#his little freckles -explodes-

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ taking a steamy bath with rafayel

warnings: suggestive content, rafayel and my delusions, slight nudity (male), not proof read bc i’m too ashamed of what i wrote

character: rafayel

link to master list here~

author’s notes; written because of rafayel’s misty invitation card.

i don’t write smut because i think i’d pass away from embarrassment but this card? this card almost turned me to the dark side.

more under the cut :3

“Hey cutie, why don’t we wash off together?”

painting and baking are not similar. at all.

one is the creation of visual art and one is the creation of edible art

so i don’t know why you and rafayel are surprised when your cake just, exploded. well not the cake but the icing bag sure did.

rafayel claims it wasn’t his fault, but he tried to pipe the icing without cutting the fucking bag, so he was just squeezing the bag until it popped.

good job.

now you’re both splattered with bits of red icing - and if you squinted hard enough it looked as if you two where the prime suspects of a murder

you don’t even get mad at the now very messy cake - instead opting to laugh at rafayel who is clearly distressed at the icing covering his hands and upper half of his body

“Ugh, is this going to stain my shirt?”

of course, typical rafayel whining.

you notice some icing dripping down his jaw - down his neck - and grin, thinking of a new way to tease the distressed lumerian

so of course, rather than just wiping it off with a tissue, or your thumb, you decide that sticking out your tongue and gently lick his neck.

you lick his neck.

his neck.

rafayel immediately flushes, a delicious look of utter confusion, fluster and shock blend into one as you pull back

oh the emotions on his face are just priceless, or very hot.

depends if you like your men partially dumbfounded and partially (very) attracted simultaneously

“Hey… [YN] what are you doing?”

awwwwhjswhd he’s going to be turning so red, he flushes too easily for his own good

you notice the flush, how it spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, down his neck and chest

silently you wonder if his nipples blush too

keep licking up small bits of the icing on him, caressing your tongue over his collar bones, make sure to suck off every last drop of that icing

the icing is sweet - or is it rafayel?

his breathing gets heavier, and small sighs of content leave his lips every now and then

his face is kind of scrunched into a frown, you’d think he was walking in baked beans with bare feet with how displeasured he looked (specific i know) but really he was just trying not to make more noises

one of his hands are covering his mouth, palm facing outwards, as if he were trying to muffle his own noises

unfortunately that concept doesn’t sit well with you (nor me) - so you decide to get a little more frisky…

as you kiss his neck, pop open the top button of his shirt and part it, dip down and nibble along his collar bone

his hands that were pushing you back are now just holding onto you, his eyes a little dazed, trying to focus on your face - but whenever you look up at him he gets too embarrassed and looks away

kiss, bite, lick at his freckles/beauty marks on his skin and he’ll shudder - trying to prevent any blood travelling south

now he’s letting out more noises, and his grip on you tightens again as he pants

when he finally pulls you up his face is dusted in a beautiful blush, eyebrows furrowed but his pupils are dilated - his chest is exposed showing you that his nipples do in-fact blush - horray!

pushing you back, rafayel takes in your figure, eyes scanning you from bottom to top before they focus on your eyes

“You’ve got icing all over you too… [YN]”

you sometimes forget how strong rafayel is - yet when he scoops you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom you quickly dismiss the idea of a frail, unfit painter

he swiftly switches on the bath before you go back to absolutely ravaging the poor man

i’m talking shirt open, mouth-on-chest, eye rolling goodness

at some point your shirt and trousers were discarded on the floor - and his shirt was flung out the door as you two continue to caress each other

trail your fingers down his abdomen, trace his subtle v-line, tease the skin at the hem of his trousers before you pop open the button and slide them off

his eyes never leave your hands, you notice his breath hitching every time your nails stretch gentle against his skin…

dance your finger-tips around his very obvious ‘problem’ and listen to him whine disappointed as you pull away, opting to wrap your arms around the back of his neck

the bath finally fills and you both tumble into it, the warm water and soap soaking into your under garments

rub soap along his waist and abdomen and he’ll repress a small moan, causing you to comment on how sensitive his skin is

“In the water my senses are heightened, including how you feel against my skin…”

maybe it’s a lumerian thing? or maybe it’s a rafayel thing?

either way it’s enticing how easily he reacts to your ministrations so you’re not complaining

cup his face in your hands and caress his cheek with your thumb, rubbing against his smooth, milky skin and watch a small sigh tremble out of his lips

thumb at his bottom lip, and watch his eyes flutter slightly as he waits for more

slide your hands from his face to his chin and hold it, glide your hand down his neck then chest and watch his breathing visibly quicken with the rise and fall of his chest

“Your way of triggering my senses has only touched the surface…”

this comment makes you want to tease him more, i mean watching him shiver and twitch under your fingertips?

who doesn’t want to see rafayel like that??

so, as any sane person would do, you hook your fingers under his silver necklace and tug him towards you - both your half naked bodies sliding together as he groans at the contact

you lean into his collarbone and suck a hickey into his skin, tongue gliding over the bruise as he audibly gasps at the realisation

his eyes visibly glaze over with lust as you mark him up - his restraint snapping as he pushes himself on top of you

his arms cage you beneath him, and his gaze looks starved, as if just being with you you wasn’t enough he needed you to be his, and his alone

rafayel’s sudden surge of dominance jolts you as he holds your chin to face him

despite his dominance you see his fluster and arousal plastered across his face as he whispers out -

“Your body is warm, I like that.”

- before he finally leans in to kiss you

his lips are soft, a stark contrast to the intensity of which he kisses you

his hands are trailing all over your body, savouring the feel of your plush skin against his palms

you can feel him bite your bottom lip - eliciting a gasp from you as he slides his tongue between your lips

rafayel is lost in you, the taste of you, the feeling of you against him, the sounds you let out, the fragrant smell of the bath soap and the sight of you oh rafayel is absolutely gone

his grip on your waist tightens as he fully immerses himself in you, only thinking of you, only knowing you and what you taste like in that moment.

when you two finally break apart, there’s a small saliva bridge between your spit-soaked lips - and you can see just how flushed rafayel is

red lips, hickey-ed up, and you’re not daft enough not to notice something prodding prominently against your thigh…

“[YN], how about we test my senses a bit more…”

AN; again i wrote half of this last night and half of this when i woke up but when i was writing i had this sharp pang of shame like… this poor poor man doesn’t even know half of the shit i’d like to see him doing and also the fact that my parents migrated to an english-speaking country only for their daughter to use that power to write about a fictional character ANYWAYS I HEART RAFAYEL 🗣️

[mrprettywhenhecries]

just a ride [b.c] (1/2)

Benny Cross ✗ f!Reader

✝︎ w.c. 2.6k words ✝︎ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, reader leaves boyfriend for benny, minor depiction of violence, alcohol consumption & nicotine use; this part's pretty tame honestly, but there will be smut in the next part ;3 ✝︎ a/n. The Benny brain rot has had me in a vice grip and I needed to write something before I exploded. Admittedly this is somewhat similar to how he and Kathy met in the film, but with my own spin on it, and will be expanded on in the next part. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

When your boyfriend brings you to an unfamiliar bar, the rough atmosphere and rowdy clientele are a little more than you bargained for, but when you lock eyes with the handsome biker across the room, your whole night's about to change.

“Where are we?” you asked as your boyfriend parked across the street from a seedy looking bar in a part of town you’d never been to before.  The otherwise empty street was lined with bikes and you turned to gape at your boyfriend.

“A biker bar?  Really?” you exclaimed, the idea almost comical.  “You wanna go to a biker bar?

Your boyfriend prickled at the insinuation behind your words.  “Yeah, so what if I do?  You don’t think I’m tough enough?” he questioned defensively and you just huffed a cynical laugh.

“Do you even know anyone that comes here?”

“Well, no, but–”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat.  “This seems like a bad idea…”

“C’mon, if it gets too dodgy we’ll leave,” your boyfriend coaxed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Though you had your doubts, you didn’t argue further, stepping out of the car and crossing the street to the bar.  As soon as you stepped inside, you hesitated at the threshold, fighting to catch your breath against the assault to your senses–the sour stench of sweat and stale smoke instantly hitting you, burning your nostrils as you breathed it in.

Jostled by the crowd and press of bodies, you blindly followed your boyfriend in search of a free table, barely able to hear him over the blaring music and rowdy bikers yelling to be heard over the din.  Finding a lone empty table in the center of the room, your boyfriend claimed it, pulling out a chair for you and draping his coat over the one next to it.

“I’m gunna go get us some drinks, you stay here,” he said before taking off in the direction of the bar.

From your seat further away from the jukebox, it was a little more bearable and you could actually hear yourself think.  Letting your gaze roam the packed room, you noticed you were getting some curious glances from the bikers sitting nearby, but you found you weren’t the only woman there and that eased your nerves slightly. 

The sharp clack of pool balls connecting pulled your eyes to the pool table in the corner and your breath hitched as you spotted quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life leaning over the table, pool cue in hand.  As he lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting yours, you could’ve sworn time slowed, and you wet your lips, your mouth suddenly dry.

Realizing you’d been staring a little too long, you quickly tore your gaze away, glancing back a moment later to find him still watching you curiously.

Pulse pounding in your ears, you watched him set his cue down and head toward you, a swaggering grace to his movements as he approached.  Pulling out the chair on your left, he spun it around and straddled it, leaning forward to wrap his bare arms around the chair back.

“I’m Benny,” he said, introducing himself, a bright grin spreading across his tanned face as he leaned closer, dirt smudged across his cheek and a smattering of light freckles adorning his nose.

“Never seen you around here before,” he observed, tilting his head slightly, waiting for you to respond.

His low raspy voice sent a shiver through you and you watched him for a moment, wetting your lips before giving your name in return and his grin widened.

“You here alone?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you explained, lifting your shoulder in a rueful shrug, a regretful tinge to your voice.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Benny echoed, wrinkling his nose at the news, though you knew he'd had to have seen you come in together.

“‘Fraid so,” you murmured, losing yourself for a moment in his pale blue eyes, a soulfulness to his unwavering stare that held your breath hostage.

“S’a real shame,” he drawled, his eyes flicking up to focus on something behind you, and before you could reply, your boyfriend claimed the chair on your other side, squaring off across the table from Benny.

“Back off, man, she’s spoken for,” he exclaimed, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look tougher, though beside Benny he just looked foolish.

Benny looked between the two of you, an amused grin playing at the corner of his lips, and he held his hands up harmlessly in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll go,” he said, a hint of laughter to his voice as he rose from the chair, giving you one last lingering look before heading back to his spot by the pool table, grabbing his abandoned beer bottle by the neck and bringing it to his lips.

“What’s his fuckin’ deal, huh?” your boyfriend huffed, setting your drink down in front of you, tearing your gaze from the roguish stranger.  “Fuckin’ vulture, thinks he can take what’s mine,” he grumbled, taking a long drink from his bottle.

At his words, your brows pinched.  

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to come here,” you reminded him, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a slow sip as your eyes once more flitted toward Benny, studying him over the rim of your glass.  There was something about him that pulled at you, like a moth to a flame, and there was a part of you that wanted to be pulled, to let that flame engulf you whole.

It barely registered that your boyfriend had responded.

“Hey, you listening to me?” he asked, snapping you from your thoughts and you made a noncommittal sound.

“I think I could do this—“

“Do what?” you asked distractedly and he frowned.

“Ride bike.  Y’know, join a club.  Maybe this club.”

At your derisive snort his frown deepened.  “What?” he demanded and you finally looked at him full on.

“You aren’t like these guys,” you said bluntly, tired of him trying to be someone he wasn’t.  “You just wanna look cool, you don’t love it like they do—riding,” you clarified.  “To them their colours are like a second skin, not just a costume you can put on when you feel like it.”

“Oh please, I’m sure most of these guys are just weekend warriors,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, letting your gaze wander once more, observing the other bikers that filled the hazy room, their raucous laughter and boisterous conversations filling your ears.

The longer you sat there, the more you felt eyes on you and you began to notice several of the bikers staring at you before quickly turning to talk furtively amongst themselves.  Unsure if you wanted to know what they were saying or not, you turned away and for a moment your eyes met those of the man sitting alone at the table across from you—he was older, his weathered face lined from life and hard work, and an air of authority radiated from him.

When he noticed you looking, he nodded to you and his full lips pulled into a smile, easing the hard cast of his countenance.

“I need some air,” you murmured, standing before your boyfriend could respond.

“Want me to order you another drink?” he grunted, taking another swig of his beer as you slipped your jacket around your shoulders.

“Nah, I’m good,” you mumbled, stepping away from the table.

As you passed, the older man caught your wrist, holding you in place and he peered up at you, an almost fatherly expression on his bluff face.

“You don’t need t’worry,” he drawled knowingly, his heavy midwestern accent coating his words while his deep set eyes flicked to his fellows and back to you.  “Nothin’s gunna happen to yeh,” he assured and you nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.  Once he released you, you headed for the door, keeping your eyes straight ahead.  Despite his words, you still couldn’t quite shake the wariness that had seeped into you.

Slipping outside, you reached in your pocket for your pack of cigarettes, tamping one out and perching it between your lips.  As soon as the door shut behind you, cutting the noise from inside and the cool night air enveloped you, you felt as though you could finally breathe again.

Leaning back against the rough brick wall behind you, you searched your pockets for your lighter, swearing under your breath when it eluded you.  Pulling the cigarette from your lips, a heavy sigh followed and you let your head fall back against the bar wall, your eyes turning skyward–the inky depths above obscured by the light of the neon sign that hung overhead.

You barely noticed the door swing open again until the crunch of boots on pavement stopped next to you and you felt a presence looming at your side.  Figuring it was just your boyfriend, you let your head roll toward him, only to find Benny standing there, tilting his head as he watched you.

“Need a light?” he asked, pulling a worn Zippo from his pocket and flipping it open with a practiced flick of the wrist to thumb the wheel, holding the flickering flame out for you to light your cigarette.

Feeling Benny’s intense gaze on you, you took a deep draw through the filter, watching the cherry burn brightly before leaning back, and Benny snapped the Zippo shut, exhausting the flame in one fluid motion while you let your hand drop, lazily blowing the stream of smoke away from him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, rolling the cigarette between your fingers as you lifted your eyes to his once more.

“S’nothin’,” he drawled softly, lips twitching upward.  With the lamp overhead casting a halo over his tousled dirty blond hair, he looked like some sort of fallen angel clad in leather and denim, his rough garb so at odds with the tender cast of his face.

After several long drags, the nicotine began to soothe your nerves and you offered Benny a puff, your arm brushing against his as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“So who’s that older guy who was sitting at the table next to mine, the one who stopped me on my way out?” you asked, glancing at Benny’s profile, your gaze lingering on his distractingly long lashes that brushed his cheek each time he blinked.

“That’s Johnny,” he grunted, smoke curling from his lips as he answered, handing you the half spent cigarette back to finish off.  “He’s president of the club,” he explained and you nodded.

Silence fell over the pair of you, but all the while you could feel Benny watching you, searching your face for something even he wasn’t sure he was looking for.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward his bike parked nearby and you followed his gaze, flicking a line of ash to the pavement.

