#🍩 writes

[fanged-fanfics]

Could I please request a parental Aziraphale and Crowley with a teen reader they adopted?

I really need platonic parental Ineffable Husbands 😭

~🍩

☆ Guardian Angel, Serpent Protector — Ineffable Husbands & Adopted!Teen!Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff/Familial || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Ineffable pair ended up taking you in after consistent run-ins. They felt bad about the amount of danger you could be in by lingering too close, so both began showing caution and protectiveness around you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Though imperfectly, they really did do their best to keep you away from the supernatural battles they had going on. Crowley usually used small miracles to create a diversion, using them to throw you off. Aziraphale, well.. he did his best to lie to you, think of bluffs to ease your confusion, but he tended to think of excuses that contradicted one another or were given in a suspiciously rushed stammer

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The truth had to come out eventually, it was way too difficult to keep it all away from you. Accidents happen, and with time you uncovered their true nature. They were rather surprised to see you be accepting of the revelation, but why wouldn't you be? Mr. Aziraphale had always lent his bookshop to you if you needed, whether for a place to sit for a moment or somewhere to rest for the night. He'd even talk with you over books or a record playing. Crowley lent you rides in his Bentley and gave pragmatic advice on problems you went to him with, always willing to lend you favors

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once the initial period of answering questions and adjusting faded, the two only got closer to you if anything. They weren't afraid to hide performing little miracles for you or letting you know about what next big end of the world event might be occurring. It got a little dizzying when they argued or came to you with wildly opposing sides, but it was routine by then. Comfortable, familiarity

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Aziraphale essentially let you live at the bookshop, always having a spare room prepped for you. He kept tabs on your preferred meals, and at least once a day asked you to help him in small tasks or simply to come for a chat

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Crowley remained the more reliable one for advice, even if his judgment was a bit clouded by human tropes he'd seen in films, primarily from the 70s. He'd even occasionally mention that a curse or 'nudge' could be your best bet, much to his angel's dismay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Aziraphale would get confrontational on your behalf, in the kindly way that he knew how to be. Any situation you didn't want to be in? He'd lead you out that instant. Someone bothering you? They'll get a very stern talking-to. Need a social buffer? Done and done, you won't have to say a word you don't wish to

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Crowley knew all the best spots to have a night out. Whenever you ask, he'd carry you to all the favored places of London, even some hidden spots that only he and few others could enter. Or, if you just needed some air, he'd drive the Bentley and let you be soothed by the motions of the car and air passing by. He knows all too well how it feels to just need some time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Knowing as much as he does, Aziraphale loves to teach you anything you'd like to learn. He has a book for every occasion, but he prefers to bond by teaching you personally. Want to know a language? Absolutely! Something about music? He has just the record in mind. Magic? He's absolutely delighted! Even if he's learning a new skill with you, he's glad to spend the time by your side, especially in such a productive way

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Crowley gives you oddly specific and cryptic lessons on plants, methods that you don't quite understand but somehow always provide healthy foliage. He loves telling you about music or cars, particularly of course Queen or his Bentley. He's open to music suggestions you may have, but he'll keep insisting that bands like The Velvet Underground are the best. Beneath all that, he really just appreciates the time with you, and will even burn you some CDs of your favorites

[cookiekissers]

Genuinely and desperately ask for Crunchy Chip cookie x male reader! Crunchy Chip always puts up a front of not wanting/caring for sweet stuff but deep down loves it. Imagine him like that but with people, he acts tough around others but completely melts when he's around reader. Thank you for existing and doing the Lord's work 🙏 lmao

[Crunchy Chip x Male Reader]

I haven't written or posted that much yet, but thank you!! It's an honour <3

Crunchy Chip Cookie works diligently to keep up his image as a hardened warrior. But like the sweets he pretends to despise, he can barely hide his feelings around you, Y/N Cookie. If he had a tail, it would be wagging whenever he sees you! He can't help it!

Around others, he acts like his usual prideful self, but as soon as he spots you, he gets quiet and flustered. Crunchy Chip believes he's good at concealing his feelings for you, but it's apparent to everyone what's really going on. Even if you're the oblivious type, you'll eventually notice because it's so obvious. Crunchy Chip isn't exactly subtle. But this only makes him all the more charming!

If you pretend you haven't caught on to his feelings yet, and decide to start teasing him, it will make him melt. He tries hard to deny the intense feelings you "inflict" on him, how his heart pounds when you get a little too close to him and tease him, and how you have all but taken over his thoughts. He constantly scolds himself for how mushy he's acting! You have turned him into a lovestruck puppy and he hates it. Acting this way is unbecoming of a great Dark Cacao warrior! Yet… ask a favour of him or call for him and he will run to you without hesitation.

