#˛⠀⠀˚ ⠀⠀😼⠀ ⠀⋆ ❪ threads ❫ ⠀ ⠀ ›

[bubblin-trouble]

Working on a video for the finale of Caly’s OB event HEHEHEHEHE

This event was kinda long but I had so much fun!! I hope everyone who participated did as well :)

[sixeyesonathiel]

holy week’s about to start, but i can’t stop fantasizing about yandere!gojo with a servant!reader who’s been his shadow forever so take this filth ive written on a whim<3 (if you've seen this earlier with a different age difference, no you didn't. did my best to reword/change everything because i changed the age tho kek, also made this more filthy as promised😼)

cw: heavy dubcon, yandere themes, manipulation, gaslighting, 3 year age gap, power imbalance, explicit sexual content (fingering, pussy slapping, nipple play, edging), dacryphilia, degradation/humiliation, corruption/dumbification, forced commitment, pseudo-sibling complex (not incestuous, just deep emotional bonds from shared childhood), 18+ only, minors DNI.

you’re his servant, three years younger, bound to him since your mother’s milk fed you both—her role was his wet nurse, his caretaker, tucking you into the same nursery, her lullabies stitching you to satoru like thread. you were his shadow in the gojo estate’s cold sprawl—a scrawny kid trailing his steps, offering him sticky candies, giggling when he’d lift you to reach the high shelves. he was the six eyes heir, a lonely boy with hair like starlight, locked away from the world. you’d crawl into his bed during storms, whispering stories to chase his fears, not knowing you were his anchor. he’d pat your head, call you his lucky charm, and you’d beam, too young to see the hunger in his eyes. it was innocent then—your adoration, his protection, a bond like siblings but not, woven from shared nights and secrets.

now you’re grown, or trying to be, with dreams of kyoto—books, freedom, a life beyond bowing. you tell him you’re leaving, voice small but brave, thinking he’ll pat your head like old times. satoru’s not that boy anymore. he’s taller, sharper, a god in human skin, his blindfold hiding eyes that could burn worlds. he leans against a pillar, smirking like you’ve told a joke. he asks for three days to “give you a proper goodbye.” you think it’s sweet, a nod to your childhood. you’re so fucking naive. he’s not saying farewell—he’s raging against you daring to take what’s his. you. his everything.

the night before your train, the bathhouse is a fog of steam, your shift damp, clinging to your thighs like a second skin. you’re rinsing your hair, humming, when the air thickens—electric, heavy. satoru’s there, lounging against the cedar wall, blindfold gone, his eyes a crazed blue, pupils dilated but still searing, like twin oceans swallowing the light. his white shirt’s half-open, collarbone sharp, hair damp, sticking to his forehead like he’s been pacing, plotting. his lips curl, boyish but venomous, a predator playing soft.

“you’re really gonna ditch me?” his voice is low, almost pouty, but there’s a razor in it, slicing through the steam. he steps closer, barefoot, silent, and your heart stumbles. his scent hits—clean, like rain and sugar, dizzying.

you try to laugh, to keep it light, like when you’d steal his mochi. “satoru, it’s not like that. i just… i wanna study, see things. you get it, right?” your words falter under his stare, those eyes—blue fire, pupils twitching, crazed but not lost. they pin you, strip you, like you’re glass.

he tilts his head, a silver strand falling over one eye, and his smile tightens, lips thinning. “you don’t sound convinced, pretty thing.” his hand lifts, slow, deliberate, catching your wrist. his fingers burn, too hot, and your pulse races under his thumb, betraying you. “think you can just walk out? after all i’ve done for you?”

“done for me?” you echo, voice catching. the steam’s choking, your shift’s too thin, and he’s too close, towering, his shadow eating yours. you step back, but the wall’s there, cool and slick against your spine.

his grip slides to your elbow, firm, pulling you flush against him. his chest is hard, warm through his shirt, and his breath brushes your cheek—mint, heat, sin. “you were mine from the start,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear, sending shivers to your core. “all those nights, your stories, your sticky little hands. you think that was nothing?” his free hand slips under your shift, tracing your thigh, slow, teasing, until your breath hitches.

you should push him off. this is satoru—your satoru, who’d carry you when you fell, who’d sneak you sweets—but not like this, not with his fingers climbing, brushing the damp cotton between your legs. “satoru, stop,” you whisper, but it’s weak, trembling, and your thighs part, just a fraction, traitor to your will.

he laughs, soft, cruel, his eyes glinting as his pupils pulse, blue blazing like a storm. “stop? oh, sweetheart, look at you.” his finger presses against your core, light, testing, and you gasp, knees wobbling. “already wet through this flimsy thing. what kind of good girl dreams of leaving then soaks herself for me?”

