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fanaticsnail · 6 months ago

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Dreaming of You

Series Masterlist

Word count: 2,300+

Synopsis: He couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in his dreams. The way he had you wrapped around his body as a marionette in his minds, dancing for them as he awoke to sticky blankets when he jolted upright. His thoughts got the better of them, and he wanted to make them a reality.

Warnings: king x afab!reader, size difference, monsterfucking, wet dreams, NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, grinding, degradation, praise, (pet names: little star, little one, pet, slut), masturbation, size kink, bukkake, dubcon, masturbating while listening to masturbating. It does not fit.

Notes: This one got away with me. First time writing for King. There is a large size difference.

Sitting on a large throne within the dark room, the lunarian King took residency over his dominion. Wisps of smoke-like vapors flooded the outer perimeter as you approached the giant bench made for kneeling. Your gown lay in a deep ‘v’ cut down to your naval, dual leg slits rising to your hip bones on either leg. Holding your head high, you held your arms out either side of you as you looked down your nose at him and hardened your quaking emotions.

Helmet lain askew by his side, he beckoned you in closer with a coax of his large finger. “Closer, little star. Don't be shy. A little closer for me.”

He watches as your eyes drift down to his other hand, wrapped around his cock and slowly pistoning the hard shaft within his soft, vice-like grip. The length of his cock was almost the height of your body from the balls of your feet, to the tip of your diaphragm. His girth was the width of your torso, thick and veiny while throbbing in deep desire.

Not ignoring the bob in your throat at such a request, he allowed a low growl to pass through his lips at your hesitation.

“I will not ask again, pet,” his lips curled back as he snarled at you, the creases in his eyes at his deep furrow warning you of the danger you were in at this request. “You wanted this. You asked for this. You said you would do it,” he rose from the seat, towering over you at his full height, “So do it.”

Gulping back your fear of the right hand of Kaido, you nod at him and slowly approach his throne, ushering him down with a soft and calm gesture of your hands. He sighed out through his nose, slouching back into his seat with a gruff huff, lazily fisting at his cock as he watched your sultry approach.

Reaching up to the mid of your gown, you tugged at the drawstring and revealed your bare form to him while attempting to conceal your joy at the small shudder in his jaw at your appearance. Bare for his eyes only, you nodded at him and slowly walked up the steps towards the throne.

“What made you make such a lewd suggestion, little star?” He asked, reaching his hand out towards you as you approached. You tilted your head to the side, almost brushing your scalp against the tip of his cock as you stood between his legs.

“Curiosity,” you utter with a soft hum. Looking down through the corner of your eyes, he noticed you assessing his size as you stood beside his cock. He noticed how close it was in size to you, his lips curling up into a smirk as he compared the size of his tip to your head. You playfully stood flush beside it for him to make the true comparison.

“And is your curiosity satisfied?” he asked, releasing your fingers from his hand and reclining back onto the seat. You hum in falsified thought, tapping your chin before you reach for his cock and giving it a gentle caress.

“Almost,” you smirk back at him, mirroring his dark playfulness to match his energy. “How do you want me?” You ask, truly curious while looking around the room. It was his turn to him in thought, never thinking about the technicalities of such a tryst, only the desire that came from the request.

“When you're alone, how do you picture me? On-top of you, beneath you, above you, below you?” He smirked, noticing your fluster as you bit your lip, “I know you do, pet. Talk to me.” You gulp back as he stoops lower.

“Do you grind yourself down, pressing that pretty cunt into your hand or pillow, and rock your hips like a needy little slut?” He huskily purred at you, watching the heat rise in your face and bottom lip quiver, “Or do you lie on your back and use those little digits to roll your clit against them until your back arches. C’mon, little star. Tell me what you like to do when you picture me.”

You gulp, stuttering in your mind before words could even form coherent strings between your lips. His grin widens at your silence, toying and fussing at your bare skin with his fingers.

“Or maybe you like to stand, hm? Stand up with your legs parted on your tip-toes while you picture my fat cock pistoning through them?” your breath hitches at the filth pouring from his lips, not escaping your notice how his cock bobs and twitches at each suggestion. “C'mon, little one, talk to me. Tell me how you picture me when you think about riding my cock. There is no way it will fit inside you, so you better tell me-.”

“-I like grinding,” you hurriedly confess, finally stifling your nerves enough to inform the gargantuan of your preferences, “I like being on top and rolling my hips down. I like the feeling of my clit being overwhelmed by every rocking movement I make against my hands, or a pillow.” King chuckles and leans back in his chair with a deep sigh in gratuity, pumping his shaft in languid motions.

“Go on, pet. What happens, hm?” he prodded you, causing you to nod at him as you continue.

“I like to picture you as you are here, sat on a chair with your cock in your palm,” you profess your desires to the larger man without shame, approaching him with intentional strides, “I like to picture me straddling your cock and gliding my slick pussy against your shaft while you use me. Taking me in both hands and using my body to masturbate with.” He grinned at you, his eyes darkening as a deep growl purred from the pit of his gut.

“And then?” he continued, his hands picking up, pinching the blunt tip of his cock as his arousal pooled from the head of his cock and began to gather in his digits.

“Then, I picture your cum painting my body from head to toe,” you whisper your final confession while placing soft kisses to his hot shaft, “And then I cum so fucking hard I see stars. I cry for you.” He growled, halting his motions and circling your waist with one of his hands.

“That sounds marvelous. But with two slight adjustments,” he easily hoisted you in the air without effort, drawing you up to his face as he purred at you. “One: you're going to be beneath me. I want to see those pretty eyes roll back in your skull when you cum.”

You whimper as he moves you down to his cock, parting your thighs and mediately slotting himself against you.

“And, two:” he moved your arms and legs to hook around him from beneath and lock you in place by your own arms, “You're going to cum before me. Got that? You're gonna cum so fucking hard for me, everyone's gonna hear you scream.”

In one hand alone, he rocked your body against his hot shaft. The veins of his underside ground themselves against your glistening pussy and caused you to cry out. This was far better than anything you had ever imagined of him, or attempted to stimulate yourself on. No grinding pad, vibrator, hands, other cocks or pillows had come close to the throbbing cock currently wrapped within the grasp of your body.

Rocking his hips, he ensured your ass and thighs were supported by his smallest and unity fingers. Your back was circled by his index and middle while he pressed his palm up against your hips to ensure you were flush against him.

“Keep-... Fuck-... Keep your arms wrapped around me, little star,” he ordered, continuing to use your body to grind onto himself with. “Legs too. Lock them at the ankles and grind that pretty cunt against me. I can feel how slick you are. How wet you are for me.”

You let out a soft mewl in protest to his words, but the feeling of his thick cock was too good on you to care. Doing as he asked, you clasped your ankles together while embracing his shaft by circling them around him. His tip was so close to your face, you could see how much desire he had for you in the soft pearlescent dewdrop expelling itself from his slit.

Rocking your hips in time with his slow motions, you felt your chest and ass ripple with each motion. Continuing to grind into him, soft gasps and groans flew from Kings lips at each piston.

Finally growing tired of the languid pace, he circled his other hand against you and thrust his hips up in time with his desperate thrusts. Huffing and panting, his wings fluttered behind him as he began to desperately seek out his satisfaction by using your body. The sloppy claps echoed throughout the room each time he bucked his hips up into you, the tip of his cock grinding against your face before your ass would slap against his balls beneath him.

Each time your ass clapped against his balls, his pitch would get higher and more desperate. The chant of: “fuck, fuck, fuck,” spilt from his lips alongside your name as he continued to use your body to chase his own satisfaction. Deciding to add more to his pleasure, you parted your lips to kiss the swollen tip of his cock each time your face met with it. Rolling your tongue and mouthing at him, you could feel your desire pool in the pit of your belly and coil tighter.

Throwing his head back, his pace quickened. If your ankles were not locked together, you would've been all over the place with floppy legs at the amount of pleasure the pressure was sending you. Growing erratic, he gazed back down at you and snarled through dangerous eyes.

“You better cum, little one. Cum for me. Be a good little slut and cum on my cock like this,” he barked, thrusting his hips up to punctuate his order. You whimpered as your body felt ignited with pleasure, only needing one more thing to truly set your own hunger alight.

“Cum on me, King. I need you to cum on my face and use my body to meet your high. I promise I'll cum, please,” you begged him, causing his breath to hitch as he continued to rock your much smaller head against his sensitive tip and frenulum while your body ground itself against his veiny shaft.

“You want me to fucking cum? I'll cum for you, little slut. Tongue out, n-now,” he staggered, his orders shooting sparks of lighting down your body and weaving the coil tighter in your stomach. As you lulled your tongue out, his eyes rolled back and his cock twitched with desperation.

“F-Fuck, I'm gonna-!” was all the warning he gave you before ropes of his release flooded your face and dripped down your torso, adding that final wave of lust to shoot lighting into your body. As his cum struck your face, lighting shot through you as your vision snapped white.

“K-King!” you screamed, your pussy twitching as you gushed on his cock. The friction added to your ecstasy as his cum continued to pool from his tip and overwhelm you with his viscous lust.

“Nghh- cumming-, fuck, fuck, take it. Take my cum, little star. Take it,” he barked at you, his feral desire to mark you with his cum as you screamed and mewled on his cock in time with your release grew more and more. Calling your name and chasing his high, he both degraded you and praised you for being so good and listening. Your little whimpers and whines set him off more, the peak of his release overwhelming your senses as it dripped down his base.

As he looked down at your body covered in cum, his vision faded into dark whisps. The shadows from the room engulfed you within and he shot himself upright.

Finding himself alone in his room had him roar in rage. Peeling back the blankets, he noticed his cock was twitching as his waistband now stuck to his abdomen with the sticky coat of shame trickling down his abdomen. He was overwhelmed at the knowledge that he called your name in his sleep, his dream conjuring up your image to tempt him with…

…and the fact he liked it so much.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging his hand down and beginning to ride out the final waves of his dream by calling your name and grinding his cock into his palm. A pathetic final spurt released from his tip as his orgasm was already spilt within his pants. Groaning out a soft whine, he shamelessly used your name as he pictured those final moments of your body on his cock.

Eyes blissed out, arms and legs braced against him, tongue lulled and covered in his cum. He needed that. He needed you. He was going to have you.

Moans from King's bedroom had your hand slipping down the front of your pants, your index and middle finger dancing against your body as soon as you heard him call your name. You knew you shouldn't be doing this, but the echos of his gruff moans were too hard for you to ignore. As he reached his high and called your name, you clapped your other hand over your lips as your body was ushered into your own ecstasy. Rocking your hips and stifling your silent scream in your palm, you came hard on your hand.

Removing your fingers from your pussy, you wiped them on your thigh to rid them of slick before turning away and scurrying back down the hallway towards your own room with haste.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

#one piece #x reader #dreaming of you #king the wildfire #king x reader #op king #one piece king #one piece smut #giant x human #one piece x reader #king the wildfire x reader #afab!reader

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4ranghaes · 1 month ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd with plus size!reader

bnd ot6 x reader [separate classifications for each]

a/n - this was a selfish desire cause as a fat girly i have a lot of opinions, but also none of these really include insecure!reader maybe a couple of doubts but nothing major cause i HATE when it’s a plus size reader fic and it’s just them crying in the mirror😭

sungho🎀 [fluff, gender neutral!reader but wearing panties, suggestive, w: sungho’s clothes not fitting reader]

“baby please,” he repeated, his face pressed into your stomach, his hands gripping at your hips. he was on his knees between your legs as he begged.

you laughed, placing your hands on the sides of his head and picking it up so he was looking up at you, eyes full of pleading, “i can’t tonight, sungho!”

sungho whined, his head dropping back to your body. you chuckled, playing with his hair gently. so far, he’d been begging you to sleep round for almost 3 hours - to no avail.

“you have work tomorrow, i have lunch plans, and what the fuck would i even wear?!”

“you can wear my clothes!”

you glared down at your boyfriend. at your silence, he glanced up at you.

“what?!”

you laughed, placing your hands on his cheeks and squeezing his face together, his lips forming a pout, “you’re joking, right?”

sungho ignored your comment, whining again, “look. i have to go work at 8am. i’ll make sure you’re up when i am, a–and our driver can even drop you home, so you can start getting ready for lunch!”

you whined, sitting up on your elbows. he did plead a good case, especially as his fingertips ran up and down your sides gently. “sungho…” you started, before sighing, “okay fine. but that still doesn’t solve my pyjama problem!”

sungho cheered, placing his hands on your jaw and kissing you roughly, “thank you! thank you! …thank you.”

you smiled before he jumped up from the bed, rummaging through his drawers. he held up a t-shirt which you tilted your head at. sitting up on your knees, you grabbed the material out his hands and held it up to your body, hissing in contemplation.

“i don’t think so,” you laughed, the material barely even covering the width of your body. you giggled, teasing him, “this is a limited time offer, sungho, if you can’t find me something to wear i’m gonna have to leave.”

“one moment!”

he ran out the room, leaving you laughing to yourself as you heard him cluttering through the rail of clothes outside. “oversized… i need oversized!” you burst out laughing, sungho finally appearing back in the room holding several options of t-shirts and jumpers.

“eh?” he smiled, holding them up, offering them out to you. you hummed in deliberation, finally deciding on one of zico’s old oversized t-shirts he’d given your boyfriend during his trainee days.

“but what about pants?” you pouted, immediately taking off your top and bra, sungho biting his lip as he watched you pull the t-shirt over your head, before pulling your jeans down as well.

you got up, walking to sungho’s en-suite bathroom, ready to take your make-up off. sungho appeared behind you, as you looked up at his smirking face in the mirror.

“i mean… do you need those, really?” he hummed, hands resting on your hips, feeling over the material of your lacy panties. he leaned down, kissing the crook of your neck.

“sungho,” you grumbled, “i just agreed to sleeping over. don’t push it.” he looked up from your shoulder, catching your gaze in the mirror with an innocent look before flashing you a teasing smile.

riwoo🦦🍡 [fluff, gender neutral!reader, slightly suggestive, w: mentions of clothes shopping difficulties]

“woah, sweet, come look at this one,” riwoo called, beckoning you over with the casual nickname.

you looked up from your own rack of clothes, heading over to where your boyfriend stood. he pulled out one item in particular, motioning towards it with his other hand. you gasped, it was beautiful.