If you're waiting for Crunchy Chip Cookie to make the first move you will have to wait for a while, so you will probably have to take initiative on this one. But once you two do get together officially, expect to see his softer side much more often. He only does this in private and around you. No one else gets to see Crunchy Chip like this but you. <3

It's a little different in private. When you're alone with him, he relaxes a little bit, but not by much. His code of pride and rigorous discipline has been drilled into his head, so its a tough habit to break. If you gently remind him that he does deserve to relax a little and have care and softness, he will indulge somewhat guiltily. But he is still afraid of being "caught in the act," so his relaxation with you will be restrained. But afterwards, he will dream of it. Being in your arms, having you stroke his hair lovingly while he rests in your lap. Crunchy Chip will wake up in his tent amidst the snow on a frozen mountain and daydream about looking up at your handsome face and yearn to experience such tenderness and warmth again.

But don't try to bring up your affectionate sessions in public, Crunchy Chip will panic and try to play dumb and pretend that it didn't happen. It's not that he didn't enjoy being with you! Honestly, the guy is yearning and pining so hard he thinks he's physically ill.

[angelgoeslewd]

White Lies. [Prologue.]

🔮 summary: becoming Fyodor’s house-spouse is a trial.

⚠️ warnings: unhealthy relarionship dynamics. this excerpt is SFT, there will be more in this series that will not be. please read accordingly with attention to the warnings.

📝 a/n: this got away from me … these were supposed to be headcanons 😰 yes i have more planned. this is only the beginning.

The relationship between you and Fyodor began as a mutually beneficial agreement. Fitting, for one as conniving as him and as cornered as you, but odd, considering his... allure.

It was easy to consider him "out of your league." His status outweighed yours by a fair amount and this didn't even weigh in his looks or platinum tongue, his bank account alone probably tipped the scales in your favor. But your... situation was rare, one that worked in his own interests.

As the eldest of a well-to-do family, you knew, knew from an early age you would be expected to marry. Expected to give up any life and passions you had to seek the hand of someone who elevated your family's status. And as the days passed by, your days filled with schooling and artistic pursuits, the arraignment of your betrothal was a closer and closer possibility. Every leaf that fell on the cold stone pathway of your college campus seemed like just another reminder of the time that was slipping through your fingers.

That was why you saw him as an opportunity. When your friend offhandedly gushed that The Fyodor Dostoevsky was seeking, "a fair person of good standing and kind graces to accompany him in his quest for comfortability and tranquility," (which sounded like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel, for God's sake) at your coffee date and how exciting the possibility was, your desperation got the better of you. You tried not to hope, tried not to let your wretched attempt, your last-ditch effort of securing your own freedom seep into your voice as you asked her for more details, wondering if she heard it, wondering if she saw your hand shake as you lifted your cup to your mouth and she peered at you, questioningly. Thankfully, she asked nothing and simply divulged in full.

You found yourself at the meeting hall in question 5 minutes late, on the date of the supposed event. Her information was true, as you quickly found out, entering the hall to be met with a crowd of every type of people from every corner of your school. All ages were there, young, older, older, to meet Mr. Dostoyevsky. People who had colored hair, people who were draped in jewels, people who had neither of either and looked like simple office workers. They gave you a number when you checked in at the booth, a simple white ticket with nothing but black ink printed on it in a large font. You tucked it into your bag and finding nowhere to sit, you subtly made your way outside to wait.

Sitting on a small brick wall, separating you from a small flower bed, you were near enough to hear any instruction, but far enough from the crowd to not be bothered. You took out your latest novel, began to read, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It only took about half an hour for you to notice people streaming out of the building; some with red faces, others in open tears. Concerned, you shifted on your seat, wondering if this was really worth it. But you made no move to comfort the people, nor did you move to leave. You knew, subconsciously, you had no other choice.

Eventually, your number was called, and you grabbed your things hastily, walking into the building and suddenly hitting the nicely warmed air. You didn't even realize how cold it was outside, your mind was lost in the book you held. Your fingers were thankful, still red from the cold, but it felt almost uneasy inside, with only a couple people left and nothing but the company of the sound of your shoes hitting the floor as you made your way to the man who beckoned you. The people left -- a woman with beautifully coiffed hair, lined with jewels and fur; a man in a dark blue, wrinkle-free suit and slicked-back hair; a person with shortly cut hair and a long, cotton skirt, colored with natural dyes, all smiled at your sympathetically.

