#they make me so soft lol

[math-is-math]

Aleheather Week days 3 & 4 — domestic 🫂 and fashion/flowers 🌺

*panics in I’m behind a day* anyway Heather’s fit is rlly cute in the second one lol

[motherwench]

no one knows how much it hurts when a little thing dies. when a bug runs its fate is already decided. what made him know he could get away with hurting me? he made me small enough to forget i was ever a person. i forgot and forgot under his boot.

—insp by this post from @sweatermuppet

[ahhrenata]

distractions ✨

[adriancatrin]

katara sees her brother and bff approaching something that can make them happy and says no interruptions

based on this photo from the live action cast

[thatsrightice]

Val Kilmer on the set of Top Gun (1986)

[puppyeared]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[itachanta]

soft Vash:

not-so-soft Vash:

please-step-on-me, Vash:

[hopeswriting]

was thinking about takeshi and how he's my favorite brand of unconditional devotion btw. the utter and absolute and all-consuming kind that runs so deep to the very core and is so intrinsic and fundamental to it, it can only express itself in the most casual and natural and certain way. without second thoughts, without any room for doubts or for any moral dilemma to be had over it, because of course he ought to always be breathing and living for his chosen person first and foremost. of course he ought to hang on their every word and make them true no matter what, no matter what he has to do to make it happen, no matter what he has to do to other people to make it happen, and no matter what it might turn him into in the process. because it's obviously the way the world should be for his chosen person. at their feet, ready to bend over backwards and break and build itself again to better answer to all their needs even if they don't ask it for it. it's the only right way it should be for them, and of course takeshi's going to do his utmost at all times to make it a reality as much as possible.

and his devotion comes out as naturally as breathing, comes out lighthearted and nonchalant like he might as well be talking about the weather, but it's not unaware of itself. it's not that takeshi doesn't know it's unhealthy and wrong and that he's willing to go entirely too far in its name for anyone's good. it's not that he wouldn't hear you out if you were to sit him down and explain to him just why he needs to tone it down a little (a lot). logically, he'd agree with you and know you're right. and then he'd tell you he's still not going to do anything whatsoever about it. that he's not bothered by it and doesn't feel the need to change anything to his attitude. makes it a point to never let anyone or anything sway him even an inch in the stand he took when it comes to that, no matter how many thousand of times you might go over the subject with him.

because the morality of his devotion isn't the point at all. is entirely irrelevant to it and doesn't affect the way he expresses it all. it's not the metric with which he draws a line in the sand to hold it accountable to. because the thing is, takeshi's entire world revolves around tsuna--tsuna is his entire world altogether, and it's just a matter of fact, that simple. to him it's a truth as unchanging as the sky being blue, and so being the way he is according to that truth is the only way he can imagine being that'd feel right to him. and so the actual and only metric that matters here is "would tsuna be happier if i were to do this?" and/or "is this something tsuna needs me to do?"

and like. i don't think takeshi ever stops being a kind person capable of compassion and understanding and mercy and forgiveness even ten years later once they became mafia through and through. and i don't think either he grows up to be feared and called a monster per se despite the things they inevitably had to do during those ten years (and the things they'll inevitably keep having to do as long as they keep being mafia), at least not in the way, for example, they'll never stop fearing and calling mukuro one. but i do think that among the tenth gen, he ends up being the one with the most ruthless, merciless and horrific blood on his hands of that particular and distinct loving kind. you know the one i mean, right? he comes to be the one most expected and the one first expected to be willing and to take it upon himself to go through with it when the need arises. and to think little of it after, if anything at all. all in the name of making tsuna's reign as easy on him as possible.

and it's to the point where it's the kind of blood that makes even mukuro pause at times. or, when takeshi is the one coming up with solutions himself during meetings, makes even reborn blink. not because it's unjustified or wouldn't be safe or efficient or anything of the sort, but because it is unwarrantedly thorough in its retaliation. and sometimes, at times like this, he's the one tsuna needs to step in for the most, because he's the only one who can reason with him that "yes, this would work in getting rid of our problem" but "no, please, don't do that takeshi". because if tsuna is the only thing that infers on just how much and in what ways he'll let himself be devoted to him, then of course, he's also the only one takeshi's willing to reign himself in for without second thoughts. because he'd hate to ever do something tsuna would disapprove of or wouldn't want him to do. or do something that'd make tsuna see him differently or love him back less even in the slightest.

and it's also like. his devotion isn't an undisciplined one. it's not one he doesn't have control over, the very opposite. it's a very purposeful and conscious choice he chooses to keep making over and over again every step of the way, and he taught himself to have control over it, to know when it's needed and/or wanted, and how much and in which ways it is when it happens, and to keep it down otherwise. and, yes, to also reign it back in at tsuna's request at times when it still slips past his control. because it's all about making tsuna's happiness easier and secure and long-lasting, and never about burdening him with just how committed he is to do that.