“Sounds tempting,” you mused, taking one last drag before dropping the cigarette to crush under heel and pushing off the wall, dusting your hands off.  “But I’m here with my boyfriend, remember?”

“I remember,” Benny replied, huffing a soft laugh as he shook his head, his grin widening mischievously.  “It’s just a ride.”

“Uh huh,” you countered skeptically, though you couldn't help but match his smile, the excuses running through your head seeming flimsier the longer you held his gaze.

Before you could give a proper answer, the door swung open again and your boyfriend stepped out, his expression twisting when he caught sight of you and Benny together.

“I thought I told you to step off, man!  Think you can cut in on what’s mine?” he spat and you couldn’t help but gape at him, echoing his words incredulously.

“What’s yours?” 

“Will you just shut it and let me take care of this guy?"

Prickling with anger, you crossed your arms over your chest, your brows climbing as you shot him an indignant look and Benny’s grin melted from his face.

“Hey now.  Don’t talk to her like that,” he said, stepping up to him while subtly pushing you behind him and for a moment you saw fear flicker in your boyfriend’s eyes as he looked up at Benny, standing nearly a head taller than him.  Tamping his fear down, he wet his lips and opened his mouth.

“She’s my girl, and I can talk to her however the fuck I want.  This is none of your fuckin’ business, asshole.”

Benny shook his head ruefully, sucking his teeth.

“Seems like y’need someone to teach you some manners,” he drawled and you nearly laughed out loud at the thought of this brooding baby faced biker standing up for you against your own boyfriend–though if you were being honest, soon to be ex-boyfriend.

Just then the bar door opened and several of Benny’s fellow Vandals streamed out, forming a circle around the two men when they realized a fight was brewing, like sharks drawn to the scent of blood in the water.  Despite the growing crowd, your boyfriend’s bruised ego refused to let him step down and in a foolish bid to prove himself, he rushed forward, his brazen swing catching Benny square in the jaw.

Stumbling back, Benny let out a low grunt at the blow before straightening, shaking the punch off.

“That all you got?” he taunted, his deep drawl unphased.

Desperate to keep the upper hand, your boyfriend swung again wildly, but this time Benny was ready for it.  Ducking, he countered with a left hook, sending your boyfriend sprawling.  For one brief moment, you thought Benny wasn’t going to stop, even though your boyfriend was already down for the count, but as soon as he looked at you, the wild light faded from his eyes and he merely rolled his shoulders, working the tension free.

When he stepped up to his bike and threw a leg astride it, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his unspoken question hanging in the air.

Giving your boyfriend one last disgusted look, you turned on your heel and climbed behind Benny, wrapping your arms around his waist as he lifted up momentarily to bring down his boot on the kick lever, putting his full weight into the jump and the bike roared to life beneath you, the vibrations spreading through your body like a wildfire.

Several Vandals whooped in excitement and you heard engines firing around you, but Benny had already pulled away from the curb and out into the street.  The stretch of road to the bridge ahead was deserted and the moon slipped out from behind the clouds to illuminate the way, shining off the damp pavement.

When you first hit the bridge, it was just you and Benny, and he threw his head back, letting out a howl that seemed to encompass everything you were feeling in that moment.  With the chill night wind whipping past you, stinging your cheeks and tugging at your clothes, it felt as though you were flying, Benny’s back pressed to your chest the only solid thing left in the world as everything else fell away.

You’d never felt so alive.

So free.

In that moment, you understood why the Vandals rode.

Overcome with an emotion you could only describe as childlike wonder, you swept your arms out wide, a wild crow of laughter bubbling up from the depths of your stomach just as the other bikers crested the hill to surround you and Benny, the roar of their engines nearly drowning out your cry.

Your rush of adrenaline waned, leaving you reeling and you quickly wrapped your arms tightly around Benny, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade as his warmth seeped into you, and you knew you’d never be the same.

Part of you wondered if that had been Benny’s plan from the moment your eyes had met across the bar, but even if it had, you knew you couldn't hold it against him.

[pwinkprincess]

hiii i absolutely adore ur works and the way u characterize your readers !!! if ur okay w it, would u mind writing anyting 4 choso?? no pressure ofc, it’s all up 2 u ( ˘ ³˘) <3

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི secrets

࣪𓏲ּ. ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

in which your older brothers best friend takes a liking to you.

you remember the day choso moved onto the block. him and his brother were the only asian children in a predominantly black neighborhood. most people left him and his family alone, besides from the occasional curious glances and whispers of wonder. they questioned how the family found your neighborhood and what gave them the right to just settle in and replace the previous family that lived there two years ago. the older people were upset that the landlord just forgot about the previous renters just like that.

their house was right beside yours, you sat down on the concrete stairs that connected to your front porch with a caprisun and a babydoll with matted hair in your hands. you watched with curious eyes as their family brought a multitude of things inside their home. with every piece of furniture you imagined where and how they would place. you don’t know how long you watched them, but it was long enough for one of the boys to look up from the heavy looking boxes they were carrying and spare a glance at you.

he had pink hair and freckles placed all over his face. he also seemed to be the same age as you. the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds. your heart thumped in your chest. you were interested, truthfully. you had never seen someone that looked like them. you grew up around melaninated people who resembled you. there was also a good population of mexican kids at your school as well. most of them shared a tan though, there weren’t any that were as pale as the two new kids.

he dropped the box and raised his hand to wave ay you. you gripped your now empty pouch, your eyes are wide. there was a newfound emotion swelling in your chest, it was a feeling you couldn’t vocally describe. it felt like millions of butterflies were flapping their wings inside your stomach, and a superb feeling of happiness exploded through your body, going as far as to reach your toes. with hesitance, you lifted your hand and waved at him as well.

the boy grinned and you’d be lying if you said his grin wasn’t contagious. you felt your lips mimicking the same movements that rested on his face.

your little moment was quickly interrupted when your brother stepped outside. his footsteps echoed on porch like bricks falling down. he sported only a pair of basketball shorts and dirtied nike slides that he generally refused to wear socks with. a red durag wrapped around his head, covering most of his forehead. he scratches the side of his neck while he observes the pink haired boy as well, a scowl rested on your brother’s face as he looked at the little boy. the little boy is freed from your brother’s nonvocal interrogation when his brother calls him to hurry with the boxes.

“mama said come wash up. food’s gonna be done soon.” your brother tells you before going back inside the house.

you look back over at the spot where the boy was but there’s no one there anymore. you frown to yourself as you stand up and walk back inside the house.

it was a random thursday. that day, choso and his brother finally began coming to school. it was their first time riding the bus. even before they came, you and your brother’s bus stop was in front of their house. as you and your brother stood there silently waiting for the bus, your mind drifts back to the boy. and maybe you were thinking about the boy too much because out of the corner of your eye, you seen a flash of pink. you turned your head slightly, and to your surprised he was right there beside you.

you couldn’t help but to flinch and jump back. you shuffle closer to your brother, who only kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes at your antics. in your defense, he snuck up on you! the boy smiled shyly at you, you took notice of the slight red that rested on his cheeks. just as shyly as a few days ago, you wave back to him. he was a little bit shorter than you so he had to look up slightly to look at you. as you looked up, this time you realized his brother is standing beside him. your eyes move away from the pink haired one to the black haired one.

you felt your throat dry as suddenly you became weirdly self conscious of what you were wearing. did you look too childish? you wondered. most girls in sixth grade were wearing this style, and you thought you were pretty caught up in middle school fashion; especially sixth grade fashion. you glanced down at your jordans, light blue jeans, and your favorite pink unicorn shirt. twinges of doubt filled your mind, maybe you did look too childish. you look back up at the black haired boy who was looking around impatiently.

he was very handsome, his face carried a boyish look that his little brother didn’t exactly have. the same feeling from yesterday came back but this one was more intense. so intense that you almost felt sick. you briefly wondered if you should go back inside the house and change into something that screamed big girl, but to your dismay the bus was already coming.

the two older boys were already bolting for the doors the second the door opened. with shakiness you looked at the pink haired boy.

“sit beside me on the bus.” you told him simply. as the two of you climbed onto the bus you counted in your head. you unassigned-assigned seat was five seats away from the bus driver. you’ve been sitting in the same spot since the school year, everyone had already picked their seats so you had slightly saved him from getting yelled at.

as the bus picked up acceleration, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes until he decided to break the silence.

“hey, uhm what’s your name?” he asked cautiously. and when you gave it to him he repeated it a few times to himself. “my name’s yuji itadori.” he introduced himself.

“hi, yuji.” you smile.

conversation took over the two of you easily. the two of you talked about everything and nothing at all. yuji would occasionally slip jokes throughout the conversation and you’d laugh hard. you had never talked to any boys for this long, all of your friends were girls. usually when a girl and boy became friends in your school they soon became a couple. but as you talked more with yuji, you could tell that wouldn’t be the outcome with the two of you.

when the bus finally approaches your middle school, yuji stopped talking as much and a worried look had graced his features.

you tap itadori on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “i’ll help you around the school today, ‘kay? but pay attention ‘cus i might not be so nice tomorrow.”

as months went by, while your relationship with yuji grew closer, so did choso’s and your brother’s. the two older boys did just about everything together; played basketball, went to the mall, played on the football team together, went to their first high school party together, and much more. all four of you grew closer, it had gotten to the point both your mother and their mother had to buy more food because they now technically had four kids.

months morphed into years and before you knew it, you and yuji were in 10th grade. it was bittersweet because during the summer before the new school year started, you were sitting beside yuji watching your brothers graduate high school together. at their graduation dinner you cried and cried until you couldn’t cry anymore. everyone else thought it was because you were an emotional little sister and while that might’ve been true, you were also crying because you wouldn’t see choso as much.

you had grown an enormous crush for him over the last few years. you had kept your crush a secret but you had a feeling itadori was aware of your crush on his older brother. you couldn’t help it. while yuji was also just as handsome, it was something about choso.

his face had matured, sculpted by time, shedding the soft contours of youth for more defined features. several piercings adorned strategic spots, adding a hint of edge to his appearance. not to mention how taller he had gotten, he had to be 6’ something and every time he stood beside you, you felt like passing out. you would miss seeing him in the halls.

your two years of high school passed just as quickly. and before you knew it, your diploma was in your hands and you and yuji were screaming and hugging each other. proud tears slipped from your face as you watched yuji take pictures with his family. he was no longer short and stubby. no, he was a man now. both him and choso towered over their parents as they conjoined arms to posed. just like choso, his face shedded all of its fat and morphed into something more chiseled. you felt yourself tearing up even more as you realized the two of you were no longer children.

“i’m not a kid anymore.” you mumble against choso’s lips. he hums at your words as his hands rubs up and down on your ass.

it had been a year since you graduated high school and began venturing out into doing new things. your brother was gone to his girlfriend’s house, yuji has began hanging out with this megumi guy, and your parents were gone at a wedding a few cities over. you had gotten the bright idea to invite choso over to watch a movie. you think he got your intentions fairly quickly when you mentioned the house being empty.

“you’re m’best friends lil’ sister, though. he’d kill me if—“ he’s cut off by you pressing another kiss against his swollen lips.

“i’m not gonna tell him anything. ‘nd ‘m sure you’re not gonna say anything, right?” you retort back.

choso bites down on his lip, he’s obviously conflicted. you sigh to yourself as your hands go for his zipper. you look up at him the whole time while you undo his jeans. once his zipper is down, you could see the obvious bulge that rested against his briefs. you could feel your pussy growing wet just from the fact that he had gotten so hard just from kissing you.

you slowly lower yourself onto your knees on the wooden floor. you bring your lips to his tip and begin pressing kisses against it, choso flinches every time you come in contact with another spot. as a final message, you dart your tongue out and lap at the precum that’s beading from his tip.

“you wanna do this?” you ask once you pull away. choso’s looking down at you with his pale skin flushed. there’s a fiery look in his eyes as he stares at you in your eyes.

“remember, you’re not a kid anymore. so take everything ‘mma give you.” he tells you as he guides his dick inside your mouth.

𓍼݀֯८݂𓈒𓏼ིྀ. .𓏼ིྀ ̥১♡

“fuck!” you gasp as choso’s hand strikes your ass cheek. you’re gripping your covers inhumanely tight. you can’t find it in you to close your mouth, you’re usually not as vocal with guys but choso feels like he’s scratching this itch that’s been there for years.

choso huffs out a breath as he slowly pulls his cock out of your creaming pussy, you’re so messy leaving a white base around his cock as well as dripping down your thighs. he slaps his cock against your clit a few times, watching as you shudder with every smack.

he wraps his hand around the back of your neck as he slowly pushes his cock back inside of you.

“this what you wanted, right? hm?” he coos at you. he watches as his cock sinks deeper into your wetness inch by inch.

you can’t stop the loud gasp from leaving your throat as your eyes roll back. who knew someone as skinny as him could be carrying something so long in pants. “chooo.” you whine, it feels like he’s stretching you out all over again.

“i know, baby.” he moans with you. he watches as the fat of your ass bounces against his pelvis. “you feel so good, mama.” he whines.

“only for you, daddy.” you giggle.

“yeah? this pussy mine, baby?” he asks with amusement. he removes his hand from your neck and uses both hands to spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch both holes. seeing your pussy wrapped around his cock like some sort of elastic has him twitching while still inside.

“mhmm. your pussy.” you don’t even know if your own words are truthful or if it’s just the sex that has you talking crazy.

“rub that pussy for daddy, then. cum all over this dick, baby.” he’s picking back up speed, at some point he goes from thrusting to pounding your pussy.

your back is arching even deeper, if possible. everything feels intensified as you rub at your clit. you feel tempted to try to crawl away from his never ending thrusting, but you told him you were a big girl now and you were trying to stand on that.

“shit so wet f’me.” he curses to himself.

he fucks you so well that your breathing gets caught in your chest a few times. you wish he would’ve fucked you earlier, everything about him is perfect. after a few minutes of straight drilling your pussy, he slows down so that it doesn’t hurt too much. you fingers are still slowly rubbing on your clit, some of your sticky arousal leaked from your pussy down to your fingers and palm.

“gonna cum, cho.” you’re gasping as you feel your orgasm approaching. “fuckfuckfuck— ‘m cummin’ cho!” you moan as you begin cumming around his cock, making an even bigger mess. you press your face deeper into the mattress as you begin babbling random words. nothing makes sense right now, all you can think about is his dick sliding in and out of you.

“there we go. goooood girl.” his moans turn into whimpers as his own orgasm approaches. he fucks your faster and harder as his peak builds up. “daddy’s turn now. mhmm, stay still f’me, mama. ‘m ‘bout t’cum too.”

instead of staying still, you begin throwing your ass back against him. choso lets out a breath as he watches your wetness leave little strands every time you pull away from him. “fuck, take it baby.” he groans. instead of rhythmically pulling out, he only shifts his hips a little as his orgasm pours from his cock. strands of white cum escape from his dick, filling your pussy.

the two of you stay still for a few seconds until choso finally pulls out.

“we’re not doin’ this shit nomore, forreal.” you can’t tell if he’s telling you or trying to convince himself.

