#ooogh...he good. metal good.

[rebornologist]

Asdfgkhkajsb kinky headcanon… may I please request some for Reborn, TYL Hibari, and Dino?

I... have such mixed feelings abt Hibari bc he's so insufferable and also the sexiest man alive (I blame my bias towards his VA Takashi Kondo is my angel on earth loml). I appreciate your keysmash bc it really encapsulates a vibe hehehe thank you for rqing & enjoy the ride dear ♡

♡ Kinky KHR Headcanons (yet again)*:･ﾟ✧

WARNINGS: 18+!! kinks (duh) mention, dom/sub, bdsm, breeding, biting/marking/possessiveness, sadomasochism, blood, public sex, prey/predator, DUBCON and weapons!!! g*ns!!! madness, truly..

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · ˳ · ♡ · ˳ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

♡ Reborn

Big on costumes and roleplay, yet again; He likes acting out little scenes to get his head in the game hehe... he also acts all coy when he's fucking someone's brains out and they can't even stay in character anymore

"Now why can't you answer this simple question? Cat got your tongue..?"

Or some line like that as he's got them pressed up against a wall and he's sliding in and out of them or between their wet thighs

Weapons If and only if his partner is okay with it, he'll consider playing a bit of cat and mouse with an unloaded gun, he loves the feeling of overpowering his partner and intimidating them, holding them down, and by dragging the cold weapon up their bare skin. He'd only go as far as nudging it between their trembling lips before he'd get too impatient and replace it with his cock

He's quite good at aftercare, since some people I can imagine would really need it after some more intense nights.. he's no husband material but he provides exactly what his partners need to recover, some drinks some snacks, a bath if they must, and some nice clean sheets to cuddle up and sleep in; The biggest misfortune is that he is usually up and gone the next morning before they stir, with a note written in his very small handwriting

'Breakfast downstairs. Till next time, my dove. Ciao'

And they go downstairs to find there's coffee and pastries for them :) We love a responsible and caring hitman

♡ Hibari Kyoya

Tbh I think Hibari is ace but in the case that he does want to get down and dirty with people, he's one kinky mf

Huge on prey/predator kind of dynamics, do let him chase you around and by the time he eventually catches you and pins to down between his legs, he's got a throbbing hard on lol

Biting in the literal sense, he's got an oral fixation and his partners' bodies will be littered with teeth marks, especially on hotspots like the neck and shoulders, and inside of their thighs

He likes leaving these where they're highly visible, kind of like marking what's his.. if a few drops of blood run, he'd just lap it up; What's worse is when he goes in to kiss them after.. you learn to love the metallic tang every so often ♡

Now this guy likes restraining his partners, seeing them helpless at his disposal to do what he wants with them, and he's a tease that will play coy and ask them what they want from him, even if they're clearly shaking and dripping under his touch

He hates having his own senses deprived, but wouldn't mind doing it for someone else; He relishes in the upper hand that he gets from it, and will prod and tease all the sensitive spots on his partner's body before giving them a real taste

He's generally a private person, but in his younger years (like, college days :) he found himself getting into physical situations in empty classrooms, or the corner of the library or study hall; He doesn't get off to the idea of being somewhere semi-public, but he also just couldn't be bothered with moving somewhere else

Kyoya also had the upper hand in these situations because he's not a loud individual, and loved seeing his partners struggle to keep in their moans

♡ Dino Cavallone

He has a thing for domesticity, I fully support this; He just loves the thought of a stable and healthy long term committed relationship, just thinking about being in love and ooogh starting a family?!?

Bam, breeding kink.. Even if his s/o or partner is unable to have a kid or they're not actually trying for one, he'll whisper dirty things in their ear about filling them up with his seed and putting a baby in them

If you flip the switch and mention that in your dirty talk to him he gets soo riled up, it's like he goes feral lmao

This might not be a kink specifically but he loves watching the reactions on his partner's face, maybe hooking their knees over his shoulders so he can push himself into them and just marvel at how their expressions change with pleasure

He'll have sex like anywhere that's his own private property, but he's actually kind of shy and wouldn't want to be watched; He would, however, blush furiously when he remembers what went down in the back of the car, or on the pool table, or the kitchen island...*

I don't know why I get these vibes from him but he kinda.. likes when his partners sit on his face, especially if they're curvier and he can just grip their plush thighs and hips and hold them down even if they wiggle and squirm from his ministrations

He doesn't have a size kink per se, but he almost does when his partners struggle to seat themselves fully on his big dick; His eyes are glued to the way they sink themselves down inch by inch, and the way they stretch around and hug him close.. oh, he could cum right there with that

It just means a lot to him to be so intimately connected with someone he cares a lot about :) He's a wholesome guy duhh hehe

*my fave. :)

Anyway I feel like I write a lot for Dino so I'm kind of out of ideas now; I've got a phat evo paper to write that I've rly been struggling with, so I can't believe I'm finishing this instead to post... rip me. Enjoy the thotty thoughts though, lovelies :) Til I post again xoxo

[phoneboxfairy]

Quarantine Fic Chapter 4!

