#heartbeat what cant he do

[detachedlimb]

Me after reading whatever the hell just happened in chapter 109

[faaun]

my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

[pulchrasilva]

I think being cannibalised would be kinda therapeutic

[icouldbeyourprettygirl]

Sometimes I feel so left behind? My friends are in relationships or starting to date, and here I am, in love with a married man old enough to be my father. They're experiencing all kinds of firsts, and I've never even held hands with a guy.

[carnallyricky]

When grown adult men in my dms are actually getting kind of good at grooming and I have to sit here and think about how if I hadn't been raised on internet safety this shit might have worked on me

[yelloworangesoda]

i hate feeling like something is a joke that i dont get and i hate the transphobia of using something normal but exclusive to trans people and treating it like its funny

[et6rnalsun]

PRANKING BOYFRIEND! MATT

your eyebrows were so close to touching the fucking ceiling as you raised them in skepticism, reading the comments written by little girls under some montages of your boyfriend hitting his brother. something like that seemed almost surreal to you, since at the beginning when you watched the unedited clip that nick had shown you, you’d just laughed like an idiot, finding it funny & just a familiar scene— unlike the fans who seemed to have taken it personally, maybe?

your manicured fingers scrolled through those comments, and you read and read until you lingered on one that stood out more than the others; babbling about how matt could perfectly be so violent and abusive in a relationship and towards his girlfriend, too. rolling your eyes, you fought the urge to answer her and simply turned off your phone, placing it next to you on the bed, matt’s one, you were lying on. the wheels in your head spun until they fabricated an idea that made you snap out of your rotting position, and you cleared your throat. “matt!” you called out in a loud voice, hoping he could hear you from downstairs.

you did it once, again, and then a third time—but to no avail. “come on,” you whined in a huff, taking the phone again as you went to emergency calls, “my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨⭐️” glowing red and first. you called his number, humming softly as the sound of the ringing vibrated in your ear where you had the screen resting.

when he answered, you smiled, your feet kicking at the sound of his soft and soothing voice, so tired from making dinner for you & his brothers. “matt, can you come up to your room please? i need to talk to you.” you already expected matt’s heartbeat and anxiety to be at a thousand at your statement. in fact, not even a minute later, he was already in the room as he approached after closing the door. “what is it, baby?” he asked you, tilting his head as he looked down at you. he stood over your prone form, and as he did, he placed his hands on the corners of your body, lowering his head slightly to kiss your lips as a sort of greeting. you wanted to give up on everything just because of the way his cold necklace was dangling on your neck, brushing against it.

dramatically, you pushed him away as you sat on the bed and looked at him with the most serious expression you could muster. “i’m for real, we need to talk”

matt frowned, sitting down next to you as he rested a hand on your knee — one way or another, he was always searching physical touch with you. it was melting your heart. “did i do somethin? tell me, honestly, i have no idea” he was in a state of mild panic, it was rare to see you so serious and offended by something. (even if it was all fake) “i didn’t like how you hit nick” these words made him roll his eyes in the sassiest way ever, and he raised a finger that you immediately slapped, continuing to talk. “i’m not kiddin’! what if you hit me like that too?” that was your joke; making him believe that you were seriously worried about something that in reality, you never could.

“you cant be serious”

“i am” you shrugged, looking at how his blue and pretty eyes widened.

silence filled the room for a moment, and he shook his head repeatedly as he took his hand off your knee. “how can you be serious, actually? that— that just means you don’t know shit about me,” his tone was hurt, and he moved to stand up as he looked ready to put an end to whatever that shit was.

but before he could get far, you stood up and practically jumped on his shoulders, your arms around his neck as you hugged him so tight, like he was about to disappear. “love, baby, light of my life, it was a joke,” you quickly told him, your head tilted so you could look directly at his face from your position. he was clearly confused as fuck. “i saw all this shit in the comments on a tiktok ‘bout you hittin nick and i wanted to do this. come on, forgive me,” you added, kissing his cheek lightly as an amused chuckled escaped your lips. and, you were fucked. from behind, he pushed you onto the bed before turning around and throwing himself on top of you, tickling you to death. “you havin fun playin with me like this, huh? really?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you squirm with the most beautiful laugh in the world. even if he should be angry and everything. “you are a bad person, fuck. the worst”

that said a lot about the kind of person your boyfriend was.

[daisymbin]

[00:24] - jeon wonwoo

a/n: amidst the sadness, an idea came and I just had to 🤷‍♀️ not proofread!!! + I am drowsy, hopefully there's not too many errors.

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

"wonwoo," you whispered as you forced your eyes to peek open despite the exhaustion, "will you still read me to sleep when we're both 80, old, and grey?"

wonwoo chuckles, he closes the book in his lap shut, putting it on the bedside table as he removes his glasses and places them on top of the book & dims the lights. "i think the better question is if I can still see when I'm 80, or if I'm even alive!" he laughs a sound so deep your stomach flutters.

"wonwoo! why would you say that?" you whined as you lightly pushed his hand away in faux defiance.

"what?—I'm just being realistic!" he said a little too defensively, but wonwoo cant help the biggest shit-eating grin that makes its way to his face when he watches as your eyes light up in annoyance.

"do you have to be like that all the time? can't we play pretend? that we're 80, old and grey and healthy?" you asked as you turn slightly to look at him.

"if that's the case, then..." he trails off as he pulls you a little closer, just a little, just enough to close the gap between the two of you. he slides his hand down your arm till they reach your hand, interlocking your fingers, "I'd read to you every night 'till death do us apart."

you're certain you can trace the small curve on wonwoo's lips despite the dim lights.

"till death do us apart," you whispered it like it was a sacred promise.