so it comes down to this: takeshi willing to go above and beyond and more for tsuna unless tsuna explicitly asks him not to. and to tsuna needing to ask him not to every now and then. and to other people pointing out to him how too many times tsuna's already needed to stop him, and that maybe there's a hint for him to take there. and to takeshi seeing the hint, looking it straight in the eye and recognizing it for what it is and just. deciding it doesn't apply to him because it's all perfectly normal behavior to him. because it's the only kind of behavior that makes sense to him and feels right.

and so—to circle back to my first point—he can only express his devotion as naturally as breathing, so casually, almost like it's something inconsequential and not worth talking about despite how unmistakably it couldn't be further away from being the truth. it's the only way he could have always known how to express it, because, after all, who has ever taken time to ponder about the details and the hows of the way they breathe?

and i, for one, absolutely eat that shit up every time, thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

[crybaby-bkg]

“Why is my stomach in knots?” you grumble to yourself as you look in the mirror, quickly blending in your makeup. your hands move faster than they should, your nerves already shot to shit and the stiff, hard to blend blush is really starting to irk you. you frown when Bakugou pops in behind you, his face next to yours as he takes you in.

“Whaddya so nervous for?” he asks you, dipping down to kiss the curve of your neck. he’s learned to avoid your face until you powder yourself up, and then he can go crazy. but you’re still blending something wet on your cheeks, and he doesn’t wanna upset you more than you already are.

“What if our date isn’t perfect?” you whisper, finally setting down your brush, your hands wringing in your lap. but bakugou reaches over your shoulders, grabs your palms in his, brings them to his face to kiss and kiss at, despite the barely dried concealer you had swiped on them. he hugs you to his chest, careful still of your face, frowns at the way you try to hide your blooming smile at his affection.

“‘Course it’s gonna be perfect.” He reassures you quietly, pecking the side of your neck. “You’re gonna be there with me; that’s all that matters.” You pout at him through the mirror despite your smile, watching his own face soften as he takes in your almost ready face.

“But what if my date tries to order for me, and won’t let me finish a sentence?” You sigh all melancholy, rolling your eyes into your head. You giggle when he bites at the curve of your shoulder, trying to get away but he holds you tight against his chest.

“Then I’ll beat his fucking ass.” Bakugou mutters into your skin, feeling brave enough to steal a kiss on your cheek. Him being brave—the thought makes you laugh to yourself. Bakugou afraid of scaring you, the love of his life, and being afraid of your wrath from fucked up makeup when he battles villains all day. You turn in your seat, wrapping your arms around his neck when he kneels on the floor behind your stool. He almost looks like he’s praising you, with the way his chin tilts up and his gaze is hyper focused on you and you only.

“You’re such a nerd.” You tease, tucking your chin to your neck when he squeezes your thighs in his hands. He leans forward to steal another kiss, despite the way you lean away and try to push his face from yours.

“Shuddup,” he murmurs, bypassing your hand to peck your lips. He stands when you swat at him, kissing the top of your head this time as he makes his way out of the room to start getting ready. As he leaves, he speaks over his shoulder with a huff,

“And finish your face already. Stop depriving me ‘n shit.” He grumbles. You don’t comment on how red his ears are, his admittance of wanting to kiss you again and again, how he always does. You only blow him a kiss, laugh at the way his shoulders hike and his huffing under his breath, and finally finish getting ready.

[concreteburialplot]

Delicate Beginning Rush

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted; ao3 | word count: 4.8k

warnings: alcohol, fluff??? who am i ????¿, shy nerdy nicholas, awkward fumbling drunk sex, oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, nick has a big massive fat-, cum play ??, subby nick if you squint, reader doesn’t know anything about star wars / pop culture ? lol, au; college omens, 18+ MDNI

summary; your friend drags you to a house party you never wanted to be at but end up being grateful when a cute shy boy changes the course of your night

a/n: this is a work of fiction, don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

Around you rages a random college house party that your roommate dragged you to. The house itself was huge and almost dollhouse-like. You weren’t sure who’s party it was or who all lived there, all you did know was that your friend was on a mission. You’ve met the group of boys your friend was interested in a couple times. She’s been trying to get with one… or two of them? You aren’t quite sure anymore. But they were some boys from your English class that happened to be in a band – at least that’s what you’d gathered with various random study dates with them. They were chill, but you could tell that they were mostly interested in your roommate. At least that’s what it seemed like, with the way they’d usually only pay mind to her while you’d be working on assignments.