“we’ll see.” you reply sarcastically.

[osachiyo]

19 and 21 for Chuuya? <3 if that's okay skfjfjg

19 — They make you squirt for the first time + 21 — They beg you to ride their face MDNI.

"i swear to fuckin' god babe,"

chuuya grumbled sassily at seeing you hover over his face — he felt insulted that you thought he couldn't take it.

"just don't wanna hurt you, chuu," you whined, thighs trembling from feeling your boyfriend's hot breath fanning over your wet folds.

"ya really think this would hurt me? silly girl," chuuya deadpanned, rolling his eyes — pulling you down to meet his mouth before you could even form a response — a yelp leaving your lips at his boldness.

"f-fuck, chuuya —!" one of your hands scrambled to find purchase in his ginger locks, while the other gripped the headboard like your life depended on it. "relax baby, i got ya," chuuya's voice was muffled as he pressed you even more against his pretty face — bare hands groping the globes of your ass.

his tongue licked a flat stripe up from your hole to your clit, the pink muscle moving in circular motions against your sensitive little bud.

it didn't take long for you to finally calm yourself down — finding a bit of confidence, you started bucking your hips, riding his face which made chuuya moan at the feeling, landing a swift smack to your ass to encourage you to keep using him.

"yeah baby, just like that — ride my fuckin' face, god —" chuuya groaned, tongue dipping into your hole repeatedly, before slipping out and flicking your clit — it was sloppy and messy but fuck did it feel like heaven.

the hot coil in your lower tummy tightened from hearing chuuya's voice — dripping with lust and hunger, and him feasting on you like he hadn't eaten in forever.

"oh god chuuya —! feels s'good, right there, oh —!" your mouth dropped open into an 'o' shape as the hot coil finally snapped — the pressure in your tummy exploding with heat.

your juices squirted out like a fountain — drenching chuuya's face, as he tried his best to lick it all up. only when you looked down did you see the fucked-out look on your boyfriend's handsome face. his freckled skin now flushed into a shade of pink down to his neck.

you could see your own face warning up at the smirk he gave you. "chuu, are you oka—!" you were suddenly flipped onto your back against the mattress — chuuya's hips now between your legs as he quickly unbuckled his belt, before taking his leaky cock out and slapping it on your clit impatiently.

"good god, baby — can't believe you just fuckin' squirted. you need to do that again. can you do that f'me, angel? on my cock this time, yeah? fuck yeah, open up sweetheart—"

prompts are closed !

[lovings4turn]

kissing lando’s little freckles across his stomach and he’s biting his bottom lip sooo hard trying not to let out a noise

do you want me to explode cause i will . maybe it’s a nice day outside , and so you’re resting your head against his bare stomach as you lay in the garden . you start lazily tracing shapes against his skin , and he looks down at you with an amused smirk at the tickling sensation . but then , when you turn your head and start to ghost kisses along each of the freckles littering his stomach and lower abdomen , it becomes less funny . he’s holding back groans , tilting his head back as he breathes deeply and tries to control himself . you can feel his muscles tense underneath you , knowing the exact effect you’re having on him , and it only makes it more entertaining

[derpy-dogs-n-cats]

Courtship Misunderstanding.

Main Masterlist

Avatar Masterlist

Neteyam x Fem! Metkayina! Reader.

Warnings: Talks about mating, implied sexual themes.

Summary: Neteyam finds out that he's still unaware of some of the customs of your people.

W/C: 2.5k+

Neteyam slowly rises from the water to the shore of the village of Awa’atlu, water pouring out of his hair as he drags the giant eel from the cord he’d brought along and tied around the base of its jaw. Stepping out of the water properly and turning to his left, he rests the end of the long cord in his hand over his shoulder, feeling satisfied at the sound of the heavy drag of the massive weight of the eel leaving a deep wet path on the sand.

It’d taken him days of exploring every inch of the waters, starting with the reefs and opening to the deeper ocean but he’d finally found a catch that was worthy of being gifted to you; an eel larger than him and almost as wide as his torso that quite frankly had him struggling, though he tried not to show. Neteyam watches how the sand suddenly turns dark, having him looking up and seeing that eclipse had started with nighttime falling upon them, urging him to walk faster.

Once he reaches the docks, he crouches down and squeezes his arms under the eel and between the sand, lifting it with a small grunt and placing it on the elastic sheet that creates paths to the marui. Placing his hands next to the eel firmly, he hoists himself up and lands on his knees on the path with a light bounce, taking the eel back in his arms and standing back on his feet, carrying it much like a newborn to further impress you with his strength..

His legs start walking the path to your family’s marui, careful that the eel doesn’t somehow leap out of his arms with the light bounce of his feet. As he walks to his destination, he crosses paths with a few metkayina walking by him, all turning around and eyeing him and his catch as they walk away, having him feeling somewhat giddy; the same feeling you elicit on him whenever you so much as look at him, and when you smile upon noticing him already looking at you…

He feels as if though his heart could just about explode. You make him feel just as innocently happy as when he was a child, back before the sky people returned, back before his father laid more weight on his shoulders, before he had bigger responsibilities, all of which his brother noticed which led to him being called ‘whipped’. He had no idea what it meant, but if this is what being ‘whipped’ felt like, he didn’t want it to stop.

Finally, he reaches your family’s pod and peeks in, standing at the corner of the entrance and seeing you sitting on your calves in front of the firepit at the center, using the light to weave a choker with thin vines and watching as you meticulously add a small white pearl into it, following an intricate pattern which will no doubt match the white freckles that beautifully adorn your body, the ones he can’t wait to trace patterns on.

“Neteyam!” You greet with a smile, having looked over and caught him staring at you. Your voice snaps him out of his trance and has him returning the same smile as you stand to approach him, having set down your choker. “Wow, your parents must be proud.” You compliment, eyeing the eel. “No, this… this is for you.” He smiles softly. “Me? Are you trying to feed my whole family?” You ask jokingly to which his tail nearly thrashes around excitedly.

“Yes.” He sheepishly answers. He knew you’d understand that he’s courting you, gifting you a hunt large enough to feed your entire family to prove he can provide for you and more once you have a few little ones running around. “Thank you so much.” You thank in a soft tone before being interrupted. “Neteyam.” The sound of your father’s voice speaks his name, having them looking at each other followed by your father hand gesturing that he sees him with Neteyam bowing his head.

“I see you.” He says, suddenly very nervous on your father reacting to his eldest daughter being courted. “What is this?” Your father waves his hand to the eel, wondering what he was doing with it in his pod when his family’s marui was on the other side of the village. “Neteyam caught this for us.” You answer with a warm feeling in your chest while said hunter’s ears lightly flick back in confusion. Just the presence alone of a na’vi outside of the family with a large catch should let him know you were being courted.

Maybe your father just didn’t want to accept the courting, was his catch not impressive enough? Surely he could understand that anything bigger wouldn’t have been able to be delivered, it was hard enough to carry the one in his arms. “Very well then.” Your father nods and takes the eel in his own arms with more ease than Neteyam, the small insecurity blossoming in his stomach subsiding the strain in his biceps despite being understandably younger.

While the eel is set near the fire, ready to be cut and cooked, the sound of your mother’s voice speaking your name enters your ears. “Mother.” You greet and approach her and Aonung, receiving a half hug from her due to your baby brother being carried in her other arm. “Neteyam brought us something.” You continue to boast with a smile, briefly pointing at the eel by the fire before taking the baby in your own arms.

Ronal looks at the eel with slightly wide eyes, the impressed expression filling Neteyam with a sense of pride and mostly relief, though unbeknownst to him, her surprise was due to never having seen one of the reef eels so big, given that they’re usually no larger than a na’vi’s forearm. Your mother gestures that he sees him as a thanks to which he responds while your older brother looks away in annoyance, refusing to return the gesture.

Your mother gives a small pinch to his arm with a more than fear-inducing look on her eyes, forcing him to return the gesture. “Aonung, go bring your sister.” Your father’s voice says to which he follows after letting out an exasperated sigh, picking up his pace once he realizes Tsireya’s swimming with Lo’ak. “Come, eat with us.” Your mother invites Neteyam to the pod while your father cuts the eel as the younger male lets out a quiet relieved sigh at his offering being accepted.

You take his hand in yours and lead him in with a smile, pulling him down to sit next to you as he lets out a nervous breath through his smile, the flustered expression not going unnoticed by your parents who share a knowing look with each other, staying quiet to the matter. The rest of the night goes smoothly, your parents cooking the eel as they make small conversation about the village, your baby brother napping in your arms as you talk with your sister and occasionally share a few words and smiles with Neteyam…

The only one who looked unhappy was Aonung with the seemingly permanent annoyed look he bared on his face, though you suspected he was never happy and didn’t give him much importance in the time being. Though while the night felt soothing to you, Neteyam felt as if though he’d already had four heart attacks. The entire dinner he’d been anxiously waiting for the conversation to be had with your parents, about whether or not they approved of him.

He waited as patiently as he could for your parents to start the conversation on the matter, for them to voice their concerns if they had any, if they bestowed their blessing on the two of you becoming mates, make sure that you’d be taken care of properly, anything, but it never came. So as the end of the meal neared, he assumed that your parents simply trusted him enough that they felt as though nothing needed to be said on the matter.

“Ah.” You open your mouth in a way to encourage the baby in your lap to follow suit and open his own mouth, placing a small piece of meat in and smiling as he chews. Neteyam eyes you feeding your brother, a soft smile on his face at the sight of how you treat babies, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you would treat your own baby. Thoughts of him coming to your shared marui only to see his beautiful mate carrying his baby, your baby in your arms floods his mind, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

While you bring another piece of meat to your brother’s mouth, you remain sat unaware of how Neteyam’s, without much thought, tail slowly slides to the side behind you and reaches for your own, gently wrapping around it as best as he could. A gasp almost instantly leaves your mouth, accidentally dropping the meat in surprise with your eyes widening. The sound of the baby on your lap letting out a huff followed by crying snaps you out of your shock with your eyes opening even wider.

“Oh, I’m so sorry tìyawn.” You apologize as you pick up the meat from your lap, readjusting his back to your stomach and trying to feed it to him again only for him to sloppily grab it and throw it away, your parents now having their full attention on you yet unable to find the cause of the disturbance. “Come, give him to me.” Your mother indicates, stopping your actions of lightly bouncing the baby on your leg while patting his back.

You hand him over to your mother and watch how she almost instantly gets him to stop crying while you push the slight insecurity away by remembering how she’s already had another three kids to practice with, of course she would’ve mastered it already. The sudden absence of the tail that was previously wrapped around yours has you thinking back to the recent incident while Neteyam’s stuck feeling somewhat embarrassed of the mess, not having meant to surprise you so much.

You think back to how his tail wrapped around yours and feel yourself getting flustered, not knowing what to think of the action. Metkayina didn’t wrap their tails with each other, in fact, you didn’t wrap them around anything, your tails not being thin enough to offer the flexibility to do so, but for some reason, despite not being familiar with said action and not knowing what it meant, it felt… intimate.

Your father clears his throat and breaks you out of your overanalyzing thoughts, making you look at him. “It’s gotten quite late, it would be best to leave.” He suggests to which Neteyam’s ear perk up to attention. “Yes.” He quickly agrees and stands, and while the action makes you think that he feels as though he overstayed his welcome, in reality, he’s quite eager for what’s to follow. “Sleep well.” You say to him.

His face contorts in confusion as he takes in the sight of your innocent eyes looking at him, remaining sat. “Is something wrong?” Your sister questions before you can, all eyes suddenly on him and his confused expression as he wonders what’s happening. Why weren’t you standing to leave with him? Why did your parents seem oblivious to what was happening? Why did everybody seem oblivious to it?

You should all know what follows next, having finished the meal from the catch that he’d brought for you, the only thing that was left to do was for you to leave with him to somewhere more private so you could mate with each other. Had you changed your mind after accepting his catch? Had he somehow overstepped when he wrapped his tail around yours? “Neteyam? What’s wrong?” You ask with genuine concern, confusing him even more.

“… Nothing- I…” He pauses. What was he supposed to say? Where would he even start? “Rest well.” He returns your words before leaving, you and your family sharing a look that lets each other know that no one understood what happened either. The walk to his family’s marui feels like a blur, hundreds of thoughts and questions unanswered in his head which feels as if though it's just about ready to start spinning in confusion.

“Neteyam, what is wrong?” He hears the concerning voice of his mother ask, realizing that he hasn't just reached his family's marui, but is now pacing in their pod, all eyes on him once again. “’I… I do not know.” He manages to get the words out of his mouth, his legs still pacing him around. “How can you not know?” Lo’ak asks while his pacing brother starts breathing faster. “Boy.” Jake almost shouts, finally managing to get him to stop pacing and look at his family.

“What’s going on?” He adds. “I… I show up to Y/N’s marui, I gift her a huge eel- bigger than me, she accepts it, I have dinner with her family… and they don’t say anything!” He explains with frustration, taking his family by surprise, seeing the usually calm and collected eldest starting to lose it. “It took me three days to find the right catch, and- and when I get up to leave, she doesn’t come with me and acts like she doesn’t know what’s happening.” He rushes the words out, breathing heavily by the time they’re out.

“Neteyam…” Neytiri speaks his name yet stares at the ground as if pondering about something, wondering where she should start to explain to her son what happened. “Sit.” She ushers him closer with a soft voice. After hesitating for a few seconds, he steps closer and kneels in front of her, watching as her mouth opens and closes a few times as if searching for the right words before answering the question he’s so desperately been searching an answer to.

“These are reef na’vi, different na’vi court in other ways.” She explains, the slow widening of his eyes showing the realization dawning on him. “… What?” He asks somewhat in disbelief. “You skxawng.” He hears Kiri insult him, making him shoot his head back at her. “You knew?” He asks, the tone in his voice showing how offended he feels that she didn’t tell him beforehand. “I didn’t know you were courting her!” She defends. “Neteyam is old enough to choose a woman.” Their mother interjects.

“Then what do I do?” He quickly redirects his gaze back at her. “I do not know.” She rushes out as if it were obvious she doesn’t know how metkayina court. “But you told me-” “I have told you everything that I know.” She interrupts her son who quickly looks at his other parent for answers. “Don’t look at me.” He raises his hands in defense, his eldest son continuing to look at his other family members for answers only to no avail, letting him know that if he wants to know how to court you; a metkayina, he’ll have to ask another metkayina.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Every Fucking Time

Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of angst! Smut! Unprotected PinV sex. Slightly rough sex. Dean being an asshole. Dean being a broken boy. Hurt/comfort.

Pairings: Dean x Reader (You)

Word Count: 2,737

A/N: So, I just rewatched 13x18, Bring 'Em Back Alive, and the scene at the end never fails to break my heart. I just wanna make Dean feel better! 😫 But it got me thinking about how unlikely Dean would be to accept that help, and how his anger might manifest. Anyway, this is what spilled out of my brain as a result.

A/N 2: The title is a reference to Dean's line, "Every time we get close, it all falls apart. Every frickin' time." I have changed it to the non-network TV version because we all KNOW that's actually what Dean said.