“i’m not—” you start, but his finger slips past the fabric, grazing your slit, and your words choke into a whimper. he’s watching, always watching—jaw tight, lips parted, a flush creeping up his neck like he’s barely holding on. the boy you loved is there, but twisted, hungry, his beauty sharper, meaner.

“not what?” he taunts, sliding one finger inside you, slow, deliberate, curling just enough to make you clench. “not mine? not desperate?” he steps closer, pinning you with his hips, and his cock’s hard against your thigh, straining through his pants. “you’re a fucking mess already, and i’ve barely started.”

tears prick your eyes, hot, spilling fast, and he groans, low, animal, leaning in to lick a stripe up your cheek. “fuck, you’re gorgeous when you cry,” he breathes, voice fraying, like your tears are his drug. his finger moves, slow, deep, and you’re trembling, heat pooling where he’s stretching you. “makes me wanna break you, pretty thing. wanna see how many tears you’ve got left.”

“satoru, please,” you sob, clutching his shirt, damp cotton twisting under your nails. your body’s screaming—too much, not enough—and he’s everywhere, his breath hot, his touch burning. you’re barely even an adult, barely anything, and he’s unraveling you like it’s his right.

“please what?” his voice drops, mocking, and he pulls back, eyes blazing, pupils wide but still blue, crazed, endless. “please stop? please more?” his thumb finds your clit, circling, and your hips buck, chasing the ache despite the shame clawing your throat. “you’re humping my hand like a needy slut. think kyoto’s got this? think anyone else can make you this dumb already?”

“no,” you gasp, and it’s true, god help you—he’s carved himself into you, every soft moment now a blade. his finger curls deeper, joined by another, stretching you, and you bite your lip, tears streaming as the burn twists into need.

he coos, soft, sickening, his free hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your tears. “aw, poor thing, crying so pretty for me.” his voice is honey, but his fingers thrust harder, slick sounds loud in the steam. “you don’t need dreams, sweetheart. you need me, don’t you? always have.” his lips brush yours, a tease, then pull back, leaving you chasing air.

“i just… i wanted—” you try, chasing what’s remaining of your reason, but his thumb grinds your clit, ruthless, and your words fracture into a moan. his smile’s gone, replaced by something darker—jaw clenched, eyes wild, like you’ve hurt him.

“wanted what?” he snaps, yanking his fingers out, and you whine, empty, hips twitching. “wanted to leave? to forget me?” his hand slaps your pussy, sharp, sudden, and you cry out, the sting melting into heat that makes you clench around nothing. “look at this greedy cunt,” he sneers, slapping again, harder, watching you jolt. “making a fucking mess all over me. you disappointed me, you know that?”

“i’m sorry,” you sob, frantic, nails digging into his arms. your tears are rivers now, and he drinks them in, his tongue darting out to taste your cheek again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. his fingers plunge back in, three now, brutal, curling against that spot that makes you see stars.

“sorry’s not enough,” he growls, but his voice cracks, raw, like he’s the one breaking. “you did this to me, you know. all those years, following me, needing me—fuck, you think i wanted to crave you like this?” his thumb’s back on your clit, circling fast, and you’re trembling, so close it’s painful. “you’re mine, pretty thing. say it.”

“i’m yours,” you whimper, voice raw, and his eyes soften, just a flicker, before they harden again, pupils pulsing in that crazed blue sea. he kisses you then, hard, possessive, teeth clashing as he swallows your sobs, his tongue claiming every corner of your mouth like it’s his territory.

“good girl,” he purrs, pulling back, lips wet, swollen. “but you’re still a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” his fingers slow, teasing, keeping you dangling, and you whine, hips grinding against his hand. he slaps your pussy again, twice, three times, each one meaner, and you’re keening, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the floor. “won’t you look at this?” he laughs, mocking, holding up his hand, glistening with you. “you’re soaking me, sweetheart. what a dirty fucking mess.”

“satoru, please,” you beg, voice breaking, and he coos again, sickeningly sweet, his free hand sliding to your chest, yanking your shift down to bare your breasts. his eyes darken, pupils twitching, and he leans in, latching onto your nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing.