The pit in your stomach dropped further. But you continued without skipping a beat of your thumping heart.

The room you entered was barren. There was nothing but a dimly lit table, even the lights were turned down, somehow, something that didn't seem possible at your meager campus. The table legs were dark wood, cut off halfway by a simple, white, linen tablecloth. Nothing was on the table. But there he sat. The dark, imposing figure of Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

He eyed you quietly as you sat down in the chair across from him and thanked the man leading you to what felt like your social downfall. The simple act felt much sinister than it was. You leaned down to place your bag next to the side of your chair, then sat up straight and faced the man who held your future in his cards.

“It is nice to meet you, Лисичка.” Russian. You didn’t know Russian. His accent was thick and heavy, but his voice was soft and gentle, reminiscent of new footprints on soft, powdered snow.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” You reached your hand out, across the table, to greet him, and a gloved hand appeared from below to grab yours. His other one then followed, covering your own, something much more intimate than needed in such a place, and something that would be scolded by your father. You introduced yourself, then pulled your hand back as quickly as social niceties would allow.

“Tell me, Лисичка, what brings a person as lovely as yourself here today?”

You took a deep breath. At that simple request, your mouth dried. Your honesty was preferable, but the rules in this scenario didn’t allow for such dark and bleak hardships to be shared to someone you had barely just met. That wasn’t proper. Nor would you expect him to care. You wouldn’t want him to either. This was your burden to carry, not his. You didn’t want his pity or his sympathy for your plight. It left a bad taste in your mouth to even think such thoughts. It might bring a bad look to your family if you shared such feelings openly, which, neither you nor they, needed to deal with at this time. But you also had a feeling that he would know if you lied to him, and besides, that wasn’t a look you wanted for yourself, either. With being dealt such a bad hand, you decided to take a bigger risk than you ever had in your life.

“Mr. Dostoyevsky.”

“Please, Родна́я, call me Fyodor. We are equals at this table.”

You didn’t mean it to, but a small laugh escaped your lips. His lips flickered down for a small, almost indeterminable moment, and his eyebrows raised at your presumptuousness. “With all due respect. We will never be equals. Even if I sit at this table permanently. Even if you choose me. There will never be a time you and I will be equals. And I accept that.”

He tilted his head in what seemed like approval, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs, and gesturing lithely for you to continue. You, on the other hand, leaned forward, placing your hands on the cold linen, careful not to shift the cloth, but enough to make this obvious that the next piece of conversation was for you and him only. “Mr. Dostoyevsky. You can fool all those people out there if you want, but you can’t fool me. You need something — not someone, something. To gain, to escape — I honestly could not care what it is.” His face did not shift, staying the same as when you started. “I need something too. Right now, what I need, if you even care, the protection of your attention. Nothing else. Not your money, not your feelings, just the fact that you are with me. I don’t want to know what you gain from this, but I do know that you need me too. This situation would benefit both of us.”

He was quiet for a while after your spiel, letting the weight of your words sink and settle into the corners of the room as he gazed at you. You swear you saw his jaw set as he sat there, and you tried your best not to lick your lips nervously. Then his hand, which had been clasped in his lap, inched onto the table. A small bell which had escaped your notice was rung. The man from before slinked into the room. You felt ill. Did you read the situation wrong? Was it just like the bell, some innocuous thing that slipped your attention?

“Anton.” He called firmly. It was an order. If it wasn’t so cold, you would be sweating. “Tell the others to leave. I have found my company.”

The relief you felt was almost orgasmic. A breath you didn’t know you were holding was released, and your lungs sang. As the man left, Fyodor leaned forward to meet you. “I normally don’t appreciate such direct accusations,” he said, softly. “But I can appreciate a keen eye and a person who knows how to dance between truth and dishonesty. That is what I am seeking.”

He, himself, seemed to be teetering on the brink of honesty with you. But you felt like you had already pushed your luck for the day and said nothing. He could tell you felt something, but waved it off. “Think no more on it. I will only require you to do that with warning.” It was phrased like a joke, but again, that feeling of somehow being lied to and being told the honest truth sat with you. You tried to push it off and do as you were told. “The movers will fetch your things. You must be reinvented if you are to be seen with me.”

With that, Fyodor Dostoyevsky got up and left you sitting there. Alone, in a dimly lit room, with nothing but yourself. A situation you would find yourself in time and time again before everything changed.