“ya– sanghyuk!” you whined, almost tearing up as you grabbed the material.

“go! go try it on,” he smiled, pushing you towards the changing rooms, the material still grasped tightly in your hands. the proud smile on his face juxtaposed the usual sorrowful one he had whenever the two of you went shopping, every potential item you saw just another one in a long line of ‘up to size L’ or, god forbid, ‘free size’.

his heart had broken to see your disappointed-but-trying-not-to-show-it face one too many times until he finally hunted out a plus size clothing shop with nice clothes for a change, too; hongdae. finally.

you pulled open the curtain of the changing room, riwoo being snapped back to reality at the sound of your voice.

“what do you think?”

he turned to you, breaking out in a smile. he opened his mouth to respond, though no words would come out. he bit his lip.

“what?” you laughed, nervously.

“you’re so beautiful,” he chuckled, walking forward and gripping onto the material before holding your waist instead, looking back up to your face, “what do you think?”

“i love it so much, sanghyuk-ie,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief, “thank you for finding this place.”

he shook his head, dismissing your comment. riwoo let go of your body, physically turning you to face the changing booth again.

“let’s put that in the buying pile and continue looking round, hmm?” he smiled, “there’s 3 floors!”

you squealed, pulling him into a hug as he smiled, rubbing your back. he pulled away, his lips remaining close to your ear as his hand trailed down to your ass, “plus the third is all lingerie.”

you pulled away to see your boyfriend raising his eyebrows suggestively at you, pulling a laugh from you, “get lost. but also we’re buying everything.”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [fluff, fem!reader, w: mentions of ex being weird with readers body, but jaehyun’s very touchy]

“my love!”

“jaehyun-ah!” you laughed, ending with a scream as you watched your boyfriend run into his bedroom, jumping onto the bed and onto you, who he gripped onto like a koala, crushing you with his weight. you groaned, laughing, “get off me!”

he giggled, his hair tickling you as he pressed his face into your neck, “ugh, you’re so comfy.”

you laughed, running a hand through his hair as you felt him relax into you, “myungjae, you need to wash first. you stink!”

jaehyun chuckled, sitting up and looking down at you, “shower with me?”

you scoffed, “no, absolutely not.”

“what?! why?!”

“cause you’re gonna wanna have sex and i am not having sex standing up with you,” you laughed, “just have a shower, horndog, then maybe we can have sex.”

jaehyun laughed, slightly embarrassed that his plan had been foiled as he trudged to the shower with a pout on his lips. when he came out, he was free of make-up on his face, his naturally darker skin shining through and his hair was dripping onto his bare chest; white towel hung round his waist.

he groaned as he walked out, “that was a good idea.”

“what?” you chuckled, peering up at him from where you lay, watching as he got dressed.

“not having you in the shower with me,” he smiled shyly, “i’m so tired. i don’t think i’ve ever needed cuddles more in my life.”

you smiled warmly, your boyfriend so prone to expressions of love through touch; but rarely admitting that he needed them. must be serious. “and who am i to deny that?!”

jaehyun giggled, moisturising his face quickly before climbing into his bed, basketball shorts and a hoodie over his body as he pulled the blanket over the two of you as well. he pulled your leg up over his body, his own leg wrapping round yours as he wrapped his arms around you. your head was nuzzling into his chest, his own resting atop yours. you couldn’t have been physically closer if you tried, but both of you continued to shift, as though trying to engulf each others’ bodies.

“you’re so beautiful, my girl,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as his hands ran over your body. one ended up resting on your stomach, as it often did, the other on the swell of your hip, moving towards your ass.

you giggled, your hand placed firmly on his bicep as you peered up to his bare face, “says you. you’re so pretty, myungjae.”

he scoffed, trying to live up to his usual jokes and antics, but too tired to form any witty comeback; he just shook his head. his hand gripped onto your hip fat like a handle, the other resting under the swell of your stomach, cupping the fat in his hand.

“you’re the only person i let touch me like this,” you whispered, playing with the strings of his hoodie as you spoke the vulnerable words into the quiet room.

“really?”

you nodded, “i would have let my ex but he was weird about it. just held my waist instead.”

myungjae furrowed his eyebrows, tutting, “it’s not just about letting me, it’s my favourite place! when you wear lingerie for me? and the panties are like up here on your hips, framing your stomach? ugh, my girl, you’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

you giggled, pushing the hood of his hoodie off his head and placing your hands on the back of his neck, you pecked his lips gently, “thank you.”

jaehyun winked, before laughing. he pulled you closer, your face once again being buried in his chest as he kissed your forehead, “my girl.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ [fluff, fem!reader, they’re ready for oasis fr, w: slightest insecure!reader, conscious of stomach in a tight dress, mentions of carrying reader]

“y/n, are you ready yet, we need to—”

taesan shut his mouth upon walking into your bedroom, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the dress that hugged your body.

you screwed up your nose, staring in the mirror as you ran your hands over your thighs. you turned to taesan with a hum, “how’s this? i don’t know.”

“well,” he coughed, straightening himself back up, “first of all, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon. and second of all, i don’t ever want you to change out of that dress, let alone try other options now.”

you giggled, turning back to the mirror with a smile, “really?”

taesan pressed the door shut behind him, walking over and placing his hands on your hips, kissing your neck softly, his shaggy black hair tickling your collarbones.

“you’re so beautiful,” he hummed, moving his hands round to rest on your waist, running over the front of your thighs and your stomach as they went, “fuck me…”

you giggled, placing a hand on his face and turning to give him an awkwardly positioned kiss. he chuckled against your lips. stepping away from his body, taesan reached out for you once again, cupping your jaw in his large hands as he studied your face. you stared each other for a few moments before you broke the silence.

“is it not a bit formal for a concert?”

he chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut, “did you not hear what i just said?!” he stepped away, looking you up and down once again, whistling as he did so.

“are you comfortable?” he checked, as you nodded in reply, “what’s wrong then?”

“it’s a bit… revealing, no?” you hummed, running your hands over the material of the dress stretched over your body as you turned back to the mirror. the dress was pretty short, but not scandalously; the most scandalous thing the low neck line, showing off your tits, and the tight material, showing off all your curves.

taesan scoffed, his lips rolling with the noise, “and why do you think i like it so much?”

you rolled your eyes, sighing, “too booby?”

“is there such thing?”

“too stomach-y?”

taesan smiled, coming and wrapping his arms around you, his hands splayed over your stomach, “doesn’t exist to me. now come on! we can’t be late, i’ve been waiting for this concert my whole life.”

you smiled, nodding. no doubts were worth making late taesan for the event of his life. “okay i just need to put my shoes on.”

“put trainers on!” he exclaimed, walking round and gathering his last minute bits, “i’m not carrying you home because you wore inappropriate shoes.”

you scoffed, already pulling on your converse, flashing taesan a teasing smile as he watched from the bedroom door, “like you could carry me.”

leehan🪸🐠 [fluff, gender neutral!reader, heavily based around the way leehan gets whenever riwoo eats around him, also actually could be reader of any size but i just love the idea as a fat girl, w: eating, leehan observing reader eat]

“y/n! leehan! food's here,” myungjae's voice rang through the lower dorm. you smiled, getting up from where you lay against your boyfriend's body. he groaned, comfortable where he was.

“come on, angel,” you spoke, grabbing his hand and attempting to pull him up, “you haven't eaten anything apart from cereal and jellies all day.”

leehan laughed, finally getting up from the bed and following you out to the kitchen where the smell of tteokbokki and chicken filled both of your senses.

“thank you! i'll eat well!” sungho said loudly, helping himself to some chicken before moaning, “ugh, that's so good!”

you sat down opposite the two boys at the dinner table, leehan taking the seat next to you. you both thanked myungjae for getting the food before tucking in.

“wah,” leehan spoke, his mouth full of tteok, “y/n have some of this.”

you were munching on a piece of chicken as he took your plate, loading up the cheesy tteokbokki, sausages and fishcakes. you whined, “stop! i'm fine.”

“just eat,” leehan said, shoving the plate back to you.

you rolled your eyes, eating the food he'd loaded onto your plate before moaning too, “that's so good.”

“right?” leehan laughed, helping himself to another bit of chicken, his body was turned in your direction as he sat with a small smile on his face, watching you eat. he dropped the piece of chicken he was eating on his plate, picking up another and dipping it in the tteokbokki sauce before holding it up to your mouth. “here, try it with the sauce.”

“donghyun-ah—,” you laughed, as leehan rolled his eyes, grumbling.

“i'll be sad if you don't take it,” he teased, “you want to make me sad?”

jaehyun laughed from the other side of the table, “just let him feed you, y/n, you know what he’s like.”

you rolled your eyes while looking at jaehyun and sungho, the two boys chuckling at you and your boyfriend.

“do you want something else to eat after this?” leehan asked, unbothered by the spectators. he placed his cutlery on his plate, signalling that he, regardless of his words, was done eating.

“like what?” you asked, taking another piece of chicken after the tteokbokki had now been cleared by the four of you. jaehyun and sungho sniggered at leehan’s words as they cleaned up.

he shrugged, his hand going to the back of your neck, playing with the base of your hair, “dessert food?”

you eyed him shyly, as leehan laughed at your reaction, “i’ll order it.”

you shook your head, protesting loudly, “no! don’t! you’re not gonna eat any and you’re gonna make me eat it for you.”

leehan smiled, kissing your forehead as he watched you finish the chicken, “so? i like watching you eat. i don’t need to eat when i watch it.”

“eat, please,” you begged, picking up the last of the chicken and bringing it to his mouth. he laughed, eating it.

“so?” he asked, finishing his mouthful, “waffles?”

woonhak🧸 [fluff, fem!reader, w: talking of other girls & ideal body type, just pretty wholesome though]

“woah look at this,” you said, moving your phone closer to where your boyfriend sat next to you, blaring a video of a girl doing a dance similar to that you see a lot of from woonhak himself. “she’s so sexy.”

woonhak scoffed, nodding as he admired the video, “being able to dance certainly makes someone more attractive, huh? she’s not my type at all but she’s got charm to her there.”

you nodded, chuckling slightly before scrolling on. woonhak's words weighing on your brain.

“what is your type?” you finally hummed, putting your phone down on your lap and turning more to your boyfriend’s body; head on his shoulder, leg slung over his own. his arm naturally slung over your shoulder, peering down at you as your eyes shined up at him.

“hmm,” he paused, beginning to laugh slightly, “is this a trap?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes, “i know you love me, it’s not about that. i’m just curious. were you into chubby girls before?” your voice was teasing, as woonhak rolling his eyes back at you.

“why?” he retorted, eyeing you, before replying properly, “i don’t think i have a type, really.”

“you just said she’s not your type!” you laughed.

“okay,” he said, humming, “and what if i am into chubby girls, huh? hmm?”

he started tickling your waist as you wriggled to escape his touch, your body flailing on the bed as woonhak smiled down at you.

“get off!” you laughed, ending up panting on the bed next to him, his body caging you in as he leaned up on one arm.

“you’re the love of my life,” he said with complete seriousness, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “if you’re you, no matter what you look like, i’ll love you.”

you giggled, trailing your hands through woonhak's soft hair, as he kissed your lips softly. his hands moved down your body, his hand on your waist, then down to rest on your thigh.

“your body’s just a bonus,” he grinned, gripping at the fat of your hips before kissing you again as you giggled into his lips.

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mithrandirl · 7 months ago

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i always get questions when i do a split gifset, and it's a deceptively simple process so i thought i'd try to show how i do it! i don't know if these types of gifsets have a more universally recognized name, but that's what i call them so that's what i'm going with.

i'm going to write this assuming you have a solid familiarity with photoshop and making gifs, but please feel free to send me an ask if anything is unclear. i use video timeline/smart objects so will be showing that (here's a great general tutorial on giffing with timeline). i will also be talking A LOT about gif dimensions, so first let's briefly go over the limits and theory a little bit.

a 1 column gifset can accommodate gifs 540 pixels wide

2 columns = 268 pixels each with a 4 pixel gutter between

3 columns = 177, 178, 177 pixels with 4 pixel gutters

i'm mostly going to talk about 2 column split gifs here (what i will refer to as 2x1 from now on - 2 across and 1 high), but the process is the same for 3 column (3x1) and so on (1x2, 2x2, etc).

so, why would you even want to make a gifset like this? i mean, let’s face it, generally, bigger is better for gifs on tumblr, and there are obvious incentives to 540 width gifs over 268 or 177/8 width, especially since the upload limit went to 10MB. but even 10MB isn’t much when you’re talking about high quality footage. gif making is a constant balance between quality (whatever that means to you: frame dimensions, sharpening, coloring, etc) and file size. split gifs are a cheat to that limitation >:)

i personally believe an untapped frontier of tumblr gifmaking is playing with dimensions and time. that sentence makes me sound like an old-timey sci-fi villain, but you get the idea: gifmaking is an art and there are many fun and interesting ways of exploring the medium. you can do a lot with 268 pixels! longer frame loops to gif longer scenes unbroken, bolder coloring on a wide shot you don’t want to pare down. and, a shorter x axis means the y axis’s bang goes a lot further on a buck. also just if you have a 2 column set but only 5 gifs so you need to make one take up 2 slots. there's a lot of reasons but the most important one is it's fun :) here are some examples of other split gifs i've made: x, x, x

this isn't so much a limitation, more of a shift in how you think about gifs, but it's important to remember that each gif should ideally be doing something still. when making split gifs, it’s easy to pick a wide scene without thinking about how it’ll be split down the middle, and then you’re left with a lot of something on one side and a lot of incongruous nothing on the other - or you're left with a person cut in half awkwardly in the middle. so while a split gif can still be a whole scene, you shouldn’t ignore the break and what it means to the bigger picture. now this is personal preference, but i like to play with the break and make it a part of the gifset. mirrored movement, subjects trapped on either side but still talking to each other, a bird flying from one side to the other. fun with frames! it can be another way of drawing attention to specific images/moments/feelings happening within the same shot.