“fuck, these are perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue flicking, and you arch, moaning, oversensitive. he pulls back, eyes locked on yours, and his voice drops, filthy, reverent. “your mom fed me, you know—gave me her milk. and now here i am, sucking on her daughter’s tits like a starving man.” he bites down, just enough to sting, and you scream, soft and broken, as he laves over the mark. “kinda poetic, huh? full fucking circle.”

you’re babbling now, incoherent—his name, please, more—lost in the heat, the pain, the way his fingers fuck you relentless, thumb grinding your clit until you’re teetering, body taut. “satoru, i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“not yet,” he snarls, yanking his hand free, and you wail, empty, aching, hips bucking into nothing. your knees give, but he catches you, pinning you to the wall with his body, cock hard and leaking through his pants, pressing against your belly. “you don’t come ‘til i say, you hear me?” his voice is low, fraying, and his eyes—still blue, but crazed, electric—bore into you, daring you to disobey.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you sob, frantic, hands scrabbling at his chest, his shirt wet with your tears, your slick. his skin’s fever-hot, muscles tense, and his breath’s ragged, hitching like he’s fighting himself.

he leans in, forehead to yours, damp hair sticking to your skin. “you’re not sorry yet, pretty thing.” his voice is soft, dangerous, and his hand’s back, four fingers now, stretching you wide, palm slapping your clit with every thrust. “but you will be. gonna fuck you ‘til you’re too dumb to want anything but me.”

you’re gone, body seizing, babbling nonsense—satoru, please, need you, yours—and he’s murmuring filth, fractured, unhinged. “that’s it, fuck, look at you—gushing like a whore for me. think your silly books can do this? think anyone else can wreck you like this?” his fingers twist, relentless, and your cries echo, too loud, obscene in the cedar haze.

“no one,” you choke, and he rewards you with a kiss, softer this time, but still possessive, tongue tracing your teeth like he owns them. “only you, satoru, please—”

“damn right,” he growls, and his face shifts—jaw tight, eyes blazing, a flush painting his cheeks like he’s burning from the inside. “you’re mine—every fucking breath, every drop of you.” his fingers slow, dragging out the torment, and you’re begging, hips grinding, voice shot. he slaps your pussy one last time, so hard you scream, and you clench, leaking down his arm.

“come for me,” he finally rasps, voice raw, like it’s torn from his soul. “come all over my hand, show me you’re my good fucking girl.” and you do, shattering, gushing, body convulsing as you soak him, slick dripping to the floor. you’re babbling—satoru, yours, love you—words spilling without sense, and he fucks you through it, cooing how perfect you are, how you’re his, lips brushing your tears like they’re gold.

you’re limp, panting, but he’s not done. he kneels, yanking your shift higher, and licks a slow, greedy stripe up your thigh, tasting you. “fuck, you’re sweet,” he groans, eyes meeting yours—still blue, crazed, but softer, sated. “gonna eat you proper later, sweetheart. but not yet.” he stands, his tongue flicks your nipple again, teasing, and you whimper, oversensitive.

then he’s pulling you into his arms, strong, too strong, like he’s scared you’ll vanish. “you’re not leaving,” he says, quiet, final, his breath hot against your hair. “not tomorrow, not ever.”

you don’t fight. you can’t. a week later, a ring glints on your finger, his clan’s crest cold against your skin. he calls you his fiancée, voice dripping pride, and you smile, because he’s satoru—your satoru, who gives you silk, sweets, his endless obsession. you don’t need kyoto, or dreams. he’s burned them all to ash, and you let him, because he’s all you know.

[innorality]

could you do satoru coming home with a huge scar on his stomach after not contacting his gf for weeks and then reassuring her with intimacy please?

HEAVEN CAN WAIT — G. SATORU

cw : sad in the beginning, afab reader, unprotected, p in v, honestly very cute sex nothing too kinky

a/n : tysm nonnie you gave me the opportunity to use this song as a title finally 🥹 also this idea is so cute like yes pls soft vanilla "I missed you sex" with satoru #needthat !!! also #satoruisalive I believe in it 💔 oh and I'm so sorry this feels very rushed and is not proofread :(

wc : 1335 words 😼

empty. cold. that’s how his side of the bed felt at the moment. it had been weeks since you last saw him, and days since his last message. your eyes stayed glued to your screen, rereading his final words over and over again.

