#their logo was also one of the biggest on it

[sarazanmai]

Saw a lady in a shirt from When We Were Young and I thought "aw you got to see MCR in old man makeup".

[giuseppe-yuki]

I really love your shapeshifter series, i’m honestly just wondering how the conversation between the reader and the drivers would go when they find out about her ‘special talent’ 🫣

Also is the shapeshifting thing genetic, like is it passed on from the parents or is it totally random like a mutation?

i'm glad that you liked it! :) to answer your question about the origin of the shapeshifting thing in the au, i'm going to be honest and say i actually haven't thought a lot about the specifics 😭 i think i'm just going to leave it up to the reader's own interpretation!

about the shifting ability, let's just say some of the drivers had quite the shock, and some the complete opposite...

ka12, cl16, lh44, aa23, mv1, ln4

andrea kimi antonelli

“you’re kidding!” kimi exclaims, raising his head from your lap. 

"i'm not," you reply nonchalantly, like you hadn’t just dropped the world’s biggest bomb on him. you continue to scroll through your phone with one hand and comb through his messy curls with your other. 

he scrambles up, batting your hands away from him. “no! i don’t believe you- you have to be lying! 

you gently place your phone next to you on kimi’s soft bed, and direct your full attention at your confused boyfriend. “why would i be lying, kimi?” you ask. seeing his nervous expression, you smile at him in a teasing way and continue, “what, you scared of tigers?”

he responds a little too fast to be telling the truth. “no! i’m not scared of tigers, i swear!” he backs up from you the tiniest bit, but you still notice. “their teeth are just a little too- um- sharp for my liking.”

you scoot off of kimi’s rumpled bedspread and distance yourself a little bit away from the bed. keeping your eyes trained on your boyfriend, you shift into your tiger form, making sure to exaggeratedly yawn, showing your sharp teeth. 

kimi immediately starts shaking like a leaf, eyes wide. “mamma mia-“ he stutters out, unable to believe that there was a huge white tiger standing in front of him where his girlfriend once stood. 

you let out a low growl of amusement towards your boyfriend, who promptly bolts out of the room. 

after sending a quick thanks to the heavens that his parents weren’t home, you carefully pad out of the room towards the direction he ran out. your sharp nails noisily clack against the wooden floorboards as you saunter forwards. almost immediately, you hear his heavy breathing in a coat closet near the front door of his house. wow, he is lowkey kind of bad at hiding, you think. you raise your paw and bat open the closet door. 

he cowers in the corner, face half covered by his pillowy merc-logoed jackets and his mother’s thin patterned shawls. “please don’t eat me!” he mewls out. 

it was pretty funny seeing your pretty boyfriend scared half to death, but you didn’t want to go overboard and give him ptsd.

you quickly shift back into your human form, jump through the coats, and into his arms inside of the cramped closet.

“aww, kimi,” you tut, brushing back some of his curls from his face. “don’t be scared, it’s just me!” 

he lets out a shaky sniffle, still in shock from the scary tiger that you just turned back from.  “i definitely believe that you can shift now,” he says sullenly, “and i promise you that i’m never gonna doubt you again.”

you reach over and place a small kiss on his cheek, leading him to smiling shyly at you. 

suddenly, his mother pops up into the intimate scene- she must have come home when you were distracted. 

shooting you both questioning looks, she gestures towards the piece of furniture around you.

“so… why are you kids hiding in the closet? and kimi, are you crying???”

charles leclerc

"YESSSS!" your boyfriend shouts, partly deafening you.

pleasantly surprised and just a tiny bit relieved at his positive reaction, you smile at him. "i hope yo-"

before your sentence is even finished, he excitedly cuts in.

"what can you shift into? a crocodile? oh, i bet something really cool like shark or something so you can eat arthur when he's being annoying!”

flash him an unamused look. "i tell you that i can shapeshift and your first response to this newfound information is to ask if i'm a shark so i can eat your brother?"

charles blinks at you, slowly, big brown eyes wide with innocence. "er yeah?"

“wow,” you mutter, pouting jokingly. “is that all i’m good for?”

he immediately surges forward to comfort you, wrapping your body in his muscled arms. “no, mon coeur! you are so smart, and pretty, and done so many great things-“

you stop him by pressing kisses along his jawline while laughing. “i’m joking with you, charlie!”

a relieved look crosses his face, and he smiles at you looking up at him adoringly.

it’s a simple, sweet moment, something you cherish, until he opens his mouth again. “you don’t have to eat arthur if you don’t want to, baby.”

you push away from his embrace, crossing your arms. “i shift into a hedgehog, charles.”

seeing the cogs turning in his head, you quickly add on, “and no, i’m not going to poke him to death or whatever outrageous plan you are thinking up.”

lewis hamilton

“yeah, i know,” lewis says simply, continuing to chop the tofu into small cubes. “baby, will you also get the soybeans out of the fridge for me?”

you don’t move, body frozen in lewis’ state-of-art kitchen, trying to process how your boyfriend found out your carefully guarded secret.

“love, the soybeans please??” he exclaims, wildly stir-frying the tofu and vegetables. “it’s going to burn!”

shoving your questions aside, you turn to the gleaming silver fridge behind you and pull out a bag of organic soybeans. you toss it to him in a perfect arc, bag spinning in the air. he catches it with one hand, rips open the package with his teeth, and pours it into the pan in one smooth movement. watching him cook shouldn’t have felt so spicy and passionate. once he plates the dish on a sparkling white plate, wiping away the excess sauce, you decide that it would be a good time to bring up his surprising reaction.

“so…what did you mean you know?” you question him carefully.

lewis slides your portion across the island counter, along with a serving of rice.

“well,” he replies, “it wasn’t that hard, since your fur got literally everywhere, and you tend to forget i’m downstairs when you get the zoomies in the upstairs bedroom.”

“oh,” you respond. it kind of made sense, considering the mysterious packages of lint rollers and trinkets that could double as dog toys that were constantly being delivered to your house. he wouldn't tell anyone, though, would he?

he spears a couple of cubes of his stir-fry and raises it to his mouth before answering your internal question. "don't worry, baby. i won't tell anyone- as long as you give me something in return."

you watch in amusement as he wiggles his eyebrows seductively at you. abandoning the hot food on the table, you seize one of his tattooed arms. "i will be more than happy to," you giggle, before unceremoniously dragging him to the bedroom upstairs.

alex albon

it was not an ideal situation. you were currently flitting near the ceiling, fighting for your life to not get smacked by the dusty old broom that your boyfriend was hoisting.

talking about said boyfriend, he was jumping up and down on his driver room sofa, yelling and screaming with his broom in his hand like a witch that was one second away from going mentally insane.

"there's. a. fucking. bird. in. my. room." he yelps, swinging his weapon-like tool a little too close to your fragile body.

you originally planned on surprising your boyfriend and revealing your special talent by transforming from bird to human. you naively thought your sweet boyfriend was going to scoop you up ever so softly, place a kiss on your head, and you would have a nice talk about you both were going to move on with this piece of information. but no, the moment he saw you perched one of his spare race suit, he started swinging. where he even got a broom, you didn't know.

when you spot a moment of hesitation from alex, you take your chance and quickly fly towards to the opposite side of the room from where he was, feathers whipping in the wind. you land on his desk and shift back to your human form. you take a chance to catch your breath, chest heaving. if looks could kill, your glare at alex would probably put him six feet under within seconds.

he gapes at you, broom now forgotten on the floor. "w-w-what? but.. the bird- you-?"

"i was the bird, you twat!" you snap, pushing yourself off the table. "you almost murdered me!"

he rushes over to you, wrapping his long arms around your body. the familiar scent of his cologne and clothing detergent almost makes you forget that he tried to kill you a moment ago. "i'm sorry!" he stammers, petting your head. "i didn't know you could-" he lowers his voice to a whisper- "shapeshift!!"

you smile into alex's team kit, head still buried against alex's body. "i guess i forgive you," you mutter.

alex takes a look around the room, your extra feathers littered across the floor and room in disarray from him leaping around, and hugs you tigher. "oh, i'm so glad i didn't accidentally end my own girlfriend."

max verstappen

"hmm," was all your boyfriend said when you nervously exposed your life-changing secret to him on a random saturday morning.

you stutter nervously and wring your hands, trying to decipher the look on max's face. "a ragdoll cat, to be exact- like um, i can change whenever i want, like this-"

shifting into your cat form, you blink your signature blue eyes at him. your boyfriend looks at your form on the ground curiously, and then pulls out his phone. immediately, thoughts race across your mind. what if he hated you? was he exposing your secret to this internet right now? what if he was so disgusted that he wanted to break up with you?" thoughts overcoming you, you high-tail it in between max's legs underneath the sofa.

a few minutes later, you watch as max's socked feet approach the couch, leading you to shrink back more. his face appears a moment later, eyebrows creased with worry. "schatje, come here!" he encourages, large hands beckoning you forward. "i won't hurt you, i promise."

padding forward cautiously, you place yourself within his reach.

true to his word, he softly slides you out from under the couch, and holds you close to him, patting you comfortingly. once your initial fear subsides, he places you softly next to him. you awkwardly shift back, trying to ignore eye contact with max. "you're not mad at me?"

he tilts your head towards him, and grabs your hand. "baby, i would never be mad at you! i'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me your secret! i was just processing everything."

"really?" you sniff, looking into his big blue eyes.

"positive." max says candidly.

you nod, satisfied. "okay then."

he shoots you a small smile, and then gives you a light kiss on your cheek. after he pulls back, you ask him one last question.

"so, why did you pull out your phone then?"

surprisingly, he lets out a laugh. "oh, that!" he pulls his phone out of his jeans, and tilts the screen to show you. multiple luxury pet supply websites were pulled up, showcasing the latest beds and scratching posts. you think you could spot a $7,500 gucci pet beds in one of the tabs which you will probably have to forbid max from buying later. he shoots a grin at you. "now i know your secret, i feel like its only fair that i have to spoil you within an inch of your life!"

lando norris

"you what?!?" lando says, jaw practically on the floor.

"i can shift into a ferret," you repeat, watching your boyfriend try to grasp the meaning of your words.

"like, the animal ferret?" he questions, still unbelieving.

you sigh exasperatedly, "no, everybody's favorite fruit, the ferret- yes, the animal ferret!"

climbing off of the high stool in lando's kitchen, you walk towards your stunned boyfriend on the nearby couch. sebastian vettel yaps about the bees on the tv in the background. as you come closer to lando, you shift to your ferret form, and scamper onto his lap.

looking at you with wide, glazed eyes, he hesitantly extends his hand towards your furry figure.

when he fails to make contact with your soft fur, you push your head upwards so he rests his hand on the top of your head. taking it as an invitation, he strokes your fur and inspects your little paws. he even pokes your stomach, which you rebutted by snapping your jaw at him.

once you feel like he had enough "examine the ferret" time, you jump off of his lap and shift back into your human form.

"wait no, go back!" he begs, "i didn't get to see your tail yet!"

you shoot him an annoyed look. "you are not allowed to be going anywhere near my tail today."

he pouts, scowling at you. "this is so not fair!! why do you get to be a ferret? i want to be something too!"

it was clear that your boyfriend never had the experience of being snatched out of a bush by random kids on the street and straight up being squished and prodded at by their inquisitive hands.

"yeah, you are something," you shoot back. "a clown!"

lando jerks back and places a hand on his heart. "that was mean!" he protests.

"okay, okay," you give in, "sorry..."

he mutters lowly and sneers at you before whipping out his phone. fingers flitting across the keyboard, he rapidly searches something up.

you slightly lilt your body and peer onto the screen. catching a glimpse, you burst out laughing.

"lando, there's no way you just googled, 'how to turn into a ferret!'"

a/n: if you liked it, make sure to check out the au series that this blurb takes place in :)

shapeshifting!reader au blurbs

[amuseoffyre]

Oh! OHHHHHHH! AN EPIPHANY.

We've known for months about the official logo for S2. The two mermaids symbolising Ed, their hands forming his name, one the Blackbeard side, the other the Ed-side with the broken heart.

But when I was watching the teaser for the [redacted] time, it was this shot that caught me and made me yell and remember things:

OKAY. SO.

Season one had Stede's journey echoed in the story of Pinocchio. He reads from the book, there's the journey from being a puppet (controlled by the world and circumstances around him) to being a real boy. There's a gorgeous parallel between little Stede tied to the rowboat in terror and adult Stede who has cut all his strings in another rowboat, free at last.

Season two is Ed's story. But Ed isn't Pinocchio. Ed is the little mermaid and aaaaaa! I am rolling around in all the layers and layers of it that have been set up from S1 already.

The biggest thing is Ed giving up his metaphorical voice and going on land for the man he loves. He signed the act of grace and gave up the world where he had security, power and allies. Only Stede didn't come with him and aaaaaah the tragedy of the original little mermaid story is that the Prince who the mermaid sacrificed everything for didn't want her.

(also so much subtext for Hans Christian Andersen's yearning)

And it hit me tonight that Ed is on wedding ships and I had somehow forgotten that the big final arc of the Little Mermaid is that she is on the wedding ship. The man she loves is there, marrying someone else, and she has the choice of killing him and rejoining the world she knows or dying herself and aaaaaaa. I AM HAVING THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS.