SIMPLE SPLIT GIFS

to more narrowly define what i’m calling “simple split gifs,” it’s one set of frames split down the middle into two separate gifs that are meant to play concurrently, side by side.

first thing's first, crop your gif and uncheck delete cropped pixels if it is not already (very important). i'm cropping it to the 1x1 size, in this case 268x350. if you need to see how the full size will look, you can try it out with 536 first. but this one is pretty easy, this is the exact center of the frame (the left boundary of this crop is the center line) and both their heads fit within their respective 1x1 crop.

then color as you normally would. if your scene is very different one side to the other, it might be easier for you to color on a wider crop and then either crop again or copy paste your coloring to the smaller crop version. i do that with the 2x6s, but it's usually not that big a deal to color the 2x1s with just the small crop on your canvas at the time. this scene is very symmetrical, both in movement and colors, so i'm good.

now the fun part! once you've got one side how you want it, save/export as you normally would. at this point i also like to make a mental note of how many frames there are.

so i have 49 frames and it's still only ~3MB! this is just an example that i picked from my rotk fancy set, otherwise i probably would have made this gif longer.

then onto the other side, so i ctrl + z my way back to my smart object video timeline. to get to theoden i just drag and drop the smart object 268 pixels over. since this one is in the exact center of the image, it even helpfully guides me (this can get annoying if you are NOT giffing the center of the image fyi, but you can always manually go pixel by pixel too if you need to with your <- -> keyboard buttons. just always remember where you started and count accurately). i can never move around my smart object without hiding the adjustment layers on top of it, so you'll see me do that in this screen recording.

see how it corrected me when i dragged it a few pixels down by accident, and with all those pink guidelines? sometimes photoshop is good 😌

then make sure you still like the coloring, adjust whatever needs to be adjusted, but watch out! don't make any major changes because it still has to match the other side. and export again.

what we perceive as 1 series of frames chopped down the middle is just 2 separate gifs with the same frame rate. when tumblr loads the images, it will run concurrently in the post (even though it never does in the draft post 🙄). and that's it!

COMPLEX SPLIT GIFS

again i'm making up terms, but i call anything with more than 2 components a complex split gifset. i've tweaked some things in the process as i went along, but this is generally how i did the lotr series. these sets are basically just many split gifs with transitions. and here's where endurance becomes a factor :) there's a lot of prep done blind. but if set up well, it will be fairly easy to pull together by the end.

first i decide on my dimensions, using my upper bounds to determine how big i'm going to go. since lotr has very nice large file sizes, i can go pretty big without sacrificing much in quality. i decided on 3 rows of 350 pixel height gifs and it's worked well for me. that means my biggest gif will have a total height of 1050 pixels - fun! you could also do 8 rows, with two 2x2s or just a series of 2x1s that transition to 1x1s. there really is no limit to this except your imagination and source material.

i cap everything i'm going to use before i even open photoshop, then do all of them at once. uncheck delete cropped pixels, then i make my gifs! this is where i spend 90% of the time on this set. every gif should be the size of the smallest 1x1 gif (268x350 for me). i make all 10 into a fully colored, separate psd. (and then i usually go back through all of them a few times to get the colors to match better 😅) for the bigger ones (2x1: 536x350 and 2x6: 536x1050), i just crop them as if they were 1x1 but always thinking about how they will look when big. this gets tricky when i do the big one :) my lazy workaround for that is to basically make it twice: one cropped as it will be and one full size for me to color. then i copy and paste all the coloring layers onto the small one and voila, i know that the coloring in the upper right slice will also look good on the bottom left slice 1050 pixels away because i saw it on the full size version.

coloring is probably the biggest thing i'm thinking about with this kind of set. the whole idea is that these gifs are using the same colors, more or less, throughout each phase. even with the 1x1s, they're still part of a larger color concept, and they should (🤞) work with each other.

in a pinch, i like to eyedrop a color from one gif and add it as an accent to another. one of my 1x1s had a much more muted color palette originally, but i wanted it to have deeper blues and yellows to complement the 1x1 that would go next to it, so i added some gradients on lower opacity over it, color picked from other gifs i already colored.

i keep my coloring and the smart object in separate folders to help me in the final step of combining everything, and then i trim everything down to my lowest common denominator of frames. you might think you need to keep frames pretty minimal if you're doing 3 phases with transitions like this, but there's more room to work with on a small gif, in terms of file size. i usually do 30-50 frames for each phase, with the assumption that i'll be adding a transition on each side of each gif that will eat up some frames (i usually do 4-6 frame fade transitions). for the rotk set my final frame count was 129 and i never went over 8MB on a gif, so there's plenty of space play around with things :)

and then, combine! whatever order you start with, you are stuck with (unless you're getting even more complicated, but we won't go into that lol). for these sets i go small 1x1 -> medium 2x1 -> big 2x6. i like to think of it in phases from this point on. small is the first phase, then medium, then big. then i put in the fade transitions, chopping up the first phase gif so the last one will fade into it, restarting the whole cycle seamlessly. i'm just doing a quick and dirty fade here, but here's a tutorial if you want more explanation on transitions.

at this point i save this psd as its position, "top left" or whatever (usually it's a psb by this point too 🥲), just in case i need to go back to it. then i export this first gif and move on to the rest.

it's the same concept as a simple split gif: drag and drop the smart object to the new position, but now there are multiple phases to keep track of. folder organization has been key for me to keep everything straight. i move through the gifs in a backwards S, starting with the top left. but you could go any direction, just gotta stick with it and remember your counts. in my case, i'm always thinking of 268 pixels over and, for the 2x6, 350 up/down. it's a tedious process, but it goes quick (apart from waiting for photoshop to load each time you export).

i did this series as a color concept aesthetic kind of thing, so my theory was by using the same-ish colors throughout, that would save me in the end when it came time to export. there's only 256 colors max to work with on a gif, and that's usually what gets me over the 10MB limit. but as i said, i have never even gotten close to the size limit on this series. it's pretty hard to reach the limit on 268 pixels, but not impossible. (i did run into that on the emma set i did, and that was hell. but also not an impossible fix in the end.)

and that's it! if you try any of this and have trouble, i'm happy to help if i can but mostly this is a "click around and see what works for you" kind of process. and feel free to tag me on your split gifsets :) i love seeing them <3

#*lotrsplit #*#split gifs #gif tutorial #photoshop tutorial #usergif #allresources #chaoticresources #completeresources #photoshop tag

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alien-magnolia · 1 year ago

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Older! Eddie Munson x hyperfeminine! housewife! Reader : quick headcanons/ideas <3

18+ MDNI

Tw: big, girthy age gap :) (early 40’s /early 20’s), service kink!, sub!-coded fem reader, dom-coded Eddie munson, leashes!, obedience!!, etc

——

Marrying Edward Munson was most likely the best milestone of your life. The dull and bitter taste of Hawkins, Indiana had become bright and full of color!!

Your Eds has bought you a quaint, small, yet spacious enough home, in which you decorated with beige tones and tropical accents — plants, gold, mirrored walls, and topped it all off with a wooden kitchen. He provided for you as well, spending the usual nine to five workday facing the elements as a local construction worker. At exactly 5:10 each evening, he would come home to greet his babygirl. You were ever so ready!

He comes through the door, sawdust covered boots sprinkling dirt on the fuzzy carpet. You rush up to greet him, and you were met with a “hey babydoll,” and a swift strong arm picking you up to his lap.

With you clinging onto him like a little koala, he undresses his clothes, and then puts on a loose muscle tee with boxers <3!

“ how’s my little girl doing today, hmm? Tell me, doll,” a prompt from him was all it took for you to enthusiastically describe your day!! His patronizing smile made your “little kitty” as he called it, gush!!

You tell him about your cooking, your laundry, and how much you missed him, your daddy <3!

“Missed you too. How’s about your daddy shows you how much he missed his doll?,” his hairy forearms and calloused fingers grip your plush waist so tightly. He pulls you into his lap, and you feel his throbbing bulge press up against your mound. “Wet f’me?,” he taunts. You nod, your manicured hands clawing up his wide back and shoulders.

“Babygirl needs her leash and collar, yeah?,” he tuts at you, putting them on. His calloused fingers grab the O ring in the center of your collar, pulling the leash a bit. “There we go, sweets. Ready for daddy to play with. <3”

You could only drool and nod!

Your pretty tits pressed up against his hairy chest, his so so masculine hands squeezing your soft belly and hips until it HURT, and you rocking yourself on his bulge.

One thing you loved about Eddie, was that he was big. He was around five inches yes, but in width, goodness <3 it hurt to take him every time! He was wider than your hand, and would tut at you everytime your pretty pussy took that wide cock and huge balls of his.

So here you were, doing just that, clinging onto him, whining, as his girthy length stuffed you full. Belt buckle on the floor, your plush thighs against his tatted ones, his ringed hand on your ankle, which had a little ‘E’ tattoo on it.

Eddie actually gave you the tattoo himself, a few months ago, gently holding your ankle while working on the tattoo. You said it hurt but your Eds kept praising you for being so brave! <3 After he bandaged your new initial tattoo, he gave you your reward for being his “brave girl,” which was his cock stuffing you full for hours on end. <3

“Pussy’s just purring f’me, sweetheart. Look at that. She loves my cock, doesn’t she now?,” Eddie cooed at you as he bounced you on his girth. You could only whine and nod as you felt his balls, heavy and full, plap’ and slap against your wet cunt.

He came in you, of course, because you were his. The tattoo, the ring, the leash and collar, the part where he breeds his little wife, all signs that you belonged to him. You loved being his pretty little wife, spending the days at home, waiting for her husband.

It was all worth the wait <3

A/n: tysm for reading! If you like it pls comment or reblog it means a lot to me <3 -Liz

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#stranger things smut #dom eddie supremacy #daddy!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson filth #soft dom eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #top eddie munson

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msmk11 · 8 months ago

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Congratulations: You Like James Potter

James Potter x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Idiots in love, kissing, unbearable fluff

Summary: Clothes are a game changer when it comes to feelings. Who would've thought?

A/n: Happy Wednesday everyone! I hope you are having a lovely week. Currently I am in the midst of finals week, so I am stressing! That's why I pulled this out of my drive instead of writing something new. I hope you enjoy my loves :)

The cold stone of the dorm seeps through your socks as you pace back and forth across the width of the room. Although you love Hogwarts, winters are never kind inside a large castle with no insulation.

Usually when this happens, you go roast in front of the fire or take a long, hot shower. However, seeing that you have plans to go to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game in ten minutes with Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter, those options are out of the question. You go and stand in front of your chest again, looking at the various sweaters and sweatshirts packed for the colder weather. Despite having so many options, none look warm enough, or let’s be honest, cute enough, to wear to the game today. As you stare at your trunk with a sigh, you hear the door to your room open behind you.

“Are you almost ready to go?” You hear Lily ask.

You turn to her with a glum look on your face, “Not yet. I don’t know what to wear!”

She comes to stand beside you, “Babe, wear one of the many sweatshirts you have sitting in your trunk.”

“But none of them feel right!” You whine.

“Then take something from one of our trunks,” she suggests.

“I already looked.” You say, collapsing onto my bed.

“Well you better figure it out in the next five minutes. If not, we’re leaving without you.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll make a decision.”

You hear her leave the room as the door thuds behind her.

As you lay on your soft bed, engulfed by your comforter, you wish you could just wear it outside to the pitch. Dreaming about such a reality where that could actually happen, you realize that although you can’t carry your comforter around, you can think of something that is likely just as comfortable. One of Remus’ sweaters. You throw your shoes on and barrel down the stairs into the common area. You see your friends waiting for you.

“Are you finally ready?” Lily asks again.

“No, but go on without me. I finally figured out what I want to wear but I’ll meet you guys there,” you reply.

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat,” She says.

Once they’re out of the room, you take two steps at a time up to Remus’ room that he shares with Sirius, James, and Peter. You walk to the far right corner where his stuff is and open the trunk. The angels seem to sing from above as you feast your eyes upon the millions of big, wooly sweaters sitting before you. You see a nice brown one, something that will go perfectly with your blue jeans, and pull it on. You are instantly engulfed by the warmness and sigh with relief. You go and stand in front of the full length mirror against the wall. As you check your appearance and smooth out your hair, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye. The flash of red turns out to be none other than one of James Potter’s many quidditch jumpers. Slightly curious, you take the sweater off and put on the sweatshirt. You are pleasantly surprised to find that it is somehow even more comfortable than Moony’s sweater. Plus, it’s perfect to wear to the quidditch game. You go to stand in front of the mirror again and are taken aback slightly by how nicely the red pops against your skin. Satisfied with your appearance, and also feeling incredibly cozy, you rush down to the quidditch pitch, a few minutes before the game starts. You find Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter in the crowd.

“Hey,” you huff, as you sit down next to Remus.

“Hey, see you finally found something to wear,” he replies.

“Only took her a million years,” Peter teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” you retort, swatting him on the back of the head.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t want to wear any of our stuff?” Lily asks.

“I’m not?” you answer, confused.

“But isn’t that Marlene’s sweatshirt?”

“No, that’s what I’m wearing” Dorcas says, unzipping her black winter coat to reveal her girlfriend’s hoodie.

“Then whose is that?” Lily questions.

Before you can answer, the crowd starts cheering as both teams walk out onto the pitch. Madam Hooch’s voice bellows outward as she asks the captains to shake hands. From the Gryffindor team, James steps forward, and from Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy. The two shake hands then return to their respective teams. They kick off from the ground as the quaffle is thrown into the air and the game begins. Although you’ve seen plenty of quidditch games in your time at Hogwarts, you never cease to be amazed at the agility with which James and Marlene are able to move on their brooms and toss the quaffle between them. Likewise, you are always impressed by Sirius’ strength as a beater and his ability to aim the bludgers at other players perfectly. Within minutes, Gryffindor is winning thirty to ten. The lion’s side of the stadium is screaming as James speeds down the field, heading towards the goal posts yet again. With a quick throw, he tosses the ball through the far left hoop, scoring the team another ten points. We all cheer loudly. He looks to our section and winks, blowing a kiss to his fans. From behind you hear a few sighs and giggles. You turn to see three girls in your year, two from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff, swooning over James’ flirtations. You slightly roll your eyes and huff fondly at James’ fan club.

Your staring must not have been too discreet because a few moments later, you hear loud whispers from behind.

“And why is she wearing his sweatshirt?”

“They’re not dating are they?”

“They better not, James is mine.”

“Anyways, he could do so much better than her.”

“Yeah, she’s so ugly.”

Confused as to how they know you’re wearing James’ hoodie, you pull on the sleeve, shifting it so you can look at the back. In big, gold letters you see the word “Potter” printed across.