But now, you sit on the kitchen counter of this giant house with a raven-haired tattooed boy standing between your legs. You both are tipsy, giggly messes.

Your hands intertwined with his and playfully sway back and forth at his sides; the warm alcohol running through your veins makes you both more touchy-feely than normal. The drink coats your body in a tingly warmth.

“How come I didn’t know you were so funny huh?” You nudge his shoulder with the right set of your connected hands. Your fingers slip from the hold and brings the plastic cup full of neon blue to your lips. You take a sip looking up at him through glassy eyes over the white ridge of the cup. The sickeningly sweet beverage burns your throat with at least 3 different liquors mixed.

His tan cheeks are tinted peachy pink from the alcohol and a sweet smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t know.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t really talk much I guess.”

Which was true. Now thinking about it, in all your group hangouts he was mostly silent, only speaking when spoken to. The other three boys were loud and quite talkative. Especially the two your roommate was pining after, both with long hair and one with an accent. It really depended on the day which she was leaning towards more. Tonight, it was Jolly, the one with the accent.

“Yeah, I noticed that.” You say softly, “But you seem much more talkative now with some of…” You hold up the horrid concoction you were given, “Whatever this is.”

He smiles, “Yeah, I guess it helps me out of my shell a little.”

It seemed to help him out of his shell a lot, with him talking to you for the past hour and making you laugh harder than you had in a while. You barely even knew what his voice sounded like before tonight. But you found that you really enjoyed it, it was deep and raspy but upticks when he’s excited about something. It swirls a flurry of butterflies in your tummy that you write off as just the alcohol’s doing.

“Well, I quite like you out of your shell Nicholas.” You beam sitting up. One arm wrapping around your own midsection and the other feeding more sips of drink to your mouth. You find the edges of your lips curling at how the blue liquid tinted the inside of his lips. You wonder if the stain on his mouth tastes just as sweet as the drink.

A blush coats his cheeks, and his eyes fall to his cup, “Oh, you can call me Nick.”

“Alright, Nick.” You grin and take the last sip of your drink. “You know it’s awfully loud in here.” You use a tried-and-true line.

“Oh, well, we could um,” He knocks back the last of his own drink. “We could go up to my room?” He offers kindly.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

“Sure, I think that’s a great idea.”

You hop off the counter and he takes your hand, weaving you through the crowded party and up the stairs. He pulls you into his room, the second door to the right. The room was cleaner and more decorated than you’d expect from a random college boy.

Your eyes wander across the shelves of figurines, books, and posters on the walls. It was all quite… “nerdy”, the only thing you could really recognize was Star Wars while the rest just seemed like miscellaneous anime memorabilia. It didn’t make it any less pretty or interesting, quite the opposite, you were awestruck.

Another wall was covered in framed records that hung above a bookshelf filled with vinyls and topped with a record player. Your gaze flows down to where propped guitars litter the floor.

“It’s lame I know.” He scratches the back of his neck with a subtle embarrassment on his face.

The mandatory college boy light strips around the room were set to purple and moving the light in a pattern – alternating between blocks of bright violent and dim violet. Your eyes followed the blocks as they trailed along the ceiling. The light strips and a warm yellow lamp on his night were the only sources of illumination.  

“No, no.” Your eyes finally land on Nick again. “I think it’s really cool.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, it’s definitely not that.”

“Most boys’ rooms are bare with a mattress on the floor. Your room is so full of personality… and you have a bed frame.” You laugh. “It’s cool. I promise.”

The more you looked at his personality-filled room, the more you wondered how he kept all of this contained. You would’ve never guessed this is what his room would look like. But you sure were happy you were found out.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” He says and sort of shifts on his heels. He picks up some random fidget toy and begins playing with it, it’s obvious he’s a little nervous.

You carefully sat on the bed, making sure not to disrupt the nicely made sheets.

“I don’t know anything about that stuff.” You say naively. You’ve been around enough nerdy boys to know that always gets them going.

“Of what? Star Wars?” His glassy eyes grow wide and shocked.

You giggle at his reaction, “Yeah, any of it really. Like all this stuff in here. Except the music, obviously.”

“No way.” He scoffs. “There’s no way you’ve never even seen one Star Wars movie?”

“Nope.” You lift your shoulders to a shrug, “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me about it.”

“Well, I mean, it’s only my civil duty to inform you about them.” The edge of his mouth pulls into a playful grin.

You bite down on your lip to stifle another liquor-soaked giggle. “Alright. Well, let’s hear it then.”

The way the corners of his lips curl directly into his cheekbones is so adorable you don’t even mind that he’s derailed your mission of hooking up.  You pull yourself further back into his bed making room for him.