"till death do us apart." wonwoo echoes, as if acknowledging this sacred promise.

a smile tugs at your lips when you feel the soft warmth of wonwoo's lips against your racing temple; your thoughts scatter away with the night wind.

"I love you," you both say at the same time, a sudden freeze in the room.

"I love you too," you both say at the same time.

wonwoo laughs as he pulled the blankets up and tugged you flush against his warm body. an arm goes around you as you settle your head on his chest; the steady rhythm of his heartbeat hypnotising you instantly.

"goodnight, wonwoo."

"goodnight, sleepyhead. I love you, so much."

a kiss on his cheek is the last thing wonwoo feels against his skin as he closes his eyes and moves to cuddle you fully, a smile on his lips as he snuggles further into your hair, breathing you in. & "i love you, wonwoo." is the last thing wonwoo hears before he drifts off to sleep.

[the-winter-spider]

I Cant Lose You | One Shot

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: Angst, happy ending

A/N: So i decided not to post the next part to invisible buuut i found this in my docs so ENJOY! Next part to invisible will be tomorroooooow 🫶🏻

------

The mission had been tense from the start, the kind where every breath feels weighted, every sound sharper and more hostile. You were deep in the enemy’s territory, with Bucky and Steve moving in coordinated silence beside you. The plan was simple, clean: get in, retrieve the intel, and get out without raising an alarm. But simplicity has a way of unraveling in the field.

It happened as you were crossing a narrow bridge suspended over a steep drop in the facility. Bucky was a few steps ahead, his steps purposeful and focused, eyes scanning for movement in the dimly lit corridors. You were behind him, keeping an eye on your surroundings, and that’s when you saw it—the faint red dot creeping along Bucky’s shoulder, inching its way toward his head.

In a split-second, adrenaline took over. You didn’t have time to shout or warn him; instinct propelled you forward, reaching out to shove him out of the path of the sniper’s aim. Your hands collided with Bucky’s shoulder, and he stumbled to the side, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the laser at the last moment.

The bullet whizzed past, so close that you felt the heat of it graze the top of your head, ruffling your hair and leaving your skin tingling. Everything blurred into chaos after that.

“Sniper!” Steve’s voice rang out, his shield already up, glancing off another shot that was fired from a different direction. Bucky, having steadied himself, immediately spun back toward you, his face stricken with shock and anger.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice raw with a mixture of fear, panic and fury. But there was no time for a response.

You, Steve, and Bucky sprang into action, Steve moving to cover you both as more gunfire erupted. Bucky’s eyes kept darting back to you, though, his brows knitted in frustration and worry, even as he returned fire at the enemy agents now pouring in.

After a series of quick movements—ducking, dodging, and retaliating against your attackers—you finally managed to escape the sniper’s line of sight, though the firefight was far from over. Bucky was on edge, barely speaking, his glances sharp and laced with anger, even as he fought to keep you both alive.

The three of you pressed forward, securing the intel and making your way back toward the extraction point with the enemies hot on your heels. When you finally boarded the jet and the door sealed shut behind you, the adrenaline drained, leaving silence and the weight of what had just happened between you and Bucky.

As soon as you sat down, Bucky whirled around to face you, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions he’d kept at bay during the fight.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. “You could’ve been killed! Do you even understand that?”

His voice was loud, filled with a mix of anger and hurt, and all you could do was stare back, breathless, still reeling from everything that had happened. You wanted to tell him you’d do it again in a heartbeat, that protecting him was worth any risk to yourself. But your words fell silent, swallowed by the guilt and fear lingering between you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off. “Do you know how reckless that was? Running headfirst into a line of fire? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

You flinched, both from his tone and from the truth in his words, but all you could think about was the image of him out there, narrowly avoiding enemy fire, and the fact that you would have done anything to make sure he was safe—even if it meant putting yourself in danger. The silence that followed throughout the jet, the rest of the way home was antagonizing. Bucky steered clear of you the entire time, keeping myself stationed at the front of the jet while you were at the back. Steve made is way over to you, handing you a water before double checking you werent injured and the top of tour head really was okay, he sighed "You got lucky" before he stepped away taking a seat by Bucky. 

Your mind was blank the rest of the flight till you landed and he got up, surely the 3 hour flight of pure silence was enough for him to have calmed down, right? “Bucky, I—”

“No!" He shot back instantly whipping around "You don’t get to justify it, We’re a team, and you don’t get to put yourself at risk like that. Not for me, not for anyone!” He screamed

“Enough,” Steve interjected, his tone sharp but even. He glanced between the two of you, then fixed his gaze on Bucky. “You need to cool off.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, fists clenching as he looked away, clearly fighting to hold back words he’d regret. Without another word, he stormed off the jet, the sound of his boots heavy against the metal floor.

You sat back, the sting of his words lingering. Steve watched Bucky disappear down the ramp, then sighed, glancing back at you. “Give him some time. He’s… he’s not wrong, though. What you did was reckless, it was stupid…Bucky could have taken that bullet, you couldn't have. Were going to have to talk about it in the morning”

The knot in your stomach tightened, a mixture of anger and guilt settling there. “Are you telling me this as a friend or as my captain?” you asked, looking at Steve with a heavy heart.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he let out a long sigh. “As both.”

You nodded, the weight of his words hitting you hard. Steve gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he exited, leaving you alone in the silence of the jet.

The reality of what happened started to replay in your mind, each moment sharper than the last. The risks you took, the decisions you made—they all came rushing back with a clarity that made your heart pound faster.

You weren’t reckless, you told yourself. You’d do it all over again if it meant protecting Bucky. His life, his safety… it felt like they mattered more than your own. And yet, you couldn’t shake the memory of the anger in his eyes, the frustration in his voice.