You simply sigh before getting up and moving down next to Lily on the other end.

Just as soon as you get settled, Lily turns and says to me, “Wait, turn around. Why are you wearing Potter’s sweatshirt?”

“Merlin, does everyone have a problem with it?” you ask loudly.

Dorcas, Peter, and Remus all look your way in slight surprise.

“No, sorry. I was just wondering.” Lily answers softly.

Dorcas grabs my hand, “hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah m’fine. It’s just that those three girls,” you point to them, “are bitching about the fact that I’m wearing James’ jersey. Apparently, he’s their man, so how dare I.”

“Just ignore them,” Peter tells me. “They’re just jealous that-”

He suddenly stops, a slightly horrified look on his face.

“Jealous about what?” you implore.

“That they’re not as cool as you!” Remus interjects.

Curious as to what Peter was going to say, but too tired to bother to ask more you simply scoff, “Right, thanks guys.”

“You know what, the cold be damned, since they’re giving you shit for wearing Potter’s hoodie, I’m gonna show mine off too.” Dorcas announces. She unzips her black jacket and sets it beside her. The bright red hoodie she has on is identical to the one I’m wearing except it says “McKinnon” in big gold letters across the back.

“Me too” Remus proudly declares, pulling off his sweater to reveal another bright red hoodie, with the word “Black” on it.

“But since you are both dating Sirius and Marlene, won’t it make it seem more likely that I’m dating James?” you ask.

“Is that so bad?” Lily says to me.

You’re about to declare that yes, that is in fact bad, when it dawns on you, “N-no… I guess not.”

You turn back to the game, slightly in a daze, unaware of the pointed looks shared amongst your friends.

*****

About an hour later, the game is uncomfortably close with the score being Gryffindor: one hundred and Slytherin: ninety. As you watch Marlene dart towards the hoops you hear shouts that the seekers have caught sight of the snitch. It’s a close race as flashes of green and red blur by. We cheer loudly, urging on our team. Within a minute the snitch is caught by Gryffindor. We erupt loudly, celebrating our victory. You watch as the teams land on the ground. More specifically, you watch as James jumps off his broom and runs towards his teammates. You watch the way his black hair shines against the bright sun, how his cheeks are rosy from the cold but also from the rush of winning, how even through his sweater, you can see the definition of his muscles as he lifts the seeker into the air. You begin to realize that maybe the reason you didn’t find it so bad that people thought you were James’ girlfriend was because…

Merlin. You have feelings for James.

The world seems to go quiet for a moment, and there’s a sort of ringing in your ears, at the realization.

“Hey! Are you coming?” Lily asks.

You look up from your spot to see that Remus, Dorcas and Peter have disappeared down into the crowd surrounding the team and that Lily is near the edge of the bleachers, waiting to go join them.

You shake your head, “Yeah, sorry.”

You get up and follow behind her, feeling a little queasy at the thought of seeing James up close.

The crowd is wild as people scream congratulations at the team and hug their friends. In the middle you see James, Sirius and Marlene beaming as they eat up the attention. Marlene has her arm around Dorcas’ waist, unafraid to show off the girl she loves. Though Sirius is a loud person, he is a quiet lover and merely grips Remus’ hand beneath his sweatshirt while he talks to others.

Lily grabs your hand and drags you towards the rest of your friends, “come on, you really are slow today.”

“W-wait Lily, no I,” but before you can resist, you’ve approached the rest of the group. Too afraid to face James first you turn and engulf Sirius in a hug, “nice work today Black! I just love to see Slytherin eat shit.”

Sirius gives you a huge grin, “what can I say, it’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

You then turn to Marlene and squeal, “Marls! You killed it out there. You and James were just so fast, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Natural talent” she brags.

You laugh and begin to turn away when you bump right into someone’s chest. They grab your shoulders, “woah there, careful.”

You look up to see James towering above you.

“Hey, Potter” you say, your voice softening.

“Hey, darling. Enjoy the game?” He asks, a small smile on his face.

His smile, it makes your heart melt. And the term of endearment, one he has always used, suddenly makes you flustered. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You look down at the turf to avoid his noticing and dig your shoe into the ground, “yeah, it was great! You guys did great!”

To your relief, the crowd starts to disperse and the team starts to walk towards the locker rooms.

“Well, uh, see you in a bit. At the party sometime I suppose.” You tell him, before walking off towards the castle.

“Yeah, see ya.” He says quietly.

You only make it a few steps before you hear him call your name. Your heart beats a little faster as you turn back towards him, “Is that my sweatshirt?”

You cringe inwardly as you walk back towards him, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should’ve asked. I was just cold and nothing in my closet looked appealing. I’ll go put it right back when I get back to the tower.”

“No, don’t. It looks good on you.” He answers.

You feel butterflies in your stomach, “oh, okay. Thanks. And really, nice job today.”

You turn back around and run to catch up to your friends.

*****

When we get back to the castle you immediately go up to your room and collapse onto your bed. All of these new emotions leave you feeling confused, nervous, and exhausted. You decide that maybe you shouldn’t go to the party and should instead just sleep away your racing thoughts…. Suddenly, you feel two plops down next to you onto your bed.

“What are you guys doing?” You mumble.

“We’ll explain when Marlene gets back.” Dorcas responds.

Not even a few minutes later, the door opens and Marlene comes in, throwing herself on the bed.

“Right, I’m here,” she says, out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Lily asks.

“Of course! We have very important business to attend to.”

“We told you to be discreet!” Dorcas scolds.

“I just told James it was a fashion emergency!” Marlene protests.

You lift your head up to look at your three roommates, “what are you lot talking about?”

They share a look amongst each other and suddenly sit up very seriously.

Lily pulls you up into a sitting position as well.

“Shall I start?” Marlene questions.

The two nod their heads, “Right. Well, congratulations, you have feelings for James Potter!”

Your heart drops, “What? No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

“Ah yes, denial,” Dorcas says smartly.

“We were expecting this,” Lily adds.

“I’m sorry, you were expecting this?”

“Yes. It’s been very clear to all of us that you have feelings for James. We just didn’t know how long it would take you to realize. It seems today is the day.”

“B-but, how? I’ve never once thought about James as anything besides my friend until now.”

“She admits it!” Marlene cheers.

Dorcas glares at her slightly, “It’s okay, love. Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us. That’s what happened to me with Marlene, remember?”

You think back to how the two used to interact before they were dating. They were always close and very touchy. You often caught Marlene looking longingly after Dorcas and remember Dorcas always being jealous of Marlene’s other girlfriends.

“But you two were so obvious!” You proclaim.

“So are you and James,” Lily tells me kindly.

“Does that mean he knows?” You nearly shriek.

Marlene takes your hand lovingly, “No, of course not. James is a lot of things, but observant is not one of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief. But then a wave of panic brushes over you, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t even act normal around him now that I know. I just feel all sweaty and nervous!”

“Just be yourself. He already likes you for you.” Dorcas says warmly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Honey, when have you ever known James Potter to be subtle about anything? He’s always trying to do everything to get your attention. You just aren’t always paying attention.”

You huff and fall back onto your bed, “Merlin, I hate feelings. I wish things could just go back to the way things were.”

Lily grabs your arm and pulls you back up, “well, seeing as things can’t, let’s make the most of it.”

You give her a questioning look.

“The reason Marlene rushed back up here so fast is because we knew you would need all three of us helping you once you realized your feelings.”

“Yeah, no offense, you’re a bit hopeless when it comes to dating.” Marlene says bluntly.

You smack her arm, “that’s not helpful.”

“Everything will be fine” Dorcas tells you, “now let’s get you dressed for the party. You have a certain Mr. Potter to impress.”

*****

An hour later, the four of you are dressed and ready to go. Your friends have put quite the ensemble together, dressing you in a red, cropped sweater with a pair of dark blue mom jeans that supposedly “make your ass look amazing” (according to Marlene) and gold jewelry. After you told them that James said you looked good in his sweatshirt, they decided that your outfit needed to remind him of it (hence the gold and red). Lily is wearing an adorable green sweater dress with brown boots and her hair is pulled back with a clip. Marlene has on black leather pants and a long sleeve, pink, sheer shirt with only her nipples covered. Dorcas is wearing a blue crop top with an open back, black jeans, and combat boots.

“Guys, we look hot.” Lily announces.

“Hell yeah we do,” Marlene agrees.

“I’m sure Mary will love it,” Dorcas teases.

Lily blushes a bright scarlett, “you really think?”

“Absolutely. You look killer, babe.” You tell her.

“You too, Mrs. Potter,” she says, winking.

You roll your eyes at her before taking a deep breath and staring in the mirror one last time, “right, let’s get this over with.”

“Oh yes, let’s get through this terrible party.” Marlene jokes.

We walk down into the common room where music is blaring and people are spread about talking, laughing, and dancing. As we weave through the crowd of people, Dorcas and Marlene are pulled into a conversation with a Ravenclaw friend from potions class. Lily soon leaves you too, after checking that you are okay, to go and flirt with Mary.

Trying to calm your nerves, you grab a bottle of firewhiskey and plop yourself down onto one of the red couches pushed out of the way.

“Did your fashion emergency get solved?”

You jump a mile at the voice coming from behind. You turn to see James leaning over the couch, smirking.

“The what?” You stutter out.

“Marlene said there was a fashion emergency? Was it solved?”

“Oh! Right. Uh, yeah. Lily had simply no idea what to wear to the party. And that’s very important, you see, because she’s trying to impress Mary.”

He leans closer to me, “I think it's working.”

The smell of his cologne wafts to your nose. You can barely breathe as you turn to look to where he’s pointing.

Despite your anxiousness, you can’t help but smile proudly as you see Lily kissing Mary.

You cough awkwardly, “clothes can be a game changer.”

He looks at you intensely, “yeah they can.”

You think about his sweatshirt from earlier. How he liked it, how it made you feel all safe and cozy, how it made you realize your feelings for him.

“You know, speaking of clothes. I need to give you your sweatshirt back, now that I’m done wearing it.”

“I told you you could hang on to it,” he insists.

“But you’ll want to have it for your future partner.” You say quietly.

“What?” He asks you.

You clear your throat, “oh uh, earlier, when I was wearing your sweatshirt, some girls thought I was your girlfriend, because I guess that’s a thing a boyfriend would do- let them wear his clothes. So, of course, you need to have it so you can give it to your actual partner… when you get one. You know, they seemed pretty interested in you, I’m sure I can point them out if you’re interested. They’re pretty too, so…”

You look up at James to see a pained look on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His voice sounds strained as he says, “yeah. I’ll just go take that sweatshirt off your hands then.”

A lump forms in your throat as you nod.

It seems pretty clear to you that James doesn’t like you.

We walk through the crowd and up to your doom. The door shuts behind us and James stays near the doorway as you go to grab his hoodie from the edge of your bed where you put it, neatly folded. You turn to give it to him but his hands remain at his sides.

“James, your hoodie?”

“Was it really that unbearable for you, for people to think that you’re my girlfriend, that you refuse to hang onto it?”

“James, what?”

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I just can’t help it. I want people to think you’re my girlfriend. Because, I like you. I do. And I’m sorry, I know this ruins things, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I can’t keep hiding it any longer.”

You drop the sweatshirt and walk towards James quickly.

“You mean it?”

He nods.

Slowly, you reach your hand out and cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his jawline, studying every feature of his face from his hazel eyes, to the slight smile lines around his mouth, and the soft pink of his lips.

“James, I feel the exact same way about you. It took me a bit longer to realize than you, but I do. I really care about you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that” he tells me.

Suddenly, he turns you around and pushes you up against the stone wall, “can I kiss you?”

You nod before he catches your lips between his. He tastes like chapstick and mint gum and it’s simply perfect.

You tangle your hands in his already tangled black hair as he grips his hands on your waist.

Eventually, we pull away.

“Maybe we should go back down to the party. People might be wondering where their star player is.” You tease.

“I’ll only agree if you put that hoodie back on. I want to show you off.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, “fine, but turn around.”

He turns around while you change out of your sweater back into his sweatshirt.

“Okay, you’re good to look now.”

He turns around with a huge grin on his face, “my don’t you just look ravishing, darling. I declare you shall never wear anything but my clothes ever again.”

You walk forward and pull him into a hug, “fine by me. I’ve never been more comfortable in my entire life.”

He goes to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him, “later,” you whisper in his ear, winking.

You giddily turn around and quickly escape the room. He chases after you.

Before we enter the common room, you grab his hand tightly. He squeezes it back. As we walk towards our friends, you feel some people staring at the two of you. When we approach Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene they are beaming like idiots.

“Soooooo…. You two, huh?” Sirius smirks suggestively.

James shoves him slightly, yet still has a goofy grin on his face, “piss off.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to watch them pine over each other anymore” Peter says, relieved.

“No, but now we have to watch them be all lovey dovey,” complains Lily.

“As if we didn’t just see you getting it on with Mary,” you retort.

“Touché.”

“Wait, so are you two… official?” Dorcas enquires.

We look at each other. “I guess we didn’t officially establish that.” You answer.

“Hold on,” James says to you, letting go of your hand.

He jumps up onto the table, “excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention.”

The room quiets as they all turn to look at him.

“Oh no,” you sigh.

“I have a question to ask a very special someone and I want you all here to witness it!” He turns to you with a huge smile on his face, “darling, sweetheart, apple of my eye, will you go out with me?”

You feel the eyes of dozens of people on you. You even feel the glare of many girls you know would kill to be you right now. Yet even then, nothing can bother you. Because when looking at James, you see nothing else.

“Yes! I’ll go out with you James!” You respond, giggling. He jumps off the table and pulls you in for a kiss. The room cheers loudly.

Safe to say we were the talk of the school for a week.

#marauders fanfiction #james potter x you #marauders fandom #james potter x reader #james potter fluff

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year ago

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remote consults behind enemy lines [kinktober 2023: formal wear…and role play(?)]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! 'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: 2020, during the filming of Loki Season 1

Summary: You casually reveal that you consulted on costume design for another supersuit, leading to an unexpected reaction from your boyfriend

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, don't u dare even try me); kinda public sex; unprotected p in v; role play; clothed sex; language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; Reader's wearing a dress; Tom's wearing Loki's coronation armor; mango namedrop (i couldn't resist 🤣)

This was absolute torture in the most devilishly delicious way. Sitting in front of the monitor and watching your boyfriend acting out a scene wherein Loki was about to step in to the role of Crown Prince of Asgard because Thor had "gone missing" due to one of the god's shenanigans turning his brother into a literal frog, wearing the very costume that had the internet running amok with how it made certain parts of him so prominently shaped that Marvel's considerably lower budget back then had to make room for extra editing to keep the final cut family friendly.

