and the fabric was no longer on your body, but instead discarded to the floor. A faint hum of approval left his mouth at the sight of your bare torso—of course, you hadn’t worn a bra to bed—and without a second thought his arms crossed over one another and peeled his shirt off his body.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he hummed, fingers tracing the waistband of your pajama shorts, eyes drinking in the sight of your body and committing each inch of it to memory.

“I know,” you finally responded softly. “But we’ve already gotten this far.”

Nothing’s wrong with having a dirty little secret, right?

So that’s what you mutually agreed on—it was going to stay a secret. And it was going to be a one-time affair.

Even when he so easily had you wrapped around his finger. Even when you found yourself molded perfectly in his lap like your legs were tailor-made to wrap around his figure. Even when the last remnants of your clothing were removed and the length of his fingers, slick with your arousal, pushed into your core and brought you to your first release.

Even when his fingers were coated in white, it was going to stay a secret.

“Fuck, Trent,” the words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra. It was the first time you'd ever called him by his first name. And it was only ironic that it was through a moan. Your legs trembled and your palms rested flat on his toned stomach. Had you not kept them there for support, you likely wouldn’t have been able to keep yourself up.

With one hand on your hip and the other rising to his lips to clean its fingers with his tongue, Trent felt himself straining beneath you. It was the warmth of your body; your hips that were grinding in his lap just moments ago. If he wasn’t inside you in the next five minutes, he was sure he wouldn’t see the light of day again. And you could feel it, too. So you leaned back and reached for the drawer in the nightstand.

“What,” he half-whispered as he looked over, “what are you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, your hand popped up with a small box—still sealed—between your fingers. “Someone left this here,” you stated before frantically ripping it open and taking out a condom.

Trent wasted no time forcing his sweatpants down his legs. He couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

Dainty fingers tore the foil open and tossed it to the floor before slipping the rubber on him. The moment he was sure it was secure, the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and lifted you.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in a haze, because you barely remembered anything before you were back in his lap with him buried to the hilt. The sting of him stretching you out lasted only for a moment, yet your hands were already grasping at anything they could find; his chest, his biceps, his sides—anything. Your head lulled back and your mouth hung open. Meanwhile, he was holding on by a thread. He made every possible attempt not to focus on how fucking tight you were.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally vocalized, pressing his fingers firmly into your sides. He used his remaining strength to drag you down, leaving you chest-to-chest. Your trembling hands slipped around his neck and found purchase at the nape. Trent took this as his cue and began to move your hips. He gauged what you could take and set the pace.

He felt good. Really good.

In a way that made you aware of all of your senses. The feeling of skin touching skin. The taste of him as his tongue rolled over yours. The sound of his breaths occasionally coming out as a groan. The sight of his tensed-up face, and the smell of his after-shave wafting in the air around you.

As your consciousness slowly came back, you were able to take control of your movements. Your fingertips skimmed his arms and wrapped around his biceps, holding them for stability. It was in a moment like this that you were thankful he played hockey. It was like his body was made for it—his perfectly sculpted muscles, the warmth he radiated, the sheer thickness of his figure—and it was only natural that he could envelop you entirely with his presence.

He was everything you could’ve imagined. And although it would only—could only—be for one night, he was so attentive, as if you were so much more to him than that. And perhaps you were, but all you could be was nothing more than a photographer; his inferior.

Regardless of how much you both wanted that to change.

“Trent,” his name descended from your lips in a whisper. To your surprise, his hands glided up to your cheeks and held them in what could only be described as an intimate gesture. Before he could second-guess it, you pressed your forehead to his, fingertips pushing firmly into the flesh of his arms as your hips rolled in his lap.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you felt the tension in your stomach. The same tension that made you tighten around his fingers earlier, only this time it was around him. And he could feel it.

His thumbs grazed your cheeks as he pulled you into him, and suddenly he was kissing you again. You could only be thankful for the gesture afterward, recognizing that he was absorbing the sound of your moans as you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Pleasure ripped through you in an exhilarating wave, and the mere sight and sound were enough to pull him over the edge with you.

The intensity forced your body to fall limp atop his. With his remaining strength—which was astoundingly little—his arms wrapped around your midsection and kept you in place. And in response, you found yourself nestling your face into his neck as if you were used to this. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment (and likely not so), but he didn’t seem to protest it.

Trent finally broke the silence with a quiet sigh. His thumb rubbed your back in little circles, steadying your breaths and soothing your nerves. “You okay?” he half-whispered, and you nodded slowly in response.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he carefully sat upright and brought you up with him. His arms remained enveloped around you to keep you stable, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Am I staying here or leaving?”

It was a simple question. Of course, you wanted him to, but your mind was hazed with what-ifs. What if someone caught him leaving the next morning? What if someone had already heard, and this would only dig you into a deeper hole? But letting him sleep with you? It would be anything but casual. So you took a beat to think about it and gave him your answer.

“Staying.”

You’d deal with the repercussions in the morning. After all, everything was still surreal to you. For so long, that stupid little crush was controlling your life. You hoped this would put it to rest and give it some closure. Just one night to get him out of your system.

What you hadn't known was that that “one night” would continue to control your life, because you’d unknowingly be spending the rest of it with him.

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