“Okay, so.” He says excitedly with an uptick in his voice and scrambles to sit next to you on the bed. He takes an inhale before beginning to speak, almost like he doesn’t even know where to start.

Even though you were originally in this for something completely different, now you don’t mind just sitting here and listening to him excitedly talk about … whatever he’s talking about.

You let him drunkenly ramble without interrupting him, nodding at any points he was making. He lost you fairly early on, when he started to explain how the movies are chronologically not in order or something along those lines. But that didn’t stop you from just listening to him speak or admire how animated he got with his hands while explaining things.

He was just so cute – the way when he smiled, really smiled, it lit up his whole face. This smile reached his eyes, lighting them up with so much life. This was the first time you really noticed his eyes, with the purple lights reflecting in them you couldn’t even tell what color they truly were – they looked grey, then blue, then green all at once. When you were really lost in them is when he caught you.

He reeled his arms back to his body, giving you a little embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” His gaze fell before bashfully meeting you again.

“No, no, no.” You quickly answer, immediately feeling guilty for not paying enough attention. “I liked listening to you.”

“Oh, you don’t gotta say that.” A light pink coats his cheeks before his eyes fall to his fiddling fingers. “I’m used to it. Most people don’t tend to listen to me anyway.”

Your chest twists at the thought of anyone ever making him feel unheard or ignored.

“Hey, no.” You reach between you and grab his wrist, then meet his eyes. “I was listening to you. I really like hearing you talk. Okay? You can keep going if you want.”

He blushes a little more and gives a small nod. “Okay.”

He continues on some tangent he left hanging, and you return to your place with your chin on your palm supported by an elbow to your knee.

You didn’t lie, you really do like listening to him – you said nothing about understanding anything he said. Especially with how fuzzy your head is right now, you don’t understand a single word he’s saying. All you can pay attention to is the smooth waves of his cadence and his adorable mannerisms.

He pauses and chuckles nervously, “What? Did I lose you again?”

The edges of your lips curl up, and you shake your head.

“No.” You hum and press your lips together as you reach up to tuck some hair behind his ear. “I’m just wondering if you tell every girl you bring up here about Star Wars.” You giggle.

He nearly scoffs at even the idea. “No, definitely not.” He reaches up to scratch his arm “Mostly because I never really bring anyone up here. I usually stay here during their parties. They’re not really my thing.” He shrugs and fidgets with his thumbs as he speaks, transfixed on them while occasionally looking up to meet your eyes. “I don’t really like the loud music, or the people… or the alcohol usually. Really none of it is for me.”

“Well, I’m really glad you were down there tonight.” You smile sweetly, just admiring how pretty and delicate he is. You move your hand just a bit forward so that the tips of your fingers interlace with his and lean towards him.

A shy grin spreads across his lips, “Yeah me too.” He replies softly while matching your actions and moving closer to you. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and you can’t help but mirror it. His lips were perfect and plump and all you wanted to do was be on them.

From all the pieces of him you’ve gathered tonight, it’s easy to assume that he’s probably pretty anxious and can’t read social cues that well. So, you decide to spell it out for him.

“I want you to kiss me, Nick.” You breathe into the gap between your lips.

He gives you a quick but urgent nod before softly crashing his lips into yours.

The kiss ignites sparks all over your body, firecrackers exploding within each cell. Your hand finds his cheek to pull him in closer. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip asking for entrance and you oblige without a second thought.

His tongue hesitantly flicks at yours which begins a playful dance between them. It’s not rough or dominance-seeking, it’s needy and soft.

You tangle both hands into his long long locks and lean back on his bed, pulling him on top of you between your legs without ever breaking the kiss.

He’s so gentle with you. His hands stationed at each end of your body, one soft on your face and the other resting tenderly on your side. His tongue was skillful but mellow, just enjoying the kiss with you. It’s not often a guy wants to take his time and not rush, but he didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he was setting the pace.

It’s exciting and delicious all at once.

Your hand meets his face to bring him even closer before reaching up and tangling your fingers into his dark hair again. His scent fills your nostrils and it’s something woodsy and… spicy? Sweet, but peppery. The smell of his cologne goes straight down between your legs and worsens the throbbing there.

You continue the lazy kissing but take the lead again and slowly guide his hand to your tit, letting him know that it’s okay to touch you. He doesn’t need much convincing; his hand begins needing the soft tissue of your breast over thin t-shirt fabric. His fingertips lightly pinch your pebbled nipple. You can’t help but let out a tiny whine into his mouth.

You’re reminded of just how drunk you are when your numbed fingertips trail down his shirt to his belt and fumble with it. You struggle with the button and the zipper, but you finally reach his hardening cock. He lets out a small groan once you start palming him over his boxers. While you can’t even see it, you can tell it’s big – which surprises you, especially with his shy demeanor and the tight-ass pants he usually wears.