The thoughts spiralled, it had to be you, it could never be him. You couldn't possibly live your life without him, he could hate you all he wanted but as long as he was still breathing you would do it again Oh god what if he hated you? What if he requested for you to no longer be on missions with you? What if….your chest tightened as the weight of everything sank in. Your breathing hitched as the fear you’d pushed aside for the mission came crashing down on you all at once. It was too much, too fast. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the feeling that you’d done something irreparably wrong.

Your hands began to tremble, and the walls of the jet seemed to close in around you. Panic clawed its way up your throat, your heart hammering as you struggled to ground yourself, to calm down, but the storm in your mind only grew louder.

It was as if all the emotions you’d held back—fear, guilt, anger—were suffocating you. The jet felt smaller and smaller, and you pressed a hand to your chest, desperate to find some relief, some way to breathe again.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, caught in the throes of panic, your mind racing in an endless loop of fear and self-doubt. But the thought that kept resurfacing, the one that hurt the most, was that maybe Bucky was right.

Maybe you had been reckless. And maybe, just maybe, you deserved the anger he’d shown.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the jet. The silence around you felt thick, pressing down, wrapping around you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You stood up, needing movement, air, something to break through the crushing feeling in your chest.

As soon as you were on your feet, your legs felt unsteady, but you started pacing, hoping the movement would help you breathe. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding faster with every loop around the narrow space. Your breaths came quicker, shorter, until you could barely catch them at all.

A cold sweat broke out across your skin as the room seemed to close in, the walls shifting, blurring at the edges. You tried to take a deep breath, but it was like swallowing glass. Your chest tightened, clenching inwards with each failed attempt to fill your lungs. Panic clawed up your throat, relentless and raw, choking you with every passing second.

Your hands began to shake, fingers tingling with numbness. You pressed them to your sides, hoping the pressure would help, but it only made the sensation sharper, like a warning that something inside was breaking.

You leaned against the wall, your forehead pressed to the cool metal as you fought to ground yourself. But every thought spun out of control, everything a mess in your mind. Bucky’s anger, Steve’s disappointment, the mission replaying in fragments—each one tearing through you, louder and more chaotic.

A small sound escaped your lips, half a gasp, half a whimper, and you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle it, but it only made you feel more trapped. You couldn’t stop the spiral, the way every breath was too shallow, too desperate, your vision tunnelling as the edges went dark.

Your legs gave out, and you slumped down to the floor, your back against the cold wall. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rocking slightly, trying to find something steady to hold on to. The air in your lungs felt thin, useless, and every inhale felt like it barely reached your throat.

You were unravelling, losing control, and you couldn’t stop it. The realisation made the panic surge all over again, until you could barely see, barely hear, barely feel anything but the racing of your own heart and the suffocating silence surrounding you.

Each passing second seemed to stretch out, leaving you alone with your spiralling thoughts and the overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. You’d never felt so trapped in your own body, fighting for breath, for calm, for anything that felt real.

-------

Bucky paced furiously across his room, the soles of his boots nearly grinding into the floor as he replayed the mission in his mind. He was still in his tactical gear, smeared with dust and the faint marks of their close call. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he thought of you—sweet, kind, beautiful you—throwing yourself in harm’s way to shield him, risking everything in an instant. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would you do that? Why would you ever take that risk for him?

A knock at the door broke him from his spiraling thoughts. It was Steve, fresh out of the shower, no longer in his gear, looking calm and collected—everything Bucky wasn’t. Steve’s eyes flicked to Bucky’s uniform. “You’re still in your gear?”

Bucky shrugged, jaw tightening. He wasn’t ready to let it go, still too on edge, too frustrated. Steve watched him with a steady gaze. “You didn’t have to yell at her.”

Bucky turned, exasperation clear in his expression. “You were there, Steve. You saw what she did. She pushed me out of the goddamn way when that sniper had his sight on me!”

Steve sighed, leaning against the doorway. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor pacing like that. And you know, you would’ve done the same for her.”

“Yes, so?” Bucky snapped, his voice sharp and defensive.

“Come on, pal,” Steve said, his voice softening as he looked at Bucky knowingly. “You would’ve done the same for her.” His eyes lingered on Bucky, an unspoken understanding passing between them, the implication of his words sinking in.

Bucky’s eyes glistened “Stevie it barely missed her head” Bucky took in a shaky breath “She was almost gone, I almost lost her, that bullet would have hit me in the shoulder i could have taken it, but one hair lower it would have….”

Steve uncrossed his arms, sighing he reached out squeezing Bucky’s shoulder “I know”

Bucky faltered, his chest tightening, his anger softening for a moment as both hope and doubt flickered across his mind. His voice was barely a whisper. “Where is she?”

Steve’s face softened further. “Probably in her room. She was the last one off the jet.” Steve turned his head up slightly to speak to the A.I. “Friday? Where’s Y/N?”

The AI’s calm voice filled the room. “Agent Y/N is still aboard the jet.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a confused look. It had been over an hour since they’d returned. Without a word, they both headed toward the hangar, quickening their pace as unease filled the air.

“She didn’t get hurt, did she?” Bucky asked, worry clear in his voice.

“No,” Steve assured him, “I checked her over myself.” He paused, noticing Bucky’s skeptical look. “Thoroughly.”

They picked up the pace, concern edging into panic as they approached the jet. When they entered, they found you there, huddled in the corner of the seating area, arms wrapped around yourself, breathing fast and shallow, eyes unfocused and filled with panic. Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight.

“Doll?,” he called softly, rushing to your side, dropping down to his knees in front of you. His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes met his, wide and tearful, and a soft, choked gasp escaped your lips as you gripped onto his shirt, holding on like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Steve’s voice broke through the silence. “Friday, what’s going on?”