I will leave you with this quote, which seems incredibly relevant given the first lines in the teaser:

She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home. She had given up her beautiful voice and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she should breathe the same air with him or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea.

[ryescapades]

omg hai...... can i please request a loserumi (narumi) of him religiously admiring an idol!reader.. like he'd almost always show up to all her concerts and fan meetings to the point where his followers would always upload posts of him getting seen fanboying in public 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

— narumi gen, japan's strongest anti-kaiju combatant biggest fanboy ever.

characters: narumi gen (kaiju no.8) x idol fem!reader genre/warning: kinda headcanon format, none i think a/n: this is such a new concept to me so it took me a while to come up with something. thank you for the req anon! hopefully you don't mind me using kpop as the ref since i'm more versed in that compared to irl jp idols TT

pt.2

loser!narumi who undoubtedly has a stan account of you, his favourite artist across all social medias where he posts fancams, edits, merchs, etc.

loser!narumi who probably has a lot of customized/official jerseys with your name and birthday number printed on them. even sets his lockscreen with a picture of him wearing it or something.

loser!narumi who listens to your songs religiously and learns almost all of your choreographies. he's girlypop like that.

loser!narumi who has a 'y/n shrine' at home where he puts all of your albums, photocards, posters and prints that he got (also most likely he has a flag of your face on japan's logo hung in his bedroom. if you know that kpop idol on american flags, then you'd know what i mean).

loser!narumi who's your biggest defender and truther, he's never letting a hater of yours even breathe peacefully they gotta sleep with one eye open every night (he fights with them on twt and insta on a daily basis).

loser!narumi who definitely trash-talks Dispatch whenever you accidentally/mistakenly end up in a dating allegation.

loser!narumi who takes impromptu day offs from his captain duties in order to attend every single one of your concerts/fansign/cupsleeve events, especially when you're doing a tour in japan. he's in disguise, of course (japan would definitely riot if they see their cherished protector so much as mundanely breathe the outside air).

loser!narumi who still gets noticed by your other fans during said events. not like he tries that hard to hide himself anyway. not when he's loudly cheering along the fanchants during concerts, your lightstick held in his hand and he's screaming your name at the top of his lungs like his life depends on it (it does, he thinks).

loser!narumi who still pathetically denies the pictures of him posted on social media, saying he had a doppleganger or some shit (boy you ain't slick wtf that's clearly your ass squealing and dancing there).

loser!narumi who goes absolutely batshit crazy when you make eye contact with him or look directly at his camera when he's filming you or hold his hands and talk to him so sweetly during fansign events.

loser!narumi who giggles to himself, rolling around in bed, kicking his feet and shit whenever you reply to his comment during your live stream.

loser!narumi who always brings along a photocard of yours everywhere he goes, even during missions. "that one's for you, y/n!!!" *proceeds to kiss your photocard repeatedly* —narumi after killing a kaiju, probably.

loser!narumi who's a teensy bit delulu thinking one day he might be the one to have you, his dearest idol whom he loves so much <3

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[k2ntoss]

okay so yet again i was scrolling through insta reels and i saw this and immediately thought, 'oh jason would love one of this with his helmet' so i thought i'd share (hopefully the video doesn't just disappear into the ether or this wont make much sense but yeah)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8XdIwStYFg/?igsh=MWdzZXVpZHV3dm8zbw==

((in case it does for some reason disappear, it was a reel of a girl making a diy spiderman mask shirt with a pattern and then the red colouring bit of the mask was filled in with kisses using paint))

but yeah, i think making a red hood one for jason would be so fun and i just know the man would be so so smitten when it's given to him

anyways, love you, glad your posting again

- the ever present 🦊

"the ever present" OMG I ADORE YOU!!!!!! hi baby, been missing you with your brain tickling requests (i have one on hold but just you wait)

i've been looking to do one of those for me with red hood's logo bc i'm as single as one can be and i know i won't be getting someone to do this for me but okayyyyyy i can do it on my own. here comes something short but done with a lot of love

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𔓕 ۪  ۫ ୭

jason had been waiting outside the room for hours maybe, he was just sitting on the couch as he looked at the door like a sad puppy because he had arrived this morning to your apartment looking foward to spend time with you. some cuddling, watching a movie together or reading, jason just wanted some quality time with his beloved.

he knew you had been busy during the week with a huge amount of projects you wanted to do but he wasn't expecting you to get so fixated over one to lock yourself into your room and not even peek to see him and he didn't knew why, what jason also didn't knew was the fact that you were already getting dizzy by the smell of paint inside your closed room as you placed the shirt over your desk again, grabbing a pencil to fix the outline of the desing for the hundreth time in the day.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." you muttered as low as you could to keep jason from darting into the room and ruin the surprise and it took you a good couple of hours to finally have it done, the paint almost completely dry now and the image of it was neat, making you smile and giggle happily.

and it's just then when you decide it's time to open the door, peeking your head through the small space to find jason almost melted on the couch, his head resting against the wall as he kept his eyes closed but it wasn't even a second by when he snapped his eyes open to look at you with a small frown.

"baby? why are you-?" she stopped mid sentence, taking in the sight of your paint smeared lips and chin, the red bright color now cracked on your skin as you smiled back at him as if you just made the biggest discovery in your life.

"hush! c'mere, jaybirdie" you say, leaving the door to your room wide open just to reveal the fact that your whole frame was a mess and that the paint was not only on your face but it had dripped to your shirt and also to your bare thighs to the skin that wasn't covered by the sleeping shorts you were wearing.

jason stands up from his seat, stretching completely from his quick nap and walks into the now messy room. the small paint pots across the floor and desk in different shades of red, paint brushes here and there and then the sight of you standing in front of the middle of your desk, covering something jason couldn't quite see well enough to know what it was.

"i saw something and i had to do this... it's probably the cheesiest thing i've ever done so feel free to laugh at me" and those words make jason tilt his head because what on earth could be so cheesy and made with paint that needed this much time leaving him out of your room? because yes, jason wanted to cuddle and don't blame him.

"princess-" he starts but goes silent the second you pull from the desk a black shirt with a print of his helmet on it, all made in different shades of red kiss marks that emulated the shade of light and everything. his lips remain parted as he walks slowly towards you, his fingers gently tracing the outline of the print on the shirt before he looks at your face, the paint in your skin the evidence of the time you spent painting your lips and pressing kisses to the shirt to make something so sweet for him.

"is it too much? you know, you can just put it into your closet if you don't like-" but your words are cut by a tender kiss, jason cups your face in such a delicate embrace as he lets all his feelings pour into that simple kiss.

"i love it. i love you" he says, his voice a soft whisper even in that deepish tone of his and it makes your heart flutter because jason looks completely happy with the shirt as he holds it into his hands, still admiring the way you decided to replicate a part of him "it's just perfect..."

"can i wear it already?"

the question itself is the sweetest reaction he could give you, the eagerness to wear something you made for him making you giggle excitedly as you shook your head with a small pout.

"not yet, red... i should iron it and give it a quick wash so the paint stays on the fabric" and he pouts slightly because god knows how much he wishes to have your kisses closer to his heart.

[novy2sirius]

SPIRITUAL NOTES BY NOV ༉‧₊˚.༄

As I’ve talked about before, colors have vibrational energy. Certain colors are better for certain energies. For example, 1 life paths should avoid wearing red. 1’s are the biggest targets for corruption and lust so wearing red will only enhance that even more. Too much lust can be damaging to your root chakra

Wearing orange projects confidence (can make you come off more confident which is attractive to most people). Orange can also be a good color for home decor (orange lighting, lamps, etc)

Purple is a good color for protection (especially spiritual protection). You could simply visualize a purple aura/energy around you for protection if you feel you need it. Visualizing this color can also help you solve problems if you’re currently facing any

Eating pomegranates cleans your pineal gland and can help purify it. Thus, helping you become more spiritually connected and giving you more vivid dreams. Sleeping in complete darkness and Vitamin D are also a good way to wake up your pineal gland

5-9 minutes before your enemy hour in vietnamese astrology you have extreme luck. If you don’t know what your enemy hours in viet astro are then you can look at my post about them here

In my personal opinion focusing on numerology is way more powerful than moon phases will ever be. Both are important and powerful tools though

Blue is the matrix’s favorite color and intertwined with the matrix. Blue often puts people at ease and comfort which is why it’s often everyone’s favorite color. If you’re about to go into an intense environment where you’re not sure if others are that trusting of you, wear blue. “Feeling blue” actually isn’t a negative thing. It represents your return to nature spiritually (especially the ocean, rivers, lakes, etc). Staring up at a clear blue sky can make you feel better

In numerology things are pillar to pillar when it comes to compatibility. To check if you’re compatible with someone you go life path number to life path number, day number to day number, month number to month number, year number to year number, attitude number to attitude number, etc. In other words life path is not the only thing that can show enemy energy or friend energy, but is most important when it comes to compatibility

11 has a lot of good attributes, but a negative trait of the numerical energy is terror. Scary things can happen under 11 energy. I don’t recommend going on roller coasters, flying, going on a cruise, etc under this energy

Red is not the color of love like people make it seem. It’s actually the color of lust. Hence the root chakra being red and the heart chakra being green. The people higher up just want us at a lower vibration, so they can have power over us and when someone is overly lustful they will be

Wearing red a lot has its ups and downs. It can make you come off sexually attractive to people and make them lust over you and it can make people addicted to you, but wearing it too often can actually attract conflict or aggressive energy to your life. We often see red used negatively in society like in hospital logos, police sirens, etc but often when you see red a lot it’s more so a sign from the matrix to pause and analyze the situation around you carefully. Note: Even when people are attracted to you when you wear red it isn’t a long lasting effect (just like lust in general is temporary, the opposite of love)

Master numbers are usually smart and very spiritually connected, but the one’s that aren’t can be dangerous to be around. They may drain your energy

Our energy can be drained in this matrix. We are like the batteries for the simulation. You have to be careful who you surround yourself with because of this

DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE UNDER 18 - A lot of the traps to take our energy in the matrix are sex related since sex is a gateway to earth (through women). You must be careful. P*rn is one of them. When men finish through masturbation to p*rn their energy can be taken by negative entities. When women finish to p*rn they can absorb the negative energy of negative entities during that time. Women absorb energy and men push out sexual energy. These negative energy vampires only come around during this time (they’re obviously not visible to the human eye). P*rn is really bad for you spiritually because of this. Masturbation is not though and is healthy for you spiritually if it is something you do about 5 times a month. Doing it too much can be bad though. Semen retention doesn’t actually do anything spirituality that’s the placebo affect doing its work. Shows how powerful our minds and thoughts are. Anyway, if you’re not someone who’s spiritual there’s also many studies done that talk about p*rn being horrible for your mind

Green is the most important color to earth. Snakes have green eyes which is why they can see a lot of things others can’t (people with the viet sign). This applies to people with green eyes in general as well

[ak-vintage]

Sweet As

Pairing: Francisco Morales/f! babysitter reader

Summary: Frankie comes home after a long day at work and learns how you have been keeping cool in the midst of a heat wave.

Prompt: Frankie Morales x Grapes

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI, 6 years post-Triple Frontier, single dad Frankie, flight instructor Frankie, babysitter reader, dual POV, age gap (not specified, but reader is a grad student), minimal descriptors of reader character, no use of y/n, domestic, sweet, mutual pining, food as foreplay, frottage, pussy pronouns, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), trying to keep quiet, trying not to get caught, undefined but hopeful ending

Word Count: 7.5K

Written for the @happypedrohours Charcuterie Board Challenge.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3

You had always been a summer girl, but even you had your limits.

It was week three of the most severe heatwave the south had seen in a decade, and even with the Morales’s air conditioner running at full capacity, you still couldn’t help but park yourself directly under the ceiling fan with a sweating glass of iced tea. Mila, thankfully, hadn’t fought you during bedtime tonight, the six-year-old nearly dead on her feet after a full day of summer activities – a bike ride around the block before the heat of the day had set in, a dance party after lunch, hours in her swimsuit weaving in and out of the sprinkler in the back yard. You had done your best to keep up with her sunscreen, but she still sported a little flush on her round, tan cheeks as she crawled into bed, making little snuffling snores before you had even finished telling her goodnight.

There was a part of you that envied it, the way she could just collapse into sleep, not a care in the world, while you were stuck at the kitchen table late into the night, your laptop and textbooks strewn across its surface. The perils of holding down a full-time babysitting gig while also taking summer classes, you supposed.

It was worth it, though. Mila was a sweet girl, a total social butterfly, full of giggles and sweetness, easily the most fun kid you had ever cared for. And Frankie, her father…

Mr. Morales, you reminded yourself with a quick shake of your head.

Mr. Morales was a dream to work for. Respectful, pleasant, communicative, fair. A great parent to his daughter – a single dad, the only one in your regular client rotation. He paid you well for your time, and he was generous with his recreation budget, always making sure to leave cash in the top kitchen drawer for ice cream treats, trips to the pool, matinee movies. You really couldn’t have asked for a better job for the summer.