You never thought the day would come that you would see him in that costume just mere feet away from you. And to have him take on that majestic stance with his feet shoulder width apart and arms outstretched as he basked in the applause and praise that the people of Asgard were showering him with?

"Fucking end me," you muttered as soon as Kate yelled for them to cut the cameras.

"Okay now I get why they needed the extra CGI budget for that bulge fucking Christ on a crutch," Bryan commented, lightly nudging at your shoulder to snap you out and stop you from shamelessly staring. "Why madam, should I go get you a paper towel or something for that bit of drool at the corner of your mouth?"

"Better get one for yourself as well, Bry. Now stop ogling my boyfriend before I get tempted to check if those prop daggers have any stab in them."

He gave you a playful scandalized look before walking away, making a big show of wiping his sleeve at the corner of his mouth to get a laugh out of you.

You turned back to face the monitor, only to have your face inches away from the 'fabled mango' that had a rather large corner of the internet in absolute shambles whenever a picture would be released that had it in plain view. Your eyes traveled upwards until they met with Tom's ocean blue ones, your boyfriend greeting you with a wide smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes that he was barely trying to keep contained.

"I suggest you take a step back unless you're fully prepared to give all our colleagues a show," you warned him, starting to mirror the expression on his face.

"But this is such an enticing view, sweetheart, why would I want to give it up?" he shot back, fingertips lightly tracing along your jawline. "And I highly doubt that you're fully prepared to give our colleagues a show."

You only responded to him by slowly running your tongue across the top row of your teeth. "Are you sure about that, sweetie?" That made him take a step back, causing you to break out into a wide grin and scrunching your nose at him. "So how's the costume feel?" you asked him while you two walked toward his trailer.

"Surprised it still fits, if I'm being honest," he answered you with a slight laugh. "Actually it might…fit a little better than it did a decade ago."

"Ooh, good you're still here." You both gave Kate a small wave as she jogged up to you. "I was about to tell you to make your way to Costuming to see if you needed any adjustments. Looks like you read my mind." She gave a quick look at your now joint hands, Tom hooking his finger around one of yours. "Y/N, I'm sure you can handle any adjustments he'll need so you two can go and work on that while we're setting up for the shot with the prop frog. And in case you two wanna say hi, Chris will be here today to record his lines as Frog Thor."

As if on cue, you heard a booming voice from several yards away. "Hi, Brother! Hi, tiny terror! Am I gonna be an uncle yet??"

"Not yet, Chris!" you both hollered back at him, making the Australian wave his hand in a jokingly dismissive manner at you before stepping in to the ADR area.

"There is something new about this costume now that I quite like," Tom spoke up again when you were just outside his trailer. "When I first had it, the inner layer under the metalwork used to be just one piece, like a bodysuit. Made it a whole affair just to go to the bathroom. Now it's a shirt and trousers setup and has a suspender mechanism worked into the metal to secure the bottom half in place. Made my day much easier."

"Well you're very welcome, sweetie," you responded absentmindedly, closing the trailer door.

"This was your work, goddess?"

"Uhm...yeah. I did some remote consultation last year for another superhero costume. The actor's main concern was how he'd pee while wearing the thing, so I drew up some sketches, made his suit a bit modular. But it was gonna be a conflict of interest if they got me for costume design considering my involvement with Marvel, so we minimized my work to justify not including my name in the credits."

You let out a tiny yelp feeling him walk behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his nose traced a line from your collarbone to your ear. "Hmm…conflict of interest? So DC, then?" he rasped, nipping at your earlobe.

"Uh huh," you answered him breathlessly, leaning in to his embrace. "What I learned making the sketches for the Batsuit, I adapted into the adjustments for your costumes."

Something in the air shifted once the words left your mouth. His hold on you shifted into what almost felt…possessive. "Precious little mortal." The growl in his voice had you growing weaker in his arms. "Consulting behind enemy lines. For the man that I knew for a fact once held your attention so…fervently."

"Why sweetie, are you--Are you jealous? It was a college crush, and a light one at that." You turned in his arms to pull him into a quick kiss that quickly became heated, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs to lift you off your feet and press you against the wall of his trailer's tight entryway.

"It should matter not, so long as you remember that you are mine," he murmured against your lips, securing your body against the wall before moving to undo the suspenders under the metal armor by his hips. "Do you know what I particularly enjoy about your modifications, sweet Y/N?"

You shook your head at him, feeling your arousal pooling between your legs as he smirked at you, hearing the snap of the suspenders from underneath the armor coming off.

"Ease of access," he said simply, shuffling his pants down his thighs and freeing his quickly hardening length. His smirk widened into a devilish grin when he slipped his hand between your legs to find nearly drenched panties. "So gloriously eager…" he teased, moving the fabric to the side.

A high-pitched moan slipped from your lips when he eased his way into you, inch by torturous inch, in shallow thrusts. "Tom, sweetie I--"

"Thomas isn't here right now, pet."

Oh God. Oh fuck. "Loki?!"

"Such a clever little mortal," he grunted, starting to move in shallow thrusts, the tip of his cock easily brushing against a spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars especially from this angle. "Tell me you're mine." He let out a staggered breath, groaning into the crook of your neck as your warmth surrounded him. "T-Tell me who this gloriously tight p-perfect little quim belongs to."

"Y-You--oh f-fuck!" you told him shakily. "I belong to you. I'm yours, I'm all yours."

Obscene moans bounced off the walls of his trailer as he bit and sucked at your neck, working his hand between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. "Louder, darling. Say my name. Scream it. Let everyone who dares listen know that only I may claim you like this."

Your body started to shake with how hard your climax hit you, your walls fluttering and clenching around him while you let out a guttural scream of "LOKI!" that might've scratched your throat halfway raw. Before you could say it again, he slanted his mouth over yours, muffling both your screams in a heated kiss that felt rife with desperation as you felt his release starting to fill you, his hips jerking in a staggered rhythm.

It barely crossed your mind that this might get you into a heaping pile of trouble. That you might have just put your job at stake for a quickie with your boyfriend. He broke the kiss with a slight gasp, kissing a path from your cheek down to your neck while you both took deep breaths coming down from your high.

When you heard his breaths grow softer you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and upper back, lightly stroking his hair before you tried to talk, the intensity of the last few minutes still having you struggling to form any coherent words. "Tom?"

You felt a slight wave of relief when he answered you softly. "Yes, goddess?"

"Look at me, sweetie." You pressed a soft kiss to his temple before he pulled away from your neck, nearly blacked out eyes meeting your own. "I love you. Only you." Your hands went to frame his face, thumbs tracing along the lines of his cheekbones. "I don't think I'll ever…No one else could ever--"

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in to cut you off with a kiss, the rest of the words you struggled to say dying off with a whimper at the back of your throat. You still couldn't find it in you to say them anyway. You're it for me. You're the last man I'm gonna love. There won't be an 'after you'.

"You know that, right?" you murmured against his lips, settling for those words instead.

"I do." He quickly stole another kiss from you before continuing, "Some days it just gets to me. The thought that someday someone might--"

"That will never happen." You crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him close enough that he could rest his forehead on yours. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you're kinda stuck with me, sweetie."

"I may want to get that in writing one of these days," he shot back, his hands lightly grasping your sides before he pressed your bodies even closer together, if such a feat were even possible. "And if anything, you're stuck with me. There's no version of my future that I could ever see that doesn't have you with me."

He started to move inside you again, leaving you no choice but to process his words later, his hips moving in long, slow thrusts that had you feeling every devastating inch of him. "Again?" you whimpered breathlessly.

"You should know me well enough by now, goddess," he whispered, a devilish smile gracing his features and searing an image so erotically charged into your memory. "Once is never enough."

That was the day you agreed that quickies would never be an option again moving forward.

A/N: Another Kinktober 2023 story in the bag! Wait hold on…if I knocked out two prompts in this (kinda sorta), does this mean I only have 2 more to go before I get my initial goal or are y'all gonna absolutely snipe me ded if I pull that technicality? 🤣

I know I said 'bath/shower' with Magnus was next but I parallel-wrote that with this and this one got the banging out first while the other still has me blocked because smut is just…it's not my strong suit okay--it takes me 5-7 business days to get it done 🥴 Currently parallel writing that and the Conrad piece for 'slow & soft' and the President Loki piece for 'fingering' all at the same time so only time will tell which one of them will go up next 🫡

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

kinktober 2023 taglist: @azula-karai-27

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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thespnreferencedesk · 9 days ago

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A Fic Writer's Guide to the 1967 Impala

Part 1: Exterior | Part 2

Click for the full-size, annotated versions of images! Unlabeled screenshots here

The given dimensions for the four-door hardtop Impala are 213.2 inches long (17.6 feet, 5.4 meters), 79.9 inches wide (6.6 feet, 2 meters), and around 55 inches tall (4.5 feet, 1.4 meters). Its wheelbase (the distance between the front and rear axles) is just shy of 10 feet. For comparison, the Impala is about three feet longer than a modern Toyota Corolla with a 1.5 foot longer wheelbase, but the same width and height. Fully loaded, it weighs easily over 2 tons and rides low to the ground. Baby is big.

Baby is a “hardtop” Impala rather than the sedan. This means it does not have a support post between the front and rear windows. The bit of trim/seal between them is part of the rear window and retracts with it when the window is rolled down. The exterior color is Tuxedo Black, and this color is still available today. It has a faint metallic finish to it due to small suspended glass particles that catch the light.

The original plates are Sedgwick County, Kansas front and rear plates with the number KAZ 2Y5 (referencing Kansas and 2005, the year the show started). After 2.19, they switch to Ohio front and rear plates with the number CNK 80Q3. When John first buys the car in 1973 in 4.03, it has a vintage rear Kansas plate with the number RPC 45P4. In 4.13 and 11.08 flashbacks to 1992 and 1997, the front and rear plates are Kansas BQN 9R3. In the djinn dream in 2.20, both plates are Kansas RMD 5H2.

The Impala has a circular driver’s side mirror, but no passenger side mirror. Between 1.01 and 3.09, it also features adjustable spotlights/searchlights on both sides. It also has two-speed chrome windshield wipers, an antennae on the front passenger’s side, and bumper guards on the front and back bumpers.

Up through episode 3.09, the Impala has chrome aftermarket Unity spotlights mounted on both sides. Mounting instructions and a up-close view of these on a fan replica can be seen here. Note that Baby's spotlights have black handles with a thin red stripe. Turn the handle to turn the spotlight's base (up/down), and twist the handle to turn and aim the light (left/right). There is a small switch under the half-sphere part of the handle that locks the light's position.

Baby's wipers have chrome arms and have two speeds, low and high. The doors feature mounted door handles with opening buttons just below them. You push in these buttons to open the door instead of pulling on the handle itself. If locking the door by pressing the door lock button on the window sill, these buttons need to be held down while closing the doors so as not to hit the physical locking mechanism.

Unique to the 1967 are these cage-style corner lamps. They are completely absent on the '66 and different on the '68. The headlights are controlled by a knob on the dash and a high beam button down in the floorboard (pushed with your foot). These come on when the parking lights are turned on. Of the two inner circular lights, the outer one is the low beam and has a low and high filament. The inner circular light is the high beam only and comes on when the floor switch is pressed. The rear lights feature the outer turn signal, center tail lights, and inner brake lights (see below).

To the best of my knowledge, Baby has 15x7 (15" diameter, 7" width) chrome steel wheels in the front and 15x8 in the back. This particular style is currently discontinued but was sold through a variety of brands under different names. The brand Cragar refers to this style as the "Super Spoke."

Outside of the in-universe book series’ fandom, four door Impalas are not sought-after or particularly “cool” classic cars. The Impala was marketed as a mid-luxury “family” car rather than something sporty or muscle-y. Other classic car buffs that Dean comes across might appreciate the way Dean has maintained the Impala for a daily driver, but not compared to a show car. They may also find the Impala underrated, but it is not a typical "dream car" the way a classic Camaro or Chevelle might be.

Without Dean, Baby would have likely ended up used for parts for other more desirable cars. This generation of Impalas is also virtually identical to other Chevrolets like Caprices and Bel Airs. Since Baby is debadged except for the “Chevrolet” on the grill, anyone who recognizes it as an Impala would be a massive nerd.

Just like Dean.

#my guides #art refs #car talk #baby #1967 impala

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transgenderer · 11 months ago

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A jitsuin (実印) is an officially registered seal. A registered seal is needed to conduct business and other important or legally binding events. A jitsuin is used when purchasing a vehicle, marrying, or purchasing land, for example.

The size, shape, material, decoration, and lettering style of jitsuin are closely regulated by law. For example, in Hiroshima, a jitsuin is expected to be roughly 1⁄2 to 1 inch (1.3 to 2.5 cm), usually square or (rarely) rectangular but never round, irregular, or oval. It must contain the individual's full family and given name, without abbreviation. The lettering must be red with a white background (shubun), with roughly equal width lines used throughout the name. The font must be one of several based on ancient historical lettering styles found in metal, woodcarving, and so on. Ancient forms of ideographs are commonplace. A red perimeter must entirely surround the name, and there should be no other decoration on the underside (working surface) of the seal. The top and sides (handle) of the seal may be decorated in any fashion from completely undecorated to historical animal motifs, dates, names, and inscriptions.

Throughout Japan, rules governing jitsuin design are very stringent and each design is unique, so the vast majority of people entrust the creation of their jitsuin to a professional, paying upward of US$20 and more often closer to US$100, and using it for decades. People desirous of opening a new chapter in their lives—say, following a divorce, death of a spouse, a long streak of bad luck, or a change in career—will often have a new jitsuin made.

The material is usually a high quality hard stone or, far less frequently, deerhorn, soapstone, or jade. It is sometimes carved by machine. When carved by hand, an intō ("seal-engraving blade"), a mirror, and a small specialized wooden vice are used. An intō is a flat-bladed pencil-sized chisel, usually round or octagonal in cross-section and sometimes wrapped in string to give a better grip. The intō is held vertically in one hand, with the point projecting from the carver's fist on the side opposite the thumb. New, modern intō range in price from less than US$1 to US$100.