You just wanted to help. You needed to help. You needed to make it better for him. 

Dean had slipped back home through the rift barely an hour earlier, talking about the apocalypse world Charlie and how he'd left her and Ketch behind, promising he would come back with reinforcements.

Then you, Cas and Sam had given him the bad news; no one could go back, you couldn’t send reinforcements. Gabriel was gone, taking all his archangel grace with him.

“So if it’s gone, then that means that we can’t open that door again. If we can’t open the door, then I shoulda never come back!” He'd shouted.

He'd tried to tamp down the rage and anger that simmered just behind his forced calm. Nevertheless, it exploded out of him making you all jump.

“Son of a bitch!” He'd screamed, sending books and papers crashing to the ground as he swept them from the table. “Every time!”

You could feel his frustration and pain like it was your own as his voice dropped, defeated and broken for the millionth time. “Every time we get close, it always falls apart…every fuckin’ time.”

When he walked away, looking as though the weight of the world was once again on his shoulders, you’d tried to follow after him, but Sam had grabbed your arm gently, holding you back.

“Leave him for now, Y/N. He needs time.”

You should have listened to Sam, but you could feel Dean’s pain like a lance in your side and you were desperate to heal him. So less than an hour later, you went looking for him. But he wasn’t in his room, or the Dean cave. The kitchen was empty and so was the garage. 

You finally found him in the infirmary. He was sitting on one of the beds, sewing together a nasty looking bullet wound.

“Dean!” You called out worriedly as you rushed down the steps. He glanced up at you but then went back to stitching himself up. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d been shot?” You reprimanded him.

He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “No big deal. Ketch patched me up on the go, just didn’t have time to sew it up properly.”

You watched him silently for a moment, wincing every time the needle pierced his inflamed skin. He’d taken his shirt off so he could tend to his wound, and you couldn’t help but take an inventory of his other numerous scars. Jagged knife cuts, more round bullet holes, and a few waxy looking old burns, all marred his otherwise perfect, lightly freckled torso.

Some of the scars were very faded, barely noticeable, while others were newer; some of them were still red and angry looking. They were a patchwork of pain - a tapestry of more than thirty-five years of hunting, fighting, falling, getting up, and fighting again. 

It made you exhausted just to see it; it made your bones ache.

You stepped a little closer to him, but he kept you at arm’s length with an aura of silent, repressed anger that you could practically see pulsing off of him.

You wanted to help him so badly.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, not looking up from his work. “No, let’s not. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You let out a small sigh. Of course you don’t. You thought with a flash of frustration.

You were quiet another minute as he finished the last few stitches. Then you smiled a little, trying a different tactic. “So, there was a Charlie over there? That’s amazing. What was she like? Was she the same as our Charlie?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He snipped the thread he was using and tossed the small silver scissors back into the first aid kit he had open on the bed beside him. He took some rubbing alcohol and poured it onto a gauze pad, holding it to his wound and sucking in a breath through gritted teeth before answering.

“Yeah sure, she was like our Charlie.” His voice was a growl of pain. “She was a badass, determined to fight injustice, sticking up for her friends, risking her life for them. And yeah, just like our Charlie, I left her on her own to be butchered.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Dean that’s not true…you didn’t-”

“Seriously, Y/N. Just fucking don’t.”

You were silenced again, watching him clean up and toss the bloody bandages into the trash as he stood up from the bed. He reached for his flannel and tried to put it on, slightly hampered by his newly bandaged shoulder. You stepped forward to help him with it, and when it was on, but still unbuttoned, you slid your hands inside, down over his ribs.

You kissed his chest gently, and felt him twitch slightly. 

“Y/N.” He said quietly and you could hear the warning in his tone. 

You knew he was in a bad place, and the two of you had only recently begun to move your relationship out of friendship and into something more, so sex was still new between you. But you felt the overwhelming, screaming need to help him, to hold him close and let him feel your love shine through. You’d been in love with him for a long time, but you’d never told him. You suspected he didn’t love you back, though you hoped he might someday.

For now, though, you’d settle for being a soft place to land, if he’d just let you.

“Dean.” You said softly, kissing his chest again. “Let me help you.”

He pushed you back and turned away. “I don’t need help.”

You persisted, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “We all need help from time to time, Dean.”

“Y/N!” He said again, louder this time, his earlier anger resurfacing. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to help him, whether he accepted it or not.

You moved around him, so you stood in front of him again. “Dean, you’re not fine. I just wanna help you.”

Dean scoffed. “Well you can’t fucking help me, Y/N. You can’t make it better.”

“I could try.” You cupped his cheek, but he pulled it out of your grasp, turning his head. You stood on tiptoe to try and kiss him. “Let me try, Dean. Let me try to help you.”

Dean grabbed your wrists from around his neck, glaring down at you, eyes blazing. “You fucking can’t, do you not hear me? You can’t help me, no one can help me! Because all I do is fuck up; all I do is leave my friends and family to die. And fucking you isn’t gonna change that; unless you have some kind of magical cunt that can open portals to another dimension, you can’t fucking help me!”

You felt your stomach drop, and an immediate ache started, high in your gut, clenching your insides and making you feel short of breath. You stepped back from Dean and swallowed convulsively, trying not to let go of the tears that clogged your throat. But it was a losing battle and they were soon coursing down your cheeks.

You nodded slightly. “K, yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say, turning away just as remorse began dawning in Dean’s emerald eyes. “Sam was right…I shouldn’t have come.”

You took off, bounding up the stairs as Dean called out to you. You ignored him, desperate to get away before you collapsed completely. 

You heard Dean following you, chasing you down the bunker hallway and you sprinted away. You got to your room just in time to slam the door and lock it just as Dean skidded to a halt outside.

He banged on the door, but you just moved over to your desk, dropping into the chair and swiping at your tears over and over, unable to make them stop.

“Y/N, come on! Open the door. Look, I didn’t mean that, okay? I just...just let me in.” He banged again. When you wouldn’t open it, he just kept banging. Finally he yelled at you through the wood.  “You know, I can just break down the fucking door! Let me in!”

He slammed his hammer like fist against the door again, rattling it in its frame. You jumped up and ripped open the door just as he was about to start pounding again. So his fist was raised and his features were twisted in a snarl as you looked up at him. But you were calm, even though tears still leaked from your eyes.

“Enough.” You said quietly. “Look, I shouldn’t have kept bugging you, you made it very clear you didn’t want me there and that I couldn’t be of any help. So, it’s fine. I’ll leave you alone now, and you can please stop raging at me and trying to smash down my door.”

You swallowed tightly and then nodded at him. “Goodnight.”

You closed your door softly and walked back to slump onto the end of your bed. You dashed your tears away as quickly as they fell, trying to dash away Dean’s angry words too, but failing miserably. 

After nearly half an hour your tears finally dried up and you decided to get ready for bed, sadness and hurt making you slow and sluggish. As you pulled your big sleep shirt on over your head, however, a noise caught your attention just outside your door. 

You walked softly to the door in your bare feet, cracking it open an inch to look out into the hallway. What you saw made brand new tears cloud your vision.

Dean was sitting across from your door, his back against the wall. His knees were bent slightly with his elbows resting there and his feet planted on the floor. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back against the wall with tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Or almost silently. As you watched, his face spasmed with pain and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, making the muffled sound you’d heard; it sounded like his pain was choking him.

You opened the door wider and Dean sensed you, his eyes springing open. At first it seemed like he might bolt, but then he shook his head as he stared at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

He thumped his head back against the wall twice. “I just break things. Everything.” He punctuated the word by slamming his elbow back into the wall as well, hard enough that you were worried he’d break the bone.

You hurried forward to kneel on the floor in front of him, squeezing in between his knees. You pulled his hands into yours as you tried to reassure him. “Dean, that isn’t true. You don’t break everything; you fix things, save things. It’s in your DNA to try to right all the wrongs in the world, but sometimes you just can’t.”

He stared at you intently and once again you found yourself desperate to try to ease the bottomless ache you could see in his mossy green eyes.

His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to run his thumb across your cheekbone. “Did I break us?”

You took a deep breath. “Your words hurt me.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “But…”

You were quiet a moment before deciding it was worth taking a chance, so you just said it. “But I love you, and my love doesn’t break that easily, even if my heart does.”

You took his hand from your cheek and held it against your chest, over your heart. “Not ever. No matter what the future holds, my love is unbreakable, even when you try to smash it to pieces with both hands.”

Dean’s expression was closed off, and you couldn’t see through it to his thoughts. After a moment he shook his head. “Don’t love me, sweetheart. I can’t…I can’t protect you if you love me. Something will come and take you from me - use you to hurt me somehow.” He closed his eyes again and repeated his words from earlier in the evening. 

“Every time I get close, it always falls apart.” He opened his eyes slowly and stared intently into your soul. “Every fucking time.”

He gazed at you for a long time, and you let him, hoping he could see that you weren't afraid to love him, and you weren't going to be scared away.

Suddenly he reached out to yank you into his lap and slam his mouth down on yours. You gasped into the kiss and then whimpered as he clutched you tight to him.

He pulled away from you, breathing harshly. “Am I forgiven? Because I was such a liar. I do need you.” He dipped his head to nip at your pulse point and flick his tongue against your salty skin. “I need you so fucking bad.”

You nodded, flushed and aching for his touch. “You’re forgiven.”

He crushed your lips with his once again, standing up without letting you out of his arms. He pushed you backwards through your bedroom door and closed it with a soft click, as he yanked your t-shirt off over your head, getting you naked in one quick motion.

You pushed his open flannel down his arms, being careful not to aggravate his newest injury. You fumbled with the button on his jeans for a moment, hands trembling, as he palmed your breast and squeezed, pressing his hard, blunt fingertips into your yielding flesh.

You threw your head back as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and bit it gently. You sank your hands into his short hair, tugging sharply and moaning loudly. He pulled away, just far enough that he could spin you around to face the wall. With a hand against your upper back, he bent you over slightly and lifted your arms, so that you braced them against the brick.

Then he raised your right leg, wrapping his forearm over top of it and spreading you open. You felt the knuckles of his other hand brush over your dripping wet core as he unbuttoned his jeans. Seconds later, you felt his tip pressing against your entrance and then you let out a scream of pleasure as he slammed into you hard and fast.

As he fucked up into you, he pulled you open even wider, reaching down with his free hand to rub circles into your clit with his calloused fingertips.

Eventually he dropped your leg, and pushed your feet apart while he pulled your hips back towards him. He never faltered or slowed his pace, just manhandling you into the positions he wanted.

You were bent at a ninety degree angle now, hands still braced against the wall, with your head hanging between them as Dean continued to pound into you so deep that he was almost lifting you off the floor with each thrust. 

He clamped his hand on the back of your neck, using it as leverage to piston his hips forward like a jackhammer. He tilted your pelvis forward slightly and suddenly he was perfectly, relentlessly hitting your g-spot over and over until you were screaming out his name and crashing into a hard wall of pleasure. You shook with your climax, but Dean didn’t stop, riding you through your first orgasm and into several more.

Your throat was hoarse from shouts of pleasure before Dean finally cursed loudly, shouting your name and surging into your body. With one last driving push,  you could feel him spurting into you hot and thick. He rocked his body against yours a few more times as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

Finally he stilled, both of you breathing harshly now, bodies slick with sweat. He laid his chest against your back, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, keeping himself locked inside your slick warmth.

“Y/N.” You could hear the thick emotions even in his soft whisper. “You know, you save me. Every time I think I can’t recover, every time I think I won’t get back up. You make me think I can. You tell me I will.” 

He paused and his voice was velvety and warm as he breathed out across your skin. “You save me.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Every fucking time.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

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@suckitands33

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Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

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@aylacavebear

@waywardcheshire

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

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@nancymcl

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

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[orangeheliophile]

Habits, and how he acts in a relationship

Warnings: some cursing.

● He's a menace. You know that unicorn puppet in the Bluey show? Yeah, that's him. But more grumpy and demanding.

●He doesn't like physical touch from other people, but he's constantly clinging to you at every second of the day. Deal with it. He loves you, so he's going to suffocate you with his affection until you learn to love it.

●You both have a secret language, which mainly consists of grunts, mumbles, hums, and other sound verbs. Sometimes, you both just look at each other and can communicate that way. Body language is a part of it, too.

●You like to cuddle in weird positions. For instance, he could be laying on the floor like a starfish while you mirror him while laying on top of him. Basically, you both cuddle like orange cats. In the most weird but funny way possible. But you can cuddle like normal people do, but where's the fun in that?

●He has a habit of kissing your beauty marks/freckles. They're like tiny stars in his eyes because even if he won't admit it, you're his universe. (He'll rather die than tell you that sappy shit in person.)

●Of course, his main love language is physical touch, but he likes all the other ones too. He wants to make sure you're loved and feel loved in every way. He also completely melts when you make him a gift or compliment him.

●Since he secretly reads romance Mangas, he knows how to flirt with you and make you feel all giddy. He's Bakugou Katsuki. Of course, he's the best in everything. He's extremely confident in himself. (He practices it in his head about 50 times before even thinking of saying it to you. He's actually super nervous around you because you give him butterflies. )

●Speaking of butterflies, they're more like his AP shots filled with cuteness aggression. It's Bakugou. He does everything intensely. He just can't help it but feel his heart is about to explode with how much he loves and adores you.

●That doesn't stop him from being an annoying bastard, though. No wonder his mother was so eager not to have to deal with his ass anymore.

●He will bite you, give you sloppy wet kisses, demand head and back scratches, and will purposely lick your face just to annoy you. (He's a dog. The pomeranian hair and chihuahua attitude doesn't help at all.)

●And he DEMANDS that you compliment him and show him affection. He'll die if you don't. (He will literally lay face first onto the floor for hours if you ignore him.)

●You have a habit of fidgeting and getting random bursts of energy. He helps with that. Since you need something to fidgeting with and are a bit clingy, he's happy because he secretly adores physical touch. His heart melts whenever he sees you jump in joy or fidget out of excitement. You're his little ball of sunshine he never wants to share.

●He Daydreams about your future together. Such as becoming the best pro heroes together, getting married, and having kids. He's already picked out, baby names, and he smiles whenever he sees you gush at babies.

●He loves your laugh and smile. And if he has to do something ridiculous or something unusual, he'll do it. He will also purposely act sassy/have more attitude than usual to see that adorable smile of yours. (It happens often when he acts like a clingy gremlin.)

●Since he plays the drums, he will definitely play your favorite songs and learn to play other instruments for you. He plays the electric guitar and bass sometimes, too.

●When you're feeling sad/sick or look absolutely adorable, he will treat you like his precious baby angel girlfriend. (Because you are!) He will cook for you, cuddle you, give you massages, and do anything to make you happy and comfortable. (Acts of service is his second favorite love language.)

●He's extremely protective over you after the war. It doesn't matter if his arm is damaged or if his heart has a possibility of arrhythmia? He's using Sero's tape to duck tape himself to your hip. So you're literally stuck with him forever.

●He will definitely want to train with you, always pushing himself to be the best, but encouraging you to become an even better hero student than you already are.