Friday’s response was calm, but the words made Bucky’s stomach drop. “It appears Agent Y/N is experiencing a panic attack.”

Bucky’s face softened with worry, his hands steady as he stroked your cheeks, trying to draw you back to him. “It’s okay. I’m here. Breathe with me, alright?” His voice was soft, a gentle anchor in the chaos of your mind.

He inhaled deeply, exaggerating each breath, trying to guide you with him. His fingers ran through your hair, his touch steady, comforting. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Just breathe.”

Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt as you tried to match his breaths, each one a struggle, but his presence steadied you, grounding you little by little. He held you close, whispering soft reassurances, repeating, “I got you…..you’re safe….I’m right here.”

Slowly, the panic began to ebb, your breaths evening out, the warmth of his voice and touch anchoring you in the present.

When you finally manage to catch your breath, it’s still jagged, still shaky, but enough to force words out.

“I can’t lose you,” you say, voice barely a whisper, each word choked and strained. “I couldn’t lose you. I can’t live without you.” Your hand clenches tighter in Bucky’s shirt as you stammer, “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”

Steve glances between you two, understanding dawning on his face. With a quiet nod, he steps back, offering you both a moment of privacy. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he murmurs, but you barely register his voice. All your focus is on Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, his gaze locked on yours.

“You’ll never lose me,” he says softly, his hands holding your face with a gentleness that tugs at your heart. His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tremor, his eyes dark with something that goes deeper than fear, deeper than anger.

“I almost did, I could have” you murmur, and his face shifts, guilt flashing across his features.

Bucky’s thumb sweeps over your cheek. “I can’t lose you either, i could have lost you, I -I, You… you can’t be doing that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice cracks, his own vulnerability laid bare. “I know that’s not saying a lot, but my life… it’s been hell. And you—you’re everything to me.”

Your heart pounds as his words sink in, the warmth of his hands on your face grounding you, drawing you closer. You reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him in until there’s barely any space between you.

And then, as if pulled by an unbreakable force, his lips find yours, a soft, tender kiss that feels like the culmination of everything unsaid between you. His hands slide from your cheeks to cradle you closer, his touch delicate, reverent, as if you’re something precious—something he’s finally allowed to hold.

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. He looks at you with a softness that makes you ache, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “I love you.”

In that moment, nothing else exists. Just you and him, finally admitting the truth you’ve both known all along.

[toji-bunny-girl]

subby panty sniffer loser!shigaraki i cant stop thinking abt 😖

Shigaraki has always hated you.

Ever since All For One brought you in, and your jaded eyes first met his—you’ve always goaded an odd, frustrating burn in him. At first, you both merely ignored each other’s presence. And he has always preferred that. Then things soon got annoying when you started cozying up to him and trying to be friends with him. It’s fucking irritating and the burn gets worst the closer you press yourself into his space.

All it took for you to switch it up was his unrequited demeanour to your friendliness. It’s a bit too easy, really. A harsh word or two and a sneer at your face already got him on your bitch-list—just like everyone else would.

Everybody’s the same.

And you’re nothing special. That’s what he tells himself, repeatedly, over the years. Even when the glow in his belly comes alive whenever you brush pass him, his eyes memorised the curves of your grown body behind the curtains of his shaggy hair and god—the sweet, head-spinning scent of your underwear that sends his nerves tingling.

Yes, you’re nothing but a pest. A pest who always leaves her clothes in the laundry room, and often finds her panties gone without a trace.

Stupid and forgetful and—

“What…the hell?”

The hair on his nape flew erect, prickly dots snaked beneath his skin in a shot the moment he heard your voice—laced in utter disbelief and disgust.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You weren’t supposed to collect your laundry this early yet. Weren’t you supposed to be training with All for One?!

“So, you’re the panty thief?” you sneered at him, the same way he would at you. You would’ve never in a million years even think of the scene in front of you—Shigaraki Tomura, who openly despises you, rubbing his cock with your panty? “What a joke.”

His pale face grew crimson red from the blood that rushed through his pulsing veins, his pride ripped from his clutch with every blink of your eyes soaking the embarrassing sight of him. God, he wanted to die right then and there. He shouldn’t have initially neared your laundry before, he should’ve ignored the tugging burn that urged him to touch the remnants that enveloped your bare body, and you shouldn’t have came here in the first place!

His thoughts are chasing after his sanity, and his heart threatened to beat its hard last. You’re nearing him and his sweating form with every dreadful step, and his body had the guts to feel…excited—his cock throbbed and the familiar burn came roaring through his vessels again.

Just what are you doing to him?

You snatched the damp piece of underwear from his grasp, soaked with his sticky precum, and his cockhead twitched from the lost warmth that previously hugged his shaft.

He’s now bare, blood continued to pump his cock hard as you stared at the mere size of his—length and girth you’d never thought would be hiding behind his dirty clothes; tip flushed in a pretty shade of pale pink, and veins that stemmed from the bush of light blue. His heartbeat thumped loud in his ears as you looked, and he almost lost of your words from the beating.

“Is this some kind of perverted hobby you have? I always knew you’re weird, but not to this extent,” you threw your underwear aside before shoving him, his back roughly bumped into the wall behind. Fuck, he doesn’t know what to say—and what to do other than to watch how you’re reacting to this twisted mess.

You’re staring at his twitching cock when his gaze flickered to your face, his hot panting hazed the air and it scorched your cheeks in a burnt shade. What are you thinking?

“It’s only fair for me to touch you after you’ve been jerking off to my panty, right?” it’s almost a reassurance for your own self than to him. His eyes widened, pupils dilating as you wrapped your hand around his throbbing member.

“W-What are you doing?!” he bit his bottom lip to muffle a moan, fingers curling into fists against the wall, nails poking into his flesh.