The jitsuin are kept in secure places such as bank vaults. or hidden in a home. They are usually stored in thumb-sized rectangular boxes made of cardboard covered with embroidered green fabric outside and red silk or red velvet inside, held closed by a white plastic or deerhorn splinter tied to the lid and passed through a fabric loop attached to the lower half of the box. Because of the superficial resemblance to coffins, they are often called "coffins" in Japanese by enthusiasts and hanko boutiques. The paste is usually stored separately.

A ginkō-in (銀行印) is used specifically for banking; ginkō means "bank". A person's savings account passbook contains an original impression of the ginkō-in alongside a bank employee's seal. Rules for the size and design vary somewhat from bank to bank; generally, they contain a Japanese person's full name. A Westerner may be permitted to use a full family name with or without an abbreviated given name, such as "Smith", "Bill Smith", "W Smith" or "Wm Smith" in place of "William Smith". The lettering can be red or white, in any font, and with artistic decoration.

Since mass-produced ginkō-in offer no security, most people either have them custom-made by professionals or make their own by hand. They were traditionally made of wood or stone; more recently of ivory, plastic or metal, and carried in a variety of thumb-shape and -size cases resembling cloth purses or plastic pencil cases. They are usually hidden carefully in the owner's home.

A mitome-in (認印) is a moderately formal seal typically used for signing for postal deliveries, signing utility bill payments, signing internal company memos, confirming receipt of internal company mail, and other low-security everyday functions.

Mitome-in are commonly stored in low-security, high-utility places such as office desk drawers and in the anteroom (genkan) of a residence.

A mitome-in's form is governed by fewer customs than jitsuin and ginkō-in. However, mitome-in adhere to a handful of strongly observed customs. The size is the attribute most strongly governed by social custom. It is usually not more than 20 millimetres (0.79 in) in size. A man's is usually slightly larger than a woman's, and a junior employee's is always smaller than his bosses' and his senior co-workers', in keeping with office social hierarchy. The mitome-in always has the person's family name and usually does not have the person's given name (shita no namae). Mitome-ins are often round or oval, but square ones are not uncommon, and rectangular ones are not unheard-of; irregular shapes are not used. They can produce red lettering on a blank field (shubun) or the opposite (hakubun). Borderlines around their edges are optional.

Plastic mitome-in in popular Japanese names can be obtained from stationery stores for less than US$1, though ones made from inexpensive stone are also very popular. Inexpensive prefabricated seals are called sanmonban (三文判). Rubber stamps are unacceptable for business purposes.

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rrrrinmaru · 11 months ago

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bury me (raf x mc, nsfw)

wc: 3949 rating: E warning: pussy eating, strip tease

Up until the moment you’re sat in the entertainment room that’s apparently been renovated on emergency notice, you don’t quite believe the situation you’ve found yourself in.

It started as an off-handed comment you didn’t think much of. Frankly, you didn’t think anything of it—the two of you were watching a movie (ok, Magic Mike, it was Magic Mike) and you mentioned, casual as ever, that you’ve always wanted to see a lap dance up close.

Rafayel went still. But Rafayel goes still at the strangest things—he once froze up at the sight of you petting a cat on the sidewalk and fell to the ground right next to the fire hydrant, in broad view of everyone walking down that very pavement—so again, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he wanted to see a lap dance up close as well. Maybe, irrationally, he got a little jealous at the thought of you thinking of watching other men grind against flushed women, eyes bright as they watch the sheen of sweat on thick muscles centimetres away from their face.

You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect—

“You spent how much on the lights?” You ask, bewildered. “You got these custom made?”

“I wasn’t about to install cheap LED lights in my house,” Rafayel replies, fiddling with something in the corner. “The cost doesn’t matter. The real expensive baby was the audio system, but I already owned that before I got the bright idea to remodel this place.”

“You spent money to turn a room in your house into a strip club?” You say, voice slightly hysterical on the last two words. You almost don’t want to know the answer to your next question, but things have already progressed far enough. There’s no coming back from this. “Where’s the stripping pole?”

Rafayel shrugs. He’s wearing this thin, sheer fabric; so pale it’s almost transparent. It clings to the width of his shoulders, dipping down between the slope of his shoulder blades and the top tapers off at his waist. When he turns around, you can’t help but stare at the (quite frankly) whorish cut at the front.

The front of the shirt has this deep plunge all the way down to his abdomen. It’s practically two strips of fabric loosely folded over each other, and if he bends over, you get a full view of the hard planes of his chest and the curve of his tits.

He’s also wearing leather pants. Did you mention that? They look like they were painted on. The material stretches tight over his thighs, making him look even taller than he already does.

His feet are bare, toes curling into the rug covered floor. Rafayel stands there, weight shifted to one leg as he always does, and he practically preens under your undivided attention. Under your greedy, hungry gaze as you run your eyes up and down his body.

Behind him, the stereo system flares to life. This persistent, thumping drum beat slowly starts to build.

“Can’t we just—you know?” You say without thinking, leaning forward instinctively at the thought of getting your mouth on Rafayel. Has he even looked in a mirror before he decided on this particular set of clothes?

Rafayel smirks. Fuck, you swear you can see the literal imprint of his cock through his pants.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, voice honeyed as he takes his sweet time to walk over to you, that casual, loping stride that you can’t look away from. “Be patient.”

“This is the first time you’ve turned down my offer,” you say petulantly. “Please?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Rafayel says, eyes glittering as he leans over. His hands land on the back of the curved sofa you’re seated on—they frame you like a solid wall of muscle, caging you in his embrace. His legs are on either side of your thighs, close enough that you swear you can feel the kiss of leather against your skin, the sheer heat radiating off his body.

The beat is loud, now. It’s loud enough that it sounds like you’re at a club; it sinks through your chest, filling your body up like a balloon as it seizes your senses. Your heart pulses in time with the heavy, throbbing bass—you stare up, eyes wide as all you hear is the sound of your heart and all you see is Rafayel’s eyes.

You could drown in that gaze. You know you could.

“No touching,” Rafayel breathes out. When he bends over, cheek barely milimetres away from your own, your breath hitches at the view down his shirt. “First rule of the club, Miss. No touching the performers.”

“Raf,” you whine, fingers curling desperately into fists by your side as you trace your eyes over the curve of his Adam’s Apple, the crook of his shallow collarbone, the slope of his tits and the fucking sight of his nipples, pebbling from the cold. You want to flick them. You want to put your hands on his abdomen and cup his tits and you want to mess him up.

“It’s better when you wait for it,” Rafayel murmurs. His breath is hot against the crook of your ear, and you can feel the break in his breathing when he laughs. “Do you like this?”

“Do something,” you whine, tilting your head back just to get a better look at the lithe line of Rafayel’s body hovering over yours. It’s driving you insane, having him this close but not touching—you’ve been conditioned to expect skin contact from Rafayel, his little absent-minded touches as he grazes his shoulder against yours, a hand curving around your waist to gently nudge you aside when he walks by, fingers wrapping around yours.

When he exhales, you swear you can see it. The shadow of smoke in the dim light, swooping down in the empty space between both of your lips. It’s maddening having him here, having this sliver of space between you two. You could reach up around his waist and drag him down; you could wrap one hand around the base of his neck and pull and he would go, sweetly, obediently, and he would make the most delicious sounds into your mouth.

You know this. You know it like you know the back of your hand, because he’s done it a million times before. You think you’ve never known anyone as well as you know Rafayel—like looking into a deep pool of still water and finding your reflection looking back.

Rafayel hums, the heat of his breath scattering over your collarbones as he rolls his hips. You swallow, mind spinning from the slightest scrape of tight leather against your thighs. He does it again, hips grinding in this slow, torturous move right above your core.

“Your muscles,” you say weakly, eyes riveted to the tension in his abdomen. His muscles are taut, pale skin clearly visible through the dip in his shirt. A bead of sweat drips down, tracing a path between his pectorals and down, down, down—

Your eyes follow it greedily, wishing you could chase after it with your tongue.

“You look delirious,” Rafayel whispers, his voice low and hoarse. There’s a husk to his words, and you can’t help the way you swallow, fingers tightening further into fists. You’re familiar with that voice. That’s how he sounds after he’s been worked up beyond belief, until all he can think of is laying you out and eating you clean.

This is clearly doing it for him too, just as much as it’s working on you. The lights flicker, bleeding from one color into the next. It’s crazy how Rafayel looks bewitching in every color; the neon red light looks like crimson splashed across his face, highlighting the cut of his cheekbone and the glint of his teeth when he smirks at you. The blue light casts his face into darkness, smoothing his features out and the shadow stretches over him, the color melting into his hair. He looks like a siren rising out of a water surface, eyes half-lidded and lips barely parted, fingers itching to steal your soul away.

You’re possessed by the sudden desire to dump a glass of water on him. This look would be greatly improved if he was drenched to the bone, you think dizzily, with crystal droplets hanging off his eyelashes, dipping in the crook of his lips, pooling in his clavicle. His shirt, translucent as it is, would turn completely transparent. It would cling to his skin even more than it already does.

“Please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re begging for. His hands on you. His mouth on you. His weight on you, pressing you down, holding you in place as he does whatever he wants to your body.

His smirk is so self-satisfied that you want to kiss it off his lips.

“Patience,” he murmurs. Rafayel braces his knees against the seat of the couch and leans back, wearing a brazen look as he looks at you. His smile spreads as he crooks his fingers at you—you bend forward, lips parting as if ready to use your tongue to trace the grooves on his abdomen.

Rafayel laughs. It’s a smug sound, but you can’t even fault him. He cuts a stunning figure like this, thighs spread and framed in shining leather, shirt so low and open that you don’t know where to look; the light drips over his skin like someone poured liquid gold all over him, drenching him in a moving pattern of red and blue lights.

He holds a hand out. “Your hand,” he says, and you quickly put your palm in his like you’re no better than a dog.

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel teases, flipping your hand over to press a kiss to your fingertips before he pulls it to his jaw. You flex your fingers, trying to swallow past the sudden thudding of your heart as he presses your hand to the slant of his jaw, down to the line of his neck.

You’re not given any time to linger on the heat radiating off his body. He pulls your hand further down, your fingers grasping uselessly at the meat of his chest, trembling as your palm flattens against his skin.

And then, as if he’s been doing this all his life, Rafayel arches his back. His muscles roll in this slow, sinuous movement as he drags your hand down his abdomen.

You can feel it in aching clarity. The expanding of his rib cage as he breathes, the tension in his muscles as he clenches his abdomen to even out the grind of his hips. The heat, that absurd, blistering heat that you’re certain will melt your fingerprints clean off your fingers.

He does it again. Leans forward, eyes glittering in the flickering lights as he arches his back, letting you feel the way his muscles move under his skin as he rolls his hips.

Without thinking, you reach forward with your other hand. You’re not even sure where you’re aiming at—you just want to get your hand on him. The details can be handled later.

But Rafayel catches your wrist before your fingers even scrape past the loose material of his shirt. “No touching the merchandise,” he chides, holding you in place.

Your fingernails scratch pointedly at his abdomen. It makes him huff out a laugh—a surprised, breathy sound that for some reason gives you the urge to get your mouth on him now.

“I’m already touching you,” you breathe out, eyes glazing over when Rafayel clenches his abs just to watch the way you lose focus.

“I let you touch me,” Rafayel shoots back, smug as ever. “You don’t get to touch me without permission.”

“Raf—”

“Just enjoy it, Miss,” he murmurs, nudging one knee in between yours to slide your thighs apart. “I’m putting on a show. Don’t you like it?”

You like it a bit too much. All of a sudden, you realise why people like to keep pretty things in cages. Rafayel would look entrancing like that, you think, eyes wandering over his body. Lounging in a long column of water with transparent walls, like a fish tank in an aquarium large enough to store a whole pod of dolphins. Stuck with no where to go.

But your breath catches in your throat before you can reply with something intelligent. Rafayel presses his lips to the underside of your neck, at the spot where your jaw meets your throat—featherlight, so quickly that you almost miss it.

While you’re frozen, breath trapped under your tongue, he hums and traces a faint path down your body. His lips on your neck, your collarbones, the dip between your tits—he leans down, switching to your bare arm when the fabric of your slip dress gets in the way.

Surely he can feel it. The pulse of your heartbeat under your skin, a mile a minute, fluttering at the sight of his half-crescent lips trailing against the sensitive underside of your forearm.

And then he gets on his knees. He’s right there, eyes bright and glittering like jewels under the dancing lights as he leans forward to press the side of his cheek against your thigh.

You can feel the way his breath heats up against your knee. It feels like he’s burning a mark into you, etching the shape of his lips into your skin. You won’t ever be able to remove it. It’ll be branded into your inner thigh, the crimson half-moon stains that mark you as his.

“Spread your legs for me,” Rafayel whispers, lips curving into a smile. “Open up, baby.”

The flush in your cheeks feels absurd. You must look drunk, inebriated after one too many shots as your thighs spread instinctively to frame Rafayel in between them. He reaches up, each hand wrapping around the outside of your knees, fingers dipping into the crook at the back.

His grip is light, barely any pressure on your legs, but you feel like his hands may as well be two shackles against your knees, holding you in place.

“Wider,” he says, eyes brilliant in the flickering lights. You could drown in that gaze, if the heat in your core didn’t kill you first. “Come on, gorgeous.”

“Raf,” you groan, thighs spreading even further. It makes you slip from your position on the sofa, inching further down just to make space for your legs to open wider.

The fabric of your dress rucks up around your hips. It folds messily, and Rafayel holds your gaze in this heartstopping, torturous moment as his fingers creep up and under your dress.

There’s something about it. Something you can’t explain, not even with an entire dictionary at your disposal. There is something about the way you can’t see his fingers, his palms as he slides them further up your thighs, below the crease of silk. The way the back of his hands and his wrists slowly, gradually disappear under your dress. While he keeps his gaze on you, eyes burning with such intent and desire it makes you breathless.

His fingers bump up against your underwear, the way the fabric digs into your thighs. The shock of it all makes you yelp a little, hands flying forward to feel blindly for Rafayel’s hands under your dress.