[skippydiesposting]

we don't talk enough about how that article about the metaverse that went viral on tumblr was written by the author of Skippy Dies

[maehemthemisfit]

lyney teaching you a couple of magic tricks, as per your request.

initially, he didn’t want to, because the methods behind his tricks are a close-guarded secret only he and lynette know, but after you bought a book about it and tried (and failed) continuously yourself, he gave in (as he always does when it comes to you).

and that’s how you found yourself in this situation: your back pressed against lyney’s torso as his arms come around your shoulders, hands over yours to guide them here and there while you shuffle and hide the cards according to his instruction—instruction which he practically murmurs into your ear, and you swear you can hear the smug smile in his voice each time you stiffen after he brushes his lips against the shell of your ear.

it’s painfully hard not to get distracted. hell, he must be actively trying to distract you by this point, because there’s no way it should be taking this long. (and yes, it is very much intentional; but it’s not his fault for wanting to spend as much time with you as possible, right?)

when you eventually get the trick, though, consider all your frustration gone when he peppers you with kisses as praise.

he's so sly sometimes, and even when you catch on to his act, he blinks his pretty eyes and plays coy, feighning innocence with a hand to his chest at your accusatory tone.

no, no, no! that wasn't his intentions! he was solely focused on the trick and nothing else. if anything, he makes it seem like you're at fault for your mind wandering to such things. Is he really to blame if you're the one being distracted by his "unintentional" charm?

he chuckles at the way you get choked up over his words. he's just so good at twisting them in his favour that it's hard to think of a rebuttle.

in the mist of your flustered state, he takes the opportunity to shower you with affection, planting feverent kisses that bloom warmth across your face, his hands pulling you closer to meet his lips.

the harmonious tune of your laughter mixes together, cards long forgotten somewhere on the table as Lyney embraces you.

after his lips finally depart yours, those purple eyes of his gaze fondly into yours, halflidded and joined by a smile adorning his face. you swear you could see the stars in his midnight eyes if you looked long enough.

"so, what other tricks can you show me?" you mused, flipping his hat onto your head in one fluid motion.

Lyney chuckled, adjusting his hat to sit perfectly on your head while his other hand still laid comfortably on your waist. "well, if you want to learn more magic, you'll have to start adressing me as teacher," he teased, and you sputtered at his words.

with a smirk, his brows raised again, this time a mischivious glint in his eyes as he held his chin. "or maybe... master's more your thing?"

before he could marvel in your reaction, he found himself already outside your door, his body turning against the hand on his back that quickly guided him out.

"I t-think that's enough magic for today!" you hastily said, pushing his hat back into his arms before adruptly closing your door.

"h-hey wait! what about my cards?" he asked, despite having a plethora of them at his disposal. unfortunately, he was met with no response.

"oh well..." he sighed, shaking his head with a smile. with a snap of his wrist, he went to place his hat back on, only to be showered with cards atop his head. he couldn't help but chuckle as they tumbled down, realizing your little scheme. seems like you had a few tricks up your sleeve as well.

[caramwlflan]

PKMN S/I MASTER POST

"Eden is an npc from the Pokemon Legends Arceus game. He is a baker from the Alola region that appears in the Hisui region following an *accident in his native region that forced him to flee Alola."

Eden will first be encountered shortly after finishing Obsidian Fieldlands. Firstly arriving at Jubilfe Village as a tourist. After the player has obtained the use of Ursaluna, he will begin to appear around the region at night, talking to him will unlock “The Noire Cafe” a cafe that only works at night and attends pokemon with nocturnal habits and earning the player the ability to buy pokepuffs and different sweets that will increase a Pokemon EVs, alongside their Friendship Level.

After the player calms the Noble Voltrob, he will make requests to see a Combee and later on, a Buneary. Completing these requests will inspire him and expand his repertoire of pokepuffs and sweets.

*The accident in question was a fire, where Eden was blamed. This explains his fears of fire and lack of fire types.

PKMN TEAM.

[schoenht]

My topic on this position paper was “Should cheer be considered a sport?” And I got 44/50, ending my grade with a B+, that’s damn impressive if I do say so myself

🍩

THAT IS IMPRESSIVE I REALLY WANT TO READ IT NOW

[seiwas]