It didn’t hurt that he was absurdly handsome, in a rugged, lived-in sort of way. Not that it mattered, of course; he was your boss, more than a decade your senior, and you were, above all else, a professional. Hitting on the kids’ dads? The biggest babysitting faux pas. You liked to think you had more class than that.

However, class or not, you were still just a woman, and Francisco Morales? He was all man.

A blue-collar, ex-military guy in his mid-forties, he was tall and impossibly broad in the shoulders with long, muscular arms, a soft tummy that peaked out over the waistband of his jeans, and a head full of dark brown curls that were constantly just a little squished by a dark, well-worn ballcap bearing the Standard Oil logo. He started out a bit reserved in the beginning, not at all unfriendly but certainly someone who took some time to open up to new people, but in the months since you had started working for him, the two of you had developed a comfortable rapport.

So, if you dragged yourself out of bed an hour early just so you could get to his house in time enough to share a cup of coffee with him before he left for work, well…that was just relationship building with a client, wasn’t it? If you found yourself lingering in the driveway every time he walked you out to your car at the end of the day, extending the conversation more and more, delaying your departure as long as you could manage, that was just…friendship, right? Comradery.

And if, on nights like tonight, you received a series of clunky, unpunctuated texts asking you to stay late on short notice and you agreed without question, that was just going above and beyond. That was you being a good employee.

It definitely wasn’t you genuinely wanting to help out the struggling single father, not because you were being paid to do so, but because he deserved it. And you definitely didn’t take a deep, personal satisfaction in knowing that he trusted you, knowing that he relied on you.

It was all above board. All friendly. All completely and totally normal.

These were the things you told yourself, anyway. It helped you to keep your traitorous heart in check.

It was nearing 10:00 PM by the time Frankie finally pulled into his driveway, his eyelids heavy, his limbs leaden and slicked with sweat. One of the ‘copters at the flight school where he worked had required some major repairs after a clumsy takeoff by one of the students earlier that afternoon had resulted in damage to the rotor blades, and he had volunteered to stay behind after hours and help with the effort so the thing wouldn’t have to spend the entire next day grounded. He was an instructor these days, but his assistance had still been welcomed. In the years he had spent attempting to earn back his pilot’s license after his…indiscretions, he had spent a fair amount of time working as an aviation mechanic to make ends meet.

Even then, at the lowest point of his life, he hadn’t been able to keep himself away from a hangar.

It had been back-breaking work, and Frankie hated having to ask you to stay late when he knew you had your own life, your own friends, your own dreams outside of babysitting his kid, but the repairs were complete now, which meant that none of the instructors would need to cancel any of their lessons for the following day. And when the flight school’s students were, more often than not, rich old men and their trust fund sons who didn’t take well to being told “no,” the extra effort would not go unnoticed.

Now, however, as he shifted his pickup truck into park next to your beat-up old Ford Focus, all he could think about was getting into the air conditioning, taking off his boots, and sitting down at the kitchen table under the ceiling fan with you.

It was the only advantage, really, of these late nights. Infrequent though they were, Frankie couldn’t deny that there was something special about coming home to find his daughter tucked up in bed, happy and tired and well-fed, and you at the table with your schoolwork strewn out in front of you. There was something peaceful and almost painfully domestic about it, something that had his chest swelling with a feeling that he couldn’t quite identify but that he knew for certain was not something one was meant to feel for one’s babysitter.

It was the same feeling he got when you started accepting his offers of coffee in the mornings before he left for work, or when you noticed that he had started purchasing the sugary-sweet creamer you preferred when he had only ever drunk his coffee black. It was the same feeling he got when he came home on one of the first nights of this fucking wretched heatwave to find you chasing his daughter around the back yard with an armful of water balloons, the both of you soaked to the skin and giggling as you pelted each other relentlessly.

It was the same feeling he got when he walked you out to your car and he watched you grip the driver’s door handle so tight your knuckles turned pale, watched you glance down at his lips one too many times to be proper. Soft mouth parted, long lashes casting shadows across your sun-kissed cheeks, perfect breasts rising and falling with your quickened breath –

Frankie brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes, pressing hard, scrubbing across his face to banish the thought. He had no business thinking of you like that, noticing you like that, and he needed to get it together before he walked through the front door and found you precisely where he had imagined you. This might have been his home, but it was your place of work, and he refused to be one of those skeevy dads who made the babysitter uncomfortable.

Gathering himself, Frankie hopped down out of the truck and jogged up the front porch steps. Slipping his keyring from his front pocket, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and kicked his well-worn boots off onto the mat inside the entryway.

Before he could announce his arrival, however, your voice called out to him, hushed and warm.

“Welcome home, Mr. Morales,” you said sweetly, glancing up at him from your favorite chair at his table. He could see you there through the kitchen doorway, hair piled haphazardly on top of your head, eyes tired but soft, happy. You had gotten even more sun today, your cheeks, nose, and forehead tinged with pink, and you wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of almost sinfully short shorts, the kind with the elastic waist that looked soft to the touch. Frankie tried and failed not to trace the length of your legs with his eyes, not to imagine the plush softness of your thighs, the suppleness of your calves.

Dragging his gaze back up to your face, praying that you hadn’t caught the trajectory of his traitor eyes, he was somewhat surprised to find you studying him, as well. Rather intently, as a matter of fact. He squinted down at himself, puzzled, and noticed for the first time what you must be staring at: he was a mess.

He was smudged with grease from head to toe, dark streaks of the oily substance arcing across his jeans, his uniform polo, his bare forearms, the backs of his hands. His skin, where it was visible, shone with sweat in the dim entryway light, and his shirt clung to his upper body like a second skin from the heat (moisture-wicking fabric, his ass). The weather would have been enough to have him in a state, but the late night combined with the manual labor had clearly taken its toll.

He watched the long column of your throat bob as you swallowed thickly.

“Rough day?” you asked after a beat of tense silence, keeping your voice low so as not to wake Mila.

Frankie felt his lips lift at the corner, offering you a fatigued half-smile. “A bit, yeah. But better now.”

You pressed your mouth into a thin line as though smothering a grin. “Glad to hear it.” Gesturing at the chair opposite you, you added, “Why don’t you come have a seat, and I’ll heat up some leftovers for you? You have to be starving.”

Fuck, now that you mentioned it, he was starving. He and the small crew of mechanics had taken a brief snack break while they worked, partaking of whatever hodgepodge of junk they had been able to liberate from the vending machine in the office, but that bag of chips and stale granola bar had left his system hours ago now. Still, even as his stomach growled with hunger, he couldn’t help but protest, “You don’t need to do that, cariño. It’s not your job to cook for me on top of everything else you do around here.”

You waved his words away with a flippant flick of your wrist, already on your feet and heading for the refrigerator. “I’ve told you, it’s not a problem. I cook anyway for me and Mila. Why wouldn’t I make a little extra for you while I’m at it?” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Now sit down. I’ve got this.”

As the container of leftover pasta rotated in the pale yellow light of the microwave, you took a moment to gather yourself, to reign in the surge of want that had pulsed through you at the sight of your employer hovering in the entryway.

Miles of golden tan skin shining with sweat, pooling in the little hollow at the base of his neck. His uniform polo unbuttoned as far down as it would go, showing a sliver of gray ribbed undershirt. Grease smudged across one high cheekbone, streaked across his hands. You needed those hands on you, needed him to transfer those dark marks onto your skin, your clothes, to leave a trail across your body so you could remember everywhere he had touched you, so you could see it when you looked in the mirror.

“How was Mila today? She behave herself all right?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, quickly schooling your face into what you hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression before turning back around to face him. “Oh, yeah, she was great. We had a good day today.”

Frankie – Mr. Morales – smiled fondly at that. “Good, that’s good. No more, uh, meltdowns in the afternoon?”

“No, things have been pretty smooth since we started digging through that article I found. ‘30 Activities to Keep Kids Cool in the Summer’ or whatever. It’s been a huge help.” You chuckled wryly. “Once I figured out a way to let her be outside in the afternoons without running the risk of heatstroke, she’s been great.”

“Right, right.” He settled himself in the chair across from yours, running the side of his fingers across his patchy stubble in thought. “That’s what gave you the idea for the water balloons that one day, right?”

The microwave beeped twice, the golden light inside flickering off, and you grabbed the steaming leftover container as you spoke. “Yeah, exactly. And the sprinkler, and turning paint into ice cubes and using it like chalk.” Snagging a fork from the silverware drawer, you handed both to the exhausted man and slid back into your seat.

He tossed you a grateful smile and dug into the meal with gusto, loosing a quiet groan at the first bite. “Shit, that’s good,” he sighed, dark eyes fluttering closed in a way that had your heartrate spiking. “Thank you for this, cariño. You’re a lifesaver.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you fought the urge to reach out and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

Shoving a few more bites into his mouth, he asked, “Didn’t you freeze her Barbies one day, too?”

“Yeah, I did!” It had been one of Mila’s favorites so far of the heatwave-proof activities you had planned for her, and the memory of it had you chuckling. “I took a couple of her dolls and a bunch of their accessories, put them in a few of those sand buckets you guys have in the garage, filled those with water, and then froze them overnight. It took her hours to dig them all out, but hey. It kept her busy, and she didn’t overheat in the process, so I’ll take it.”

Mr. Morales grinned at that, plucking a napkin from the holder in the center of the table, scrubbing it across his sauce-stained moustache. “Incredible. You know, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the extra effort you’ve been going to with her lately. I know it’s a lot, just looking after her eight hours a day, every day. But with this heat, I know she’s going stir-crazy.” He glanced down at his meal, something almost bashful creeping into his expression. “Pretty sure she gets that from me. Never been real good at sitting still, being stuck indoors.”

“It’s really nothing, Mr. Morales,” you insisted, brushing away the praise with a swipe of your hand.

“No. S’not nothing.” His low voice had gone serious now, and when he glanced back up at you, his eyes were wide, dark, and earnest. “The way you take care of her? The way you always seem to just…know what she needs? That’s everything.” You swore you saw his cheeks darken, swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “And I told you. S’okay if you call me Frankie. That Mr. Morales stuff makes me feel old.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, gaze flicking down to your hands as the intensity of the eye contact became too much to handle. “If you’re sure,” you agreed after a moment. “I don’t want to…presume.”

“Not presuming,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “We’re…friends, right, cariño? Friends can call each other by their first names.”

Something in your stomach ached at his words, but he sounded so genuine, so hopeful that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. “Suppose that’s true… Frankie.”

Fucking Christ.

Maybe that hadn’t been the right call, Frankie thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested you call him that, not when your voice sounded so sweet wrapped around his name, not when the hour was so late, the house so silent, like you were the only two people awake in the world. That kind of intimacy, it was going to give him…ideas.

Eager to distract himself from the moment, he plowed onward. “Well, what was the activity today?” he asked, stabbing another selection of pasta and vegetables with his fork.

You appeared to consider the question for a moment before replying, “Actually, it’s more of ‘show’ thing than a ‘tell’ thing, so if you don’t mind holding that thought for a minute, I’ll show you after you’re finished eating.”

Frankie arched an eyebrow at you, intrigued. “Okay, sure. I can wait. Why don’t you tell me what you’re working on then instead? Something for school, I assume?” He gestured at the impressive spread of textbooks, printed articles, and your open laptop taking up most of the surface of the kitchen table.

Immediately, you launched into a detailed explanation of your current project, a research proposal for your graduate program that would serve as the capstone of this session of summer classes. He would freely admit that he only understood bits and pieces of it, his formal education having ended with his high school graduation, but he always enjoyed asking you about your schoolwork. The way you lit up when you talked about the subjects you were passionate about, your animated gestures, your wide, sparkling eyes, all of it was deeply endearing to him. He loved how passionate you were, the way you chased after your goals with fire and focus. It was one of his favorite things about you, and he felt as though that list might be growing longer by the day.

Your monologue about your research proposal gave him the perfect opportunity to finish his meal, so that by the time you had come to the end of your explanation, Frankie was dropping his fork into the now-empty container and leaning back in his chair, pleasantly full and satisfied.

“Oh,” you gasped, seeming to come back to yourself as you took in his relaxed posture, the little smile on his face. “Wow, I really just went on and on there, huh? Sorry about that, I guess I get a little overexcited about my research.”

“Don’t apologize. I like how fired up about it you get, it’s cute.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, a little too honest, a little too real, and Frankie braced himself for the shift in your demeanor that was sure to follow. The awkwardness, the clear discomfort at the too-personal words from your employer. But it never came. Instead, your cheeks darkened under his gaze, a flush spreading down your neck and disappearing into the neckline of your oversized T-shirt.

“You…you think I’m cute?” you stammered, voice a bit breathless in a way that had him shifting in his seat, and he felt a fresh flush of sweat bead up on his forehead, just under the brim of his ballcap, at the sound.

He needed to blow you off, he knew. He needed to make an excuse for the comment, turn it into something mindless, something shallow and impersonal, if he wanted to point this conversation back in the right direction.

“‘Course, cariño,” he said instead. “Who wouldn’t? Might be an old man these days, but I’m not dead yet.”

What was wrong with him?

You blinked back at him for a moment, eyes wide and glossy, lips parted in surprise at the confession, but then you were smiling, something almost…flirtatious in the curve of your lip as you said, “You’re not an old man, Frankie. You’re…experienced.”