"i luv youuu"

cold tears slipped down your cheeks. you weren’t even sure if they were from grief or from your irritated eyes after staring at the screen for so long without blinking. deep down, you knew the truth—you weren’t dumb. this was bound to happen one day. but you weren’t ready to accept it yet. you wanted to stay in denial just a little longer.

satoru was supposed to be the strongest. so why hadn’t he come home?

with a shaky breath, you shut your phone off and set it aside. hugging his pillow tightly, you buried your face into it—only to realize it didn’t even smell like him anymore.

silent sobs wracked your body as exhaustion finally overtook you.

but in the dead of night, a noise startled you awake.

footsteps.

first near the front door. then in the living room. the kitchen.

and now… heading toward your bedroom.

afraid, you hid under your blanket like a child. you didn’t know if it was reflex or true fear—because honestly, after losing the man you loved, life had lost all meaning.

the door slid open, and you held your breath.

then, a voice.

"baby?"

satoru.

your heart stopped, then raced. it was him. the way he said your name, the way his voice carried through the room—you had missed it more than words could express. before you could think, you jumped out of bed and ran straight into his arms, clutching him as if he might disappear again.

he hugged you back just as tightly.

"where… where the hell were you?! you don’t know how worried i was, how much i cried! i thought you were—"

his lips met yours, silencing your frantic words with a soft peck.

"now, now," he murmured against you, his tone laced with that familiar teasing warmth. "i’m here, and that’s all that matters, pretty."

you pouted, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest, holding him closer. but then your fingers brushed against something different—a rougher patch of skin around his stomach.

a scar.

your breath hitched. "how did you..."

he turned away slightly, avoiding your gaze. guilty. he didn’t want to talk about it.

so you didn’t push.

instead, he gently eased you back onto the bed, his lips finding yours again, slow and deliberate.

"i was this close to dying," he murmured between kisses, trailing from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck. "but i remembered you were waiting at home for me..." his words sent a shiver down your spine as his kisses grew deeper, needier.

"and i decided that heaven could wait."

you let out a breathless giggle, threading your fingers through his white locs."you think you’re going to heaven?" you teased, tugging playfully at his hair. "what a joke."

swiftly, he unbuttoned the blouse you had on and grabbed a handful of your breast, massaging it gently while sucking and nibbling on your neck to create a colorful bruise. sweet moans of his name slid out of between your lips against your will and he simply smirked at them.

"I know you cried, and I know you were cold," his eyes bored into yours, "but now that I'm here, I promise I won't ever leave again." and this time, you're the one that closed the space between your lips. you knew that his promise wasn't true at all, but you decided to ignore that fact and let yourself believe it for the span of a single night. in the heat of the moment, your hand slid down his chest and onto his pelvis, before sneaking its way into his pants, stroking his erection sensually.

satoru moaned into your mouth before taking this bold action of yours as a sign to give you pleasure aswell, his hand rubbing your pussy through your thin panties. "Oh shit- yeah, just like that, 'toru.." your head fell to the side as his hand slid into your panties, rubbing up and down your slit to collect some of your wetness before rubbing tight and quick circles onto your clit, making you needily clench around nothing.

meanwhile, your hand was still skillfully rubbing his cock, thumb rubbing on his tip making him jolt up from the sudden intense pleasure. satoru bit his lip before penetrating you with two of his digits, making you gasp in utter shock and awe. your breath followed the rhythm of his fingers that he pumped in and out of you, as you sped up the speed of your own hand.

as expected, you felt orgasm build up pretty quickly, and as you were of the edge of climaxing, you stopped him. "stop, stop! 'toru, stop it," and he quickly halted his movements, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort or pain. "I'm sorry baby, did I hurt you? I'm so fucking sorry, fuck-" you interrupted him, "no honey, I just..." you bit the inside of your cheek, "after all this time, I wanna cum on your dick, not your fingers..." and you felt his cock twitch at your words. he stared at you in shock before his expression turned into a lustful smile.

and before you even realized it, he had taken your hand out of his pants, before taking said pants off along with your panties in a span of a second. impressive.