All that remains is a silly epilogue.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417971/chapters/84978940

That afternoon saw Lucy laying on the couch with her nose buried in a book. She was so engrossed in her story that she didn’t notice when Natsu sat next to her.

…at least, not until she felt his hand stroke over her knee. A sweet chill ran down her spine.

“Natsuuuu. Cut that out. I’m trying to read.”

“No. I wanna touch you. You’re smart. You can read with my hand on your leg.”

Ooogh…

“Fine. As long as that hand minds its manners and stays right where it is. I can’t concentrate if you’re pawing at me.”

“Sheesh, alright, miss bossy.” Shrug, smile.

So Lucy read.

Truth be told it was hard to focus on her story when the touch of his hand brought delicious thoughts into her mind. By the time she finished the chapter and put the book down, those delicious thoughts were running rampant.

She made a show of stretching, felt the heat of his stare as he watched her.

Siiiigh.

“Lucy. There’s something you should know.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“I don’t have any manners. Neither does my hand.” Growl. The naughty boy moved his naughty hand. He feathered his fingers down her thigh and traced the hem of her shorts. She squirmed.

“Mmm, how very rude.”

“I think ya like it when I get rude.” Stroking her inner thigh. Stoking the fire between her legs.

“I love it when you get rude.” Sensual purr. She shifted and spread her legs then reached down and unbuttoned the shorts. “Come here, Natsu. Let’s misbehave.”

“Hell yeah.” He growled, this sexy devilish look on his face as he pulled her shirt off. “Luce, have I told ya how fucking perfect you are? You ain’t even completely naked and I wanna devour ya.”

As if on cue she kicked away the shorts, spread her legs, and traced her hand over her exposed pussy.

“What’s stopping you, love?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He pounced. Shed his pants, claimed her mouth and body at the same time.

They moved together with animalistic fervor. He went hard and fast. Lucy mewled, feeling him hit every sweet spot just the way she looooved it.

She was brought back to earth by a rather ominous creaking sound from beneath her.

“Na…Natsu…st, stop stop stop.” He stopped, pulled out, shot her a look that was confused and slightly irritated. “I don’t want to break this couch. Take me to bed, love.”

Confusion and irritation were replaced by immediate comprehension and a sexy as hell grin.

“Anything you want, Lucy-baby.” So very carefully, he carried her across the room and settled her on the soft bed. Before he had a chance to get going again she stopped him with a “wait a minute” finger gesture then grabbed a bottle of lube off the nightstand.

Then she got on her knees, took his cock in her hand, and licked up some of the sticky sweet mess.

“Mmm. We taste delicious.”

“Hell yeah. Now hurry up and let me fuck ya.” His words sent a delicious tingle straight to her clit. She slathered a generous amount of lube on him before laying back, spreading her legs, and beckoning him over with a finger wiggle.

“Like I could ever say no to you. Mnnn…” She let out a moan feeling him push back into her depths. One hand tangled through already messy pink locks while the other dug into his shoulder.

Truth be told she was more than wet enough without the lube, and Gods only knew they would have had an incredible romp regardless.

But Lucy was rather adventurous. And the tingling sensation felt ohhh so good, especially with his warm cock savoring every inch of her.

“Gimme your hand.” Their hands intertwined. They shared slow, sweet kisses, making love with increased frenzy followed by the hazy bliss of afterglow.

Lucy giggled. Natsu peered up at her from the comfy pillow of her boobs.

“You okay?”

“Duh. I’m happy.” Lazy smile as she fluffed his hair. Natsu got the hint and climbed up to cuddle with her for a while. Turns out he was pretty happy too.

That last afternoon of quarantine was pretty relaxed. No sparring, just chilling and bonding in a different way.

The pair worked on cooking dinner. Lucy left the finishing touches to Natsu as she went to wash up and change.

Some time later when the meal was ready and Lucy came back, it was hard to tell which silly human was more awestruck. Lucy was rather impressed with his table setting skills. Natsu, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Ravishing, in a shimmering blue celestial gown, her hair in a loose halo around her body.