Oh, fuck him.

This was a dangerous path the two of you were walking, and in that moment, Frankie wasn’t sure what frightened him more: the eventual destination or the fact that you seemed more than willing to travel it with him.

If he was ever going to make it back to safety, he needed to switch gears. Now.

“How about that activity?” he said quickly. “You gonna show me what you and Mila got up to all day?”

Drawing back from where you had started to lean toward him across the table, you shook your head a bit, as though the question had brought you back to yourself. He watched as the softness and the want in your eyes dissipated, and though he mourned it, he knew it was for the best. The two of you had come too close to crossing that line tonight. You both needed to regain your footing a bit.

“Sure. Actually, it should make for a good dessert.” Getting to your feet once more, you crossed to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door, pulling three medium-sized plastic containers from its depths. The clear plastic fogged up the moment it hit the outside air, obscuring their contents, but Frankie didn’t have to wait for long to see what was inside. A moment later, you spread the three containers out on the kitchen table in front of him and began removing their lids.

Inside the containers was a selection of perfectly chopped, completely frozen fruit. The two of you had clearly used some creatively-shaped cutters to prepare the fruit, as some of the chunks were shaped like little hearts, others looked like tiny stars, and still others looked as though a cutter in the shape of a bunny head had been used. One container held little hunks of bright red watermelon in a full assortment of unique shapes, another boasted chunks of pineapple, also uniquely prepared, and in the last container, a medley of green and red grapes had been halved down the center for easy eating.

“What tastes better on a hot day than fresh fruit?” you asked cheerily. “We cut it up together out on the patio first thing this morning so it would have time to freeze. Mila wanted me to tell you that she did the watermelon because it’s pink and that’s her favorite.”

Frankie glanced up at you, meeting your eyes over the frosty containers. “That sounds about right,” he chuckled.

“I ended up having to hose down the concrete by the time we were done, but it made a great snack when it got miserable out. She was going back and forth between the sprinkler and her bowl on the patio all afternoon.”

He grinned at the image you painted, thinking of his little girl in her pink bathing suit, wild brown ringlets wet and clinging to her scalp, grass sticking to her feet as she danced through the spray of the sprinkler, darting back to grab a hunk of watermelon or a frozen grape, the juice dripping from her little fingers.

“Help yourself,” you encouraged, sitting back down across from him. “I’ll have some with you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Shouldn’t I…grab us some forks?”

You shrugged, that fucking grin making its way back onto your face. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

And with that, you fluttered your fingertips over the container of frozen grapes, plucked one from the pile, and slipped it into your mouth with a satisfied sigh. You might have started chatting then, might have begun asking him if he had any fun plans for the upcoming weekend and offered a summary of yours in return, but Frankie hardly heard a word of it. He was too preoccupied with your…snacking.

The plushness of your lips, the little peek of your slick, pink tongue each time you opened them, the way you seemed to allow the fruit to linger in your mouth as it defrosted. Heart-shaped watermelon had pale pink juice spilling out of the corner of your mouth, making it halfway down your chin before you delicately swiped it away with the tip of your middle finger. A pineapple star had you smiling softly as you enjoyed the burst of tartness over your tastebuds.

And those grapes.

Those goddamn fucking grapes, with their slick, frosty skin and their subtle, gentle sweetness – those you softly, almost absently traced over the seam of your lips before slipping them inside. Like you were savoring the sensation unconsciously, like the cool wetness of them quenched something in you that you weren’t even aware required attention. They made your mouth glisten in the low light, the shine of it so tempting he was certain that he hadn’t looked away from it in several minutes now.

In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to get ahold of himself. There was no way you hadn’t noticed; he had to be making you uncomfortable by now. But he just…couldn’t. God, you looked good enough to eat, with your messy hair and your sun-pinked cheeks and your bright eyes and your soft, bare legs.

A droplet of sweat traveled down the side of his face, streaking down his temple, his jaw, his neck.

Your mouth looked cool, and it looked sweet.

“…Frankie?”

Frankie startled at the sound of his name on your tongue, and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes instantly, a wicked flush blazing up the back of his neck and over his skull in mortification. Shit, you had noticed him staring, this was such a major fuck-up –

“Hm? What’s that, cariño?” His voice came out weak and raspy, like his throat had gone dry, and he cleared it loudly.

“I was saying, you don’t want any of the fruit?” You looked him over with wide, innocent eyes, and for the first time, Frankie realized that he hadn’t taken a single bite.

“Uh. A-Actually, I think I might be too full at the moment,” he stammered, bringing a hand up to pat himself across the belly in excuse.

The little confused quirk of your head told him immediately that you didn’t believe him. Scooting your chair across the hardwood floor, you came to sit directly next to him and gently scolded, “Frankie, you’ve been out working in this heat all night. You need to rehydrate. Here, you have room for a few pieces. Open up, okay?”

One of those slick, dewy grape halves appeared between your thumb and forefinger then, and the next thing he knew, you were holding it out to him. Not to take with his own hand, but to eat. It was a mere hairsbreadth away from his mouth.

Unable to formulate a suitable protest, his brain suddenly feeling rather detached from his body, all Frankie could do was drop his jaw and allow you to slip the fruit inside.

The pads of your fingers touched the soft, sensitive skin of his lower lip, and that was when he was certain that not only had his brain seemingly walked away on its own, it had turned fully off. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why the moment he registered the delicate touch, he immediately seized your wrist in one of his fists, dragging your fingers fully into his mouth.

A loud, feminine gasp met his ears as he swiped his tongue between your fingertips, stealing the frozen fruit from your grasp, pressing it firmly against the roof of his mouth to squash it, and quickly swallowing it down. His tongue returned to your skin, lapping at the frost and the condensation and the delicate, sweet juices coating your fingertips, and he watched as your eyes glazed over at the sensation. Your wrist went limp in his grasp, your fingers pliant, never once attempting to withdraw, and the ball of heat that had been brewing in his gut all night suddenly reached a fever pitch as he realized that you liked this.

Cock twitching in his jeans, he drew your fingers from his mouth. Both his eyes and yours followed the fine trail of saliva that stretched from his lip to the tip of your index finger, and he heard your swallow heavily at the sight.

“Frankie,” you whispered weakly.

And then his restraint abandoned him just as his mind had, and before he could think better of it, his hands were cupping your face and dragging you bodily to meet him in a hard, messy kiss.

Francisco Morales kissed like he did everything else – with intention, with competence, and with a raw, simmering fire that lingered just below the surface just waiting to be unveiled. To be stoked. To be nurtured.

The presence of that fire had your squirming in your seat, had your neck bending back on your shoulders in submission to the intensity of his assault. His thumbs, long and thick, pressed into your jaw from either side, wrenching you open, and his tongue slipped inside, immediately seeking your own with a desperation that drew a soft, muffled moan from your throat. Your own hands flew to the sweat-damp collar of his polo, and you dug your fingers into the fabric, holding him, keeping him just as fiercely as he kept you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, pulsed between your thighs, growing sensitive and tender there when wetness bloomed.

With a low, rasping groan, Frankie broke the kiss and began tracing his prominent nose across your cheek, along the edge of your jaw, down your bare neck.

“You taste so fucking sweet, querida. Cold and…delicious and…perfect.”

Punctuating his words with hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, his voice rough and raw and sounding like the confession had been dragged from his chest against his will, it was enough to have sweat breaking out on the back of your neck, behind your knees, at the base of your spine.

“Frankie,” you breathed, threading your grip into his hair, curling his dark brown locks around your fingers, scraping along his scalp. “Please – ”

His hands dropped from your jaw then, sweeping around the width of your hips and hauling you into his lap. Instinctually, your thighs spread to bracket his waist, the weight of you coming to rest on his spread-legged lap, and you couldn’t help but moan at the thick, hard press of him against the softness of your cunt.

“This okay, baby?” he murmured against your skin, nuzzling against the neckline of your shirt, broad palms dragging down over your ass to hold you down, press you to him.

You whimpered and felt your body going soft, warm, and pliant beneath his touch. “Mm hm!” Hips hitching, grinding against him of their own accord, you pulled his face back up to meet yours, smothering your own gasps and whines in his mouth.

It didn’t last long, however. After a few quick licks against your tongue, Frankie pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and knocking his Standard Oil cap to the floor.

“Uh uh, need to hear the words, cariño. Won’t do anything you don’t want me doing.” Wrapping his fingers around your messy bun, he angled your face down so that your heavy-lidded eyes met his. “I’ll ask you again. You want me touching you? You want me to make you feel good?”

Your eyes drifted shut, your mind gone warm and hazy. God, the things this man did to you. Did he know how long you had wanted this? How hard you had fought against it? He couldn’t know. If he did, he would never ask such a question.

“Yes, please, Frankie,” you gasped, nodding against his hold, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Yes, please, what, bebita?” You could hear a smirk in his voice now, and the sound had you flushing down to the tips of your toes, a fresh rush of wetness soaking your panties as you squirmed against him.

Tucking your face against his sweaty neck, you whispered, “Please…please make me feel good.”

Frankie was on his feet in an instant, boosting you into his arms in a move that had your stomach dropping down through your abdomen both in shock and in arousal. He backed you into the table, your hips bumping into the wooden edge, and the snap of pain had a brief flash of clarity flying through your lust-filled brain fog.

“Frankie, my books – ”

The older man swore under his breath – “fuck, right” – before changing course, bringing you instead over to the arm of the peninsula that extended out into the room from the edge of the kitchen. Kicking one of the two barstools out of the way, he dropped you unceremoniously onto the countertop before dragging you down for another kiss.

He ate at your mouth like a man starved, sucking on your lips, dragging his teeth across your skin, licking against the roof of your mouth. It was wet, sloppy, and so hot, his desperation contagious, encouraging you to match him caress for caress. No one had ever kissed you like this, like the kissing was the main event rather than a means to an end. Frankie kissed like that was the entire point, and it had you melting against the counter. You were dripping through your shorts now, you were sure of it.

“Can taste all that fruit on your tongue. Sweetest thing I ever tasted,” he growled, keeping his voice low. “But I can think of at least one other thing that might be even sweeter.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Your boss was going to eat you out on his kitchen counter.

“Lean back, bebita.” The words were spoken against your cheeks, brushed into your skin by the suddenly tender touch of his lips, the rasp of his whiskers, the press of his chin. “Let me take care of you.”

You did as he asked, releasing your hold on his broad shoulders and sinking back onto your elbows. The granite was cool to the touch, sending goosebumps along your arms and down your spine, but the sensation was a welcome one after the oppressive heat of the day, the heat of his body on yours.

His palms snaked beneath the hem of your T-shirt, bunching it up onto your belly to reveal the waistband of your shorts. Hooking his thumbs into the elastic without preamble, he murmured, “Lift your hips a bit for me, baby.” Again, you obeyed without question, and with a few short tugs, Frankie pulled both your shorts and your slick-stained panties down your legs to drop to the hardwood floor.

You felt a fierce blush flare in your cheeks, spreading down your neck and chest with a speed that had you gasping for air. The ceiling fan over the kitchen table – you could feel its breeze from here, the cool rush of air instantly pulling a shiver from you as it hit your wet, swollen pussy. You kept yourself bare in the summer, finding it easier and less stressful whenever you wanted to wear a swimsuit, and laid out like this on display, thighs spread around Frankie’s broad body, the cold fan hitting your most vulnerable skin, you couldn’t help but feel a bit…overexposed. The reality of your situation hit you like a freight train, and you found yourself fighting the urge to snap your legs closed against the eyes of your boss.

It was as though Frankie could read your mind. Not a moment after the thought occurred to you, you felt his big hands clamp onto your thighs and pull them apart even wider.

“Don’t you dare try to hide from me. She’s so fucking beautiful,” he tutted, and you risked a glance at his face only to find him staring intently down at your cunt. “You been walking around my house with a naked pussy like this all summer, baby? Dirty girl.” His dark brown eyes had gone almost black with lust, his irises only a faint ring around his wide pupils, and in a gesture that seemed entirely unconscious, he darted the tip of his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. He looked utterly fascinated. Entranced. Hungry. The sight had your walls clenching around nothing, and you watched him watch that happen with an eagerness that had you moaning aloud.

When he spoke again, he was a man in thrall. “‘M gonna eat this pretty pussy now, querida. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? Don’t wanna wake Mila.”

You nodded, bringing one of your hands up to cover your mouth preemptively. This man was going to have you screaming, you just knew it. Flicking his gaze up to yours for just a moment, he grinned wickedly at the sight.

“That’s a good girl, baby,” he whispered, and then his face was in your cunt, and you felt your every coherent thought fly out the window.

If Frankie had thought that your mouth tasted sweet, your tongue like candy, then your pussy was fruit on the vine, straight from the vineyard, drenched in sunshine. It was hot, deep, and rich, earthy and tangy and drugging, like a late summer afternoon, like a hazy day in August. This had always been one of his favorite things to do with women, one of his favorite ways to please them, and never – not once – had it ever been like this. From the moment his tongue touched your delicate, dripping folds, he knew – there would be no going back from this. Not for him. He couldn’t experience something like this and not crave it every day for the rest of his life.