He follows suit, letting his hand trail down your side until it’s between your thighs beneath your skirt, running a finger between your panty-covered lips. You moan into the kiss; you need him like air – more than just his finger over cotton.

Since he seems to base his actions and pace on yours, probably out of courtesy to make sure he’s not crossing any lines, you dip your hand past the wide band of his boxer briefs. His cock is thick and heavy in your hand as you begin pumping him within his boxers.

It works, he dips into your panties and lets his fingers explore you. He rounds your clit nearly causing your entire body to convulse. Then he slowly brings them down to your entrance which makes you immediately roll your hips up towards his hand – your core aching to have something, anything inside you. A louder moan escapes once you feel two fingers slip inside you.

You pump his large member in your hand, and you can feel his pulse in it. The walls around his fingers tighten once he starts rutting into your fist – he needs you just as badly. You break the kiss, and your chests rise and fall rapidly together. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he presses his forehead against yours.

“Jesus fucking christ you’re so fucking big.” You breathe out heavily between you two.

Pink flushes across his cheeks in the cutest way. “Thanks.” He replies shortly almost as if he’s ashamed to receive the compliment.

Your brows knit together and your head tilts to the side. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry if I-”

“No, no, it’s not that it’s just…” He presses his lips together for a moment. “It’s big.”

You chuckle, “I mean yeah, every guy says that right?”

“It’s just… I just don’t wanna hurt you.” He says sheepishly. “If you want to go further that is, of course.”

You watch him with a skeptical gaze trying to analyze his features to see if he’s joking but, he seems serious. Of course, he feels big in your hand, but you don’t have a full gauge of it – you can’t see it. Surely it can’t be that big. He’s probably just exaggerating. Regardless, you find it endearing that he’s so concerned about hurting you.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” You wave off the conversation because you enthusiastically want to get back to the journey you were on before.

His lips urgently find yours again and his fingers continue their plight inside you – two curling right into your sweet spot and his thumb rolling small circles into your swollen clit. You’re grateful for the loud party downstairs that masks some of the noises you’re making.

Your hand works on him at the same pace as his fingers do on you. Deep groans rumble in his chest and in the back of his throat.

Breathlessly, you pull from the kiss looking up at him like he’s a glass of water after a trek through the desert. “Fuck- I” A moan slips from you. “Fuck I need you. I need your cock.”

“Are you sure?” He asks and pulls away, “Because I–“

The pulsing in your core outweighs your patience and you hastily tug down his pants, letting his cock spring out fully.

Your eyes widen at his size. He wasn’t joking - he’s fucking massive. So massive in fact that it almost terrifies you and makes you question if it could even fit inside you. It’s almost as long as your arm and thicker than a can of RedBull.

Nick must’ve picked up on your fear because his cheeks grow rosy in embarrassment. “See. I told you.” He says dishearteningly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to try, I really understand. Just let me eat you instead?”

You blink at him, somewhat taken aback by the whole situation. As much as you wanted to try – and you really wanted to try, the worry of you both being too drunk to properly prep you was imminent and you really didn’t want to risk him hurting you.

“Okay…” You agree timidly. “Sure.”

He smiles seeming happy to just be able to make you feel good regardless. His lips meet yours again and repeat the same soft dance as earlier for a moment before beginning to pepper kisses down your body. First, your neck, giving you open-mouth kisses with an occasional suck. Then, down your torso and tummy until he’s finally between your legs. He swiftly slips your panties off.

His inked fingers help to spread you open, using your own arousal to easily slide between your lips.

“So pretty.” He mumbles before diving in causing an abrupt whine from you at the sudden stimulation.

His lips and tongue work as delicately and meticulously between your folds as they did with your mouth. You could swear his tongue was made of some sort of magic from how good he was making you feel already. His tongue was masterful in how it would flatten and then curve around your swollen clit.

You peer down at him at work, and he was so beautiful, eating you like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. He must’ve felt your gaze on him because he looks up at you with lustful but sweet green-grey eyes. They make your breath hitch in your throat.

It was artistic how he’d move his tongue up and down in swirly wavy patterns serving you a perfect rhythm of stimulation then rest then repeat. Not too fast, not too slow, not too hard, not too light. His tongue was immaculate.

“Fuck Nick,” You groan, letting your head fall harshly back on the pillow and your hand dives into his hair again. “Fuck don’t stop, that feels so fucking good- Fuck.”

The knot in your tummy grew more with each twist of his tongue and when he started incorporating his fingers again, hitting just the right spot, you knew you were done for.