I was talking about this under a post of @/ktsumu's; but this concept I have in my head for single dad osamu who's struggling to get his restaurant off the ground while also caring for his toddler daughter :') love 2 see a man being responsible, you feel?? I might just end up writing it as a non reader insert fic tbh, but also I feel bad because I am SUCH an osamu stan and the one fic I have for him has such a questionable reader lol (I'm worried this sounds like a plug, I swear it's not omg)

omg a single dad osamu 🥺 with a lil daughter PLEASE MOCHA this alr sounds like it’s gonna wreck me 😭 i think osamu 100% tries to do everything he can 🥺

oh how precious it would be, to have him clock out (or even close shop if there aren’t any other employees yet) for 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the afternoon just to bring her to school and pick her up 🥺 he makes up for it by using his 1hr lunch break to work 🥲🥺 and a core memory for her is definitely waiting for her papa to finish up in store at the end of the day, kicking her feet back and forth at a booth near the staff door 🥺 her little legs still can’t touch the ground 🥺

reader insert or not best believe i am RUNNING to that fic mocha 🥺 the premise already has my heart 🥹

[naomi-nana]

*dies from too much fluff*

-🍩🐈

aaa thank u so much for requesting!! i'm sorry if it's not what u expected T^T

[fanged-fanfics]

Could I request some Noir x fellow Spiderperson reader hcs please? He deserves all the love 💕

~🍩

☆ One Webhead to Another — Noir x Spiderperson!GN Reader HCs ☆

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Noir first met you during the initial multiverse mixup that led to him encountering the other spiderpeople to begin with. He confused you a bit with his very outdated slang-filled talk, but he found you intriguing, and stuck around wherever you went

ᯓᡣ𐭩 On instinct, he jumps to protect you whenever a battle breaks out, pulling you to his side like all those daring protagonists in old films. You have to keep reassuring him that your experience as a hero means you know how to defend yourself

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "If we make it out of here in one piece, you should swing by for eggcreams sometime"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Always takes an opportunity to tell you stories about fights back in his home dimension, even acts out some of the moves in the air as he does so. He returns the favor whenever you're recounting your own heroic tales

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sort of playfights with you in little ways, he might walk up to you and playfully lightly punch your arm as greeting or do mini sparring with you whenever you both need to pass the time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One of the calmer pasttimes you have together is simply attaching onto the same wall and talking about whatever's on your mind. Even when his advice doesn't make the most sense, he's a very attentive listener

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Since he still doesn't get the hang of colors, you like to let him try and learn the colors of your suit as practice. He still messes up now and then, but it is admittedly nice to have him admire you so closely

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Starts casually calling you by pet names and acts like it's just a nickname system. Claims it's common where he comes from, but really he just thinks nicknames like "doll" or "dove" suit you well

ᯓᡣ𐭩 If you return any pet names he gets flustered and hides his face either in the collar of his coat or under the brim of his hat, mumbling and saying it's just a little cold wherever you are

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Very chivalrous to you specifically. Opens doors, pulls out chairs, offers his coat, everything. Even occasionally brings you some flowers whenever he can get his hands on em. Anything you can carry, he'll offer to hold it for you, he does whatever he can to do little special gestures for you

[sweethoneyrose83]

1. In a world where colors have flavors, write a scene where an artist discovers that strawberries clash horribly with the paint from a mysterious brand, creating unexpected chaos on their canvas.

2. Explore a quirky culinary competition where chefs are challenged to incorporate a bizarre ingredient—strawberries—into dishes painted with a specific brand of unconventional paint.

3. Craft a short story set in a surreal art gallery where each painting's success is determined by the peculiar combination of strawberries and a particular brand of paint, leading to unexpected masterpieces and disasters.

4. Write a humorous dialogue between two characters trying to redecorate a room, only to find out that their chosen brand of paint clashes terribly with strawberries, leading to amusing misadventures.

5. In a dystopian future, describe a society where strawberries have become a forbidden fruit due to their disastrous interaction with a widely used brand of paint, exploring the consequences and challenges faced by those who dare to defy the prohibition.

[crybaby-bkg]

okay now that I’ve finished scorned and can start working on one shots again………….

feel free to ask about any of them, since I have most already started and have the premise of how they’re all gonna go!!!!

[rafesangelita]

[🍩] soft!dom!rafe x breeding kink x corruption kink😜😜 with hella dirty talk😫

warnings: innocent!reader, established relationship, making out, heavy petting, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), rafe is messyyyyy lol, unprotected sex, rough sex, crying, blood (very little, it’s from a bite lol), breeding, multiple orgasms, rafe slaps you just once, corruption kink, lots of dirty talk, first time, loss of virginity, fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, slapping, soft aftercare, brief mentions of having kids

a/n: i think i got really carried away with this but breeding kink with bambi was something i wanted to write but was unsure of how to start it lol so thank you so much for this request!