●He secretly keeps a scrapbook of all your memories together. He doesn't normally take pictures, yet suddenly he's an expert photographer when he's taking pictures of you or things he knows you'll like. He also keeps a journal of everything about you. There's too much detail and sweet things that he has to write down because he can't contain himself! (He nerds out like Izuku when it comes to you. Don't tell him that.)

●If you're a foreigner, be ready for him to study everything about your culture. He will personally learn the language and become an expert in at least 2 months.

●Since he's going to become the best future, Number One Hero, that means having an extremely healthy diet and lifestyle. He's making you join him, of course. Be prepared for everything organic for the rest of your life!

●He's definitely dating to marry. This man knows what he wants. And he only wants you.

●He has a habit of wanting to feel your heartbeat in some way. He'll put his head on your chest or place his fingers on the pulse point on your wrist sometimes. It soothes him in a way, knowing that you're alive and real and not just a wonderful dream he's imagining.

●Head bumps and nose nuzzles. It's another habit he has. You know how cats hug by nuzzling their bodies onto something else? That's him. But in a more dramatic way. He can act like a cat or a dog, depending on his mood. Then again, Katsuki is his own species of animal.

●If you're insecure, prepare to be even more smothered by him and his clingyness. This man will not leave you alone until you realize how amazing you are. He will look at you like you're crazy if you deny it. He's always right. So if he says that you're the best and most incredible person he's ever met, believe it.

●When he gets upset or has a bad day, he won't say much. He'll just cling to you as you play with his hair and express how much you love him. He needs you. And you're more than welcome to be right there for him when he needs it.

●Whenever you're doing something, he always admires you. He will have the softest expression on his face and the most loving smile on his lips. His pupils dilate to the max, and those cherry red eyes will turn into hearts. Even if you're just breathing, he's already head over heels. And this won't stop even if you two are married and have a family.

●One last thing, he simply adores looking into your eyes. They're so... majestic. They have such a depth and color to him. He could stare into them for an eternity if he could. And you feel the same way. Those cherry red eyes of his shine like rubies in the sunlight. They're mesmerizing. He is mesmerizing.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

CLOSEST I’VE COME TO MY HEART EXPLODING

izuku x reader

thoughts on how he would act in a relationship <3 same premise as the shinso + kirishima ver, for his birthday!

a/n: i love ttpd

a/n: izuku midoriya as a boyfriend is my roman empire

izuku midoriya, who looks at you like you’re his whole world. he is physically incapable of finding you unattractive. your dreary, disheveled hair mornings are a sunny, natural glow to him. your sweaty and spent post-workout stance has him on his knees. he thinks your beautiful on every day that ends Y. he could be blind and he’d memorize your beauty through his fingertips, or deaf and appreciative the universe for gifting his eyes with you.

izuku midoriya, who falls in love hard. who falls first and falls harder. who falls like a shooting star on a bright morning. he’s so in love with you its embarrassing, so much so that after a while he doesn’t seem to care if you like him back or not- just having these feelings is enough for him. who needs you to know just how much he cares, just how devoted he is to you.

izuku midoriya, whose love language is acts of service. he loves to take care of you in sickness and in health, when you’re tired or even when you just don’t want to get up. who always practices the sidewalk rule, who zips up all your dresses, who will never ever let you touch the dirty dishes, who picks you up from the airport, who RUNS to the car do to open it for you, and who uses his actions when words fail him.

izuku midoriya, who isn’t fully aware of how beautiful he is. his green eyes like the garden of eden, freckles like little kisses from the sun just for him. he blinks and tilts his head like a dog when you compliment him on his appearance, trying to ignore the way his heart pounds and his cheeks blush bright pink. he doesn’t understand how he pulled you, but you most certainly get it.

speaking of his freckles… izuku midoriya, who lets you draw little constellations on his freckles. he is a moonchild himself, someone who is deeply emotional and experiences changes like the moon changes its phases. who has always loved the stars, loved the night sky, and loves thanking the heavens above for gifting you to him. he loved the tickle he feels on his skin when you connect the dots, pointing our lyra and hydrus as you tell him all about your favourites. he loves it, loves knowing he’s your favourite canvas.

izuku midoriya, who is more insecure then he lets on. who hates the way his arms look, the scars that remind him of his failures and his shortcomings. the weight of being the next symbol of peace, the expectation of being everything his predecessor was and more- sometimes its all too much. he’ll never show it, but there are signs. his nail biting, his messy notes on paper, his rambling to himself and his sleepless nights. only you can snap him out of the messy labyrinth he loses himself in. you’re that beacon of light that helps him resurface, giving his heart a holiday.

izuku midoriya, who loves you so much warmer and so much brighter than any love you could ever hope to experience. who is hopelessly devoted to you, giving you everything he is and more. whose love for you is a need like water, who makes sure that you are always loved so long as he exists. who makes your heart feel like it’ll explode when he tells you he loves you. whose own heart feels the same when you say it back.

[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli, part 2

Summary: Frankie takes you on a second date. Somehow, firearms are still involved...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N:  Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 Thank you so much for your kind response to part 1! I hope you like this part too (pun intended). And please, see the end notes 🧡

Word count: 4.1k (I managed to cram in nearly all my kinks, can I get a woot woot?)

[part 1] [blog masterlist]

Part 2: Crimson and Clover

“Isn’t it cheating, though?”

The carnival rifle looks comically small between his hands. He presses the trigger, and a fourth balloon explodes with a loud popping sound, amplified by the wooden box. You jump. He doesn’t even blink.  

“How is it cheating?” he asks, looking down at you with a cocked eyebrow as he casually reloads a tiny lead bullet into the rifle’s barrel. Wow. Competency, much?

“Well, you were in the Army. Don’t they train you to shoot at stuff?” you ask, eyes trained on the little target inked on his left hand.

He shrugs. 

“You want that teddy bear, or not?”

“I do. I do want the teddy bear. It’s– it’s a plush Grogu, but yes, I do want it.”

“The plush green alien, yea.”

You make a face, taking mock offense.

The date —he said it was a date, so you guess you can call it that, right?— has been going extremely well, so far. Conversation flowing easy, stolen glances that don't make you wanna crawl out of your skin; he’s asked you a lot of questions, but it didn’t feel forced. You’re not sure if your brain is not gonna ask for payback at 3am on a Sunday, but you're feeling relaxed and at ease. He’s paid for everything, the diner, the rides, even the cotton candy, but he didn’t make a show of it. You could get used to this. The hanging out, that is, not necessarily the paying for everything part. 

“I’m teasin’ you. I love Star Wars too.”

“You do? Wait, are you one of those fans who’s gonna tell me I am not a real fan because I haven’t read all the books and comics and I can’t speak Jawa, but really it’s because I got a vagina?”

“Do I look like the kind of man who feels threatened by a vagina?” 

Oh. Oh shit. Ok.  

“Guess not,” you whisper, ducking your head so he can’t see your cheeks, that are fucking burning up. 

“Star Wars is actually the reason I became a pilot.”

He brings the butt stock of the rifle to his shoulder, adjusting his aim, and oh boy, he’s a sight to behold. That poor t-shirt of his is pulled taut across the breadth of his shoulders, seams ready to burst. You admire the way his thick finger slides around the trigger guard, and in, before another balloon goes BOOM. 

The young man keeping the stand lets out an ostentatious sigh. He grabs a long pole with a hook at the end to get you the toy, but really, it looks more like it’s a pitchfork he’s gonna chase you away with.  

“How’s that?” you manage to articulate. 

“Han Solo is the coolest, and I wanted to be as cool as Han Solo.” 

He gives you a shy grin, setting the rifle down on the counter. 

“Shut up! I wanted to be Leia!”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Oh. Oh. 

Oh, that’s close. He’s crowding you against the counter, towering over you, his heady scent wrapping around you and he gives you that cocky look that turns your legs into Jell-o.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trying your hardest not to stare at the dip between his collarbone, and the little freckles on the tanned skin of his neck. 

The stand employee shoves the ginormous Grogu into your back, propelling you into Frankie’s chest. The man is HOT. Like, really hot. His skin is on fire, you can feel the heat through his threadbare t-shirt.

“Can I take you and Grogu home now, or is it too fast?” he says, his breath fanning your lips. “I don’t know how these things are supposed to work.”

Oh god, his hips are pressing into yours.

“I’ve no idea either, but I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yea?”

“Mmh mmh,” is the only sound you manage to produce.

“Good. Let’s go. Gonna make you see stars,” he adds, pushing away from you, and he immediately winces at the lame joke.

“Wow. Really?” you laugh. 

He flinches, hiding his pretty face under the brim of his hat.

“Fuck…”

—

Well, he wasn’t lying. You saw stars. And then you saw stars again. And again. And then you saw some more.

But the first thing you see when you get to his place is how clean it is. Tidy, but in a lived-in way.  

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a brick building. The kitchen sink is empty, a single plate and set of cutlery drying on the metal rack next to it. Some magnets adorn the fridge, among which you recognize a picture by Manuel Álvarez Bravo, and another by Berenice Abbott, and you try to police your expression because these are your two favorite photographers and that’s a pretty freaky coincidence, right? 

You step into the living-room while he washes his hands. It’s cozy. A soft amber glow pours in from the streetlights through the three narrow windows, behind a big slouchy leather couch. There’s a plant that looks alive and well on the console next to it, and an entire wall of seemingly handmade shelves, lined with books. The TV is old, downright ancient, and there’s a turntable propped onto a vintage stereo. An opened book lies face down on the coffee table. 

You crane your neck to read the title. Engineering Circuit Analysis. Okay, so that won’t be a conversation starter. 

You don’t know if the place always looks this tidy or if he cleaned it because he thought you might be coming over, and you’re not sure if the sheer assumption shouldn’t be a red flag, given it’s only the second time you’re seeing the guy, but you find that you don’t care. You really don’t. Not in the least. 

He joins you in the living-room, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. He’s taken his hat off and he’s combing his fingers through his thick mane of curls, and that sight alone was worth driving all the way here in his truck. 

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and that’s a very good question, do you want something to drink? 

You should, probably, because your mouth is so dry you can’t even gulp, and your nerves could use some alcohol, but you just stand here, like an idiot, watching him walk slowly toward you, wondering how close he’s gonna get before he stops walking.

Very close, apparently.

He looks so fucking tall and broad, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, but then again, it’s only the second time you see him. He leans over you, you have to twist your neck up to keep your eyes on his, but really, what you want to do is chew on his lips. Or his neck. You’re not picky.

He hooks his index fingers into the belt loops of your jeans to draw you in. Fuck, now your panties are ruined.

Time goes in slow motion as he licks his lips, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Is it ok?”

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please, Jesus fucking Christ, can you get any more cringe?

“There’s a lot of things I’m wanna do to you, if I gotta be honest,” he adds.

Oh, there, you can gulp. You think people might have heard you swallow from the other side of town.

“Okay. You can… do your worst, Morales.”

“You sure? Because my worst is… You need to tell me if–”

“Yes. I’m sure. You got my consent. All of it. Please.”

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not today.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I am going to ruin you.”

You hate meeting new people. Meeting guys. You hate that whole dance, when you have to pretend you don’t really wanna fuck each other, oh but really you do, you hate getting undressed in front of a literal stranger, the awkwardness of it, new skin, new touch, everything grosses you out and you feel like curling into a ball inside your own skin, waiting for it to be fucking over. 

But this, this is different. Of course, it’s different, everything has been since you’ve laid eyes on him across that aisle in the corner deli.

You want him. God, you’re practically vibrating with it. And you want him to want you, too. 

He presses his lips to yours, and it’s subtle, the delicate, albeit insistent press of it, testing but also very much signifying you he’s gonna do everything he said he would, pulling you closer with your belt loops. 

Fuck it, you think. Fuck it. You want this. All of it. The taste of him and the weight of him and his touch and his skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into the kiss with a quiet little moan, your hands traveling up his large back, balling his t-shirt in your fists. He doesn’t miss a beat, his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers carding through your hair and you feel the wet glide of his tongue, prompting you to open. 

You do. Oh god, you do, and you taste the cotton candy as he licks into you. There’s the little tickle from his mustache, the pressure on your waist, the sparkling tingle along your spine and everything is delicious. His other hand is kneading at the curve of your hip, sliding down to your ass and he grabs you there, strong fingers splayed right between your cheeks, it’s firm and hungry and commanding.

He pulls you flush into him, and with a gently swaying motion against your belly, he lets you feel it. Feel what you do to him. Feel how much he wants you.  

Your body goes slack and tense at the same time, loose limbs, loose chest, clenching cunt and hardening nipples. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just a bit, “fuck, you’re sweet.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, not that you’d know what to say, his mouth is on yours again, his plush lips a perfect fit against yours, his tongue swirling inside you. And the kiss lingers, languid, unhurried, his hands roaming your figure, strong and slow, kneading your curves and using the grip to press you closer and closer into him.

When your fingers thread through his hair, you give his locks a little tug that has him grunting into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, but his mouth remains on you, lips sucking along the edge of your jaw, teeth scraping down your throat, slick pooling sticky and wet between your hips. 

There’s the ghost of a bite over your pulse point; you moan into it and suddenly, time accelerates. His kisses get frantic, he’s devouring you, only lifting his lips off your skin to tug off your t-shirt, deft fingers unclasping your bra. You pull so hard on his shirt you might as well rip it, but he only bites you harder, pushing into you stronger. The back of your knees hit the coffee table, you fall onto the couch. 

And that’s when everything slows again.

His gaze, raking over your naked breasts as he stands before you. His tongue darting between his parted lips. His movements, as he unbuckles his belt. 

You get lost in the sight of his chest, bare, broad, golden in the orange semi-darkness. 

“Take off the rest of your clothes, baby,” he says, and the endearment shoots right through you. 

You’re never recovering from this night, this much you can tell. You’ll want this man forever, you are so fucked. 

You manage to get rid of your shoes and your jeans, but it’s a damn miracle with how much your hands are shaking. He’s toed off his boots and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off you even for a split second. 

There’s something carnivorous in the half-smile dancing on his lips. He’s palming the bulge tenting his black boxer briefs, and you’re about to slide off your panties without a second thought when he stops you. 

“Wait. Bedroom. C’mere.”

Yes, sir. 

You stand up on wobbly legs and his hand skims around the curve of your hip, down the swell of your ass. He takes your arm, lifts it up to wrap around his neck, and you follow, diligently, circling your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

He picks you up like you fucking weigh nothing, how strong is this guy? What do they feed them in the Army? 

He keeps you there for a moment, your legs wrapped around his tapered waist, skin on skin, his head slightly tilted up and his eyes boring into yours. His hands grasping your ass cheeks, a bruising grip, the tip of his fingers reaching into that hollow curve at the top of your thighs, under the line of your panties, where you’re soaked with want for him. 

Your heart is beating so fast, pounding so hard, it’s going to tear out of your chest. Land right into his. 

The crease in his brow deepens, his gaze on you intensifies, thoughts clouding his rich brown eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but closes it again.   

“Frankie—” you start, but he cuts you in. 