“Entertaining myself with a freak like you,” you snickered, stroking his veiny shaft with your cold fingers. Shigaraki shuddered to your touch, the nerve-numbing burn soaring through his stomach as his chest rose and fell quicker by the second.

“Get your d-dirty hand off of me,” his breath hitched as he stretched his throat, pushing his head against the cool wall. His toes curled as you pumped his length, and his nerves tingled from the sight of you staring at his cock with that look in your eyes.

“You seem to enjoy it, hm? I thought you hated me, I can’t believe you’ve been busting over my fucking panty. Do you have a crush on me or what?”

“Y-You…hngh—bitch!”

“I didn’t know a mutt could talk…much less call me a bitch?” your grip tightened, unforgivingly so around his slippery cockhead, earning a pretentious grunt—which tumbled out of his chapped lips in the form of a pathetic moan. “What was that? You sound like a little girl,” his cheeks burned in embarrassment as you made fun of him, your snickers ringing in his hazy mind, taunting the pleasure that piled over his nerves. “I want an apology, you perverted loser.”

“N-No way—nngh!” Shigaraki’s sweat-glazed body jolted from every painful twist of your fingers, his thighs shaking from the way you’ve been abusing his cock; flashes of bloody ruby glinted from behind his greasy bangs. It’s funny, really. He thought he looks all fierce and intimidating when actually, he’s nothing but a slutty mess holding back his drool.

“It’s not a fucking request,” your hand wretched his face closer to yours, his eyes nearly melting under your flinty gaze.

“F-Fuwah—aanh!” his hips drew backwards in creeping sensitivity, and a loud slick sound bounced off of the lewd-seen walls as your nails flicked in contact with his twitching red tip.

“You know I’m impatient, hm? So hurry,” your thumb hastily rubbed over his leaking slit, splattering his pre-cum all over the both of your clothes. His body shook into your arms, jerking and whining as his hands scrambled to hold onto you for support.

“Mmmgh! Haa—” his weight slopped onto your body, and his heavy head rest against your shoulder as you continued to stoke his throbbing fat girth with your tightening grip. “So—aangh! S-Sorry, m’sorry!”

“Aww, who knew you’d sound cute when you all whiney,” your other hand rose to tilt his chin, his ruby eyes glistening with tears of desperation, drool slipping past his mouth as he clenched his teeth. “What a pathetic face.”

His hips pistoned into your hand, clumsily rocking forward and messing up the fine rhythm of strokes you had, his moans sounding more and more breathy—you could tell he was at the near edge. Drawing your face closer to him, your soft lips met his cracked ones just as a crooked cry leaped out of his dry throat, and you could feel his hot cum shooting onto your shirt, staining your top white with the smell of him.

Shigaraki stayed unmoving, merely gulped as you licked and wet his lips with your tender tongue, your saliva mixing and dripping down his chin. The burn in him wasn’t just a flame anymore, it had exploded into chains of reaction—his heart squeezed and insides bursted into a sloppy, chaotic mess.

Does he have a crush on you?

[gamblersdoll]

semi nsfw, sensual touching, implied sexual themes, groping, dirty talk

“katsuki, whats wrong with you?”

“something’s gotta be wrong with me to just touch you?” he snickers, hands going up and down your body to feel your skin. he bites his lip, gripping at your hips.

you start to breathe heavily through your nose, biting your lip too. “well.. you aren’t usually this touchy-feely.” he forces you in his lap, your back to him.

“well.. are you enjoying or complaining?” he queried, his knee spreading your legs apart from beneath you. “seems like yer enjoying..”

you moan softly to his lips kissing your neck, your neck craning to the side. “kat..su..—“

“shh, shh.” hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipple through your shirt. “you know.. she’s gotta heartbeat now.”

you nod, whining softly from his open mouth kisses on your neck and licking a thin stripe up to your earlobe. “havent touched you in hours, ma.” he lowers his voice to the right baritone that makes you melt , heart and pussy.

“baby..” you whimper out, feeling his errection form and grinding against your ass. “you know i can’t wait like this—“

“mhm.” he says gravely. “and what are you gunna do ‘bout it?” slipping his hands under your bra and shirt, pinching and pulling your nipples. “god, cant wait to see you break on my cock.”

your head leans back into the space between his shoulder and head, his hand slipping between your panties and resting just above your clit. he whispers in your ear, something about ‘you know you want this’ and then suckling on your ear. and suddenly, your hips move on their own.

“yeah, there ya go.” he coos, unbuckling his belt and jeans with one hand. “you want it, mama? or you just want my tip?”

“all of it, please.”

he licks his canine, nodding his head and spitting on his length.

[minnesota-fats]

A fic-lit about Danny working at the watchtower, not as a superhero but as an engineer.

This is based on an prompt I read months ago but cant find where Danny put that he was a halfa on his resume but the hiring manager didn’t pay attention to it and hired him anyway. Rather than that its just Danny working at the watchtower and vibing on break when a tiny Robin finds him in the viewing deck.

—

Danny had been working for the justice league watchtower for a couple of months. He has seen hero’s come and go, paying him no mind and he was absolutely living for it! Unlike at 14, he was just a simple, normal worker—despite being half dead and the next in line for the crown in the infinite realms—he is just a simple mechanical engineer, Danny Nightingale. No one to fight, no one to save, just a big space station that needed someone to help keep it up in space.

And that's another bonus to this job; Space!

He gets to spend his shift up in the stars, looking out at the cold expanse of their solar system. Admiring the earth from a whole new angle, and he is getting paid to do it! Sure he could go into space any time, but being able to spend a good portion of his time here really made his core sing in joy. When he was on break he would wander around the areas he had clearance to go into, looking out every window at every star. Cataloging the ships movement through space with sharp eyes. His favorite place to go is the viewing deck, it was exactly what it sounded like, a place to just go and view that space outside.