Eventually Natsu remembered where he was. He offered her a chair, scooted her close to the table, and took the seat next to her.

“Thanks, Natsu.” Her soft giggle was music to his ears.

They shared dinner in the sweet comfortable silence of lovers. Every so often Natsu would reach over and touch Lucy’s shoulder or stroke her back. And every time Lucy would respond by leaning over and kissing his nose or cheek, cute smile on her face.

So much more than friendship.

Once plates had been cleared Lucy snapped her fingers. Natsu watched, mesmerized, as her gown transformed into lingerie.

“I believe I’ll go to bed now. Care to join me?” She rarely used her cultured society girl voice, never really had a need to. But somehow the voice, the outfit, and the situation worked perfectly.

Natsu thought it was sexy as fuck.

By the time he got to the bed she had untied her panties and was laying on her back playing with her boobs. He could already see the delicious perk of her nipples peeking through the silky material.

He didn’t waste any time. Pants and briefs were discarded and he joined his beloved Lucy on the bed.

“Like what you see, love?”

“Yeah.”

“Then show me. Let’s make love, Natsu.”

“Anything for you, Lucy-baby.”

For most of the week, their activities had been more raunchy and wild. Tonight, though… Tonight was different. Each touch reverent, each kiss deep and tender. No animalistic frenzy, but rather, pure lovemaking in its barest form.

They moved together as one, Lucy’s legs wrapped around Natsu’s lower back, each motion accented by her little gasps and moans. Passion reached its peak and the pair crashed into one another’s arms.

Natsu rested his forehead on Lucy’s. More tender kisses, more sweet whispers of shared love.

For several moments relaxed shared silence. Then…

“hey Luce? Can we talk?”

“uhhh sure.” A pause. She snapped her fingers again, this time becoming wrapped in a nightgown that was simple and comfortable yet as beautiful as her other celestial garments.

She sat next to him on the bed.

“What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Nah. Everything’s good. Lucy…” Here he took her hand. “…I wanna be your mate.”

Mate… The words made her blush.

“So you want to stay with me?”

“Duh. I just said that. Why not? I’ll even fix my place up for ya, make us a nice little cottage.”

“Natsu, you’d do all that…for me?”

“Yeah.” One word, accompanied by a genuine fang-bearing smile. Lucy couldn’t even attempt to verbalize her response. So, she pounced and hugged him, letting happy tears flow. “Is…that a yes?”

“duh…” Lucy giggled, face buried in chest and scarf. She heard Natsu laugh, relieved, and felt him run his hands through her hair.

“Gimme your hand.” Assuming he just wanted to hold her hand again Lucy did what she was told. Seconds later she felt him sliding something cool onto her finger.

Suddenly she knew exactly what Natsu had been working on earlier that week.

A ring… he made me a ring…

“Wow…it’s so pretty.” An opalescent blue stone was set in a cool metal band that fit her finger just right.

“Look on the inside.”

“Okay…?” Curious, Lucy slipped it off, and took a look at the inside of the band. There, in Natsu’s odd handwriting, were carved four letters. NaLu. Lucy couldn’t help smiling as she slipped the ring back on.

She also couldn’t help the tears of love and utter joy from flowing down her face as Natsu pulled her into a hug then kissed her.

Who would have thought…who could have ever imagined, that a week in quarantine for a silly magic bug would have changed so much?

[sundaymisogeny-blog]