“Wait. I need to know this is not a one-time thing. I’m gonna see you again, right?”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

There are people laughing outside in the street. The sound of a police siren in the distance. A dog barking. You commit everything to memory. The amber darkness, the city noises, the hope in his eyes. The sensation of his strong hold, and that of your hardened nipples grazing his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, and he smiles, that wide dimpled smile you’d do everything for, his fingers burrowing a little deeper into your flesh. 

He carries you into the bedroom, bathed in the same orange semi-darkness, and lays you onto his bed. You sink into the fluffy cottony material of the comforter that smells like him. Leather and musk and safety. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours. 

He rocks gently into you, just a faint press, his waist spreading your hips open, his hands roaming along the expanse of your naked skin, palming your breasts. The fabric of his tight boxers catches at your soaked panties, the button of his jeans biting into your belly. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a low husk, and for a second, you think he’s asking if he can kiss you again, but you quickly register, and your eyes grow wide. 

You nod, unable to articulate around the anticipation swelling in your throat. 

He makes a start at moving over you, but stops, and instead leans in to kiss you again. A wide, hungry kiss, licking into you avidly, pressing into you greedily, swallowing your moans as your fingernails run through his nape and into his hairline. 

He pulls away, and you all but whine, chasing his lips, rising to your elbows. Unwavering, he moves down on the bed, and there’s another flash of that carnivorous smile as he takes off his jeans, as he kneels between your legs. 

You watch, wide-eyed and ragged breath, as he brushes his knuckles along that curve at the top of your thigh, thick fingers hooking under the elastic band of your panties, pulling it to the side. He smiles at you again, before his head dips. 

His tongue parts your fold, and your head lolls back between your shoulders with a strangled cry. His hand pushing up the back of your knee, spreading you wider than you ever thought your body capable of, he licks into you with a rumbling groan. 

The curled tip of his tongue dives deep into your cunt, tasting you with thorough strokes, but he lifts his head with a pained grunt and a sliver of self-consciousness rips through your chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I think you’re going to ruin me.”

Your arms buckle, your back hitting the mattress, and he slides your panties down, twisting them around his wrist, before hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and he buries his face into your cunt again. 

The wet glide of this tongue is hot and heavy, licking in broad stripes, sucking on your clit, thrusting into you. Arousal pools in, sticky and rich, at the base of your spine, streaming down your walls. You moan and wither against his mouth, and he chases your movements, cueing his ministrations to your reactions. 

Wet, explicit sounds fill the bedroom. He plays you like an instrument, your hips bucking against his face, wanton whimpers spilling out of you like music, fingers threading through his curls, and he brings you close, so close to your release, without ever letting you tip over the edge.

He’s taking his sweet time about it, true to his word, and you're begging now, sweet little moans you didn’t know your voice could carry, Frankie, Frankie please.

Gently, he eases your legs down, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. It’s a hitched breath, a broken little cry as cold air hits your soaked cunt but he runs a soothing hand along your inner thigh. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.”

Empty. The word flashes through your dazed brain, and you turn your head to the side to hide your face in the comforter. 

You’re empty, and you want him to fill you up. And you don’t know what you’re hiding from, if it’s from him or the embarrassment of being so fucking needy or the magnitude of your desire, but there’s this abyss inside you only him can fill and fuck, you’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Why now? Why him?

His finger presses at your entrance and you let out a quivering breath. A shallow thrust, an easy glide, and he adds another. Your back arches with relief. A flex of his digits, and he’s stroking a soft spot inside your cunt you didn’t know existed. 

With your last shred of strength, you lift your head up. He’s watching you, his boxers pulled down, practiced fingers circling his cock, dragging slowly up and down along the length of it. The orange glow from the streetlights ripples over his skin in amber shades and dark shadows. Your eyes trace the broad span of his chest, his strong, corded neck, the dark crown of his curls. 

The man looks like a fucking god.  

“Jesus,” you whimper, and he chuckles, that wolfish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The bottom half of his face glints in the semi-darkness, shiny with your slick. Precome dribbling over his knuckles. This is fucking filthy. You revel in it.

Your head drops with a soundless laugh, hips swaying along with his stroking fingers. 

You’re going to lose your mind with how good it feels, you think, but then it gets even worse, or better, when he lowers his thumb to your clit, rubbing smooth circles over it and your chest heaves with a silent plea. 

Soon, a tremor sizzles along your thighs, your release coiling brisk and strong at the center of you. It builds up like electricity, like liquid fire, potent and fast and white-hot.

Your entire body is alight with it, it travels down every nerve-ending and you come undone, you fucking unravel, his name dragging out on your lips. 

He lowers himself to slant his mouth over your cunt and you recoil, but he’s careful, his tongue darting swiftly into you, drinking your release with greedy groans. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he moves back over you, his face out of focus through your glazed eyes, the bulk of him engulfing you, his heady scent filling your lungs. 

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” he asks, and you nod, sprawled out, boneless, pliant. 

His hand hinges your jaw open, thumb on your bottom lip. His spit rolls down his tongue into your open mouth and his hooded eyes, black with want, flicker down to your throat as you swallow it all. 

“Oh, you’re a good girl,” he marvels, and the praise is like a shockwave, like a second high, it coats your palate and sticks to your skin. You could swear it’s fucking tangible. 

You need more, more of him, more of that, but you’re not sure what’s next. This is uncharted territory. No man has ever prioritized your pleasure over his, before. 

You lift your hips off the mattress, bucking into him, but he frowns.

“If you need time—”

“I need you inside me,” you plead. 

“It’s a lot more than two fingers, baby,” he warns and yes, you can tell, with the heavy weight of his cock thrumming hot and angry against your belly. 

“I can take it.”

He huffs a smile, but it quickly falls when you tip your chin, wrapping his thumb between your lips. Your tongue curls around the pad of it as you suck on it, and you hear him gulp. One all. 

Oh, but he was right, it’s more, much more than two fingers, and his first thrust, however gentle, however shallow, has you squirming around the stretch of him. Your fingernails digging into his arms, he grunts with the effort, pushing in slowly, pulling out, and in again, sweat beading along his spine, restraint tensing his jaw. 

You lift your head, scraping your teeth over that bare patch in his scruffy jaw. 

“I can take it,” you repeat, and he growls, head dropping into the curve of your neck, sinking his sharp teeth into the soft skin at the base of your throat. 

He shoves himself in down to the base, and you cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He moves into you. With deep thorough thrusts, fast-paced and rough, he fills you up, just like you wanted, just like you asked, skin catching around his girth at your entrance. Sucking hard on the tender skin of your neck, sharp little bruises blooming in purple flecks along the column of your throat. 

Knees hitched up high along his sides, you feel sweat breaking on your forehead as you ease into his relentless rhythm, into the impossible size of him, into the pleasure-pain, because this is what you wished for. To feel him tonight. To feel him still tomorrow. And perhaps the day that follows. 

His grunts fan the shell of your ear, sending more slick rushing down your walls. His hand squeezes your breast, his trigger finger and thumb pinching your nipple, merciless, and your cunt starts to flutter along his length, a frantic collapsing of your walls, eyes clenched shut under your pinched brow. 

“Oh god, I’m so close,” you whine, and he straightens up without breaking his rhythm. 

“I wanna see your face when you come on my cock”, he growls, hooking his elbow under your knee, using it for leverage to bear you down on his cock as he picks up the fucking pace. 

His broad hand splayed reverently over your belly, the heel of it is a steady pressure over your clit, and when you come, your whole body quaking with the force of your second relief, he quickly follows, pulling out just in time to spurt thick pearly ropes over your quivering skin. 

“Oh shit, look at you,” he pants, before he collapses on the bed next to you, chest heaving. 

You lie there side by side for a beat, the room around you slowly coming back into focus. That damn dog is still barking, the night traffic a low and distant hum. 

Would it… would it be okay, acceptable, if you gathered his come with your fingers and licked them clean? Could you ask him to fuck your mouth, next? Or should you scamper off the bed to gather your clothes and leave? What’s the common protocol here? No one has ever turned you into this feral, greedy little monster before.  

He clears his throat. Oh fuck, that’s it. He’s gonna politely hint that you should now be leaving the premises. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A hindered little sob rattles inside your chest. You address a heartfelt thank you to your lucky star for the midnight cravings that placed you in that corner deli the same night as him. Fuck, you’ll throw one in for that armed robber too.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He turns to his side to face you, folding his arm and propping his chin in his hand. His soft brown eyes meet yours. And there’s that gentle smile that swells up your heart three sizes.

“Yes, please.”

****

End note: the opening scene is very much inspired by one of the fair scenes in Anchor Stitch, on Ao3. Not for every one, but one of my all-time favourites. Also, this is fanfiction, so I wasn't going to bother with a fucking condom, but I know you're smarter than that.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᑕᕼEᖇᖇIᗷOᗰᗷ ᗩᑎᗪ ᔕIᖇᑭEᑎTIOᑌᔕ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

The last two designs for the main cast. With these two done, I can finally work on miscellaneous characters that I've been eyeing the most.

Again, thoughts below the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

Sir Pentious:

I thought I would only have one thing to say about him (the unnecessary eyes) since he was my favorite in the entire original cast but having taken a closer look at him for this, I saw a lot of things that bothers me.

Too many eyes. specifically the lower half of his body has too many eyes and it seems detrimental to him. It's kind of painful to think about it since I do not think we ever see those eyes close. Is he just slithering on the ground with those exposed eyes? That's got to be irritating at best and damaged at worst as he continuously slithers on them.

There are eyes on the bowtie and the hat? There are already 4 extra eyes on his hood, so why have even more? I get that the original Pentious design was basically a monsterous amalgamation of eyes but the eye thing could have been scrapped altogether.

While his palette was the least red out of the cast (More so composed of yellows), it still blends in with the rest of the reds.

The claws are an unnecessary repeating design trait (Alastor and Vox notably have them too). I don't think it would've been too big of a difference to just keep his fingers fully black.

The stripes on his suit are too thick. It's called pinstripes for a reason.

I don't like how the hat is shaped to fit the head, It's awkward.

not a point, but I just wanted to say how the blue color palette works really well with him in that last episode.

CherriBomb:

She's not that bad of a design (She's sort of bland in my opinion) but it's the little small details about her that makes her so simple and also so complicated at the same time. There are so many batches of freckles scattered everywhere, little explosion lines on her skirt as well as the X on her chest, the tattoos are a jamble of random loops and bombs, and her tattering doesn't have an easy shape to consistently draw.

The thought process for these two:

Mx. Pentious:

Pentious goes by both Sir/Miss/Mx. but uses she/they pronouns.

Minimized the actual amount of eyes on her, I kept it only to her actual eyes and those on her hood.

Gave her a butterfly-shaped hood. It's nothing deep since it stems from the fact the notches in Sir Pentious' hood almost looked like one to my bad eyesight. I decided to play more into that idea.

I read some posts where people talk about how Sir Pentious should have a snout and while I understand why and fully support people giving him one, I really didn't want to add the snout to this design. It drove me crazy since I'm not a big fan of it. I tried a compromise where her head was shaped more like Phineas.

Kept the tophat but removed its eye and mouth. If I remember correctly, Viv took that from one of her co-workers from the pilot. I decided to just have it as a regular tophat.

It doesn't have all the colors, but her design does have the Neptunic flag.

I'm not sure if this even is a real snake but I based Mx. Pentious' design on this:

CherriBomb:

Scraped most of her features in exchange for a sukeban theme. I personally have zero knowledge about the punk scene in Australia.

A majority of the suggestions I received for her rough draft had something to do with the skirt. I elongated it and gave it a slit in which the magenta from the inside is able to pop out.

Thought it would be a cute detail to have her hair explode if she's angry.

----

Apologies this took too long to be posted, Life got in the way as well as the fact I was feeling shitty about Pentious' first draft. Her skin was an awkward and ugly shade of green and seeing some posts critical of Pentious' design got me to think a little bit more about what direction I'd like to move her redesign.

You could see this in the earlier rough sketches but this was how Pentious' first redesign looked like

[cursedonyx]

Sebastian and Ominis Headcanons

Sebastian

✧ Adores chocolate to the point it’s almost comical. His absolute favourite is Honeydukes Best Chocolate (which in my mind tastes like a Hotel Chocolat’s milk chocolate with just a hint of caramel and vanilla), but he’s happy with any chocolate except really dark chocolate. Anything above 80% and he’ll turn his nose up at it. Left to his own devices with free reign at night in Honeydukes, you’d find him in the morning in a sugar coma with his tummy almost bursting his shirt buttons, his face covered in chocolate stains and looking about as happy as it’s possible to look.

✧ He’s got rotten hay fever and may occasionally make use of the bubblehead charm when the pollen count’s high. He doesn’t care if people laugh and is happy to explain why – this led to a lot of students capable of using the charm imitating him if they have hay fever.

✧ Loves cats but adores dogs, particularly if they’re big and dopey, like Labradors or Great Danes. He’s not particularly fond of small, yappy dogs like Jack Russells, which is the complete opposite of his twin.

✧ He’s got an immune system like a tank and will shake off most colds and tummy bugs with relative ease, but when he gets poorly, he gets really poorly. Even so, he’ll try and pretend that nothing’s wrong, even when he’s white as a sheet and sweating, barely able to stand. Ominis has had to knock him out and levitate him to the Hospital Wing on more than one occasion to get him to accept help.

✧ On that note, he absolutely refuses any kind of help unless it’s on behalf of someone else. He’s happy to accept help when he’s searching for a cure for Anne, but if he’s struggling with an essay, confused about his feelings for someone, or just needs to process something, he won’t ask for help, and tries to play it off as him just having an off day.

✧ Sebastian thinks fart jokes are hilarious. The whoopee cushion was invented in the 1930s, and Sebastian was a menace with the damn thing. Think Leslie Neilsen bringing a fart machine to interviews.

✧ Sebastian is a proper summer baby and loves being outside in the sunshine. He loves the excuse to splash about in streams or go swimming, and has tried to teach Ominis how to swim. Sadly, Ominis isn’t keen on the idea as he can’t tell where anything is in the water.

✧ Sebastian’s temper is like a firecracker; quick to spark, quick to explode, and just as quick to go out. He doesn’t forgive easily, especially if the person who’s annoyed him has deliberately tried to hurt him or someone he loves, but he doesn’t tend to hold grudges. Unless it's serious, if he can’t get revenge in a week or two, he tends to move on from the idea though that doesn’t mean he won’t hate the person for a time.

✧ Sebastian’s opinions of people always start out neutral, and they can be swayed positively or negatively through a variety of factors. Lots of little positive things can be overshadowed by one huge negative, but it takes a lot more effort to change his negative opinion to a positive one.

✧ He eats anything and everything. He’s got a big appetite and tends to consume food at a rate that would shame a graphorn. If he didn’t have so much nervous energy, he’d probably end up a little porky.

✧ His boggart would be Anne’s corpse. If Anne is cured, or he has to spend any time in Azkaban, this changes to a dementor.

✧ His animagus form and patronus would be a fox without a doubt – his colouring would be browner than most foxes and mottled with darker ‘freckles’ all down his back and tail. His favourite part about being an animagus is having a tail.