He started with soft, light strokes with tip of his tongue, tracing just the very edges of your lips from down near your entrance all the way to the top of your mound. Then again, slowly pressing deeper but never with any more than the faintest pressure. Even so, you responded instantly, a panting, high-pitched whine sounding behind the press of your palm over your mouth. Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to increase the pressure, to draw him further into you, but he had one of his arms bracketing the span of your hips before you could make much progress.

Driving you firmly into the countertop, he held your knees open with the breadth of his shoulders and boldly dragged the flat of his tongue through your folds. “Keep quiet, now, bebita. I’m gonna take care of you.”

With that, Frankie felt himself begin to disappear, to melt into you from his position between your legs. Your soft thighs bracketing his shoulders, your heels digging into his back, your pussy, so soft, so hot, so sweet as you dissolved beneath his tongue. You were drooling for him, your clenching, grasping hole fluttering against his tongue every time he passed over it, your clit swollen and throbbing under the suction of his lips. You had collapsed back against the countertop now, one hand still pressed firmly over your mouth, the other burying itself in his hair, anchoring him to your body with a strength he found both surprising and wildly attractive. And with every lick, every suck, every vibration of a moan that spilled from his mouth into your flesh, he could feel you drawing higher, tighter, deeper.

He knew what you needed. He knew what would get you there.

Tucking his free hand beneath his chin, Frankie slipped one, then two thick fingers into the tight, velvety clutch of your cunt.

You shot up off the counter, your torso curling around his head, your hand in his hair fisting the strands roughly in your overwhelm. Sharp bolts of pain erupted across his scalp, but it was a welcome sensation, somehow grounding in its intensity. He smirked against your folds, sealing his lips around your puffy clit and rolling the little nub around with his tongue. At the same time, he pressed gently, insistently against the front wall of your cunt, applying steady friction and pressure with both fingertips.

A faint whimper slipped from you at that, muffled by your palm but not silent, and Frankie felt himself preen. God, he loved this. It wouldn’t be long now.

“You gonna come for me? Gonna let me feel her gush around my fingers? On my tongue? Hm?”

The hand on your mouth fell away, joining the one in his hair as you began to tremble beneath him. “Frankie,” you whined. “‘M gonna – you’re gonna make me – ”

“I know, baby, I know.” He kept his fingers right where they were, shallow thrusts, firm pressure right where you needed it most. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you.” Ducking his head back down to your clit, he resumed the combination of gentle suction and firm, long strokes that had driven you wild.

And just like clockwork, your thighs began to shake against his shoulders. Your abdomen clenched beneath his forearm. Your slick, soft walls clamped down around his fingers. A weak, breathless sound – “ah” – burst from your throat, and then you were coming. A rush of your wetness dripped down his fingers, coating his hand, pooling in the cup of his palm as you pulsed and fluttered around him, and Frankie could feel your poor, abused little clit twitching against his tongue. He worked you through it, slowing down a bit but not stopping, prolonging the torment just a bit longer. Only when your two hands buried in his hair started to shove against him, pushing him away, did he relent, and even then, it took him an extra few seconds to be willing to slip his fingers from your body.

Looking up into your face, Frankie felt a wash of joy and contentment pass over him. You were positively glowing – your skin flushed and ever-so-slightly sweaty, your hair wild and mussed, your T-shirt bunched up above your belly button, so much of your perfect softness on display. And you were grinning like a fool, your eyes showing your fatigue but your smile brighter than he had ever seen. You looked at him with a gentleness, an affection that had his heart clenching in his chest, and he was certain that his expression was much the same.

It had been years since he had felt this way about anyone, and even then, he wasn’t certain it could compare.

When you sat up and slipped from the counter, it was a slow and lazy affair, assisted by his firm grip and his steady arms to help keep you upright. The moment your feet hit the floor, you reached for his belt with a question in your eyes, to which Frankie responded, “Not tonight, querida. Tonight was about you.” You seemed somewhat disappointed by that response, but you didn’t push it. Instead, you simply pulled his head down for a kiss, which he gladly obliged. You sighed into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to take back what he had just said, to drag your hands back down to his belt buckle and allow you to proceed as you wished.

But no.

It was late. You needed to get home and get to sleep, and he needed to wash off the heat of the day before passing out in his own bed. There would be a little girl busting down his door at 7:00 AM tomorrow whether he was ready for her or not, and you would be back in this very kitchen by 8:00 eager to share a cup of coffee with too-sweet creamer before he left for work.

So, like the gentleman that he wasn’t certain that he was, Frankie helped you slip back into your little shorts, pack your overflowing bookbag, and carry your things out to your car.

You turned to him one last time before you slipped into the driver’s seat, a soft if uncertain smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Mr. Morales – Frankie, I…” You drew your lower lip between your teeth. “Thank you. For tonight.”

His heart melted at your words, the quiet, hesitating way you said them. It was a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to from you, you who always seemed to have it all together, you who matched his advances beat for beat, never wavering. “Don’t need to thank me, baby. I wanted to. You take such good care of me, of Mila. You deserved it.” Releasing a deep, trembling breath, he added, “And…I’d like to do it again sometime. If you’ll let me.”

“That depends,” you replied.

“Yeah? On what?”

Your soft, sweet smile morphed into something sharper then, something with more intent. “On if you’ll let me return the favor. It’s like you said…I want to.”

Frankie couldn’t have reigned in the grin that split his face then if he tried. Dropping a kiss to your forehead, he said, “‘Course, cariño. I’m not done with your sweetness just yet.”

[h0neybane]

someone's probably already done one of these by this point but uh.

GHIBLI-MOVIE-BASED TWST FAN SCHOOL!!

i actually tried designing a ghibli inspired fanschool when i first got into twst (four years ago... yeesh) but it never took off and i cant find any of that anymore so... I'M TRYING AGAIN!! i literally dont even have a school name yet but i'll add tidbits explaining my choices for the uniform under the cut! i'll tag this with the school name when i come up with it later edit 8/4: school name has been added in tags! edit 8/4 (again): school logo and first dorm have been added! edit 8/6: second dorm added!

im 1st going to explain my reasoning for the uniform design and then dive into my ideas for the school itself (dorms, atmosphere, location, etc) one of the biggest things i assosciate ghibli with is their nature + sky shots; such as these ones

so i wanted to include flora inside the design, hence the boa, laurel, and the little vine wrapping around the fem uniforms sock! adding onto that, i made the uniform a light blue striped with white to reference the skies. i also assosciate ghibli movies with peace, so the light blue adds onto that. the band on the arm is the same as nrc's; serves to show what dorm the student is in. the mage stone is located at the broach on the collar's bowtie. the gold around the gem is meant to look like a little flower!

moving onto the ideas i have abt the school...

going back the floral aspects of the uniform design, i think it'd be really cute and magical if they when they recieved the greenery (i'll refer to both the boa and laurel as 'greenery' collectively for simplicity sake) during their freshman year, there were no flowers yet. i think over time, as each student grows as a mage over their years at the school, flowers and plants bloom on the greenery to show their progress. maybe the flowers are specific to each student? i cant decided whether its instinct or they choose what flowers they want themselves

i feel like itd be fitting for the school to be located in a very secluded area. when i picture it in my head, the main building is smack dab in the middle of a flower-filled hillside that's right next to a forest... i'd like for it to be next to water too, but i'm not sure if the ocean would make sense geographically????? maybe it's just a big lake or waterfall inside the forest

i think the correct aesthetic for the school is 'romantic academia?' that's what pinterest is telling me anyway LOL. i think maybe the building is just shaped like a castle similar to nrc and rsa.. but then again i really like the idea of it being similar to Little Witch Academia's luna nova academy. we'll see

like nrc, i have seven dorms planned and theyre twisted from the most iconic ghibli films (according to google). in no particular order: howl's moving castle, princess mononoke, spirited away, ponyo, my neighbor totoro, kiki's delivery service, and castle in the sky. i might add or remove some of these! but theyre what i have for now. thats all i have for now, but feel free to give me any input/ideas (whether in the replies or my asks)! also if anybody wants to draw their oc in the uniform or anything i'd love to see it pls @ me...!!!!

[babybinko]

My second batch of venture bros genderbends are finally done! :D [first set here]

PLEASE LOOK UNDER THE CUT!!! I made all these nice drawings and doodles of them and I want people to see them without this post being super long! :') [My thoughts on the designs and doodles will be under the cut as well]

Okay NOW I'm going talk about my thought process on some of these:

Baby Rusty: I love the baby Rusty, the frilly socks and sleeves were a must. I actually drew her with the original set of genderbends but I turned off her layer and forgot about her 💀

Jonas Jr: not much to say about her, I tried to make her like Rosie the Riveter. Her little bandana has the Venture logo on it :)

Jonas Sr: I wanted her to be a hot bitch, her outfit is maybe a little scandalous for the time era they were in but I think it fits, canon Jonas is a whore. I think everybody would want her and that every celebrity, politician, and anybody with any power would chase after her so badly.

Blue Morpho: I made her so incredibly slay. I fucking love her outfit, I found the inspo for the outfit on Pinterest but I changed it up a bit. Also her gun has the bayonetta butterfly wings on it as a charm because I HAD TO.

Colonel Gentleman: Not a lot to say, I wanted to give her like horse riding esque boots and I gave her a purple flower cause she likes the ladies. I know generally WLW flowers are Violets and Lavender but I wanted to draw a rose so, Purple rose compromise <3

Dr.Boyfriend 2: With my last round Dr.Boyfriend was the only one people had complaints with. I think people wished he was more Masculine and I agree but if I switched up the design too much it wouldn't look like Dr.Girlfriend. I hope giving him armor and making him look like a knight helped him look more masc. I made the sheer wings cross over his chest to make it look like it was holding up the shoulder armor. Also his guild book is insanely high quality because I was procrastinating drawing his armor.

Goofy and Goober (Watch and Ward): I think they ended up really cute, I tried to make their hair colors close to Doc and Jacksons since I heard they are supposed to be like their "main" self inserts. With Ward I had a really specific idea for her hair, I kept thinking about this haircut from my sims and had to do it. It might be hard to see but her ponytail holders have skull charms on them. I also purposely gave them both some sort of ponytail hairstyle so they would match but be slightly different :) (They are absolutely prank calling or trolling their clients on that phone btw)

Shoreleave: OH MY GOD I LOVE SHORELEAVE. I kept turning her folder back on just to keep looking at her when I was drawing the other characters. She is so captivating to me, she looks so soft and human. I want to take a bite out of her thigh. My biggest inspo for her was Cammy from Street Fighter, I felt like her dressing a bit skimpy works for her since canon Shoreleave kinda does. The girls out for the girls.

Alchemist: I love her design so much too. I wanted her to look like some kind of nun or priestess. She looks like if a Zelda fire temple was a person. I kinda gave her like a weird little hime cut under the hood. Also I put the Triad logo on all three of their designs (+ Triana).

Jefferson: Had a lot of fun with her, I didnt change her design much from canon though so there's not much to say. I did give her more flared pants though. Drawing her hair was a really fun change of pace, I very rarely get to draw textured hair.

College Rusty and Monarch Drawing: I love this one, Monarch turned out so hot dude. You can tell what character I like more LMFAO. I made rusty very obnoxious 80s while keeping the colors of the original college rusty outfit. Monarch kind of looks like postal dude but its fine because shes slay.

Hereditary Venture Family Dinner Drawing: This was one of the first drawings I started but the second to last one I finished. I wanted to draw the family doing something together but I think I really truly just wanted to draw Dermott again. 😭 Nobody has said anything if they noticed but I did give hatred the shirt from these edits. (I believe the one on the left is from reddit and the one on the right is by SquashFold on Twitter)

Dermott piercing Dean's ears drawing: Even though its messy its in the top 3 favorites I did, It was also the last one I did. I just love the idea of Dermott giving goth Dean at home ear piercings. At first I didn't know if I wanted to make Dermott giving her piercings at the mall where she works or at home but the mall idea was too much work for a last minute sketch. Dermott is so mean older sister who shoplifts and works at the mall.

Drug bathroom drawing: Another one of my favorites, its based off a specific deleted scene from Invisible Hand of Fate where Pete and Rusty talk at the bar but Pete comes out of the bathroom sniffling at the start. I love the way I drew Pete pushing the hair out of her face and both of their expressions.

Bdsm 21 drawing: Okay first of all, The little devil Monarch was so cute I was screaming, crying, and throwing up while drawing her. I fucking love her, shes the smallest part of the image but my favorite. I also am quite fond of the bdsm 21.

Quizgirls Pete and Billy: I tried looking up Vanna White dresses to base Pete's outfit off of but I couldn't find one that Pete would actually wear so I just had to make shit up. Billy's design is really basic but the bow in her hair is actually from one of my rejected main Billy genderbends.