A Secret Place

"Sir?" Anne's voice has a definite tremor to it, and understandably so. The hand which patted her bottom a few moments earlier up under her buttocks, before patting again with a little lift to each cheek in turn, had a distinctly expert feel to it, as though it had smacked more bottoms than she would care to know about. "Sir? Excuse me, Sir." "Hmm?" They are standing outside a door which, when it has been unlocked, will lead to a long, narrow passage. At the far end of the passage will be a second door, and beyond that, a room which Anne has never seen but about which she has heard more than enough. The man whom she is calling 'sir' has been introduced to her as a 'school governor', although she has never met him before. At this moment he is sorting through a bunch of keys for one that will fit the lock. "Sir — m-may I ask — wh-what exactly is it that I've done wrong?" "Done wrong, my dear? Um — ah yes, this is the one." The key turns easily in the well-oiled lock. "After you." And Anne's bottom is smacked playfully through the door. The passage is dark, and the girl stumbles as her foot catches on an uneven floorboard. "Just a moment," Basil gropes along the wall for the light switch, his hand swooshing softly against the brickwork. The light clicks on. A naked bulb glares down bleakly from the ceiling. "Alright — I'll just close the door." Anne hears the quiet 'click' as the key turns. She goes dubiously towards the second door, Basil following and watching her navy knickers as they pull tight around pert buttocks, her bottom full and plump and with that firm-soft look that is typical of the teenage girl's bum. Basil squeezes past at the second door and unlocks it. He coaxes the girl into the little room with a hand cupped under her buttocks. She feels warm and skittish to the touch, her skin satiny where his fingers overlap the leg elastic of her knickers. There is only one window in the room, high in one wall, and the level of lighting is not improved by the grime on the quartered window panes. The bare floorboards have a layer of dust on them, although there are numerous footprints, and at one place there is an area which looks as though people have been scraping their feet around and clearing the dust away. High on the wall, immediately above this shoe-scraped bit of floor, there is a metal bracket projecting from the bricks. It is at about the height a girl might reach if she were to stand on the very tips of her toes. There is an old school desk and a tall stool and nothing else. Basil closes the door, and there is a rattling sound. Anne looks around and sees several canes dangling from hooks screwed into the door's woodwork. They swing gently in the quietness of this frightening room, making little intermittent scraping sounds as they touch against the door with their swinging. The girl's eyes follow the hypnotic movement of these ominous intimations of the present function of this hideaway. She looks pleadingly at the man whom she supposes to be a governor of the school, seeing something in his expression that she mistakes for kindness or sympathy or understanding of her predicament. "Sir — please — what did I do wrong, sir?" "Wrong? I'm afraid I don't know what you've done wrong, my dear." The vague smile is there again. "Didn't you have to see the Headmaster? Didn't he explain the matter to you?" "N-no, n-not really, sir." He glances down at her knickers. "But he told you that you were to be punished, surely. I mean, I presumed that the point of your turning up to see me in your knickers was that you knew you were to be punished and simply wanted to be as co-operative as possible. Wasn't that it?" Anne blushes furiously at having to talk about her knickers to this man, this stranger. "N-no sir — the Headmaster told m-me that I was to come in my gym things, but I got my shorts wet in the shower this afternoon, sir, so I couldn't wear them, and when I t-told the Headmaster he said it didn't matter, an-and I should come in my — my knickers, sir." Basil drops his eyes and another of his ephemeral smiles plays around his mouth. And a charming idea it had been too. Finding her waiting in a tee-shirt and school knickers, and nothing else besides socks and shoes, had got him off to a good start right from the start. That man knew him too well. "Well, it doesn't make much difference, actually. I shouldn't worry about it. I mean, you're not going to have them on long, are you my dear?" Anne's face looks slightly shocked at that. Her tongue peeps out and touches her lips nervously. "Sir — are you sure I'm to be p-punished? The Headmaster didn't actually say that I was to be punished, sir. He didn't actually say." "Oh yes. You're to be caned, my dear. Soundly caned." "Oooh —!" Anne's eyes blink as though tears are threatening already. She edges away and bumps against the wall. "S-sir — please sir — do I have to be c-caned sir?" "Er — well yes. Yes, you do." Another of his smiles — of course he's simply teasing her, which is why he smiles — passes across his face. "Surely you know that naughty girls are liable to be caned, don't you? Hmm?" "Er — I didn't realise I'd been naughty. I — I still don't know what I've done. An-and I've only been here a few days sir — I don't know much about c-caning and things, sir." "Really? You've only been here a few days? Dear oh dear! Well it's a pity you have to start off with a caning I suppose, but — well, there it is. I mean, I'm only lending a hand this evening. The Headmaster has an appointment, and he asked me if I would fill in for him in various ways — I suppose you just happen to be one of the little duties I have to perform. Er — in my capacity of school governor, that is. I mean, he definitely said that Anne Powell, whom I would find waiting at — I suppose you are Anne Powell, aren't you?" Plainly wishing that right at this moment she wasn't, Anne nods her head dismally. "Well, there you are. You're to be caned, Anne and I'm afraid that's that." Basil spins on his heel, all resolution and determination to do his duty, and he takes one of the canes from the hooks behind the door. He flexes it in his hands, as though not sure it's quite right for a bottom as plump as Anne's, then he puts it back and checks along the row for one that might have just that extra touch of sting in its supple length. This performance, the testing of the canes and the swishing of them, the experimental taps against the palm of the hand, the quiet, almost considerate suggestion that the girl might like to bend over and touch her toes so that the cane can stroke teasingly across her knickers, the instruction to stick her plump young bottom out so that a series of tentative little pats can reach across both round buttocks and a flick with the tip can sting her without warning on the bits her pants leave bare: all these things conspire to undermine whatever reserves of determination the girl has to be brave and see it through, and suddenly she is sniffing and snuffling and then she is crying in an undemonstrative way that somehow reveals more of her distress than if she had sobbed out loud. He keeps her down there, touching her toes, while the cane 'swhits' and 'whups' playfully across her navy knickers, making her start nervously and pant a little between her quiet tears, the strokes not really strokes, enough only to make her buttocks tweak together as the cane lands. Anne's weeping becomes gradually more like sobbing; her knees are beginning to flex with every other stroke as she struggles against the urge to swerve her bum away from the smarting cane-flicks. A few more, just a touch harder, and then Basil draws his hand across her bottom, patting it and telling her what a perfect bottom it is for the cane, slipping her knickers across into the division and standing back a little so that the cane has a better swing at the freshly bared plumpness of her trembly, reddening bottom. Several minutes of this and Anne is plainly losing her grip. She is getting livelier at every teasing contact of the cane with her crimsoned bum, and her crying is becoming irregular with little 'ouch's and 'ooogh's to relieve the monotony of her distress. "Right. That will do, I should think," says Basil. Anne stands up gingerly, eyes wide, hands sneaking round to her bottom to rub and squeeze. "Yes, I think this is the cane I'll use." Anne's look of shocked disbelief is something to behold. "Come over here." Basil indicates the bracket set in the wall. "Hold onto this — up on your toes, now. Come on." "Please — please don't. No more — Please!" "No more? Whatever do you mean girl? I haven't even begun yet." When Anne has finally done as she has been told, and she is standing on tip-toe, clinging to the bracket with her arms above her head, Basil squats down behind her and peels her knickers down from her hips, down her thighs, down to her ankles. She swings nervously around, trying to keep her eyes on him as he circles round her, the cane in his hand. She tries to edge away as he strokes a hand down the curve of her tummy, down into the moist niche between her thighs. His hand cups the soft swell of her pubic mound, fingers slipping along underneath her. With the cane held short in his other hand he begins to give her a series of strokes, harder than before, most of them angling up under her bum-cheeks, catching her always in much the same place, making her jerk and jolt away from the sting, forward onto his hand. Anne's evasive attempts send her veering away in various directions, but always the interloping hand restrains her. Her eyes constantly swivel round to look pleadingly into those of her tormentor. She gasps pleas, promises, profuse apologies, her lips moist and sweet, her tears flowing copiously down her cheeks. She pants and sobs but she clings onto the bracket. She is still dangling there ten minutes or so later. Her bottom has so many crimson stripes across its pert rotundity that it is impossible to differentiate between them for the most part, except where a wilder swing on Anne's part has presented her flank to the swishing cane and a red finger has inscribed itself across unmarked skin.