Ominis

✧ Doesn’t like sweets, and particularly loathes chocolate, much to Sebastian’s horror. This is due to his upbringing and a particular trauma around his parents trying to cure his blindness then forcing him to eat chocolate as a ‘reward,’ no matter how much he didn’t want to, and he was shouted at until he ate it. Consuming something chocolatey will bring back those memories, so he avoids it where possible.

✧ He absolutely adores tiny summer strawberries though, and he will actively seek them out. They’re very hard for him to find by himself and he usually gets a bit down if he can’t find any, so if you go foraging and present him with a punnet, there’s a pretty strong chance he’ll fall in love with you.

✧ Has no allergies, but gets poorly relatively easily. If there’s a cold going about Hogwarts, you can bet that Ominis will catch it if he’s not patient zero. He’s like an illness magnet in that way. Similarly to Sebastian, he won’t complain about it unless he’s in a romantic relationship, then all he’ll do is whine because he knows his partner will make a big fuss of him and look after him the way his family never did. He’s a sucker for being pampered.

✧ Ominis has a bit of a sensitive tummy, and he tends to stick to foods he knows are safe. He’s happy to try new foods, but he prefers to try them in very small amounts to minimise the risk of upsetting his stomach.

✧ Ominis gets hilariously embarrassed around toilet humour, and for the most part pretends that people don’t go to the bathroom. If it comes up in conversation, he either won’t engage and pretend it’s not happening, or he’ll change the subject at the first opportunity.

✧ He’s a cat magnet, and even the most aloof or grumpy cats will be happy to curl up in his lap. They love finding Ominis during one of his naps, and unless he’s in his dorm or the Undercroft, he’ll wake up in a puddle of cats. He finds them very comforting.

✧ He adores snakes and longs to have one as a pet, but after an incident when he was seven involving a snake he made friends with that he called Daisy, and his brother Marvolo, he’s absolutely terrified of making friends with another one, just in case Marvolo does what he did again (Considering doing a very angsty and painful short fic of this idea, but it’s pretty unpleasant so I’m in two minds).

✧ Hates being cold, but suffers terribly in the heat. UK summers are horribly humid, and he can’t stand it. A dryer summer heat like the South of France is the only kind he can tolerate, and he’s grateful the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons, so at least he can still sleep in the summer. Otherwise, he will complain constantly about how hot it is.

✧ Ominis is a filthy gossip. Any kind of rumour and he’ll hear about it and spread it with relish, especially if it’s about someone that’s wronged him in the past. Even without this, he loves to gossip about absolutely anything, and those that know will often seek him out to ask if rumours are true. He wields this small power with satisfaction, especially as it means he’s able to field any rumours about his friends and turn attention to other things going about the castle.

✧ Ominis has a long memory and a fertile imagination. Though his patience for shenanigans is short, it’s unending when it comes to plotting revenge. If you wrong the Prince of Snakes, you better be on your guard for the rest of your life. He will not forget, and the punishment will always fit the crime. Unless of course he hates the person in question or is protecting his loved ones, then you can expect Ominis to go scorched earth in order to get revenge.

✧ Ominis’ boggart doesn’t have a physical form, but it takes on the sound of hissing snakes. To the casual observer, they’d think he was frightened of snakes, and Ominis is perfectly happy to let people think that. In actuality, it’s his family speaking to him in Parseltongue, reminding him of his worst experiences of home and threatening to take him away from his friends, forcing him to live with them and bow to their ways.

✧ Ominis has a healthy dose of fear of his parents, but he’s absolutely terrified of Marvolo. Marvolo bullied him relentlessly when they were young, and once Noctua went missing, it only got worse, and their parents never discouraged it, claiming it would help Ominis build character. Marvolo is the person Ominis nightmares about the most.

✧ Ominis’ patronus and animagus form is a serpent, but contrary to typical animagi/patronuses, which tend to mimic each other, Ominis’ patronus is an enormous snake, similar to an anaconda, while his animagus form is more similar to a ball python, pale gold in colour with darker scales that mimic his beauty marks.

Masterlist

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 107 }

constellations.

lies of p

pinocchio x reader

{ with freckles like constellations | i just want a new sensation. }

- valentine by COIN

your eyes were basking in the beauty of the expanse of the universe settled directly on your lap.

pinocchio had always been a puppet that greatly fascinated you. an utterly beautiful boy in a strange, tragic world that drew you in. from his true blue eyes to his chestnut strands of hair, geppetto's puppet reminded you deeply of the princes you read in fairytales from long ago.

you were one of the few human survivors left in the wake of the petrification disease, and it was thanks to your good fortune that you were lead to hotel krat, where you met with the owner, lady antonia. she was a kind and giving, always welcoming guests like you with open arms.

and it was here that you came into contact with pinocchio.

he was twitchy, at first, and it was abundantly clear that he was a puppet. and despite how unnatural his movements were, your eyes were always drawn to his beautiful face.

his pale skin was littered with freckles, and each and every speck reminded you of tiny little stars being dotted across the skies. his gaze was steadfast, unflinching even, as you kept your eyes on him. you admired each and every part of him, even finding yourself reaching out to him.

pinocchio continues to give you a blank stare, not even stepping back when your hands unconsciously reaches out to gently grace at his cheek. you admire the soft and smooth surface of his face, allowing your fingertips to brush back his flowing locks of chestnut hair, revealing those endearing freckles.

finally realizing what you were doing, you gasp and attempt to step away. "s-sorry pinocchio...ah?"

he says nothing, simply closing his eyes before placing his cheek against the palm of your hand. you watch as pinocchio's eyes flutter close, his eyelashes brushing against your skin as soft as a butterfly's wings.

he remains in this position for a few more beats before opening his eyes fully. not saying a word, pinocchio relinquishes his hold of your hand before walking away from you-

leaving your heart a mess of rapid beats and palpitations, threatening to explode within your chest.

despite how pinocchio was a mere puppet, you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him (or having that admiration turn into something much deeper, akin to fondness.) as he continued on with his journey through krat, the more he became... alive.

it was hard to explain. maybe it was due to his soft beauty, or how you witness him treating hotel krat's cat with such a gentle curiosity and kindness, but something about p made him feel more human than puppet.

and that just made your heart yearn for him even more.

as night fell across krat, and you were in the comfort of your own room within this grand hotel, you found yourself unable to sleep. you were settled on the settee placed near the window, giving you the full view of the city and the wide expanse of the night sky. the dim lighting of the candle flickers with the night air as you drank in the sight of the fading stars, somehow feeling your thoughts drifting back to pinocchio.

"i hope he's safe."

earlier, you had voiced your concerns to eugénie and sophia, yet both women had told you not to worry, that p was strong and would likely come back unscathed.

"if it truly worries you, perhaps i can send your beloved puppet to your room?"

sophia's gentle smile and teasing words were enough to make your face heat up in response, with you weakly holding up your hands in mock denial before hurrying back to your room, your face burning at how sophia seemed to know.

so you found yourself unable to sleep, feeling embarrassed and shy at the thought of pinocchio coming in here.

as you continued to stargaze, your reveries were interrupted by a gentle knock at your door. your voice was raised a few octaves when you said, "c-come in!"

you figured it was sophia or eugénie coming to call you down for supper, but what you weren't expecting to see was pinocchio himself come in.

"pinocchio?!" his name comes out of your parted lips in a choked gasp, heart beating almost painfully now at the mere sight of him. despite how he was still technically a puppet, you could see the changes he was beginning to display.

the p that stood before you now no longer had those wavy locks of chestnut hair. instead, his hair has grown longer, and a bit lighter as well. it was difficult to describe the color of his hair, but if you had to try, you'd say it was like the shade of a full moon. those gentle strands shone like spun silver against the moonlight, and he was so utterly beautiful that you found it hard to breathe.

he closes his eyes, seeming to take in a deep breath before letting out a whisper of your name. hearing the familiar syllables causes a shiver to run up and down your spine, and you could feel your heart melting within your chest at the sound of it.

"hello pinocchio." you greet him in the same, gentle manner, never once hiding your smile from him. you watch as his lips seemed to quirk upwards just the tiniest bit before making his way toward you.

he remains silent, simply laying down on the couch with you, settling himself on your lap. this sudden action was so...different and unexpected that you weren't sure how to respond or what to do.

your stomach was in knots now, and all you could see was pinocchio's achingly gentle beauty. as his hair was spread out across your lap, you could see his freckles clearly now, the sight of it all being much more captivating than the stars above.

with the puppet seemingly asleep, you took this chance to admire your personal constellation, allowing your fingertips to trace over his smooth skin like you did during your first meeting with him. truly, everything about p drew you into him, and you wanted nothing more than to bask in him, drinking him in as you burned his very visage into your memories.

your touch was gentle, not wishing for him to feel any discomfort or pain.

your touch was reverent, never once taking him for granted as you praised him for his bravery and strength.

as you continued to admire him, you felt a strange trembling in your lips, filling you with a desire to press them against the parted, rosy lips settled below you. you slide your eyes shut and whisper his name before allowing your lips to gently press against pinocchio's.

his reaction was immediate, eyes opening as true blue irises met with your own gaze. with a gasp, you pull away, an apology already set at the tip of your tongue when the puppet stops you.

using his hand, he brushes back your hair while letting out a sigh of your name, kissing you again as he closes his own eyes in response.

with pinocchio kissing you back, you found yourself melting into his arms, clinging to him. the kiss was awkward, with your teeth either bumping into his lips or his nose meeting with yours-

and yet it was still so utterly sweet. as you cling to him, you could have sworn you felt the tiniest bit of warmth exuding from him-

and a gentle flutter within his chest, reminding you of a heartbeat.

when the need for air proved to be too much, you pull away from pinocchio with adoration in your eyes. his expression was gentle and filled with tranquility, closing his eyes before pressing his lips against your forehead.

while being in pinocchio's embrace, you found your anxieties all but melt away, allowing the pinpricks of slumber to mar your consciousness. you end up falling asleep within his arms, unaware of how pinocchio held you and took you to back to bed.

as he held you, he presses his lips against your temple once more, silently vowing to remain forever by your side.

a.n. - pinocchio is utterly sweet, and with lies of p fully released, i had to write something soft for him. this is unedited so do forgive me for any glaring errors 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[pomplalamoose]

mkay soooo what if when the rebellion was living on hoth u and (like late anh!luke or esb!luke both would be cute lwk) went to a more tropical planet w lots of beaches tghr whilst looking for more possible bases and of course you guys just happen to get stranded n day a few vacation days on the beach!

but since luke is from tatooine n there’s barely even water in the AIR he’s never seen in a girl—specifically you, in a bikini. and since you guys have been on hoth for a time he’s never even seen you in a t shirt. like you just “what’s wrong” n he’s as red as a tomato.

anyway what i’m trying to say is you two making out in the beach n then leads to beach sex please please please oh my god. and don’t hold back on the gross details

18+ !!!

cw: a little bit of pining, a little bit of fluff, eventual smut, like seriously, mdni!

• initially you think nothing of it when the unbearable heat forces you to remove your jacket

• too great is the relief of feeling the gentle breeze cool your sweaty skin that you fail to notice the way your exposed arms seem to impact Luke

• Luke who is trying his hardest to be respectful, who is giving his best not to stare

• Luke who fails spectacularly

• Luke who, upon you sensing his distress and turning around, turns beet red and wide eyed, looking away immediately

• "it's just a pair of arms", he tries to tell himself staring down at his feet in the sand

• this certainly is nothing he hasn't seen before

• Force, he intimatedly knows what a person looks like naked and you are nowhere even near that state, he needs to get it together!

• though no matter how plausible he makes it sound in his head, the reality is, in fact, a lot harder to deal with

• because it's not "just" a pair of arms

• it's yours and he can barely tear his gaze away

• he can't quite recall the moment in which he first let his thoughts wander and they settled on you, doesn't remember when it was that he first started wondering how you'd look under all that thick winter clothing necessary to survive on Hoth

• only, that he never got the chance to hold your hand in his without those damned gloves on

• that it was never a possibility to even touch your face

• that your body was nothing more than an illusion he made up for himself during his countless daydreams

• only, that he half-feared you'd simply disappear into a cloud of cold air without all those warm layers keeping you tightly wrapped together

• but now, sitting before him, is a picture he'd nearly didn't dare to hope ever laying his eyes upon

• there you are, in nothing but a T-shirt and pants, and so close, so real, he desperately wants to reach out his hands

• he longs to finally find out how you feel

• he wants to trace his fingers up and down your arms for no particular reason, wants to touch every single freckle and mole he can find

• is your skin as soft as it looks?

• is the fine hair he sees shimmering in the sunlight when you move a certain way?

• when you raise your arms to fix your windswept hair, so does the hem of your shirt, revealing a sliver of your mid-riff and Luke nearly explodes

• he's at a loss for words, completely helpless in light of your beauty

• there's nothing more except the need to latch on to you and never let go again

• of course, at this point, you would eventually come to realize your appearance's effect; Luke is not being what one would call subtle and the love-drunk look in his eyes is hard to miss

• "have you been to the water yet?" you ask gently, feeling a little shy at being gazed at so intently, hoping to focus his attention on something else

• it works

• Luke, absolutely clueless and very happy to follow you everywhere you want to go is concerned immediately

• "wait, wait...do you know how to swim?"

• of course you do and he's so relieved until he remembers he can't

• imagine his face when he eventually admits to it

• the slight crease between his eyebrows, his unhappy, nearly upset frown

• how is he supposed to keep up with you now?

• how is he supposed to keep you safe?

• imagine his smile returning like the sun rising in the morning when you assure him you don't mind

• you only want to dip in your feet, would he not like to join you?

• imagine his eager nod, the delight in his eyes at the foreign sensation when he's finally standing beside you

• imagine the giggle that escapes him at how the water draws back and returns swiftly with every gentle wave

• at how it washes around his feet, how it feels when he wriggles his toes in the wet sand

• imagine Luke's surprise, the light shock, when you splash him, the droplets suddenly raining down all over him

• then his delight, the childish excitement

• he wasn't aware this was something you, and he too, could do!

• before you know it he's chasing you down the beach trying to get back at you

• with his long legs and ability to move over sand much faster than you are, you don't stand much of a chance

• though of course this doesn't stop you from fighting back as soon as he gets to you and it's not long after that both of you are sopping wet

• imagine him laughing freely, something you don't think you've seen him do before

• your heart beats faster

-

• it's when you're both out of breath, staring each other down to gauge your next movements, that the mood, so playful before, switches

• you can't put your finger on when it happened, can't explain how, but the dynamic between you has changed

• like your little game helped Luke make up his mind, emboldened him even, his blushy look and adoringly shy eyes are no more

• instead you're faced with a determination that raises goosebumps all over your skin, as he slowly makes his way towards you, his strong thighs parting the water with every step

• you don't know where to look

• not when he's suddenly this close to you, so close you can smell the salt on his skin and the wind in his hair

• carefully, as if afraid to scare you away, he reaches out, starts to run the fingers of his right hand up and down your left forearm

• you let him

• his gentle touch makes you shudder and unbelievably so he moves even closer, drinking in your subtle reactions

• "Luke I-"

• your voice is breathy, a little unstable

• but when you turn your head aside in embarrassment, he's quick to reach for your chin

• for a moment it's quiet, words simply eluding you in the face of your confusion and desire

• it's Luke who finally speaks again, who voices aloud what you had been thinking about, secretly hoping for, all along

• "please, may I kiss you?"