Me and The Bestie: I put a lot of effort into this one for no reason. Literally the moment I saw Jonas in the problem machine I thought he should be made of like blue slime. When I was working on this I kept thinking about Momopatchi's Hatsune Microbe drawing so this Jonas was definitely inspired by that. I gave Jonas makeup because she was having a party movie night on gargantua and I felt like she would still have makeup on thats like completely fucked up and deteriorating on her face after many many years. Vendata's outfit was partially based on Marguerite Chapman's from Flight to Mars, never seen it but I was looking up old sci-fi movie costumes to work with and I thought it would look good :)

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

[tellnotalespod]

List: Queer creatives to spend your money on instead half-arsed pride merch from Target 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

We're all aware by now that when you buy pride merch from one of Those Companies, your money is just going to a CEO who half-heartedly told someone to slap a rainbow on it and call it a day. So why not use that money to support an actual queer person who’s working hard to make art?

I've collected a(n incomplete) list of queer creatives who would benefit from your support this Pride Month - this is fairly limited in scope, as it only includes creators who responded to my call for links (or whose links were sent by friends & fans). It is also, for that reason, fairly audio-drama-heavy, but not exclusively so! It includes sections for crowdfunds, online stores, ttrpgs, and ko-fis and patreons for creators of a variety of different art forms.

The list is long, but worth a look through. Have a browse, see if anything appeals, and if you'd like to add any links, please do! Share the list around, shout out your friends and peers, boost your favourite artist, and vitally, self-promo is strongly encouraged!

Crowdfund campaigns:

Starting off strong with Forged Bonds @forgedbondspod — A queer, myth-bending audio drama retelling of Aphrodite and Hephaestus's love story.

This one takes pride of place as the inspiration for this post. Pine is working SO hard to make sure their cast gets paid regardless of crowdfunding outcomes, even if that means paying out-of-pocket. Help them avoid having to do that by supporting a truly kind and wonderful creator. (Crowdfund ends in a little over two weeks!)

We've also got a tight time-sensitive crowdfund for Waiting For October @monkeymanproductions — an upcoming queer supernatural audio drama series from the creators of Moonbase Theta, Out.

At the time of posting, they only have 13 hours left on their crowdfund, but they're 93% there! Help them cross the threshold and tell what I'm sure will be another gorgeous and wild story.

And for the horror lovers, a new crowdfund from The Morbid Forest — a deep dive into all things grusesome!

They are hoping to fund their fifth season, and it's looking to be their biggest yet. A lot of what they're asking for will be used to pay guest authors they're bringing in for the new season, allowing platforms for up-and-coming writers. Help them make this a reality!

All three of these creators also have Patreons you can subscribe to instead of (or in addition to!) their crowdfund: Pine Tree Pods, Monkeyman Productions, Morbid Forest

Buy yourself a little treat:

Saph the Something creates ethically handmade clothes made with vintage materials by a non-binary queer individual, with an emphasis on non-default clothes for non-default people.

You can find Saph's physical goods on xaer ko-fi (including a GORGEOUS loose-knit subtle trans flag tee)! Or support xem on Patreon for early access to content, behind-the-scenes updates, and more

For prints and pins of some truly stunning art, visit Survival of the Artist's ko-fi!

If you love gorgeous, unsettling underwater horror, you're going to absolutely love these prints

Eeler's Choice @eelerschoice is offering their season 1 soundtrack on Bandcamp!

Eeler’s Choice is a maritime horror fantasy podcast that serves as a reminder that the ocean never gives back what it takes unchanged. The music is GORGEOUS and if you love sea shanties, folk music, and eerie ambient instrumentals, you'll love this album.

They also have merch on sale, the logo sweatshirt is one of the best things I own

Pyon is an afro-latino freelance artist, writer, designer, and indie game developer

He is currently working on a visual novel magical girl project, @magicalwarriordiamondheart and you can buy prints, plushies, apparrel, charms and more from their store (or support him on Ko-fi!)

Xan Larson is an Illustrator, Comic Artist and Content Creator with a specialty and marked enthusiasm for mythological creatures of all kinds and all cultures.

She offers a huge range of treats on her website, including art prints (& original paintings), resin art, and books

Dylan Birtolo is a writer, a gamer, and a professional sword-swinger

Dylan has a huge number of books on offer, primarily fantasy, including anthologies, novellas, and novels.

TTRPGs galore:

(these also fall under the little treat category, but there were so many that I felt they needed their own section)

Sunken Rust are a game company run by married couple Dave Eisinger and Jazz Eisinger, and they offer a range of absolutely delightful TTRPGs, ranging from a wholesome GBBO-inspired micro RPG, to a solo journaling game about exploring an abandoned mansion.

Tea Witch Games is run by Anna Landin, a queer Swedish illustrator, comic artist and game designer. She offers games that run the gamut from sweet and cozy to weird, sad and spooky.

K. Petker offers games from wonderfully unique perspecitves including heroines of the princess council, children facing the apocalypse, and cats protecting their humans from the supernatural.

Christine Prevas is a writer, designer, PhD student & erstwhile librarian offering TTRPGs that range from two-player steamy horror to theatrical tragedy, and more.

Unseeliejess is a game designer and social worker, and my personal favourites from her offerings include Oops! All Draculas! and multiple sapphic-focused TTRPGs

Thoughty is run by Beau Jágr Sheldon, including innovative TTRPGs in a range of formats, as well as some games that break away from the table entirely.

Riverhouse Games includes a ton of fun concepts, including a micro-game about cleaning your kitchen and a game about telling your hot gay (dragon) boyfriend you love him. They also offer a guide to writing your own RPG!

E. Chris Garrison is the proprietor of Chris's Compendium of Free RPGs, one of the oldest game repositories on the web. They are also the designer of Saving People / Hunting Things, a TTRPG inspired by monster-of-the-week style television shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and Supernatural. They also have a ton of fantasy, supernatural, and sci-fi books on offer

Handsofblue offers a campy horror game about awful people and a serial killer, and a solo knitting game

Drazillion is an award-winning narrative designer, writer, and artist, offering a huge portfolio of games with a strong focus on queer narratives and themes. You can also support her on Patreon

Patreons & Ko-Fis:

Finally we have some ways to directly support the creators you love or their ongoing projects!

Soul Operator @souloperatorpod is a multi-genre fiction podcast, created to highlight solo ttrpgs.

If you haven't listened yet, you absolutely should - this show will rip out your heart and you'll be grateful for it. Support them for behind-the-scenes content, exclusive short stories, and more

Divine Rodentia Studios @divinerodentiastudios is releasing a new fiction anthology audio drama, Sixth Door to the Left

This is some truly intriguing and wonderful storytelling, and you can support them through the development of their upcoming project, The Loser's Game.

YamiKakyuu @yamikakyuu is a writer, photographer, amateur digital artist, and horror podcast enthusiast.

Supporting them will help an up-and-coming voice actor invest in decent equipment (a huge barrier to so many incredibly talented VAs breaking into the industry!)

Daisy McNamara is an *incredibly prolific* podcaster, the co-creator of Eeler's Choice and Waterlogged, and has contributed his talents to so many more

Daisy has made such a huge contribution to the audio drama world, so if you've listened to any podcasts to speak of, you've probably enjoyed some of her work. Your support can help him make ends meet and continue creating!

And finally (because I fave a few pals who'd kill me dead if I didn't do a bit of self-promo), I'm Leanne Egan, the creator of Tell No Tales, an audio drama about ghosts and the people who refuse to hunt them. While there is currently no way to support the show financially, my debut novel, Lover Birds, releases soon!

As a bonus, if you're in the UK, you can pre-order it from a North-West-based queer indie bookshop too!

[sixdegreesofbali]

This is so wholesome🥹❤️

Honda president Koji Watanabe on how they will miss Max in the future and their hope that they will be reunited one day:

"I don’t think that day will come within a very short period of time, but if both continue their Formula 1 activities in the future then we hope that we can work together again one day," said Watanabe.

"It is a very good relationship. We trust each other and also the Honda workers love Max. We are proud to work together with Max, so we will miss him in the future.

"But we still have two years together and we promise to do our best to win another world championship together with Max and Red Bull.

"He is so important. He is the number one Formula 1 driver now. Of course, the team management is important and the machinery is important as well, but the combination is crucial and one important piece of that is Max."

"My biggest memory is him pointing at the Honda logo on the podium in Austria at the Red Bull Ring," Watanabe said.

"I was there, that was a very special moment for me. I was standing under the podium and that day was so special.

"He always thinks about Honda and says ‘thank you, Honda’ a lot. He expresses his thoughts to the outside world about Honda, which is also important for all the people working for Honda."

source

[dearstvckyx]

how the hockey boys would react to you wearing their jersey for the first time as their girlfriend

Cole Caufield

cole would only be able to catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, he sees you are wearing a canadiens jersey but not who’s.

he sees you taking pictures with you friend and knows your gonna post them on instagram or at least to your story.

when they go back to the locker room after the first period he instantly grabs his phone to see if you posted, and you did to your story.

he hesitates a bit and finally clicks the story and sees a photo of you facing towards the rink and the name Caufield and the number 22 staring back at him.

cole would immediately feel a rush of pride seeing you in his jersey. It's a symbol of your support for him and his career.

his heart would likely be beating faster than normal. he also starts blushing to the point the guys on the team start teasing him.

he’d probably be unable to keep the wide grin off his face during the rest of the game.

when he scores a goal he’ll point towards you mouthing the words, “my good luck charm right there”

Jack Hughes

jack would feel a sense of pride seeing you in his jersey, he would definitely start bragging

he would be surprised but happy, as he didn't expect you to be wearing his jersey. since you were sitting with other wags he thought you would dress formal or something.

he’ll definitely show off on the rink to impress you more, which ends up with luke teasing the hell out of him

when the games over, with the devils having won 7-2 against the Kings he’s the first to change out of his gear and ignore the interviewees to find you

when he does he spins you around to see his name and number on your back

he then makes you promise to always wearing his jerseys whenever you come to a game.

Jamie Drysdale

jamie’s heart would skip a beat the moment he caught sight of you in the crowd, proudly wearing his jersey.

he’d be shocked at first but then turn cocky and showing you off to his teammates and his coach or equipment people.

when the game starts he’s showing off every-chance he gets.

after every goal that he makes he ALWAYS points to you.

he’ll literally start talking to the opponents telling them “my girls here, its her first game and shes wearing MY jersey”

when the games over his team has one 6-3 which half of those goals being from jamie.

once you two reunite he’s taking a picture and sending it to his groupchat that consists of him, trevor, cole, alex, jack, luke and quinn.

is literally rambling about you in the groupchat. it finally got to the point where jack kicked him out.

(don’t worry trevor ended up adding him back)

Luke Hughes

jack would point you out to luke. his eyes would instantly light up when he sees you and he’d have the biggest grin on his face.

he’d feel a sense of pride wash over him. seeing you wearing his jersey would make him feel like you're really his.

he would likely be quite flustered and blush a little, not used to seeing you in his clothes.

seeing you in his jersey would make him think of all the times you've supported him and been there for him. from high school to umich to the pro league.

he’d definitely make a point to tell you how good you look in his jersey. he’d make sure you know that he loves seeing you in it (take that how you want).

made you promise to wear his number all the time, but you ended up getting your friend to make a custom one with devils and canucks colors/logo alongside quinn jacks and lukes number.

Mitch Marner

he’d feel a sense of pride, seeing you in his jersey.

he’d definitely pull you in for a tight hug, not able to contain his joy.

he might tease you a little, saying something like, "It looks better on you than it does on me."

he’d have a soft look in his eyes, clearly touched by your show of support.

he’d probably show you off to his teammates, proudly declaring, "that’s my girl!” and when you leave the locker room some of the guys are teasing him about you.

he’d might snap a picture of you wearing his jersey after the game wanting to capture the moment (and maybe make it his lockerscreen)

he’d definitely feel loved, seeing you proudly wearing his jersey.

Nico Hischier

he wouldn't be able to hide the smile that slowly spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of you wearing it.

he would feel a mixture of pride and affection. it’s one thing for him to see his fans wearing his jersey, but it's an entirely different feeling to see his girlfriend wearing it.

nico might tease you a bit, just to see you get all flustered. joking that the jersey looks better on you than it does on him. but behind the teasing, he would genuinely be thrilled that you're wearing it.

he would probably take a picture of you in his jersey, sending it to the devils group chat showing you off.

would mumble in his language about how “pretty” and “cute” you look

always asks you if your coming to a game and if your wearing his jersey

and if you wanna know what happens when you wear anothers teammates jersey well… try it and find out 😉😉

Quinn Hughes

he would feel a surge of pride and affection seeing you represent not just him but his team as well.

he’d be slightly taken aback initially, as he wasn't expecting to see you in his jersey. he’d try to play it cool, but the surprise and happiness in his eyes would give him away. (which results in his teammates and the fans questioning why he’s so happy)

he’d have a constant smile on his face for the rest of the day, unable to hide how much he loves seeing you in his jersey.

would get you every type of jersey with his last name and number just for you to wear every game and when just random days when your shopping or getting your nails or hair done.

would call his mom bragging about it (cause let’s be honest quinns the type to gossip with ellen 😭)

definitely takes a photo when your not looking and makes it both his homescreen, lockscreen and your contact photo.