It was there that Danny decided to take his break today, the Watchtower was at just the right angle to be able to see the earth from the viewing deck. Danny smiled watching the planet he lived on from afar, this really was the best job he could have ended up with!

A few months back he was having a hard time finding work after college, sure he had all the proper qualifications for the positions he applied for. But due to his medical condition—being half dead with a slow almost nonexistent heartbeat—they all refused him, afraid that his heart wouldn't keep up if he left the atmosphere to board any of the space stations orbiting the earth. To be fair it wouldn't have, he tested it by flying up to the moon and back the old fashioned way. But he couldn't just tell them that; being an ecto entity was still a crime that he was just barely able to get away from at age eighteen.

He came out to his parents once he graduated high school, they reacted poorly. Danny’s mom saw red and tried to kill him the rest of the way, claiming that Danny was just a ghost “piloting” his corpse around. Danny’s dad just stayed silent and watched, but before maddie could really do anything he acted. Jack knocked Maddie out with a strong blow to the back of her head. Danny remembered the hope that he had when Jack did that, but after he looked up at the man that hope died in his chest. The man looked torn, both angry and sad and in a voice lacking any of the familiar warmth said, “leave before she wakes up.” And he turned to pick up Maddie and made his way up the stairs. It was because of his dad that he was able to get away because after that Danny Fenton was declared dead. With the help of Sam and Tucker he was able to make a new identity for himself and go to school. From that day on Danny decided to move on and never look back.

After putting his name out there time and time again he was rejected. It wasn't until he got a letter in the mail saying he had been scheduled for an interview at Wayne tech of all places. He didn’t remember applying there but decided to go anyway, needing some sort of job to get him through. But when he got there he was greeted by Lucius Fox and Batman of all people! Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the dark knight, Danny couldn't help but think the worst. But before he could bolt, Lucius explained that Batman was looking for workers with the help of Wayne Industries for the base of operations for the Justice League—The Watchtower. Turns out all his applications to several different space programs caught the man’s attention. He even explained that Danny wouldn't even need to have a physical or get on a spaceship because The Watchtower utilized teleportation technology. Danny was so excited that he agreed on the spot without even knowing the benefits he would get from working with them. Which—surprising to no one—were a lot of benefits.

Danny was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft, almost nearly nonexistent footsteps coming from behind him. Danny turned and saw a child—no older than twelve—wearing a hero’s costume that looked like he was mimicking a traffic light. The kid froze in his tracks when Danny turned to face him, the two staring at each other for a few moments before the kid smiled and waved at him.

“Hi,” the kid beamed at Danny, “I’m D—Robin!”

Danny lifted a brow, “you a part of the justice league?” He asked, not remembering a kid being a part of their team.

The kid shook his head, “No, my guardian is though!” He explained.

“Ah, neat,” Danny said nonshalontly as he turned back to look at the window, “you come to see the view?” He asked.

The kid walked farther into the room and gasped when he got a better look at said view. “Woah—”, he exclaimed, now standing next to Danny.

Danny looked beside him to see the stars reflecting off of the kids' eyes, “cool isn't it? I come here on my lunch breaks," Danny says.

The kid looked at him and then squinted suspiciously, “if you're at lunch where is your food?” He asked.

Danny smiled, “I forgot my lunch at home today,” Danny lied, seeing the stars gave him enough energy to continue going. He usually eats when he gets home.

“Really?” The kid asked with a raised brow.

Danny smiled and looked around to see if anyone else was there, when he saw no one he asked, “do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked. Robin looked around himself as well before he leaned down a bit so Danny could whisper into his ear, “I actually just absorb the energy from the stars to sustain myself.” He explained.

“Really?” Robin asked, looking at him again, trying to gauge if Danny was lying or not.

Danny smiled, “yep,” he said, popping the p, “that's why I got a job here, that way I won’t starve to death.” Danny grins.

“But cant you just look at the stars from earth?” Robin asked, tilting his head.

“I mean, sure,” Danny says with a shrug, looking back out the window, “but this is so much better, isn't it?”

Robin looked out the window, “yeah!” The boy exclaimed, “it's so much clearer up here than in Gotham.” He commented.

Danny smiled and looked back at the boy, “I live in Gotham, too.”

“Really?” Robin asked, “No wonder you come up here,” the boy commented, causing Danny to snort in laughter and it wasn't long before Robin joined him.

“You got that right,” Danny says with a smirk before something dawns on him, “Wait, hero from gotham? I didn't know Batman had a kid?” Robin looked away, Danny could feel his nerves and sadness pass through him.

Danny was about to tell him that he didn't have to talk about it but before he could get his words out Robin spoke up, “My parents died about a year ago… he took me in only recently, he decided to train me when I found out he was Batman,” the kid says looking down at his feet, a glare etched on his face, “i never got to avenge my parents, the murderer had a heart attack before I could even get to him….”

Danny reached out to the kid and placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, Robin looked up at him—as if remembering that Danny was there with him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny says softly, Robin looks away from him. “But I can tell you wholeheartedly, your parents are proud of you and what you are doing,” robin began rubbing at his mask, preventing him from wiping the tears away from his eyes underneath. “Here,” Danny says as he goes to pick up the 12 year old, “let's get you back to the Big Black Bat, I bet he is looking for you.”

Danny sits Robin on his hip and walks out of the room, rubbing circles into the child’s back. They walk together in silence, Robin resting his head in the crook of Danny's neck. “…Thank you,” Robin mumbles.