“God, fuck!” You moan out loudly, tugging at his roots and rutting your hips up into his mouth. The knot threatening to snap at any given flick of his tongue. “Fuck, fuck, Nick, fuck I’m gonna cum!”

He speeds his pace up ever so slightly, not enough to ruin your ride but just enough to push you over the edge. He even lets out a moan against your cunt letting you know that really fucking likes the way you’re reacting to him.

Your grip on his hair is tight and probably painful but the screams that leave your throat distract you from staying gentle. Your legs clamp around his head and your back arches from the bed as you release fully onto him. He groans deeply against you again, seemingly even more turned on than before.

He doesn’t stop, no matter how tight your legs suffocate him or how hard you pull at his hair. He doesn’t stop for a second. His speed is perfect, enough to keep you going but not enough to overstimulate you. He keeps you riding a delicate tightrope, stretching your climax out as far as he can.

Your tummy fills with rampant butterflies and a buzzing spreads across your skin as he gently carries you into another orgasm. Pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave to shore. Every inch of your body reacts to him, bending to his skillful craft.

Screams erupt from the base of your throat, your body not able to contain the rush of euphoria that he’s sent you into. Your hips rut up into his mouth and your walls spasm around his fingers but he keeps his actions steady and consistent. His fingers curl and thrust into you harmoniously with his tongue, letting you ride out your high on his face.

You pat his head a bit to indicate you were done. He looks up at you so happy, so grateful to serve you. His eyes are bright and full of pride that he was able to make you feel that good.

He pulls away, revealing him working his still-hard cock in his hand. Watching him move his fist up and down his veiny shaft and roll around his head has you buzzing again. He slips his fingers from you and replaces his working hand with the one covered in your juices, using your orgasm as lubricant.

“Fuck.” He mumbles, his eyes still fixated on your dripping cunt.

Your hand slithers down between your legs and use two fingers to spread yourself open for him. His tongue swipes between his lips as you begin playing with yourself – dipping into your entrance to gather some arousal to bring up to your pulsing clit.

You bite down on your bottom lip while his hand speeds up on his member, the sight of it turning you on beyond belief – especially since he was using your slick to work himself. He pumps his member faster and faster, his chest heaving accordingly. You’re both transfixed on each other’s actions, just getting off at the sight of the other fucking themselves.

The head of his cock is so swollen and dark red and leaking precum. It’s massive and could probably fill your entire mouth if you were to suck him off. His hand grows erratic and sloppy as his other keeps him propped up on the bed.  

You feel a 3rd climax creeping up on you, filling your bud with nerves begging for relief again. Your free hand slides up your torso to squeeze your breast, watching him start to unravel. Your fingers work precise circles around your nub, occasionally moving down into your entrance. You never knew how powerful it could feel watching a man get off on just the sight of you. You loved the way his eyes tracked your fingers, how they’d widen if you spread your folds for him, how his hand would speed up if you fucked yourself.

“F-fuck.” He mutters, letting himself rest down on his elbow. “Ah-uh- fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He quickly lifts his shirt to reveal his tummy just before milky white ribbons decorate the tattoos there. His eyes flutter close, and his head lulls back as he works every bit of cum out of himself. His lips part slightly, letting delicious groans and whimpers pour from his mouth.

Thankfully, you’re just as close and his moans along with the sight of him coating himself in cum push you over the edge. Flashing white blinds your sight and your thighs clamp around your hand. Your fingers don’t stop moving until his hand does.

You ride out your highs together before your bodies relax back into the bed. You lay there breathless beside him, your chests rising and falling rhythmically. He hadn’t even fucked you but that was still some of the hottest sex you’d ever had. God, his tongue was nothing short of magical.

The silence between you both is awkward but endearing, unfamiliar but delicate. Your tummy fills with fluttering butterflies just at his proximity. Finding a guy who made you feel like this was the last thing you expected to happen tonight.

A chill from the air conditioning reminds you that you’re still bare from the waist down. Strawberry pink flushes your cheeks as you lower your skirt back down. He follows suit and tucks himself back into his boxers.

You nervously chuckle and go to speak but he starts at the same time as you. The blush on your cheek only worsens.

“Oh sorry I-“ You both fumble over each other’s words again.

“You go.” He offers.

“No, no you go.” You reply, motioning for him to speak.

He chuckles with his eyes adverting yours. “Um, sorry if – if, you didn’t want, erm, this.” Referencing his jerking off.

“No – no it was –“

“You just – you sounded so pretty.” He blurts out. “And you tasted so good… I just, got worked up.” His cheeks and the tip of his nose coated in a deep pink. “Sorry.”

You try to keep yourself from smiling too big because you find his embarrassment so cute.

“It’s okay. I liked it.” You reassure, and for some reason, it tints your cheeks too.