• and then, nearly inaudible, with such longing that it makes your heart ache, "just this once?"

• and all you can give in return is a nod

• imagine the light in his eyes, brighter even than the most radiant of stars, as he cups your face in his large hands and touches his lips to yours

• imagine how he slowly, so very slowly, pulls back, clearly not wanting the moment to end already

• imagine the look in his eyes, a look that seems to silently plead for more

• and the relief when he finds the immediate answer in yours

• imagine the gasp that escapes you when he finally, unabashedly, dares to take initiative and pulls you flush against him with a jolt

• imagine the pure joy that arises at being kissed like this, with such fervor and enthusiasm it weakens your knees, for once silencing your mind

• imagine the deep sense of peace that comes with being held so closely in strong arms as if they never plan on letting you go again

• you feel safe

-

• the persistence and thoroughness with which Luke continues to explore your mouth surprises you

• he kisses like he's starving, like he can't get enough

• like he may never get the chance to taste you again

• like he's afraid you're going to stop him any moment now

• meanwhile nothing could be further from your mind and it is without hesitation that you follow his lead, that you let him place you down upon the warm sand as if on the softest, most luxurious bed made just for you

• quickly his lips are on yours again and it's not long before they start to wander, to explore your features and limbs as leisurely as his hands do

• mesmerized, like in a trance, Luke traces the lines of your body, peppers kisses to every inch of you he can reach, his excitement at the ability to draw soft sighs and moans from you palpable

• soon unintelligible pleas start to spill from your lips as your arousal heightens with every passing minute

• you're growing desperate, are aching for more, for his deft fingers between your thighs

• but despite Luke's hardened length pressing insistently against his wet pants and repeatedly brushing along your upper legs, he makes no move to fulfill your wish nor to sate his own desires

• not even when you experimentally roll your hips upwards in hopes of gaining at least a little bit of friction

• he's not done exploring yet

• his attention focuses on your chest instead and you have no other choice but to continue clenching around nothing as he tentatively licks and, at length, begins to suck your nipples into his mouth until you're ready to cry out in frustration

• covered in sweat, the sand has begun to cling to your skin, rubbing against you with even the smallest of your movements and you're not sure what to make of it

• you're overwhelmed, helplessly overstimulated, almost wishing for it to stop

• though when Luke presses his knee in between your legs, giving you the chance to grind against him, it's suddenly not enough

• it's not nearly enough and your impatience finally exceeding your shame, the urge to beg becomes too strong to withhold

• for his touch, his fingers

• his cock

• "please Luke. Please just- just fuck me already"

• this catches Luke off guard though he remains silent, takes time to observe your shaking legs, your flush, quivering skin, the quick rise and fall of your chest, your wet eyes

• it shakes him out of his revery, like your words only now led him back into the present moment, made him realize for how long he's been toying with you

• how painfully desperate he is to seek his own release

• truly, he has no intention of leaving you like this, on the brink of an orgasm and close to tears

• but he's stalling, he knows, holding back, unsure of how to proceed and afraid to hurt you

• what if you're not ready to take him yet?

• lost in thought his fingers move gently along the waistband of your underpants until they dip lower in wonder, his knuckles slowly grazing over the wet spot where your dripping arousal has soaked into the fabric

• he is the reason for this, the reason for your pleasure, he realizes

• and he wants you, has wanted you for a very long time

• having made up his mind he carefully pushes a finger deep inside of you, pleasantly surprised at how easy you allow him entrance

• "no", he breathes when you try to strip off your panties to better grant him access

• "I want you like this"

• Luke makes you cum several times before even considering to free his cock from its confines

• too deeply does he enjoy your cries and twitches growing in intensity to accept for pleasure of his own to distract from it

• too hypnotizing it is to watch his fingers disappear into you again and again until they're deeply coated and practically dripping with your arousal

• too satisfying are the obscene squelching sounds that arise, louder and louder the faster he drives into you

• if it were up to him he would continue like this forever, unbothered by his own urges, content to simply watch

• though as you grow tired he eventually takes mercy

• he fucks you until you're close to passing out with pleasure, your face held tightly between his hands

• until your back is sore with being rubbed over the sandy ground over and over and over again

• until there's sand everywhere, in places you don't even dare to think about right now, and your legs are quivering from how long you had to keep them this far apart

• until he is panting, ruthlessly chasing his orgasm with hard, fast thrusts that shake your entire body and cause your eyes to roll into the back of your head

• until tears are streaming down your face and not even the sounds of the crashing waves are able to drown out the wet slapping noises when his hips meet yours in a near frenzy as he buries himself balls-deep in your throbbing heat

A/N: I'm so excited I finally, FINALLY had the time to work on this request!! Really, I couldn't get it out of my head since you first sent it in and not being able to write it all down immediately was pure torture😩

Thank you for your patience! I hope you don't mind the way this turned out to be a little fluffier than anticipated, I just couldn't help it. I love my Luke being desperately head over heels for the reader <33

[marlynnofmany]

Accidental Training

The animal cargo of the day was large and honking, but it seemed well-mannered enough. Picture a sea lion with tiny scales instead of fur, dark gray on top and speckled pale underneath. Bobbing its head in curiosity at the cargo bay and the people in it. The squid-shaped clients maneuvering the cage into place didn’t rate a second look, but they were probably familiar and boring.

Captain Sunlight, with her lemon-yellow scales and dignified lizardperson demeanor, got a lot of attention. She ignored the honks as she finished business with the clients.

Then I stepped up to see what kind of creature I’d be in charge of for this trip, and it exploded in excitement like a 500-pound puppy, dancing in place on its flippers and honking up a storm.

One of the clients said, “It does that sometimes. Have a good flight,” then waved a tentacle and left.

Captain Sunlight squinted at the cage like she would have liked to cover her earholes but wanted to put on a strong front. Instead she looked up at me and said, “Good thing this is a short journey. It seems to like you, though.”

“I see that,” I said, waggling my fingers at it, which just made it honk louder. “Did they tell us a name for it?”

She consulted the information on her tablet while the excitable creature continued to hop around. “Looks like his name is Freckles.”

“That’s adorable,” I said. “Hi, Freckles! Are you a good boy? Yes? Are you so excited that you could break a weaker travel cage than this? Yes you are!” I pressed my hands to my knees in classic talking-to-puppy fashion, which did nothing for the noise levels in the room.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Captain Sunlight told me. “The hover setting for the cage is turned off; it’s clamped in place; the food and supplies are here; we’ll take off shortly.”

“Got it,” I said with a wave as she left. There was a chance that Freckles would calm down if I left too, but he seemed equally likely to make lonely wails if left alone, and anyways this was the reason I’d been hired in the first place. Nobody else on the courier ship knew the first thing about animals. “All right, Freckles, are you ready to travel through space? Is that new for you? You look like you’re in good shape. Let’s aim for no medical emergencies on this trip.”

Freckles honked once, which I took for a yes. He bobbed up and down like a dog inviting another to play.

I copied the move, and he did it again. I lifted one foot, and he did the same, honking happily.

“Good boy! I’ll bet you make your people proud by holding still for tooth-brushing, don’t you? Lemme see your teeth. Ahhh.” I opened my mouth as an example.

With a similar noise, the clever animal copied the motion. His teeth looked clean enough, with none discolored or missing, and he even stuck his tongue out for a good look when prompted. I found a nearly-empty container of treats among the supplies, and rewarded him for good behavior.

“Good job. What else should we check? Can you show me your flipper? And turn like this? Very good. And like that?”

He could and did, visibly happy with the praise and treats. He was a little calmer now that there was something specific to do.

The engines started up with a quiet rumble, which caused him a moment of anxiety, but he was happily distracted when I started echoing his honks back at him.

If this had been an inanimate cargo, I would have left the cargo bay already, but I had nothing more important to do. My job today was to keep an eye on this guy. So I prompted him to do more beneficial tricks, then when the treats ran out, I decided the container made a fine toy.

“Hey look, a hat,” I told him as I put the lid on my head. The container was a mostly-round thing that twisted apart into two equal halves. That meant Freckles got a hat too. And he was so happy about it when I stuck it between the bars.

Only one coworker walked past the door while I was entertaining the cargo: Mur the Strongarm, who looked much like the people who’d brought Freckles onboard. Mur paused, saying nothing. Freckles ignored him, dancing from side to side while wearing his jaunty new hat.

I held my own pose, one foot in the air, arms spread. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Mur said. “Nothing at all.” He continued on his way.

“You’re welcome to join us!” I called after him.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

The short trip was pretty fun. Freckles was particularly taken by the discovery that his honks echoed when the container covered his snout. He could even balance it on his flipper like a hand, taking it on and off to test the difference in sounds. When I did the same and then gave him another treat from a fresh container, he pranced in place and slapped his flippers together.

As it turned out, he was good at repeating patterns too. We did some clapping games of the sort that human toddlers love, then I found a ball among the supplies and we were all set for the rest of the trip. It was even the squishy kind that glorped between the bars instead of bouncing off, which was perfect. We played an entertaining game of catch until the engine noises changed into landing sounds.

I was honestly surprised the trip was over. The captain came back in to meet the clients who were here for pickup, and I made sure to pack away everything into the supplies. Freckles made a sad honk when I took the container back, but I gave him one last treat, and that made up for it.

These two clients looked much like the last, though one was carrying a bag from the shopping trip they’d done on the way here. They were also more talkative than the other ones.

“…Had to stop by the battery shop for three different kinds of chargers, then the feed store for more of the special diet that our oldest animal takes, and there was so much traffic!” The one typing information into the payment screen didn’t stop for breath, waving several tentacles as she talked.

“I’m just glad there was a mask attachment of the right size in stock,” said the one with the bag. “Getting Freckles his air vitamins is going to be hard enough as it is.” He pulled something from the bag: a long tube with a concave shape at one end. “What do you think, Freckles? Can this be easy for once?”

Freckles honked, which could have meant anything.

I looked at the mask. “What does he usually do when you have to give him air vitamins?”

The Strongarm sighed like a deflating balloon. “He just doesn’t want it anywhere near his face. He seems to think it’s a game to avoid it, which is fun for him but incredibly tiresome for everyone else.”

“Have you tried making it a different game?” I asked, starting to smile.

“Like what?”

“Can I see that for a moment?” When he passed it over, I got the container of treats and rattled it for Freckles’ attention, then took a position in front of the cage. I held the mask in front of my own face. “Hey Freckles. Honk honk.”

He of course honked happily and shoved his nose through the bars, eager for his turn. I settled it against his snout — perfect fit — and he honked away. I pulled the mask back and gave him a treat, then turned to beam at the clients.

“What! He’s never done that!” said the one.

“How did you train him to do that?” demanded the other.

“Honestly, I wasn’t trying to,” I admitted. “But he’s very smart. He seems to like copying motions, and he’s definitely food-motivated.”

“Oh yes, those are the good treats,” said the client with the bag. “The new kind that my cousin’s book club host recommended.”

I handed back the mask. “Then you might keep these in reserve for important things, like rewarding him for taking his air vitamins. Though given how much he’s enjoying the new game, you might not even need to.”

The clients were overjoyed. They thanked me, thanked Captain Sunlight, and showered Freckles with praise as they unclamped the cage and started up its hover function. We helped them down the ramp, then they waved off any further assistance on the way to a flatbed skimmer with a loading arm. The guy with the bag of shopping struggled just a bit managing all the supplies too, but neither Captain Sunlight nor I were about to insult a Strongarm by suggesting they needed help carrying something. So we just waved our goodbyes and made sure they got everything loaded onto the skimmer before we closed the cargo bay door.

“Bye, Freckles!” I called as it closed. I heard one last honk, which I decided sounded excited about the skimmer ride to come.

“Well,” said Captain Sunlight. “That was fortunate. Good job.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think they’ll all enjoy the vitamin process more now, especially Freckles.”

We walked through the empty cargo bay to the hall, where Paint met us, with confusion on her scaly orange face and a jar lid in her hands.

“Mur said to give this to you?” she said, holding it out to me.

I laughed. “Mur thinks he’s very funny.” I dutifully set it on my head. “Yes, the height of fashion. But I think it would look better on him. You can tell him I said so.”

“Okay,” Paint said, taking the lid back. “Why?”

Captain Sunlight huffed a laugh and headed off to the cockpit while I began the explanation of how I’d spent the recent flight.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[miffysrambles]

Hi😊 could you maybe do one where LMK Wukong is just a total simp for the reader and completely head over heels for them. Like he falls in love at first sight seeing their eyes (sort of like Leo from TMNT Mutant Mayhem?)

Wukong Completly in Love With His S/O

Oh man, I love writing for love-sick Wukong, ok here we go.

You two had first met when he was in a hoodie walking around town, both of your hands touching as you reached for the handle strap.

His golden eyes stared down into yours as he felt his heart explode from your gorgeous orbs, seemingly getting lost in them as he continued to stare. 

You smiled at him as he let you hold the strap, thanking him as you stood next to him on the fast-moving train.

Unknowing to you, he kept taking quick glances at your features. He took in every little detail from a freckle to your eyes once more.

Gods, he could look into them for centuries.

He eventually worked up the courage to ask to see you again, your relationship only blossomed from there.

Even after dating, he still sees himself staring at you and everything you do with pure adoration.

You want to work on some house chores? Awesome! He’ll help and watch!

You to just watch movies with him? Only if you cuddle and he can look down at you the entire time!

“Ah! Yeah, we can watch a movie! C’mere, lemme hold ya’.” He’ll make grabbing motions with his fingers to signal you to come closer.

Loves coming home to your smiling face after training with MK, immediately wrapping his arms around you as he pepper kisses all over your face.

He’ll nuzzle his nose into your neck as you laugh from the feeling, his ears twitching from his pure love to hear you laugh. 

Whenever you’re around him, his monkey tail will curl into a heart shape as he is bad at hiding his emotions (he thinks otherwise). 

“Me? Bad at hiding my emotions? Pshh, I’m great at that!”

(Name) walks up to him.

Instant hearts in his eyes and flushed cheeks. 

No shame in it either, he loves his partner damnit!

Loves taking you up for rides on his cloud, the feeling of your arms wrapping around his waist as the wind whips through his fur is addicting.

As you land on the ground, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you to your destination.

“W-Wukong, you don’t have to carry me!”

“I know peaches, but I wanna! Besides, don’t want you getting too tired before our date.”

Will plan picnics and other dates on Flower Fruit Mountain for the both of you as he wants you to have a great time with him (you always do and you tell him that of course). 

Overall, yeah this man is completely smitten when it comes to you and he does not hold back in public after the first few days of dating.

Will hold your hand and waist whenever in public, kissing your cheek as people stare at you both.

He had no problems showing how much he loves you.