“Don't mention it kid,” Danny says as he looks around the corridor trying to spot anyone who could help him get this kid to the upper levels, “I know what it's like to lose your parents….”

“Really?” Robin asked, his head lifting off of Danny’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Danny says, “they didn't die, but they basically said they never wanted to see me again.”

Robin gasped, “that's not nice!” Robin declared making Danny laugh again.

“Your right,” Danny agrees as he turns down another hall towards where the zeta tubes were, maybe someone in there could help. “But, now I'm here, having the time of my life with the job of my dreams.”

Robin smiled again, “you could say you're living the HIGH life.”

Danny paused in the hall and started snickering, “that was a good one, Birdy.”

“Birdy?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, your name is Robin, that's a bird, so Birdy,” Danny explained, “its a nickname

“Does that make us friends?” Robin asked.

“Sure, as long as your guardian is ok with it.”

The boy smiled happily, excited at the idea of having made a new friend. The calm was interrupted but Danny’s supervisor yelled from across the room, “Nightingale!” He shouts, causing Danny to jump.

Danny turns to look at the man, “hey boss—” he starts, blocking Robin from the man, not wanting to scare the kid.

“You are late to clock back in! You're not getting paid to sit around with your head in the clouds!” The man shouts.

“Sorry sir, I was—”

“No! You need to get back to work, NOW!” He demanded, “this is a multibillion dollar space station, everything needs to be on a strict schedule!”

Danny sighed, his supervisor hasn't liked Danny from day one. Something about him being “young and nïeve” or something like that; “head higher up into space than we were right now.” At least that's what Danny heard him say about him once or twice.

Danny was about to talk back when something just past his manager caught his eye. It was Batman, walking fast with a look that told everyone to get out of the way. But Danny could feel the worry bleed off the man in waves. Must be looking for Robin, Danny’s mind supplied. Danny sidesteps his supervisor and shouts, “Hey Batman!” To catch the dark knight’s attention. Danny had to restrain his laughter when he saw the look of horror pass on his supervisor's face.

Now with the vigilanties cold glare focused on him, Danny smiled and adjusted his stance to show Robbin to him. “Looking for you kid?” Danny asked.

Robin smiled nervously and waved at Batman, guess he wasn’t supposed to wander off like he did. “Hey B!” He shouts.

Batman’s glare softens so slightly, a regular person would have missed it. However, Danny could feel the man’s previous anxieties melt away into a strong relief. Batman strutted forward and glared down at Danny—despite Danny being taller than him. Danny just smiled and adjusted Robin on him so he could hand him over to the dark knight.

Now in Batman’s arms, Robin tapped his pointer fingers together nervously. “Sorry for wandering off,” he mumbled before his smile came back full force, “but,” he exclaimed, “I made a friend! His name is Danny and he liked my puns! And we both have bird names!” He exclaimed all while pointing at Danny.

Batman looked from the kid in his arms to Danny, “hmm,” he grumbled. A man of few words, Batman nods at Danny.

Danny nodded back, “He’s a good kid, glad I was able to help.” Danny replied. Feeling gratitude from that small gesture alone. Batman isn't the most expressive but being able to read emotions like Danny really helps when talking to people.

Batman turns his head to look over at Danny’s superior, “hmm.” After that Batman turned and walked away.

Robin climbed to sit up on Batman’s shoulder and waved back at Danny, “Bye bird buddy! Have a good day!” He shouts as Batman enters the elevator. The doors closing behind them and leaving the zeta tube control center in near silence.

Danny looked back to his supervisor who looked as pale as a sheet ghost, Danny gave him a shit eating grin and shrugged at him. “I tried to tell ya—”

“Get back to work Nightingale!” He shouts.

“Ok, ok, I'm going.” Danny says, turning on his heels and walking away from the man with his hands held up in surrender.

—

I have so many ideas for this au and if I write more I might post it on my AO3 feel free to read other things I posted on there!

[86espresso]

obsessed jack mature [1k]

hitting you with all the ‘w’ questions whenever you get up from your spot and leave his side cold and empty.

“where are you going?”

“bathroom”

“why?”

“because? I need- to go-” pointing down there to emphasize

“when will you be back?”

he’s putting his face in the crook of your neck too often in front of audiences, mumbling about how much he loves you.

of course, your face burns with the amounts of affection he throws at you and you reciprocate because who doesn’t want a man thats wholly dedicated to them.

he can’t help but buy whatever you set your eyes on a little too long.

he’s always bending down to strap and unstrap your shoes.

always drinks from his second favorite mug- his favorite goes to you. you never thought it was weird, you would do the same for him if you had a favorite or second favorite something.

always keeping his hand in your back pocket while wandering through a crowd. his brothers and friends give him shit because you def walk him like a dog.

calling you in the middle of girls night, rutting his sweatpants against your bed and rasping out that he needs you. waiting for you to get home and punish him for ‘ruining’ your plans knowing full well that, to you, there’s no pleasure greater than watching your boyfriend fall apart in your hands.

him pointing at you after every goal he scores as if you did it.

carries you up all and every stairs because he can. no one bats an eye at your antics anymore because you were basically best friends that spend way too much time with each-other.

treats you like a princess / fucks you like a whore type guy. (need)

up awake wondering what you’re doing while he’s on roadies. he’s usually less bright during these because you aren’t there to greet him after good or bad games.

roadies are hard for you too, because jack spoils your so much that you forget basic things like opening doors for yourself and carrying in the groceries. you’re more on the clumsy side, so jack isn’t there to save you when you take a tumble and break your wrist. he’s on the first flight back home and goes straight to you in the ER, pale and flushed with worry even after you reassure him that you’re okay. he steps around you carefully for a few days after that, making sure you have everything you need.

it’s embarrassing how co-dependent you both are, but it’s another point that solidifies that you’re in it for the long run.