“You did?” He asks almost shocked.

“Mhm.” You reply, digging your teeth into your lip and nod. You liked it more than wanted to admit. “A lot.”

“Okay.” He nods bashfully. “I, um, I’m gonna clean up now. Can I get you anything?”

“Hmm, maybe a water when you’re done?”

“Okay.” He sits up a bit. “Um, do you mind just kind of, looking away?”

Your eyes furrow and your head tilts at him in confusion but you comply. “Sure.” You cover your eyes with your hands. “Why am I looking away?” You question, seeing as you just saw a lot of him.

He shifts in the bed, and you hear him slip his shirt off, probably to use it to clean up his mess.

“I don’t know. I just don’t like to be shirtless around people, I guess.” He answers shyly.

“Oh, I’m sure you look good!”

“No.” He scoffs adamantly, “Definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.” You hum, wiggling a bit while still covering your eyes. “But I’ll take your word for… for now.”

You sense him get off the bed and open some drawers. After a few moments, he lets you know it’s okay to look again. You open your eyes to see that he’s changed into a graphic tee and a pair of shorts that have some kind of wolf design on them. He somehow looks even better than before.

He returns with two bottles of water, one for you and one for him. He shuts the bedroom door so gently like he’s trying not to wake anyone, as if there isn’t a raging party downstairs. He hands you a water bottle before he cracks his own open and takes a gulp.

“Thanks.” You say with a small smile. As you steal your first sip, you take note of his shirt. “Deft-tones?” You sound out the word trying to make out what it means. “Is that a band or something?”

The look that washes over his face as he’s drinking is pure shock and confusion. You may as well have told him you didn’t know who Mickey Mouse was. He abruptly pulls the bottle from his lips with furrowed brows, “You’ve never heard of Deftones?”

You press your lips together and shake your head, “Nope.”

“You’ve never watched Star Wars and you’ve never listened to Deftones? What rock have you been hiding under?” He teases.

“I don’t know, a heavy one I guess.” You giggle and give him a shrug.

“Oh man. If I wasn’t still so drunk right now, I’d play you something.” He laughs and sits on the bed beside you. “But anything I play right now is gonna sound like ass.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” You smirk and shake your head. You hadn’t heard his band play, but judging by how skilled his fingers were, he had to be good.

“No, no. It’s true. But you’ve gotta let me play something for you sometime.” His grin begins wide then shortens. “If you want that is.”

Right then, you couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.

“I’d love that.”

tag list; i don't currently have a general tag list for all my fics so if you'd like to be added to that pls lmk!

a/n; thank you for reading if you did! i'm not that good at writing smut so sorry if it wasn't that great! i really enjoyed writing this one bc was just so fluffy and awkward and sweet, which is so different than anything else that i normally ever write LOL

Thank you for any support you guys ever give me on any of my works, it truly means the world to me that you guys enjoy my words and lil plots.

let me know if you liked it! i love hearing your thoughts 🩷

[tridentarii-trash]

Anyone else think about the “You have rendered yourself unlovable, Mercy” line in Harrow the Ninth way more than is probably healthy? Just me?

[ahhrenata]

golden hour 🌅

close up below the cut:

[goldnskyart]

Several months later I come back with more skater x nerd prinxiety that no one asked for-

Idc tho I love them an insane amount and I’ll keep drawing them so expect another one in a couple months😌 also a fic I’ll hopefully write,,

And some doodles cause ofc there’s doodles too

[pretentiouswreckingball]

I WISH YOU WOULD WRITE A FIC WHERE DRACO IS A PINING FUCKING MESS JUST SO PATHETIC ABOUT HARRY PLS LOOPS

A loud thud. Someone dropped a book a few tables away and Harry stirs besides him making a noise as he settles, but still doesn’t wake up, deep in his slumber. Draco looks around to see if anyone notices but no one is paying attention to them, to Harry specifically.

Only Draco pays that much attention to Harry. Always has, always will.

Arms crossed on the desk, supporting his head, Harry face is towards Draco and has been ever since the class started and he fell asleep mid lecture. He hasn’t move since, just stirring every now and then.

Draco doesn’t wake him, doesn’t have the heart to do so, not to Harry who drags himself around the castle looking death on his feet whenever Draco finds him in the corridors. Draco loathes the sight of those dark bags under his eyes, a permanent feature ever since… Since.

There’s another noise, a bang, and then a yelp. A crease appear between Harry’s eyebrows, mouth pouting a little in discontent at being disturbed in his sleep. Draco has to suppress the urge to smooth the frown with his thumb. Quick glance away to make sure no one pays them any mind, slowly, Draco raises his hand and put his finger over the crease, of course he does.

Draco is a weak weak man.