You’re not sure what purpose you want to achieve. You’re just—it’s just—it’s just a lot, okay, and the way he looks at you is so—

Rafayel doesn’t do anything. His fingers go still, frozen under your grip, but you can feel the bracing heat of them through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your damp underwear. If his fingers were to slip, you know he would be able to press his thumb against the wet spot right at your slit, or slide higher to press at your throbbing clit.

You make this low, reedy noise, and let go of his hands. You shift even lower on the sofa, back curved as you lean your head back against the headrest. Your thighs spread just a little bit wider.

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel murmurs, eyes finally lowering as he lifts the skirt of your dress. “Look at how pretty you are.”

“Get on with it,” you bite out, voice shaky from arousal. The music is getting to you—the deep, pulsing bass throbs at your temples, holding your heart in a vice grip. The singer is crooning something; his deep, low voice rumbling on and on about sex and you’re too out of it to properly register the lyrics.

Rafayel pays you no mind. He takes his own sweet time to push your dress further up your hips, exposing the line of your thighs and your underwear to his hungry gaze.

And then, right under your eyes, he leans in and presses a kiss to your stiff clit.

“Raf!” You try to shut your thighs on instinct, hips jerking at the sudden pressure against your clit, but Rafayel’s hands are firm against the inside of your thighs and he holds you open. He forces your legs wider, and he looks up at you as he fits his mouth to the middle of your panties, tongue flat against where your core burns the hottest.

Fuck, you think, mouth open as you try to gasp for air. Rafayel is good at this—too good, you think, to the point where you flush when you catch yourself staring at his mouth for too long sometimes—and he breathes out on your cunt, relishing in the way your clit twitches in your panties.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Rafayel murmurs, pulling the fabric taut over your pussy so he can see your swollen clit straining through your panties. He gives it another kiss, and you arch your back at the electricity that lights your body up when he does that. Rafayel knows what you like, and he wields that knowledge like a weapon.

You gaze at him, eyes half-lidded as you try to reach for his hair. Rafayel ducks away from your searching fingers, giving you a smile when you scowl at him.

“No touching the merchandise,” he reminds you.

A disgruntled noise leaves your mouth. How are you supposed to hold him in place when he won’t let you touch him? “Take them off, Raf, please—”

It’s as if Rafayel was put on this Earth specifically to raise your blood pressure. Even when he has his mouth on your cunt, face between your legs, he’s still possessed by the overpowering urge to do something that goes against what you say.

“Not yet,” he says, nonplussed, and drags your underwear to the side to expose your dripping center. “Look at how wet you are.”

Rafayel’s voice is gravelly, hoarse as he stares at you. Your pussy clenches instinctively—his gaze feels heavy, like a physical weight bearing into you. You’d really like a physical weight bearing into you right now, actually, and you know exactly where you can find one.

He presses his tongue to your clit. Your hips spasm, eyes rolling into the back of your head when he closes his lips around your swollen bud and sucks. It feels like fire burning through your entire body, pleasure sparking in your veins when he laps at your clit. You could cum like this, his clever tongue working your clit over and over in the soft wetness of his mouth.

“So pretty,” Rafayel murmurs to himself, not even caring if you hear. He drags his tongue down, licking along the length of your cunt, spit mixing with the wetness dripping from your pussy. He rearranges his grip on your inner thigh—his palm frames the vee of your hips now, thumb pulling at the side of your cunt to open you up for his taking.

Rafayel eats you out like a man possessed. There’s this wild, desperate hunger in him, in the way he moves his mouth, the way he surfaces to gasp for air before going back to dip his tongue into your pussy and lick at your insides. He eats you out so greedily that you can truly believe he would be happy here, trapped between your legs and buried in your cunt for so long he goes breathless while you go cross-eyed with pleasure so overwhelming it makes you dizzy.

“Fuck,” Rafayel groans, panting against your cunt. His breath feels like he’s blowing hot smoke against your clit, making it twitch uncontrollably with every gust of air over it. You’re so worked up that just this is enough to make your hips jerk forward, chasing the ghost of his mouth to try to get it back on your cunt. “You taste so fucking good, Miss—”

“More,” you beg, straining against the sofa to try to get leverage, any kind of leverage to tilt your hips up. “Please, Raf, I’m close—fuck, I’m—”

This time, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves his head, tongue curling as he fucks it into your throbbing pussy. You’re so close, right on the precipice—it’s like your entire body is a livewire, hips jerking uncontrollably whenever his tongue hits that sweet spot and making your nerves light up with pleasure. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open; you want to keep your eyes on Rafayel, to see the way his curls bounce as he mouths hungrily at your cunt. But the pleasure is so devastating, so mind-numbing that you can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut, your body unable to concentrate on more than one sensation at once.

Your clit is so stiff that it aches. And when Rafayel licks at it, flicking his tongue against your swollen clit and relishing in the desperate, needy sounds falling from your mouth—

It crescendos like a tsunami wave rising to its peak. Your body freezes, mouth falling open as you arch your back, pushing up, up, up against Rafayel’s tongue. It spreads through you like a wildfire, burning you up from the inside out. Your mind is blank, you can’t think, you can’t even make a sound.

You just gasp, silent as the orgasm crashes over you like the tide, taking you under and drowning you beneath the water. Rafayel keeps fucking going, sucking at your clit to keep you right on that knife’s edge, pleasure melting into overstimulation because he knows you like it when it aches. When it becomes a little biting, when it starts to hurt just a little.

He laps at your clit until you shiver, hands weakly pressing against his forehead. Rafayel gives your cunt one last lick, sucking at the lips of your pussy and licking his lips when he catches your gaze.

“All done?” He asks, reaching up to wipe the visible remnants of your orgasm from his jaw. “Another one?”

“I want to suck your cock,” you say, the breath still mostly fucked out of you. “Come—come here.”

“Nuh-uh,” Rafayel tells you, rising back to his feet. The music is still thumping through the walls, resounding in the room as you tilt your head back and stare up at him. “I’m not done. It isn’t a strip show until I’ve gotten naked.”

You blink at him. He still—

“Okay,” you say uselessly. You can see the thick outline of his cock through his pants, so visible that you’re almost certain the leather will burst. “Go on.”

He gives you this smug, confident smile, and you politely don’t mention how the bottom half of his mouth is still wet from your cum.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds rafayel #rafayel #恋与深空 #祁煜 #러브앤딥스페이스 #恋と深空 #rin writes l&ds

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itoshi-s · 2 years ago

Text

anon requested: rin + "why do you keep marking me up? it's hard to mask and people are staring..." // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.5k. cw: mildly suggestive, fem coded reader, mention of bruises/hickeys, fluff. rin wears a panda headband i want to eat him whole

standing in front of your full-width bathroom mirror at 6:43 am, eyes still bleary with sleep and hair sticking out in odd directions, you think you just might actually hate your boyfriend.

you know he doesn't exactly mean to do it - but all sense of rationality is long forgotten when the bright violet, reddish bruises are the first thing you notice in your reflection.

with a sigh, you put your fluffy headband on, keeping every hair out of your face, then start applying makeup. you'll have to be quick with it this time, too - you have hit snooze once or twice, and you certainly don't want to be late, yet still have something else than your face to spend time on camouflaging.

the soft playlist you've put on helps calm some of the annoyance that bubbles in your chest as you hum along under your breath, curling your lashes and applying a final coat of mascara. you put on your lip gloss, smacking your lips as you stare at your reflection, and as the initial bleariness of waking up dies down, you actually feel more amused than irritated upon the sight of hickeys littered down your neck.

rin's a possessive lover. he wants - needs - to feel every inch of your skin under his large, roaming hands. he grabs and kneads the flesh, holds it in a tight grip when he manhandles you however he seems fit. when in the moment, rin doesn't pay any mind whether it leaves marks - in fact, there are times when he wants it more than anything, like when you get home from a party looking just a tad too pretty and the green eyed monster creeps up on him. just want to mark up what's mine, the teal-eyed would mumble, laying on his tummy as he glares at you childishly.

you adore his passionate nature - feel on top of the world and like the most beautiful thing to exist when he gives you that look, overcome with love and desire.

but, for the love of god, you appreciate your sleep and sanity just as much, you think as you dab on the third layer of thick concealer, stacked on top of color corrector that really fucking struggles to balance out the purple hues.

you check the time, realizing you've got to leave the house in half an hour now, and that rin's alarm should go off in a minute or two.

as if on cue, there's a pair of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, then they're pushed open to reveal your boyfriend in all his sleepy glory.

shirtless and rubbing at his eyes, rin yawns as he makes his way over to your side of the bathroom counter. he circles an arm around your waist, broad chest feeling warm against your fluffy robe, and he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder.

"hi," rin mumbles, voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep as his lips move against the bare skin on your neck. he kisses a birthmark there and gives your waist a squeeze, turquoise gaze meeting your reflection in the mirror with an appreciative hum. "y'look nice, baby." a pause, "no eyeliner today?"

you just give a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows twitching to furrow and lips almost curling into a smirk. he's so, so clueless - it's endearing, in a way, you think as you watch him slip away and stand by the second sink.

"mm. don't have time for it today." you say softly, stuffing your powder brush back into your makeup bag and zipping it close.

perhaps your voice sounds a bit too quiet, or the exhaustion is still prominent on your features despite the glowy products you so carefully put on, cause rin's eyes drift back to life and gleam with worry.

he turns the faucet on and fiddles with the temperature, giving your face an once-over in the mirror before turning to the sink again.

"oh." he nods, fingers reaching for the fluffy, panda-eared headband you took off barely a few seconds ago. pulling it on with ease, rin wants to say something more, but dismisses it and goes to wash his face instead.

the water, as nice as it feels on his face, doesn't wash off any of this funny, uneasy feeling. is something wrong? are you mad at him? do you feel bad and shouldn't go to work today? (he will make you call it off if that's the case. there's no way you're going in sick.)

there's many possibilities, and he won't be certain until he asks. dabbing his face off with a towel, rin clears his throat to speak before turning to you - but you beat him to it.

"rin," you begin, voice sounding so resigned it makes his brows knit together. "why do you keep marking me up?"

blinking not once, not twice, but perhaps a few times too many, he does look so clueless, so silly, you have to bite back a laugh. you're supposed to be annoyed with him - but how can you really, when he's just doing all that out of bottomless, unconditional love?

continuing, "it's hard to mask and people are staring..." you trail off, giving yourself a glance in the mirror, head tilting to show more of the poorly concealed marks, as if to prove your point.

you look back at rin, who now doesn't look as puzzled anymore. instead, there's a slight frown settled in his pretty features, long lashes still damp and stuck together, lips pulled into a tight line that almost resembles a pout.

the black, fluffy ears sticking out from messy green hair really sell the look, though.

"what do you mean?" rin argues, and you go to sigh, crossing your arms. "you cover these up?"

your eyes widen, snapping over to the striker's face again. for a second, you think you've misheard him - but in fact, he does look as serious as it gets. your heart jolts with shock, flabbergasted at how truly, utterly shameless he is.

"rin!" you gasp, finger pointing to the side of your neck in exasperation. "of course i do! i can't go around work like that," you insist, tugging the hem of your robe to the side.

the man scowls, eyes trained on the faint pinks and purples. "well i don't see anythin' wrong with it," he deadpans and your shoulders slump in defeat. rin turns to face the mirror again, reaching for his toothbrush.

"everyone else does," you whine, pulling at the tie around your waist and sliding the robe off. you go to hang it up, then reach for the clothes you've neatly folded and laid on the counter last night. "i... like the way they look. and feel." you start bashfully, eyes trained on the ground when you step into your dress pants and swiftly pull them up your legs.

rin smirks at that, just slightly before you can see it and smack it right off his face.

you're quiet for a second, and rin takes the time to trail his eyes down your body as he sticks the toothbrush in his mouth. well, to be fair, there are quite a few bruises littered all over, some darker than others. there's a bite mark-shaped one, too, right on the swell of your breast, which you go to cover with the skin tight long sleeve you put on next.

(he fears your reaction when you go to look into the mirror and see it peeking out the neckline.)

it might irk you, and make people uncomfortable or amused, even - but he loves the way they look on your skin, a sharp contract to the smooth, glowy canvas, momentarily stained with his love that runs oh, so feverishly through every single cell in his body.

isn't it only natural he wants to find an output for it and eventually mark what's his?

"but-" you continue, fixing the gold charm between your breasts, the small, zirconia-studded R glimmering under the bathroom lights. "i'd appreciate it if you... kept it down." you mumble, looking up at rin again and your gaze meets his in the mirror.

rin rolls his eyes dramatically, lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile as he brushes his teeth. perhaps, he can try and opt for more... hidden places. it's not ideal - the need to showcase his claim on you still as strong as ever - but not everyone can pay so little mind to what others think of him like he does. certainly, you can't. not with your line of work, either.

he knows, and that's why it almost feels funny when his heart thumps in his chest with refusal. maybe he is a little immature, in a way - but maybe, it's not such a bad thing at all. not when it's your love that makes him feel like a kid, carefree and playful again.

"fine." rin grumbles, words muffled around the brush as he works it on the back of his teeth, sending you an amused look that has your tummy doing flips. "will hav'ta find other ways to mark my territory, though."

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenario #bllk imagines

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genericaces · 1 year ago

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these were supposed to be sketches but uh they got away from me. anyways first rule of fight club: act as a mirror/catalyst for repressed people to confront what they don't want to acknowledge about themselves. and wear a slutty little outfit while doing it

(close-ups + full-width images under the cut)

#marla doesn't wear that outfit in the scene but yknow what's the point if you can't put spike in a fur coat #does this make sense to anyone. are you picking up what i'm putting down #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spike #angel #spuffy #spangel #art

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swifty-fox · 6 months ago

Note

from the kiss asks, can you do [rough] with the ship of your choice :)

sorry this is really horny

"It still fits."

John looks up from where he'd been smoothing his hands over the lapels of his pink and greens, medals clinking faintly.

Languishing against the doorframe to their bedroom in a flattering combination of pressed slacks and slightly rumpled undershirt, Gale smiles faintly. Methodically taking apart an orange, his eyes roamed over John's frame. Ungelled hair flopped over his forehead, making him look younger than his thirty years.

John pivots back to the mirror, "Ah, nearly," he stretches his arms forward to show how the seams stretched at the shoulder, broader now at thrity-three than they'd been the last time he'd had to don the uniform.