Trevor Zegras

doesn’t even know your coming to his game and when he sees you he would be surprised, at first.

the surprise would quickly turn into a wide grin, clearly pleased with the sight.

he’d would pull out his phone immediately to snap a picture, before he goes out wanting to remember the moment.

he’d tease you lightly, joking about how you're his number one fan now. even going as far as saying, “let me guess, you have a fan account for me”. (he’d definitely become cocky)

trevor would insist on showing you off to his teammates, pointing you out to the crowd when he’s on the bench. and when he’s on the ice he’s bragging about you to his opponents.

seeing you in his jersey would remind him of his feelings for you, making him fall for you all over again.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

a/n: please ignore any spelling mistakes 😆 unless you see duo then please lmk 🩶

[oxymorayuri]

❞Sure Daddyyyy❝

Part two

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here. ♡♡♡

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: 生ﾊﾑ

✦ Pairing: trafalgar law x reader ✦ Warnings: insults, use of alcohol, mature content ✦ Spoiler: nope

wordcount: 4292

description: After leaving the deck, you go to your cabin and curse at the dark haired man, but don't worry, you'll soon get rid of all your frustration.

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ !

"Stupid ass!" You slam the door shut and lean against it with your back. Now that you're alone in your room, you can finally let out all your anger.

You had a bit of trouble getting to your bed because the alcohol was beginning to kick in.

While kicking off your shoes, you fall into your bed and lie with your face on the pillow.

Annoyed, you growl into the pillow and ignore how hard it is to breathe. Yes, you're angry, but somehow you're also exhausted.

Law knows exactly how you feel about him and, more importantly, how you both feel about each other.

What does he have against it? gosh!

Due to the lack of air, you roll onto your back and your eyes fall on Law's jacket that he once lent you. You crawl over your bed and pull at the jacket, causing it to fall off the clothes rack.

It still smells like him. You take in the scent deeply as you snuggle into the fabric. Your eyes fall on the logo on the back.

"Corazon…" you whisper as your long fingers stroke the lettering. You know exactly what special value this jacket has and yet Law left it to you that evening. You remember it like it was yesterday…

[back then]

After what felt like an eternity, you went back to the surface after the Polar Tang had been underwater for weeks. You wanted to feel the sun on your skin, smell the sea and you weren't the only one. The others in the crew were just as excited as you were to soak up some sun again. You and your bestie Ikakku threw yourselves into bikinis and sipped a few drinks in the sun. Even though it was always noisy on the deck, you didn't want to complain, you didn't begrudge the others enjoying their time on deck. And if you're honest, it was always pure entertainment.

You will still have your peace and quiet at the latest when night falls and you are alone with the moon.

The fresh sea breeze gives you goose bumps, but you don't even notice as you gaze dreamily into the moon's watery reflection. With your hands on the railing, you gaze into the distance. The sea glistens and is calm. Something that rarely occurs.

The evening is so peaceful and in moments like these you almost forget the stressful pirate life.

A faint smirk forms on your lips.

Stressful pirate life? Law does everything he can, to ensure that you hardly ever get into any dangerous situations. You have it pretty easy for a pirate crew, even though you're not that weak. You've begged him thousands of times to at least take you with him. After all, you're a pretty good swordswoman and use Haki. Even the famous 'Hawk Eyes', Mihawk, has complimented you on the way you handle your sword.

Law would never say that you're too weak, or rather he doesn't think that you're weak.. Otherwise he wouldn't have wanted you on his team but it's very obvious how much he wants to avoid the subject. He skillfully changes the subject or threatens that if you don't leave the topic, it'll be a month of toilet cleaning.

You don't even notice when the door of the Polar Tang opens and footsteps come towards you. You only notice his presence when Law puts his jacket over your shoulder.

"A little too lightly dressed, aren't you y/n-ya?"

You're a little startled but relax immediately when you hear Law's voice.

"It's not that cold…" you pout a little as you snuggle into his jacket. Your reaction makes him smirk and he turns his gaze to the moon. For a 'brief' moment, your eyes run over his figure.

He's standing right next to you, leaning over the railing with a bare chest and wearing only his typical jeans.

You suspect that he was wearing his jacket until just now. The biggest proof; it smells like him. Your eyes seem to have been on his torso for a second too long as his deep fake cough draws your attention to his face. Law's look tells you that he's well aware of how you're gawking at him and a blush promptly rises to your face.

The rest was pretty unspectacular and basically the two of you just talked until you yawned and decided to go to bed. Just in front of your bedroom door, you notice that you're still wearing his jacket and hesitantly tug at the fabric.

Actually, you don't want to give him the jacket back and he hasn't noticed… You decided that you would give it back tomorrow as you stepped into your room.

[Present]

And yet you are holding his jacket in your hands. It's already been two weeks, but it's not as if you didn't try to give him the jacket back, but he just left it to you. Sounds strange and it kind of was.

You get up and for whatever reason you take off your top and put on Law's jacket, imitating his outfit. It's probably because you're pretty drunk but you kind of like the way you look in his jacket.

The jacket is open but still barely covers your nipples and only a few curves and your belly button are visible.

His words had only confused you more.

"You can keep it with you if you want." He said that to you as nonchalant as usual when his eyes were on his papers… as if you had just told him dinner was ready or something similar. You just stood in his office with your mouth open and uttered a slightly confused 'sure' as you left the room.

"Oh Law you little bitch… I'm not fifteen anymore where I borrow my boyfriend's sweater…" you curse a bit dirty while you greedily take in the manly scent of his jacket, standing in front of the mirror.

"I'm a woman… I want more."

Your anger, your unsatisfied feelings, Law's smell, the alcohol and perhaps your own reflection put you in a rather exhilarated mood. You felt horny.

A knock on your door brings you out of your wild thoughts.

"Hey y/n-ya? Can I come in?"

You rush to the door and pull it open without much thought and Law stands in front of you with an almost troubled look on his face. His eyes run all over your frame as you stare at him expectantly. Annoyed, you put one hand on your hip, while his jacket reveals a bit of your hip. Law's brain is rebooting every second and he takes a small step backwards.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you, can I maybe come in?" Wow, he can speak… but his gaze remains on your slightly covered chest. He can't quite process the sight, but he can't look away either.

"Hey, my eyes are up here! But of course, come in…" You cross your arms in front of your chest and go back into the room, while Law closes the door behind him.

Over the last few weeks, he has often wished to see you in his jacket, but he wouldn't have expected such a sight. He wouldn't have dared to view you so nakedly and yet you're standing in front of him. Nakedly... His jacket shows just enough of your skin to feed any fantasies.

You don't miss his stare and you decide to be bold.

"Well, do you like what you see?" You walk towards him with dangerously slow steps. Your eyes are locked and neither of you dares to turn away.

Law can't and you don't want to.

"You wanted to talk to me?" You walk right past him and sit down on your bed… He could only catch your beautiful scent.

"Listen, I don't want any tension between us. Not if I leave tomorrow…" - "Then why don't we release the tension together?" You lean back on your elbows with a playful grin. Law's jacket falls further to the side, revealing more of your fine skin to him. For a split second, his eyes go back to your chest, but he quickly regrets that he can't control himself. You're pleased though, that's exactly how you want to see him. Usually you are the one who always have heavy feelings and Law is the one who keeps his cool, but not today.

You run one hand over your free hip and bring your fingers to your breast. Without making a single sound, Law stares at you with his eyes, looking tortured, as if he can't control himself for much longer.

You don't care about anything from now on. You want Law. Now.

You carefully grab the sides of the jacket to expose your breasts. Law comes closer to the bed, right up to the edge, and even though he doesn't look very satisfied, the excitement gathers in your stomach.

"Please don't y/n…" He begs you, full of agony… but his eyes fly shamelessly over your body. His chest rises and falls a little faster…

But you can't help it either. How could you? After all, he's making it difficult for you too.

The way he stands in front of you, with a look that actually undresses you, which he just can't admit. And the sight of him in his black button up shirt, which he always wears slightly open… His eyes follow your movements greedily, even desperately. You know he wants you. He can't deny that.

But before you can expose yourself, Law grabs your hands and stops you. Your world is shaken for a moment, because Law is suddenly very close to you. His stormy gaze pierces through your skull and you notice a slight anger rising in him.

"Stop y/n!" He orders you. You're pretty good at the anger thing too, if not ten times better! You push him away from you, causing him to take a step back and you stand up. You don't let him refuse you any longer and with quick steps you brazenly fall into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck and your bare chests meet.

"I can't do this any longer Law. Please don't push me away from you." You whisper your words to him as you reveal your most desperate wish.

You're being too much for Law right now, especially since he's leaving the crew tomorrow… But he's actually only doing it for you. He has to do it.

"y/n please understand. We shouldn't be doing this. Who knows when I'll be back…" His words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You avert your eyes from him, feeling so exposed.

"What if I don't come back?" he searches your gaze and takes your chin to pull your face towards him. A little hesitantly, you look into his eyes.

"I don't care if today might be the first and last time, Law." Law can tell from your eyes how serious you are.

"What if I break your heart y/n? I have plans. Plans that are dangerous." He caringly strokes your cheek with his hand.

You enjoy his gentle touch and it leaves a warmth that doesn't seem to disappear. You hate it when he's like this… People say; live like it's your last day… but Law hasn't understood the real message behind it. Law lives, as if he could die any day and that's why he keeps his loved ones away, so he doesn't cause too much pain if something goes wrong on his missions.

"Law, I don't want to keep wondering what could be, what WE could be. I don't want to live lies…" You rest your hands on his chest and Law wraps an arm around you, to pull you closer to him. He leaves no space between the two of you and you're not sure if you can feel your heartbeat or his.

"Are you sure?" He looks like he just wants to make sure you're ready to take that risk. His voice is almost desperate, as if he will break if you pull back.

"Oh Law, even if it is just once." Law puts his hand over his eyes as he leans his head back. Apparently he is still struggling with himself. Groaning, he runs his fingers over his nose as he squints his eyes.

His fiery gaze sparks excitement in you as he looks into your eyes again.

"Fuck y/n."

You close your eyes as he finally closes the gap between you and his lips rest on yours.

His hands run along your hips as if he had already touched you thousands of times. His touch leaves marks on your skin that you can't see but you do feel.

As you greedily feast on each other's lips, Law grabs your thighs and pulls you up. You wrap your legs around him to support yourself better. One of your hands rests on his shoulder while the other strokes his cheek. For a brief moment, you part your lips to look into each other's eyes. You can finally feel him.

With you in his arms, he walks to your bed and sits down. He leans back a little to enjoy the sight of you and an outright naughty grin appears on his lips.

"Take off your coat for me y/n." No matter how demanding his words are, his voice is begging you. It sends shivers down your spine and without hesitation you slowly brush the jacket down your shoulders.

Law's pupils dilate at the sight of your already hardening nipples. You can no longer ignore the throbbing in your middle and you notice how everything in your abdomen tightens. The feeling is as tormenting, as it is satisfying and impatiently you start to rub back and forth on Law's lap. You don't want to wait long and reach for his belt to undo his pants.

Law's hands go straight to your hips and stop you with all his strength. You look at him in confusion.

"Easy easy, y/n… Now that we're crossing that line, I want to take all the time in the world." His voice is so sensual that it drives you insane and you stop to let go of the belt, only for Law to take the lead. He squeezes you lightly on his erection, causing a shiver of pleasure run through your whole body.

His thumbs press lightly into your inner thighs as he moves towards your panties.

The closer he gets to your underwear, the more you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel the need to touch yourself and without any shame you start to knead your breasts while Law moves you rhythmically over his boner.

If you are almost losing your mind because of this, then you are even more excited, to see what happens when Law enters you.

"You do so well for me y/n. Don't stop touching yourself. Show me where to touch you." He moans seductively to you.

A little hesitantly, you grab his hand and place it on your stomach, just above your panties. Without taking your eyes off him, you slide his hand in your pants and under your underwear, while lifting yourself slightly from Law, so that he can move between your wet folds.

Law is visibly pleased that you decide to lead him straight to that spot and his body responds immediately when he feels your dampness.

With great tenderness, he sinks a finger inside you, carefully observing every little reaction on your face.

You would never have expected that just one of his fingers would trigger so many feelings in you and you let your head fall back.

Law, on the other hand, who is getting hungrier and hungrier, leaves your wet hole and comes up to you, to engage you in a sinful tongue kiss. His hands go over every curve of your body and make sure that a thousand blissful emotions run through your body.

With you in his arms, he turns around that you are now lying under him.

He rests his hands on your knees as he looks down at you while standing between your legs.

As if in a trance, you watch him while he finally takes off his shirt and he enjoys the way you look at him. He proudly presents himself above you and your eyes are allowed to wander over his chest for the first time without any sense of shame.

Law skillfully moves his hands to make sure you are free from your pants and enjoys the sight of you lying in front of him in just your underwear.

He strokes your folds with his hand and the pressure makes sure that your slip gets a little soaked. Law runs his tongue over his lips as if imagining what he might do to you first.

You can hardly ignore the bulge in his pants. The imprint of his hard cock is even more pleasing than you could ever imagine and you can feel your arousal growing.

With pleading eyes, you beg for release. Law just gives you a dirty grin, which makes your heart skip a beat.

"You needy bitch." There's something almost dangerous in his voice, but you're ready to surrender to him completely.