Light as a feather his touch lingers, as he lets his thumb trace the edges of Harry’s face, mapping his features ever so softly, delicate, tracing the invisible cracks Draco sees with so much clarity, much to his own cracked mask.

First his eyebrows, then his nose, the curve of his cheeks. He traces the golden skin that seems to glow under the light of the sun pouring from outside. A contempt sight leaves Harry’s lips at Draco’s dutiful administrations and Draco cannot take his eyes away from him.

Funny thing, imagination. Makes your mind wonder about the impossible, like what your life would’ve been if you didn’t make the mistakes you made or who would you be if you were someone else. Anyone.

Anyone. Anyone. Anyone.

Or, when the mind is as twisted as the man, it makes you wonder how the lips of your so-called enemy would feel under yours. No, not an enemy. Hasn’t been for a long time. Are they as soft as they look? Yes. Yes.

The noise around them increases suddenly and because he has been so lost in Harry, Draco doesn’t notice the class is over. Only when he sees movement in the corner of his eye, ginger hair approaching, Draco snaps his hand away.

“Alright, mate?” Weasley eyes the sleepy form of his friend first and then, looks towards Draco. Draco nods.

“Harry, wake up, the class is over,” Granger shakes Harry’s shoulders a little bit, to wake him up. And then, a little rougher when he doesn’t stir the first time.

Eventually, Harry awakes, startled at first wildly looking around, fear settled on this features but quickly melts as his gaze lands on Draco besides him. His body visibly sags in relief.

“Time to go, Harry,” Granger repeats and Harry looks away, gathering his things quickly, shoving them without finesse in his book bag. “We have to hurry if we want to catch Hagrid,”

“Yeah, yeah, coming,” Harry makes a motion with his hand towards the corridor so they can wait for him outside. With a final glance on Draco’s direction, they go.

Draco tries to linger but his things are all packed and ready to go so he doesn’t have an excuse to stay. Without looking his way, he adjusts the strap of his book bag and walks away without a word.

“Draco, wait!” Harry calls after him and Draco stops and turns around.

“Yes?”

Harry’s things are packed and he stands in front of him, hair a mess. Draco wonders, not for the first time, how it would feel under his touch.

Harry shuffle on his feet. “Thanks for not telling on me, that I fell asleep in the middle of the class, I mean.”

Draco nods. “Don’t you worry about it. All is well.”

“Yeah okay,” he tries to advert his gaze, two seconds later his eyes are on Draco again. A warm pleasant feeling invades Draco suddenly. “Also, er, I just wanted to let you know some of the Eight Years are planing a party in our common room before the hols and I was thinking that maybe you want to go?”Harry’s cheek turn the prettiest shape of pink with every word he says and Draco gets a little lost at the sight and takes a few seconds extra for his brain to register what he just said.

“I— I don’t think anyone wants me there,” he says, swallowing the shame.

“I want you there,” Harry frowns in confusion, as if the thought of anyone not wanting Draco is preposterous.

Now is turn Draco’s turn to feel his cheeks on fire. “I— I’ll think about it,”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Harry smiles the most dazzling smile at him and Draco can’t help to return the favor, only with a most reserved one.

“Harry!” They heard Granger call.

“Coming!” Harry shouts, never taking his eyes of Draco, “See you later?”

Draco nods, “Yes. Later.”

And with that, Harry turns around and walks out. Draco hears his voice fade alongside Granger and Weasley’s and waits another five seconds before walking out himself feeling lighter than he ever has been.

If that night, Draco’s dreams are plague with wild raven hair and beautiful pink cheeks, that’s no one business but his own.

[stygianheart]

I think one of my “favorite” things is when people misinterpret what it means to be aroace. Watching people so clearly not understand the complexity behind the spectrum of aromatic and asexuality and then proceed to say they “stand with” aroace as an ally is so hilarious to me. Especially when they use this to start bashing on a perfectly fine ship, especially because said ship gets in the way of theirs.

Aroace does not mean no attraction. The plastered poster face for it is people who don’t feel ANY types of attraction, but that does not mean everyone. Aromantic people can date and fall in love. Asexual people can fuck. Aroace people can do both.

Yes, aroace rep IS needed. But we still have it via Luffy—just because Luffy kisses someone (hypothetically) doesn’t mean we just yeeted the aroace label off of him. He is STILL aroace. You know who else is aroace? Bon Clay, for one. Zoro as well. Yet I don’t see people screaming that shipping Zoro with someone completely erases the aroace label, now do I?

Ugh, I’d totally make a whole ass essay about this, but it’s half till midnight. It’s just. Been on my mind for a few hours and I need to say a little shit

[thefanciestborrower]

They’ve taken over my brain