"Hmm," Gale agrees, his once-over obvious in the mirror reflection, "Just don't flex."

Gale's jokes were always rare unexpected things, so quick you could almost miss them if you didn't hang onto every word the way John did, quietly sandwiched between dry tone and a normally serious attitude. It startles a laugh from John, who winces and presses a hand to where his jacket constricts over his chest in protest.

Still fit, still able to keep up with standard PT, just not war-time lean and twenty seven years old.

"Maybe I need to get it tailored," he admits.

Gale pops the final wedge in his mouth and steps forward, smelling of citrus and toothpaste. His hands smooth over John's chest, half appreciative groping and half smoothing invisible wrinkles, popping the button of his jacket.

"Maybe."

Stroking a thumb across the beauty marks on his lovers cheek, John grins toothily, "I bet yours fits just as perfect as the first day you put it on, you trim bastard."

"Well, maybe if you stopped drinking-"

"Ohh, have you pressed my shirt and prepared the roast for dinner too darling?" John croons, hooking Gale in by the waist of his slacks.

Fingers delving inside John's jacket to tug right back against his waist , Gale grins right back at him despite the flush rising to his cheeks, "I don't know, did you buy me a good present this year?"

"Mhm, diamonds and pearls and the prettiest of skirts for my best girl."

He's nosing along the ridge of Gale's neck, searching for the most prime spot to sink his teeth in when he hears the sharp intake of breath.

They both pause and John smiles against Gale's tanned skin, dragging his tongue across his preferred spot and ending it with a sucking kiss. Hard cock presses against John's hipbones as he tugs Gale flush, letting the width of his body cage the slighter man.

"You wanna hear what else I'll give you?"

Gale snorts, long fingers undoing the line of buttons on John's shirt with practice. "Sure," he says dryly, getting the shirt open and knotting fingers in John's chest hair until the other man groans softly, "Let's hear what you're gonna give me."

Their room is small, especially for two full grown men with a whole life together, and it spins around Gale as John rotates them rapidly, pressing him down on his elbows over the foot of the bed. The footboard bites into his stomach almost uncomfortable and Gale grunts as John drapes himself over his back.

Languid kisses trail along the exposed nape of Gale's neck, a touch too wet in a way that made his cock twitch.

"I dunno," John muses as if they were deciding what to have for dinner. Large hands drag down Gale's ribs, settling on his waist to drag his ass back against the fat line of John's cock in a slow drag, "Maybe a few little ones to start."

A moan kicks out of Gale's chest, high and breathy. John catches his breath audibly and then chuckles right in the shell of Gale's ear.

"Definitely won't be able to fit into my uniform if you do that, Bucky." Gale grunts.

"That's okay, that's okay, sweetheart," John breathes, undoing the front of Gale's slacks before he even registers where his hands have gone, dragging the fabric down around Gale's knees, "We'll get you some pretty skirts instead. "

"Fucking hell, John," Gale whines.

"It'll be better that way, easier access for whenever I need."

They're both panting, Gale's fingers tangled in the duvet so hard his knuckles pop. His briefs are tugged down to join his slacks around his knees, vicing them together. Spit lands on the small of his back, sliding down between his cheeks encouraged by two broad fingers

"Look at you, already wet for me."

Gale sucks in another breath as another heavy glob of spit lands, John gathering it on his fingers and using it to press inside Gale sharply. He chokes at the sudden too-big-too-much intrusion, stinging and perfect.

"It's okay, darling, just gotta get you ready for me since you're so delicate," John hisses pointedly and despite himself Gale laughs.

A hand steadies Gale's hip, pressing him down into the mattress so the drooling wet head of his cock presses into his stomach, the footboard bruising his hips deliciously. It opens him up more for John's touch and he slips in a third finger with another layer of spit. He tries to spread his legs to ease some of the pressure but his slacks hold his legs tight. He settles for a wobbly moan, mouth falling open and panting hot and needy onto the sheets.

The sound of a belt buckle opening behind him, out of sight and too-loud kicks something ominous in Gale's belly that burns him twice as hot.

He grins, teeth bared and hungry, "What else? What else y'gonna give me John?"

John's grip tightens and he hisses. Fingers slip out of Gale, leaving him shivering and goose-bumped at the loss, and then there's the sound of John spitting once again. The sound makes Gale whine.

"Yeah, I got what you want, don't worry."

Despite his rough tone, John breaches him slow. Eases inside with a gentle care that gives Gale time to adjust to an intrusion he wasn't quite ready for.

He clutches at John's wrist braced by his head, hissing through his teeth. It's slow minutes until John hilts himself, groaning shamelessly. Then he does that thing Gale hates and loves in equal measure where he grinds his hips forward, as if he had a spare inch to share. It never failed to send vicious too-full pleasure through Gale's body.

Gale whines, setting his teeth to John's thumb to share his feeling back with the other man. Tries to bump his hips right back but John holds him in a restraining grip.

He tuts at him, "Now, you just lay back and let me do the work, doll, this is all you're needed for."

"John," Gale pants, reduced to his name and little else.

John spits again on the draw out, slides home with a wet squelch as moisture drips down Gale's thighs, drips over his balls and onto the bedsheets. It's easy to fall into the fantasy of it all. John the only man he'd ever give the left chair to.

He settles into John's thrusts, grips his wrist and the bedsheets and makes noises he'd flush to remember the next day. John loves it, panting and groaning above him and pulling his body back in the way he just liked, carving out the shape of him in Gale's body.

"Good fucking girl, Gale," John breathes.

Sharp belt presses into the meat of his ass with every thrust, the open wings of John's shirt and jacket brushing his power back. His own undershirt is tucked up around his waist, they're undressed only enough to get the business done. Every hit of John inside has Gale gasping, arching back to meet him at the prompting of John's hand on his hip. His cock drags through rough sheets dampened by his own arousal and he drops a hand to touch himself.

John tuts in displeasure, steals both Gale's wrists in his hand and pulls them above his head, drawing out the line of his body.

"Ass," Gale hisses, but most of his ire is ruined by the way he sobs at the hit of John's cockhead against his prostate.

John laughs, breathless and just as affected, bends down to bite over Gale's shoulder in admonishment, "Sorry darling, the men down at the club swear things tend to take better if you don't touch yourself."

"They, do do they?" Gale asks nastily.

A playful snarl against the nape of his neck, teeth latching onto the skin like a dog with its favorite toy before John soothes over the skin with soft tongue laps and rough stubble. Teases his thumb around the rim of Gale's hole, until his stomach is clenching and he's close to begging.

"I'll try anything to get you nice and bred for me."

"I should muzzle you."

A finger hooks in Gales open jaw, drawing his mouth down so John can spit on his tongue, twisting his hips just so. Gale swallows so the saliva isn't wasted on the sheets, comes so hard he loses hearing for several moments. John lets him ride it out until he's limp, gasping for breath and shivering.

And even though Gale is wrung out and exhausted and oversensitive, John flips him onto his back and presses back inside , bending over to kiss him roughly.

"Gonna make sure it sticks, Okay?" John says against his lips

#swiftywrites #mota #masters of the air #clegan #buck x bucky #sorry im forcibly feminizing Gale again #hey what the fuck i didnt mean for this to get long #dont use spit as lube but for the purposes of horny.....

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one-hundred-lights-to-goodnight · 6 months ago

Text

Pt.5

You sometimes ask Saiki to replay memories of the two of you fucking, just to set the mood. Today you're replaying yourself get railed by Saiki shapeshifted into professor Hatakeyama and you're so turned on you've changed into nothing but your school skirt and socks.

Suddenly you ask Saiki if he'd like to try fucking you as a tentacle monster. Saiki vanishes into his bed before pink tentacles start reaching out of it, firm, soft, slippery, prodding at your various entrances.

One breaches your lips and you're suckling on aphrodisiacs, multiple slender tentacles slither into your ass, writhing, and a thick, firm tentacle, double the width of your arm, starts working its way into your messy cunt. Some others pay attention to your nipples and writhe against your belly, making you aware of the hard bulge against your womb.

And then you're lifted into the air, off the bed, supported by just Saiki's strong tentacles. You love when he's vocal, and he's moaning in pleasure right into your mind. The aphrodisiacs have made your brain fuzzy, and you just pass out as he uses your body. When you come to, the tentacle in you is bigger and there's neon pink cum dribbling in a steady stream out your pussy, mouth, and ass. Your tits are overstimulated and you're whining and crying and feeling good all at the same time, and then you're rotated so that you're face down ass up in a bed of tentacles.

More slither into your pussy, and another slips into your mouth, reaching all the way to your stomach. You're full, so full, and your whole body is tingling. You keep drifting in and out of consciousness, fucked through orgasm after orgasm, and you wonder what people would think of you if they knew you loved being fucked like this and a hundred other ways by Saiki.

It's nighttime on a vacation, and Saiki can just keep going. Neither of your parents notice that you are missing, and all your other classmates are away doing whatever dull thing it is that strikes them. Saiki fucks you through the night, pumping load after load of cool cum into you, and you beg him to continue, not wanting to feel empty, so he fucks you through the day as well.

You're expected to be with family at the pool in the afternoon though, so he puts you in a swimsuit and teleports you there, turning himself transluscent. The clear tentacles continue to pound you in the water, and you cum so many times in front of everyone you lose count, but you keep going underwater to disguise your moans.

When it's time to leave, you just walk right out of the pool, translucent tentacle Saiki attached to your hip and breasts, pounding away. The bumpy car ride home is that much more pleasurable, and a tentacle plugs your mouth shut lest you make a sound.

That night, the tentacle monster fucks you in your bed, and, finally tired, sleeps plugged into you. You've never been fucked this long or been as wet as you are now, and you shift and squirm and touch yourself some more before pulling one of the many tentacles in your pussy out and putting it into your mouth. Only then do you fall asleep, sated, sore, and tired, sucking on Saiki. Saiki cums in your mouth like that, many times through the night. He's all yours.

When he pulls out the next morning, and changes back into his body, he notices all the bruises he's left on you. You wake up too, and prevent him from healing you, then send him back before your family sees him. Then you inspect yourself in your mirror, pleased, thinking about what new way you could have him fill you up.

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 | Pt.8

#terato #tentacles #saiki x you #saiki k smut #saiki x reader #original #both are 18 #aromantic leads

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

Note

Little potion request for your anniversary too!<3 Cardamon for Hobie with❣️ for some playful, competitive wrestling please! I always love a good playful wrestling- so don't be afraid to add in a few nips into the potion too ~ Signed by: 🐦‍⬛

Oooohh yessss I love this 😈😈😈 Thank you for requesting! Here's your potion 🩷

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fluff!

Katy's one year celebration! 🎉

“I'm going to bite you—!” Your warning falls on deaf ears as he tosses you on the bed. You giggle out, body bouncing up and down from the force.

Hobie stands above you, grinning widely, eyes full of mirth. “That's illegal y’know.”

“Biting?” You scoff, smiling through it all. He grabs the heavy blanket, bunching the fabric on his arms. “Since when are you an obedient citizen?”

“Wasn't talkin’ ‘bout laws and shit, love.” Flinging the fabric above you with finesse, it lands square on you, plunging you into darkness. Your laugh gets muffled by the cloth, he chuckles, thinking that you might get lonely being alone on the bed, so he puts his knee on the edge of the mattress and then plops himself over the blanket and above you. “I was talkin’ ‘bout wrestling rules!” You wiggle about, and he scoops you up in his arms, blanket and all.

“I can't breathe!” He sees right through your plans. “Wrestling rules? You don't even read our flat rules!” And he whispers something about hating landlords. Your laughs are still muffled by the barrier, palms trying to push him and to get some leverage with your legs. But alas, his hold on you is tightly sealing you under the covers. So you go test out another plan, you slither a hand away from under him, inching closer to his sides. With a little wiggle of your fingers on his exposed skin, he guffaws, torso immediately leaning away from your tickling hand. His thighs are still cageing you in, hand holding your own to prevent another attack.

“You little—!” Hobie pulls the covers away from your face, he regrets it when he sees your amused face. Hair messed up, nose scrunched up from laughter, and eyes brighter than the warm lamp on the bedside table. It's the most beautiful sight. “You did an illegal move.” He tries his best to look intimidating but his soft eyes and lopsided grin betrays him.

“Guilty as charged!” You'd lift up your hands in surrender but he still has your hands pinned down, warm gentle fingers making patterns around your wrists. “Say ‘uncle?’” You tilt your head playfully, tone lilting, beaming up at him as the late afternoon sunlight filters through the thin red curtains that bathes him in the same passionate colour.

“I'll say uncle…” The bed creaks as he leans closer to you, a hair's width away from your nose. You bat your eyelashes, toying with him. “...If you admit that you're a stinkin’ cheater that cheats.” His breath fans your cheeks, you could only chortle at his choice of words because of him being so close. When you let out a giggle, he puckers his lips to press a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. It has you melting and admitting to your so called crimes.

You softly laugh, cheeks hot from the position you're in. “I'm a stinking cheater that cheats.” You lift your head, kissing his cheek, neck aching at the movement. “Only because my opponent has super abilities…” you peck the corner of his lip, “and I'm at a…” mirroring his affection, you kiss the tip of his pierced nose. “Disadvantage.”

Hobie blinks, frozen in place, pulse thrumming from your barrage of attacks. “That's also an illegal move.” He whispers like he's surprised even though he knew you'd do exactly that the moment you raised your head.

You duck, soft lips meeting the stubble of his jaw, and you swear you heard his breath stagger in his throat. “Even that one?” You say against his searing hot skin.

“Especially that one.” He sighs, eyes closing for a moment.

“Say ‘uncle,’ Hobie.”

“You're never lettin’ me win one, huh?”

“Nope, never, especially that you look so good like this.” You blow hot air on the shell of his ear before laying down. You've brought down the amazing Spiderman without even using your hands. “Losing to me.”

Hobie's head falls limp, chin laying on his clavicle. “Uncle.” He whispers, and you laugh victoriously.

Your victory is short lived as he flings the blanket away, hitching your shirt up to reveal your waist, long warm fingers tickling your sides. Hobie laughs like a villain for a minute before giving you reprieve and then finally resting his head on your chest like he has done the most grueling work in the world. You heave, laughing into the crown of his head as he embraces you, hand lifting yours up, intertwining his fingers with your own until you hear soft snores upon your chest, only then you join him in dreamland.

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