"you know baby," he rubbed up and down your slit with the tip of his cock, "even though I won't go to heaven, I'll make sure you do," he aligned his tip with your entrance. "what do you mean?" he pressed a quick kiss against your lips. "I'll take you there myself." and with that, he bottomed out inside you in one swift motion.

your jaw dropped and you instinctively closed your eyes to embrace the familiar sensation of him inside you, but he tapped your cheek with his finger to get your attention. "eyes on me love." and so you obliged, opening your eyes to be met with an expression that seemed to be the results of a love and lust mix.

the sound of his hops meeting yours over and over again made you delirious along with the sensation of his cock claiming your insides and the intense eye contact you held with satoru. at some point, satoru can't hold in anymore—he whines and moans into your ear, whispering confessions such as "fuck– I love you too much, baby-" and "I missed this so bad... holy shit, yeah- I need this- oh fuck, yeah.." which did nothing but turn you on even more.

your hand went straight to your clit to rub it when you felt your orgasm building up again. satoru chased your high as much as you did, using his six eyes to hit all those gummy spots that made you see stars. "fuck- m'cumming, m'cumming!" you couldn't hold back your voice as your orgasm crashed over you without a warning. you struggled to keep your eyes on him as you twitched and shook with the intensity of the orgasm, as it had been weeks since you deemed yourself worthy enough to feel pleasure.

satoru's orgasm followed suit, shooting long ropes of cum into your womb, as your tight grip pulled strings of moans of your name out of his mouth.

as you both calmed down, satoru pulled his cock out and flopped on his back next to you.

a comfortable silence fell upon the both of you before you broke it, "you know," he hummed in acknowledgement, "you were right." his head whips to the side to look at you, who was already turned towards him. "what about?", you smiled, looking at the ceiling, "you did take me to heaven, after all."

you crawled on top of him to kiss his scar, making him feel a bit tingly. he patted your head, "and I'd do it all over again just for you, love."

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

hold on,hold on,Yandere!Conner Kent x reader🙏🏻

(sorry for bothering😭)

U ain't a bother and if anybody tells you that u do, then, they gonna face my pinky, my thumb and my fist they gonna run. 😼🐺🧏🏽‍♀️ nobody messes with my first ever anon 😠👊

Anyways

The night has fallen quietly over Metropolis, the cityscape softened under a blanket of stars. The world feels smaller somehow, contained within the walls of your apartment where Connor sits, angled slightly toward you, his gaze unwavering yet serene. He has that brooding, intense look—a mix of steel and tenderness—that you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his. It’s as though he’s carrying a burden, one he won’t let you see, and yet you feel its weight as if he’s drawn you into his orbit without permission.

“Connor,” you say softly, trying to break the quiet, “you’ve been… around a lot more lately.”

His eyes flicker, something shadowy dancing behind them, a vulnerability he usually keeps hidden. He doesn’t answer right away, just lets his gaze travel over your features as if memorizing every detail. The room feels charged, the air between you like the fine thread of a spider’s web—delicate and unbreakable all at once.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hushed but firm. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so wrong?”

There’s a faint, haunting cadence in his words, something raw and possessive yet laced with an almost tragic reverence. You feel the intensity radiating off him, a barely restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Nothing could happen to you,” he continues, almost to himself. “Not on my watch. I’d make sure of that.”

You’ve always known Connor’s protectiveness runs deep, but tonight, it feels like there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. An edge, a quiet desperation that clings to the room, thick as fog.

“Connor…” you say his name with a gentle tone, hoping it might pull him out of whatever dark place he’s retreating into. He’s so close now, leaning forward, his hand reaching out as if compelled by some invisible force. When his fingers graze your cheek, his touch is featherlight, as though he fears you’ll vanish.

“If I could keep you here,” he whispers, his tone taking on a dreamy, almost poetic quality, “locked away from the world… I would. Not because I want to take anything from you, but because I… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

It’s a confession wrapped in longing, and you see the truth of it in his eyes, where constellations seem to burn just for you. There’s something about his gaze that feels eternal, as if the universe itself has handed him the task of guarding you.

“You mean a lot to me,” he says finally, each word slow and deliberate, as though he’s trying to etch them into your soul. “More than you know.”

In that moment, his love feels like an uncharted ocean—beautiful and terrifying, with depths you’re not sure you’re ready to explore. But his sincerity anchors you, and, despite the intensity of his words, you can’t help feeling safe, cocooned in the quiet power of his devotion.