wc: 2.1k

rafe was in heaven right now and he wasn’t even inside of you yet. he kissed you gently, the feeling of your fingers stroking his face while he caged you between his arms was everything he didn’t know he needed. “you show up in this pretty little dress of yours, did you have this planned?” you gasped when you felt his hand snake under the soft material of your dress, his touch skimming over the waistband of your underwear. “no. ‘just wanted to look pretty for you..” you whispered, those doe eyes of yours beaming up at the man on top of you. “you do. you look perfect.” rafe sighed.

slipping his tongue in your mouth, your eyebrows drew together as you couldn’t help but move your hips against the thigh he had between your legs. rafe looked down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you rut against him. “does that feel good?” he hiked your dress up, wanting a better view of your clothed cunt. you hummed, your skin flushing as rafe concentrated on the way you moved underneath him. hands roaming your body, there wasn’t an inch of you that went untouched. slipping your dress off, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest.

despite you two being together for a while, the furthest you two had ever gotten was making out and a little groping here and there, but that was it. rafe had no problem waiting until you were ready to go there. you shivered, the chilly air of rafe’s room making your nipples harden right before his eyes. “fuck, bambi..” he cupped one of your tits, a whimper leaving your lips when he leaned down and took the other in his mouth. “are you okay if i do this?” you glanced down at his hand moving your underwear to the side. meeting his eyes, you nodded. “please.”

rafe watched your face morph into one of full blown pleasure when he gathered the wetness at your entrance and glided the tips of his fingers to your clit. “you’re soaked.” he laughed, making you turn your head away from him out of shyness. grabbing your chin, rafe squeezed your cheeks together and forced you to look at him as his fingers started working your sensitive bundle of nerves. you were instantly trying to draw away from his digits, the motions being far too much for you at once. “shhh, don’t run from it,” he licked a stripe up the column of your throat, “let me watch you.” he smiled teasingly.

you smiled back, only for it to be wiped from your face when he slapped your folds, the sensation making you jolt. despite it stinging for a quick second, you started chasing his hand for more. “you want another one?” he slapped you again, this time making your thighs shake, “my little whore likes that, huh?” you were surprised at the name calling, but even more suprised when you found out you liked it. “talk to me, baby. tell me what you want..” his lips ghosted over yours. rafe had gotten you so wet, you could hear your slick with each stroke of his fingers. “wanna go all the way with you, ray..”

rafe swore he could hear the angels singing. he’s been waiting, anticipating for this day to come. “yeah?” he kissed you, slotting himself between your thighs before pulling away from your cunt. “yes. ‘want you so bad!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. you watched him pop his fingers in his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his digits. oh, god. pulling him close, you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. taking your underwears off in one swift movement, you palmed rafe in his shorts, your eyes widening when you felt how large he was in your hand.

“you’ll be fine, baby. i’m gonna take such good care of you..” in rafe’s mind, you had already did this before, but the look on your face was starting to make him think otherwise. his suspicions were confirmed when you looked up at him with watery eyes. “is it going to hurt?” you whimpered, his erection resting heavily on your tummy. rafe studied you for a moment. “you’ve never had sex before?” you shook your head, biting your lip nervously. rafe felt so wrong for being so turned on at the revelation. “have you ever touched yourself?” rafe was on the brink of losing his mind. “no..”

that was it. this man was going to ruin you. “i’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.” you pouted, looking away from him. embarrassing? rafe felt like he could cum right then and there. “that’s not embarrassing at all, baby.” he reassured you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. “you know what that means? that means i get to turn you into my own personal little slut.” his words made butterflies flutter in your stomach. rafe unbuckled his belt, his shorts and boxers now long forgotten. despite being horny out of his mind, rafe still checked to make sure you were okay.

“are you sure about this, bambi?” you watched as he snaked down your body, hooking your thighs to his shoulders. a shaky breath left your lips, your hands intertwining with his as he pressed kisses to your flesh. “yes, i want you-” you were cut off by rafe’s tongue delving into your sweetness. your back arched off of his mattress, your thighs threatening to snap around his head. the only word you could use to describe the noises in rafe’s room was lewd. the slurping, grunting, moaning, it was all hitting you at once that this was actually happening.

rafe was so hard already, his own fist was wrapped around his cock as he sloppily lapped at your soaked pussy. he couldn’t get enough. instinctively, you couldn’t help your hips from grinding against his face, your boyfriend doing everything to make you tremble and shake in pure bliss. you freed one of your hands from his grip and trailed it up your chest, squeezing your tit while rafe groaned at the sight. “i haven’t even put any fingers in you, baby, you’re going to be a mess by the time i actually fuck you.” you cried out when he sucked your clit, his middle finger prodding at your entrance.