When you hear Law open his pants, you have to pull yourself together to keep your greedy cunt from pressing against his dick. You swing awkwardly back and forth to compensate the pressing feeling between your legs which makes Law laugh.

He gently places his tip at the entrance to your little hole while you are still wearing your underwear.

These indirect touches make you lose your mind and to relieve the tension you play with your nipples.

Law enjoys the sight, every sound you make and the way you touch yourself. He takes his time as he slides his cock over your folds.

It feels like an eternity has passed while Law plays with you.

You close your eyes and let the feelings inside you build up and when you feel Law push your panties aside, your breathing stops.

You get chills as his member touches your soft pussy but he doesn't penetrate. No, no. He smears himself with your natural juices as he rubs his bare cock against you. The warm feeling of his skin on your clit sends a tingle through your body and makes you moan loudly.

Right at this moment, Law can take no more and sinks his tip into you. You are quite tight, which makes him moan as he slowly but firmly penetrates you. You let your eyes fall back as the sensation overwhelms you. Law's tenderness kills your patience.

"Please fuck me hard, Law." Weakly, you blink at him. You can't take any more, you need to release your built up feelings and the only one who can make sure you're satisfied is Law.

"As you wish." Law's lips go up again, you're driving him crazy… the way you're lying there. Like a goddess with one arm over your head and one hand on your beautiful breast. And the way you look… you look so needy. It drives him wild.

Without hesitating for long, he grabs you by your ass and pulls you towards him. Without any real problems, his member disappears completely inside you because you are so wonderfully wet. He grabs the back of your knees while you stretch your back. He penetrates you repeatedly with steady thrusts and a wave of heat shoots through your body. His movements are so energetic that you curl your toes.

"Show me your beautiful eyes y/n." he calls out to you.

Weakly, you open your eyes to look into his deep and intimidating eyes. Law leans your legs against his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate you even deeper. The fulfilling feeling between your legs is a little painful, but when he pulls out again, you immediately miss the aching pain.

"Oh… Law!" Your breathing is out of control, you can't keep up with his pace as Law gets faster and faster.

His breathing gets increasingly louder and sweat forms on his forehead. You are almost at the end but before you reach your climax, Law pushes one last time and his cock leaves your dilated hole. You immediately miss the filling feeling Law gave you but don't worry Law just wants to pull you up to turn you over.

His hand pushes your back down and your ass sticks up in the air for him. Before you can really realize what is happening to you, he is already thrusting inside you and all you can hear is the naughty smacking of your bare skin.

The blood rushes to your head and you struggle to keep your legs steady as Law doesn't stop at pounding into you like it's the last time. His fingers bury themselves in the soft skin of your ass as he moans in a muffled voice.

With one hand he grabs you by your hair and pulls you towards him so that you touch his chest with your back, while he continues to fuck your sweet cunt sore.

"I will always come back to you y/n" He whispers the words so lovingly in your ear that tears come to your eyes. You still can't live with the thought of him leaving tomorrow.

"I love you Law." Law's arm wraps around your torso and massages your breast. The gentle touches and the constant pounding push you to your limits and suddenly every tension in your body is released. You've come and while Law hasn't finished yet, you try to keep your wobbly legs upright.

Law notices that you are struggling to keep your figure upright and places you back on his lap while he lies on his back. Your legs feel numb and you are quite overstimulated at the moment.

"Come on y/n, I'm almost done."

He grabs you by your hips to move you up and down. If it were up to you, you would be enjoying him all night but Law needs his sleep so you savor the last few moments.

With his final thrust, he fills you with his seed and sends himself to a well deserved orgasm.

He pulls your tired body down to him and kisses your forehead, while you rest on his upper body and close your eyes.

"Law let me come with you, please." He brushes a strand of hair out of your face and thinks for a moment.

"You should go to sleep now y/n." You were already expecting an answer like that and you breathe out in defeat.

It doesn't take long and you're in the land of dreams, with the man of your dreams by your side.

The next morning you wake up because of the general commotion outside your room and suddenly it hits you like a bullet.

Law is leaving today! You have to say goodbye!

As soon as you move to get up, you fall back into your bed. Your legs are still a little weak and your core feels a little sore.

So it wasn't a dream and you and Law have finally taken the courage. Further proof of last night is a note Law left you.

"Good morning y/n, I'm leaving at 12. Pack your things and be on time. And drink this. It will help you with your hangover."

You look at the words on the note and read them over and over again. You can't quite grasp what you're reading. Do you understand correctly? Law is taking you with him?

You are so full of happiness that you don't even have the slightest sign of a hangover, but you drink the water anyway and take the pill that Law has put on your bedside table.

You hastily get ready and pack the essentials and when you look at the clock, it's almost 12 o'clock.

Leaving your room, you grab your sword and run down the corridors of the Polar Tang. When you arrive on deck, all your friends are already gathered to say their goodbyes to Law.

As Law's eyes fall on you, a smile adorns his face as he sees your stuffed backpack.

"You got everything?" he asks as he reaches for your backpack. A couple of crew members are visibly confused, as the air between you was pretty thick yesterday, but they're glad that everything is back to normal.

"Yes, I'm ready." You sheathe your sword on your back and give him a big grin.

"Wait a minute, am I getting this right…? Is y/n going with you Captain." Ikkaku interrupts your grinning contests.

"Yea she'll come with me everywhere starting today." Nobody misses Law's loving look and together you get into the small boat, that will take you to the island.

Into an adventure… your adventure.

Masterlist

Whew, I stayed up much longer than I wanted to. Oopsie woopsie. Nightyyyy ❤

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

ME FIRST!

CAN YOU DO YANDERE JOCK PLEASE!

Yandere! Jock x Honor student! gn! reader

YEY A MOTIVATION TO WRITE!

As my first request... I'm going to put voice claims as like a celebration!

Yan! Jock (Damon): Marshall Lee from Adventure Time (Donald Glover)

Yan! Sugar daddy (Rowan Silas): Howl from Howl's Moving Castle (Christian Bale)

Yan! Butler (Zero): Baizhu from Genshin Impact in JP (Yusa Koji)

Yan! Theater actor (Ignatius): Tamaki from Ouran Highschool Host Club (Vic Mignogna)

Yan! Dragon (Vincent): Lilac Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom (Behzad Dabu)

Yan! Artist (Arlen): Sal Fischer from Sally Face

((Just the voice claims, the charas involved are not really related to the Yans. BUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CAN'T FIND A PERFECT FIT FOR ROWAN GRRRRRRRR also Zero being in Japanese... Well, I actually did a Beware the Villainess voice headcannons before, and I used Baizhu JP as Nine's voice. Since Zero's inspired by him, then... Yeah.))

TW: Blood, gore, violence against a dead body.

He's a bit... Dumb.

That's what his friends would say when you ask about Damon.

He's dumb, yet sweet, kind, and insanely athletic.

People call him your typical himbo.

Rumors had it that he's completely a mama's boy, someone who doesn't know the difference between their, they're, and there, a man who has just one braincell that ticks around his head like the dvd logo bouncing around the screen and only get used on sports.

Ah yes, sports. The only thing he's extremely smart at.

Other than being street smart, he's body smart also. That's why he's being passed around by sports team in his University and also being gatekept by the clubs.

The baseball club needs a batter? On it. The basketball club had their ace sick? Don't worry, the mvp is here. The badminton team needs a pair for the doubles? Sure, just make sure to let him bring his own racket. Fencing club lacks one person for a complete sparring session? Uh, he hasn't tried fencing yet, but he will still master it immediately.

So because everything in his peanut brain gets squeezed onto sports, his academics isn't really the best...

Yet, his athlete scholarship made him stay afloat in the University. Plus he's the adorable kind of dumb, so everyone loved him.

If you try to tell him that he's a himbo, he would take it as an offense and would yell at you with the biggest pout and puppy dog eyes that he's not a himbo!

Oh, sweet summer child he is.

Everyone liked to watch this big, buff puppy play around with a smile on his face.

But not the Dean of his college. I mean, he's an athlete scholar, that's for sure, but he's still in Education! He needs to do better in his studies if he wants to be a teacher in the future!

And no! Damon cannot just cluelessly tilt his head to the side!

While Damon pouted, the dean called for you.

You're the candidate magna cum laude in your batch. Smart as you are, you buried your nose in books and notes as you studied to become a teacher, but lacked the confidence and charisma to be an effective one.

So the Dean thought this would be the perfect synergy. Damon's personality would rub on you, while your braincells will rub on his.

It was perfect.

And while you stood there with your eyes downcast, Damon's eyes widened as he stared at you.

It was love at first sight.

"Damon for the last time, it's School Based Management! Not Shoe Base Management! How did you even twist it to that?"

"Hehe, sorry y/n..."

*You sighed and crossed out the number.*

"5/50. How did your score got lower than the last time?! And it's a repeat test too!"

Rowan pouted and fiddled with his fingers. His eyes downcast as he appeared vulnerable.

"I'm sorry y/n.... I will do my best next time..."

*You sighed once more, knowing you can't deny this man.*

"Alright alright. Let's just study again."

You and Damon are in the library now, studying for the upcoming retake that Damon needs to take. But despite being here in the library for two hours, he still hasn't improved at all!

You stood up and glanced around, trying to see more books to use for studying. One preferably understandable for ding dongs like him.

Maybe a children's picture book of CPE 102 was needed for this guy.

You were harsh yet also patient with Damon, something he really likes. If he had a tail right now, it would wag rapidly to the point he'll break a bone in it.

All his thoughts is filled with you and you. The back of his notebook is scribbled with your name and his encased in a heart, crude drawings of you and him holding hands, or a silly children's game where he does a compatibility test using both of your names.

Neverminded that the test always ends up at "enemies" or "strangers", no no no... He won't accept it.

So these tests had large scribble marks all over him as words filled with rage about how the tests are lies are inked there.

And while Damon swung his feet while scribbling your and his future children's (yes, plural) names, he suddenly wondered where you are.

He got off his seat and walked around until he found you.

"Y/n--!"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

He felt shivers run down his spine.

There you where, smiling and bantering with an another man. Amicably talking to each other like you were the best of pals.

Damon recognized him from your class records (don't question why he knew your class records, he swears he's just doing research). Jupiter was his name, oddly enough. He's also a candidate magna cum laude and your study buddy. He's naturally gifted in academics and so does in his looks.

So when Damon saw how your eyes sparkled while talking to that guy...

He felt his façade crack.

Jupiter ran quickly across the lit yet empty rugby field in his University. Everyone was out for the school day since it was already 10pm.

How did Jupiter end up running away frantically with his clothes sticking on his body due to sweat?

It would be because of a masked man chasing him, power walking towards him with a metal baseball bat in hand. Jupiter can't see his face, but knew he's absolutely huge.

Jupiter ran as quickly as he can, but his body can't keep up. His legs weakened and his knee started to hurt as he heaved quickly. His vision swimming as he tried to run across and away from the man.

He's academic for god's sake! Physical activities are his mortal enemy!

As he cursed his hatred away, Jupiter tripped on a rock and rolled forward. His knee also finally gave up and is now hurting a lot.

Jupiter tried to scream for help, but all he could do is bite his lip as he held his poor knee.

Not until the man got close and clubbed him on that knee, making Jupiter scream in agony.

"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

That night, Jupiter's scream echoed throughout the empty rugby field and the sound of a hard object hitting a body. Then,

SQUELCH!

CRACK!

Then silence.

The masked man looked at the bloodied mess and chuckled. His small giggle turning into a full blown laughter as he tried to suppress it.

Damon grabbed a sharpie from his back pocket and scribbled on Jupiter's mangled body. His back, which is still somehow smooth, now contained your nickname and Damon's.

He's doing the compatibility test again.

"Soulmates! Oh my god!" Damon screamed in happiness. "Finally! Oh this is great! I shouldn't have doubted the test!"

Damon danced around Jupiter's body like he's not dead. Then, he kicked Jupiter's body. And kicked it. And kicked it. And kicked it more.

"Tch. You think you can smile at my soulmate like that? Think again buckaroo." Damon whispered, dropping his himbo jock persona.

This man had a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes. One that does not hold innocent curiosity, only a morbid bloodthirst.

This was the real Damon.

"Fuck. This dumb himbo persona is fucking me up. All I could do is put all my frustrations on sports." Damon spat out and kicked Jupiter's body towards his expensive truck. "I'm sick and tired of being labeled like that."

Then, he remembered your face. How he caught you staring at him with fondness as he acted dumb and cute.

He shivered.

"Maybe I'll continue to do this persona. Fuck. If only my parents would leave me be after that incident, then I won't have to do this."

Once Damon placed Jupiter's body on his truck, he started to clean the field with ease.

This wasn't his first kill after all.

He's always been twisted since he's a kid. But was forced to hide it due to his parents finding out he killed his cat with his own two hands with a smile on his face.

A trip to rehab, and he adopted this persona.

He slammed his truck close and drove away, humming and thanking that the University security cameras are broken.

He would kill more if necessary.

He's not afraid to dirty his hands. If ever, he loved it.

He looked at a picture of you and him in his dashboard. The picture was you smiling widely to the camera with a blushing Damon on the side, a test paper raised. It had full marks.

He kissed his finger and placed that finger on your lips.

"My soulmate~"