(A/n: is it just me or do you guys also feel suspicious of how I could post every day despite saying I'm too lazy to do so... Maybe my laziness hasn't kicked in yet which is weird and scary considering I'm writing dis rn in front of my 10 homework activities, and yes I am doing it last minute but so what...? I'm too lazy to do all of em and rn I'm don't know what I am talking about... I love yapping but I'm a introvert does it make me a extrovert when i talk too much but not as loud? Guys I'm turning crazy, I need someone to talk to and all my best friends are busy idk why they've been busy since last week....my gf is not replying for like 20 minutes now...im going crazy. Also sorry for spamming the Batfamily tag even though it's not the content I posted, I just feel like it's more famous than the others and also idk how to tag... Though mainly because I'm scared of being a flop hehe...)

[enimsiyobeht]

8 that! (ate that). drabble.

mdni 😼 !! boypussy seonghwa x amab reader. power bottom hwa & service top reader if you squinttt (its obvious). implied 9th member reader. risky setting (they're literally doing allat on the couch but they dgaf), seonghwa. wearing. lace. panties. (#needthat). use of folds, pussy, lips, hole, clit, cunt, and entrance as seonghwa's gential. oral (s. receiving), minor fingering (s. receiving), cowgirl, unprotected sex (in my defense, they ran out of condoms), mention of birth control pill, 1st time raw, minor squirting, multiple orgasms if you think about it.

It started innocently, like most things with Seonghwa did.

A lazy afternoon, sunlight filtering through the curtains, the two of you tucked into the corner of the couch like you had no plans to move for the rest of the day. The drama playing on the TV had been long forgotten, reduced to background noise while Seonghwa half-lay across your lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, your hand casually massaging slow circles into his upper thigh.

“Comfy?” you murmured, your thumb grazing dangerously close to the hem of his shorts.

“Mhm.” He didn’t look up. “But your fingers are distracting.”

“You want me to stop?”

He paused. Then finally glanced at you, eyes lidded, lips curling into that subtle smirk he wore when he wanted trouble. “Did I say that?”

You let out a low chuckle and slid your hand a little higher. He was only wearing one of your oversized hoodies—soft gray cotton that hung halfway down his thighs—and you could feel just a sliver of bare skin beneath. No waistband. No shorts?

Your brows lifted. “Are you seriously naked under this?”

Seonghwa gave you an innocent look, like he didn’t know what you were talking about. “They’re lace,” he said, tone light, teasing. “You like them.”

“Oh, you little shit.”

Your hand slipped up between his thighs, and he shifted without protest, letting you explore. Sure enough, when your fingers brushed up against the delicate fabric, they came away wet. A soft patch of slick had soaked straight through the thin lace, and the sight of it—the feel of it—sent heat surging through your body.

“I knew you were acting bratty for a reason,” you muttered, leaning in so your lips brushed his temple. “You’ve been wet this whole time?”

“Maybe,” he whispered, sounding a little breathless now, voice betraying the calm expression on his face. “Thought you’d notice sooner.”

“I always notice, Hwa. I just like watching you squirm first.”

His legs parted instinctively, just a bit, the slow tease between your fingers making his thighs twitch. You slid your palm higher, cupping him through the lace, and he gasped softly—hips pressing up against your touch like he couldn’t help it.

“You're soaked,” you whispered against his cheek. “All for me?”

He looked at you, eyes glassy now, lips parted. “Who else?”

That did it.

You guided him down onto the cushions, the hoodie riding up as he settled into the plush corner of the couch. His thighs fell open easily, confidently—he knew exactly what he was doing, stretched out for you, letting that soaked patch of lace be the center of your attention.

“Wanna show me properly?” you asked, voice low, reverent.

He bit his lip, lifted the hoodie just enough to give you a clear view, and you exhaled like he’d knocked the wind out of you.

“Fuck, baby…”

The lace clung to his folds, transparent now with slick, the fabric darkened where it had soaked through entirely. Your mouth watered at the sight, and your hands trembled slightly as you leaned in.

“You always this cocky when you’re dripping through your panties?”

Seonghwa tilted his head back, exhaling a shaky laugh. “Only when I know you’re gonna take care of it.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

You pressed a kiss over the fabric first, mouthing at the sticky heat beneath. He shivered, fingers already threading through your hair as you pulled the panties aside with your teeth, slow and deliberate.

His pussy was soaked—lips glistening, hole twitching gently like it already missed being filled. You groaned at the sight.

“You taste so fucking good,” you growled, dragging your tongue from his entrance to his clit, slow and reverent.

Seonghwa moaned, high and pretty, back arching against the couch. “F-Fuck—baby…”

You licked into him again, slower this time, tongue pressing inside while your nose bumped against his clit. His fingers tugged at your hair, not to guide you—just to anchor himself as the pleasure rolled over him in waves.