Basil leaves her there and goes to the desk in the corner of the room. He rummages around and produces a small jar from which he unscrews the lid. He dips in a finger, bringing it out with a fat dollop of translucent cream on it. Anne blinks through wet-rimmed, puffy eyes. She utters no coherent sound as Basil slides his hand down underneath her, but she pulls herself up on her toes as the cream slides along the tunnel between her thighs. Basil's other hand meets the slippery goo between her bum-cheeks and begins to spread it over her tender bottom in small, gentle, circular sweeps, across and round to where the soreness is worst, then back again through the slippery gap between her thighs. He talks to her quietly, murmuring soothing words and telling her she's been a brave, brave girl, and not to let go of the bracket, not just yet, not until he tells her. Slowly, involuntarily perhaps yet quite definitely, Anne begins to respond to the slithery, slidy stimulation as Basil's fingers slip between her legs. His voice coaxes her, chides her gently when she seems to recover her senses and wants to pull away, calms her into obedient compliance while his fingers nudge her confidently to a quivering, undemonstrative climax, reached almost resignedly, panted out quietly in submission to the inevitable. When Anne has dressed herself again — she has only to pull up her knickers of course, so it takes but a moment — she is sent to wait at the end of the passage. Keeping her eyes averted from those of the man who has frightened and bewildered her by turns, she leaves the little room and goes unhappily down the passage. Basil locks the door behind him and then lets the bewildered and ashamed Anne out of the second door. He lets her go, and she scampers off, bottom bobbing crimson where her knickers fail to cover the evidence of the punishment. Basil walks unhurriedly away to have a brandy with his old friend, Reggie.