gasping at the intrusion, rafe shushed you as you whimpered at the unfamiliar stretch. “how are we doing, sweetheart?” he looked up at you, cursing under his breath. you were so fucking tight, he could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. “..hurts a little.” you took a breath, moaning when he curled his digit. “it’ll feel good soon, i promise baby. ‘gonna make you cum so fucking much.” he continued working on your clit, the added stimulation making your eyes screw shut. rafe waited until you were gasping his name before entering a second finger.

you practically screamed, your hands shooting down to dig your nails into his skin. “rafe, i think i’m!-” you froze, your eyes rolling back as you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. suddenly you couldn’t breathe, your mouth falling open in a silent moan before your legs started to shake. rafe knew you were cumming and it only made him go rougher on you, wanting your first orgasm to be unforgettable. inserting a third finger, your eyes shot open as you thrashed against his sheets, your body trying to retract from him.

“r-rafe, s’too much! i can’t!” your words came out choppy with each breath you tried to take, your boyfriend eventually bringing you down from your high. you had tears rolling down your cheeks, your entire body feeling like jelly as rafe came up from between your thighs. the lower half of his face, and even the tip of his nose, was glistening with your slick. rafe had given you a taste of something you soon felt like you couldn’t get enough of. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look down where he lined his cock up with your entrance.

you met each other’s eyes, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, before he slammed into you, both of you having two different reactions. while rafe doubled over, absolutely enthralled by how tight you were, you were crying, your nails leaving crescents in rafe’s side. you were only able to take half of his length, but rafe was determined to give you the whole thing by the time he was done. while the feeling wasn’t exactly painful, you just felt so full. rafe took your lips in a searing kiss, pulling out before thrusting into you again. “you feel so fucking good, you know that?” he praised you.

rafe started thrusting into you until any sense of discomfort melted away. “oh my god, look at you taking me so fucking well..” rafe whispered against your skin, littering your neck and chest with kisses. wrapping your arms around his neck, you didn’t hold back from moaning underneath him. “rafe go faster, please!” your boyfriend smiled, pulling away momentarily to see that dark look in your eyes. “whatever you want, baby.” you cried out when his hips slammed into your own, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “oh, rafe..” you shuddered, now that you were filled to the brim.

“you’re so perfect, you want this dick everyday?” you nodded frantically, not seeing how you could go without it now. “yeah? i bet you do..” he laughed, “‘been wanting to corrupt you since i got you, baby. your sweet little innocent eyes looking up at me when i would rub you through your panties, you have no idea how bad i wanted to get you naked and fuck you until you were crying for me to stop.” he slapped your cheek, a gasp leaving your lips at the action. “look at you now, you’re gonna be begging for this all the time.. ‘might just fuck a baby into you, huh?” you whimpered at his words.

“i want that.” you panted, his pubic bone slamming down on your clit with each thrust. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? get you all pretty and pregnant?” god, what was happening to you? “yes, ray! i want it so bad, ‘want your babies!” now it was rafe’s turn to get hysterical, the idea of you growing round with his seed turned him on beyond belief. “fuck!” he grunted, “oh, i wanna see that so bad, ‘want you walking around tanneyhill with your tummy full. everyone will know what we did.. what you let me do to you.” rafe didn’t care if it was the heat of the moment making you two talk like this, he just knew that you were it for him.

“how about i breed you right now, bambi? you want that?” he hoped you’d say yes, considering he wasn’t going to last very long. when he felt you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in, he nearly lost it by how turned on he was that you wanted the same thing. “please give it to me!” you cried, your boyfriend pulling you into his chest where he embraced you, making you unable to move away from him. you buried your face in his neck, biting down on his flesh as his hips stuttered, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside of you. you relished in the feeling, your walls milking him for all that he had.

“son of a- fuck! you’re squeezing me so fucking hard.” he shivered, the feeling of you gripping him from the base was undeniably the best thing he’s ever felt. reaching down, rafe rubbed hard circles on your clit until you came around him, only making you spasm even more. after you had raked your nails down his torso, and drew blood from biting him so hard, rafe had pulled out of you with a hiss, not a single drop of cum dribbling out. you had taken it all. “holy shit, are you okay, babe?” you looked spent. droopy eyes, swollen lips, tear stained cheeks, rafe thought you couldn’t get any more prettier than this.

you spotted the bite mark on his neck. “ray, you’re bleeding..” you attempted to sit up but failed pathetically when your arms gave out from under you. “s’okay.. stay right here, i’ll be right back.” you were dazed, your vision hazy as rafe went to grab a cold towel. when he came back, the blood from the curve of his neck was gone and he wrapped you in his sheets. dabbing the towel on your forhead, you suppressed a giggle at his ministrations. “i’m okay, rafe.” you pecked his cheek, grabbing his arm so he could spoon you. pressing a kiss to your temple, he massaged soothing circles into your side.