“You always eat like you’re starving,” he gasped.

“I am starving,” you mumbled into his cunt. “For you.”

He whimpered. “You’re such a fucking menace.”

You grinned against him and buried your face even deeper, locking your arms around his thighs and holding him open as your tongue worked him in slow, wet circles—savoring every moan, every stutter of his hips, every time his thighs trembled and he whined out your name.

Your tongue worked him open, slow and deep, letting the taste of him linger on your tongue as you moaned against his soaked heat. Seonghwa was already squirming, trying not to buck up too much, voice catching every time you teased his entrance just to pull away again.

“Fuck—why are you so good at this,” he breathed out, head tilted back, hair sticking to his forehead from the heat building between you both. “You’re gonna make me cum just like this.”

“That’s the idea,” you murmured against his folds. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

He whimpered, a little breathless laugh escaping his lips. “You always say that… but you really mean it when you’re between my legs.”

You smiled, and this time you brought your hand into play—thumb gently circling his clit while two fingers found his twitching hole, rubbing against it, pressing inside slowly. He gasped, the stretch already making his eyes flutter closed.

“God,” you whispered. “You’re so fucking tight… always pull me in like you were made for it.”

“I was,” he moaned, shifting his hips to help you go deeper. “Fuck, baby, right there—”

Your fingers curled instinctively, hitting his spot, and he nearly sobbed. Slick squelched around your hand, leaking onto the couch beneath him, and you just kept going—devoted, careful, focused on his pleasure and nothing else.

Your cock throbbed in your pants, painfully hard, but you ignored it. This was about him. Watching him fall apart, giving him everything he needed—that was enough.

When his thighs started shaking and his walls fluttered around your fingers, you slowed, gently easing off so he could catch his breath.

Seonghwa blinked down at you, dazed. “Why’d you stop?”

You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, kissed the inside of his thigh. “Because I wanted you to cum like that. Thought I’d deal with this—” you gestured vaguely at the obvious bulge in your pants, “—later.”

Seonghwa stared at you for a second. Then he laughed—quiet and disbelieving—as he sat up and swung a leg over your lap, settling his weight right against your bulge with no hesitation.

“Hwa—wait,” you breathed, hands landing on his hips to still him.

“No,” he said firmly, eyes locking with yours. “You get me soaked, finger me open on the couch, and you think I’m gonna let you walk away hard?”

You exhaled, jaw tight with restraint. “We’re out of condoms.”

That made him pause, but not in the way you expected. He blinked once, slowly, then tilted his head. “So?”

You stared. “So I’m not gonna fuck you without one. I told you I would never—”

“I know,” he cut in, voice low and steady now. “That’s why I’m telling you it’s okay.”

Your heart jumped.

He leaned in, hands braced on your chest. “It’s just you. Only you. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck, Hwa…” you swallowed hard, already pulsing against him. “You sure?”

He nodded slowly, rolling his hips once against you, dragging his soaked pussy along the shape of your cock through your pants. “I’m on the pill. I haven’t let anyone else touch me since we started this. I want to feel you—really feel you.”

That snapped the last thread of your resistance.

You lifted your hips, enough to shove your sweats down fully, and your cock slapped up against your stomach, glistening with precum from the arousal of eating him out. Seonghwa stared for a second, eyes wide and blown out.

Then, without a word, he reached between you, lined himself up, and sank down.

The gasp he let out was sharp, desperate, his back arching as he took you to the hilt in one smooth motion. Your own breath stuttered, eyes rolling back as his bare heat wrapped around you—tight and wet and fucking perfect.

“Holy shit,” you groaned, hands flying to his waist to steady him. “You’re—fuck—you feel so...”

Seonghwa was shaking already, mouth parted in a silent moan as he adjusted to the stretch. “It’s so much,” he gasped, nails digging into your chest. “I can feel everything.”

You didn’t dare move yet—too overwhelmed by the pulsing heat gripping you tight, milking you, like his body never wanted to let go.

He rocked his hips once, shallow and slow, and the both of you moaned in sync.

“I’m never letting you go back to condoms,” he whispered through a breathless laugh.

You almost laughed back, but it turned into a grunt as he picked up the pace—grinding down, bouncing in your lap, sweet pussy swallowing your cock with messy, wet sounds that made your spine tingle.