literally gets lost in your kisses. pulls you closer and closer til he cant and tilts his head to get better angles at drowning in you. loves the way your cup his face during the soft ones and melts every time you sigh in between them. loves how perfectly your lips slot against his. you love his adorable giggles when you’re smacking your stained lips all over his face.

would pass up a night with the boys in a heartbeat if you even hinted that you wanted him to stay.

knows you’re cold all the time so uses that as an excuse to remain attached to you as much as he can.

takes his baseball cap off his head and puts it on yours whenever he sees you.

never misses any of your important events. he always puts emphasis on how your career is as important as his.

posts you on his insta in obvious and subtle ways. sometimes it’s you entirely, other times it’s your shoulder in the corner of the picture, just barely showing the ‘86’ tattoo there. twitter went crazy when he posted pictures of you in your wag jacket right before the playoffs. one picture of your back turned, showing his name, and another with your front where the jacket is open and you’re wearing shades and a black tube top.

“you’re so pretty” and you’re in a fucked out state with your hair clinging to your face and neck, breathing erratic.

knows exactly what type of sex you want and when, and never fails to deliver. sometimes it’s fun and messy, teeth clashing, laughing when his head hits the wall. sometimes it’s hot and rough, edging you to tears and not holding back. sometimes the roles are reversed. sometimes he’s slow with you and takes his time showing your body love.

makes sure that his gifts to you are more thoughtful than expensive because he knows that thats what you prefer.

is absolutely terrified of tattoos but gets one for you anyway.

he would live between your tits forever if he could.

you can’t help the way your uterus explodes when he holds quinn’s son in his hands. he’s just so tiny in Jack’s arms and you would jump him then and there if there wasn’t a quietly sobbing quinn on your shoulder and his passed out wife beside you.

sends you pictures of different things from the store, wanting to buy what you prefer.

never takes off the necklace you gifted him.

you’re more of a hygiene-freak and he’s more of a neat-freak so he leaves the cleaning to you and you leave the laundry to him.

there’s so much unspoken love between you two, physical touch and acts of service are as important as the words you say to each other.

you put a hand to your heart whenever he catches your eyes during a game, so he knows that he has your full support no matter what.

you love nothing more than wrapping your hand around his throat while teasing him other than him doing the same to you.

wears your perfume and leaves your lipstick stains on his neck as they are.

watches you do everyday things with the most lovesick expressions, he’s actually obsessed.

like, people would make fun of him being so enamored by you but he would wear it like a crown.

[junkissed]

can't get you out of my head

member — fwb!vernon x f reader genre — smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count — 2.4k synopsis — so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings — vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes — june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @oscarcantread @ktackore @k-drama-adict

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

[thatweirdfandom]

body swap zosan

zoro:

he notices that he has no balance what so ever, he’s used to a heavier body built on muscle

his vision feels normal though, sanji has had his bangs cover one of his eyes forever so it’s not unlike when he lost his own eye

he can distinctly feel too much, he feels how the dust and dirt sticks to him in a way he can’t shake, faint crawling of ghost bugs on his body and he takes more showers then he likes to admit

when he wakes up if he doesn’t eat right away he gets sick- a repercussion to sanji s starvation

strangely when he picks up a sword when sanji isn’t looking it feels familiar- not like his intense muscle memory but that sanji knows how to use a sword above any class beginner

he cant not keep still, if he stays still too long he can feel the phantom aches in his body, the overstimulation of dirt

he ends up overextending by accident a lot, it’s funny at first because how flexible he is- but he’s not used to having to control the small joints so not to hurt himself (que him dislocating something because no, your body can’t just stretch like that unless you do it properly)

he notices he has a small appetite but if he doesn’t eat when needed he will get sick very quickly (ah that’s why sanji always makes excuses to have snacks for the ladies and everyone)

he gets trapped once, it’s nothing unlike he’s used to. but the walls, the tight space, this body knows this feeling and it just gives out on him

when he gets ready for bed he is always baffled why sanji sleeps with his shoes on. little did he know how nasty and brutal sanjis feet ended up (ballet feet)

why can’t he turn off his observation haki?

constant need to feel physical touch but also being repulsed by it when it happens

turns out the cook does in fact just have constant nose bleeds and if he gets too emotional or riled up it just happens. this is a awkward moment when some lady tells the crew her husband just dies and zoros nose starts bleeding

sanji:

he cant see his toes (tiddies too big)

his spacial awareness is terrible he keeps bumping into things

he has intense head splitting migranes that only a nap could help (hmmm thriller bark…) and maybe a drink

a need to work out, to sweat out toxins from his body

accidentally breaks too many things since it’s just sheer force of strength

he gets cramps way too much and can barely do a simple stretch

in battle he can’t help but notice the slight increase in heartbeat- he thinks originally it’s just cuz of adrenaline but he knows that feeling. and this one is fear, every battle no matter how strong he is in this body feels fear every moment- not for himself but those around him

he has to check on everyone no matter what- it’s weird because he does that too but this is more of a subtle pull to do it, a slow meditation of going through each member to make sure they are ok

always being touched by luffy and others to be buddy buddy, he doesn’t have much to cover him and the warmth is unlike something he’s felt in so long (usually one to cover up because he can just feel too much)

he is still a great chef but only in food prep. his hands are too clumsy for much else, and his body is bigger when trying to move in the kitchen

on top of cramps, he keeps pulling muscles (seriously does he never stretch this body?)

he also gets tired quicker- endurance isn’t as lasting when this body focuses on attacks that count on brute force

he cant feel his torso, turns out mihawk really made sure zoro remember by cutting off the nerves

BOTH:

man why does my heart pick up when i see my own body?