“you were so good for me, baby..” he whispered, his words making your heart flutter in your chest. “you promise i wasn’t some amateur?” rafe shushed you, a laugh tumbling from his mouth. “no way, you were great. i don’t know how we’re gonna get through a day without ravaging each other.” you hummed, already daydreaming about the next time. “did you mean what you said earlier? about wanting a baby?” rafe turned you around so you were face to face. you trailed a finger down his jaw. “well, i’ve always wanted kids..” you smiled. “with me though?” rafe’s eyes softened when you nodded.

“with only you..”

[skippydiesposting]

the really funny thing is that one of the major themes of Skippy Dies is the danger of getting too invested in your obsessions so maybe I haven't learned anything at all

[maehemthemisfit]

lyney is .. not one to trust easily.

you found it ironic.

or, perhaps, it fit perfectly — because why else would someone without trust become a magician if not to fuel their cynicism?

you were aware of this since first meeting him. he had a suave demeanor, sure, an air of swoon-worthy confidence — but that was just the type of person you were always weary of.

you didn’t believe in magic. he didn’t, either.

he had piercing eyes. a gaze that looked as if it could bore into your very soul and sear it while still hiding his intentions. yet, the look in his eyes was the one thing that he was unable to mask; and you, ever-observant as you are, picked up on the sorrow and hesitation within them without a second glance. though, in your opinion, it didn’t take someone as astute as you to notice that he was not all flowery words and romantic gestures.

it was a facade. that, to you, was clear to see — even with how desperately, and how adept he was, at trying to hide it.

the moment someone asked him about his troubles and he simply diverted their attention was the one that solidified your suspicions. while you never really had a solid foundation to build doubt upon, it seems you were correct — as usual. you relied more on intuition, you supposed, though that was just as unreliable as the look in someone’s eyes.

you, of course, did not inquire about this instance. after all, you figured prying would be a step forward and three back.

instead, you kept a close eye on him whenever you met. harboring a sly tongue, showcasing an air of confidence, and working in a field based around sugarcoated lies — why wouldn’t you?

it was only an attempt at learning more about someone born out of skepticism. so, imagine your surprise when this very same skepticism turns into more of a curiosity, then an infatuation, and then love.

you never really thought you could fall for someone like him. he was just too guarded, too dishonest — a far cry from yourself, who valued truth above all else.

even so, you two grew close. slowly but surely, he’d opened himself up to you, even as it scared him greatly to do so.

first, it was a small truth, here and there, in a sea of lies; until the honesty began soaking up the deception like a sponge, and instead what poured out of the sink next time you turned the faucet on was all verity.

soon after, your birthday came. it had already been a year since you’d met..? it didn’t feel like that long.

lyney was the first to approach you. that wasn’t unusual, of course; you two practically saw each other every day, now. he waved you down, sauntered up to you, and presented you with ..

“i have a feather here, just an ordinary feather... go ahead, you can hold it and see for yourself.”

you did as he said. you took the feather from his deft grasp, careful not to brush against him even if his hands were gloved.

“ready? and... boom!”

you didn’t flinch when it ‘miraculously’ changed shape in your grasp, turning into a flurry of colors before your very eyes. after all, you were used to his tricks by now.

“it was a party popper all along. happy birthday!”

he reached into the air, grasping a scattered piece of it between his thumb and forefinger.

“see this? i caught one of the paper streamers floating down. now, make a wish and picture a birthday gift in your mind's eye as i light it.”

and, you do. you don’t believe in magic, and you definitely don’t believe he can read your mind — but, perhaps .. you’d humor him. just this once.

“three... two... one... great! verrry good, i know exactly what you were thinking now. the last step, put your hand inside my hat...”

and perhaps he wasn’t all lies, because the moment he turned and pressed a soft kiss to your lips was the moment you did begin believing in magic — and, maybe, he did, too, because this time, it wasn’t a trick or meticulous setup. it was a true miracle.

“well? it it the gift you wanted?”

— the mutual who asked about sending a fic earlier!! happy (maybe belated, now?) birthday!

UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YES. YES THIS IS THE GIFT I WANTED !!!!!!!!!!!!! UYERHYJUEKSURUDSKDEDMURNMFJRH