“Hwa—fuck, baby—” Your grip on his hips tightened. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“I know,” he panted, flushed and ruined already, moving with confidence. “So don’t hold back. Give it to me.”

You thrust up to meet him and his head fell back, voice breaking on a moan. You were already close—too close from how long you’d been teasing each other. But you wanted him to cum first, to cream all over your cock, to make the mess he clearly wanted.

“Cum on me,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss the column of his throat. “Make me feel it, baby. Soak me.”

And with one more deep thrust, he did—walls clenching tight as he cried out, grinding down hard as he came, making slick gush over your cock and thighs, warm and wet and obscene.

Your release followed seconds later, buried deep inside him, body locking up as you groaned into his neck and filled him with every drop.

yeah i kinda ate that shit up.

[kisseobie]

SOUL TEXTS SOUL TEXTSSSSSS!!!!

(pretty pretty pretty please🙏🏼😔)

*make ‘em a lil freaky😼)

boyfriend soul texts

pairings: soul x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni), angsty in one text thread

a/n: guys writing for soul is already hard but it’s even harder to write texts for him because i cannot imagine him not communicating in emoticons 😭 but for the more serious scenarios i couldn’t have him doing allat sooo i was scratching my head trying to figure out my characterization of him via text..

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ

[answerringg]

mini thread of lando's perky nipples 😼

lando's legs and nipples are my favourite

[nulltune]

relief should be what follows the aftermath of a battle but there's a gasp  ——  and the mere sight of that crimson liquid has soft voice trembling,  concern tinging delicate features.  she is at his side in an instant,  doe eyes widening a fraction.       ❛   you're bleeding ...   ❜       it's pointless to state the obvious,  but the thought doesn't cross her mind,  focused on the other's injury.  it's a minor injury,  most likely not hitting anything vital  ...  if anything,  it was fortunate that this was all the damage he'd taken throughout the fight.  but ...  but—

the change is easy to notice,  a solemn look on what is typically a stoic countenance.  narrowed eyes fixated on his wounded leg.  if she were more competent,  then surely this wouldn't have ...

❛   are you able to walk ?   ❜       it's no time to be stuck on hypotheticals  /  moping like that.  she ought to think of what she could do to help.       ❛   starfell lake is not too far from here ...  we could stop by,  at least clean the wound ...   ❜       it's a much preferrable outcome to him having to return home injured.  it wasn't like he was in a state that warranted such worries,  but ...  just seeing him wince from the pain was ...  so terrible.  expecting a refusal from the stubborn man,  hakuno lowers herself  —  bowing in an earnest plead  —  before he could get a word in.       ❛   please !   ❜       ( the rabbit plush,  still in her hands,  is also positioned to have its head held down to bow along with her. )

Her assessment is not unheard, his lips curving into a knowing smile beneath the hood of his disguise, amused at her quick assessment, but more so by the idea of her frowning at his injuries. It is endearing; the care offered, the advice given, the emotions felt. He’s used to being along in this work, for it to be thankless and gruelling bar the odd comment offered by those who suspect his activities.

“I will bear it in mind. If you do not wish to leave, then at least step clear… ” he returns, steeling his gaze and swinging his greatsword. A fierce swing of the blade brings it forth, the sheer power in the blow sweeping a hilichurl from its feet before he breaks into a sprint to tackle the crowd before him. It is almost a dance; the agile movements and strong swipes of his blade, dancing flames flickering around both him and the weapon until a burst of the phoenix is sent forth to clear the ground. He does not relent, a bastion of endurance until every enemy is defeated or dispersed, even after standing firm, chest heaving as he cleans his blade on the grass.

“That should deal with them for the day…” Satisfied, he steps forward, turning back towards her, then staggers, catching himself upon his greatsword. There’s a furrow of his brow behind his mask as he attempts to discern just what the issue is, then his free hand reaches down to the throb of pain on his leg, fingers of his glove stained crimson. A loose arrow, could be worse.

[anjee0]

You're beautiful

Female!Reader x Recovery!2010's!Eminem (Fell free to use your own OC insert as well)

Description - Y/n and Marshall have been friends who have been harbouring feelings for each other for a years now. Marshall notices that Y/n has developed an eating disorder and decides to show her just how beautiful she really is.

Warnings - Eating disorder, body dysmorphia, smut, mentions of overdosing and drugs.

Requested by @shadyyrecords

Marshall and f!reader know each other for a long while. They had a really strong relationship, especially because f!reader helped him through his drug addiction when he was depressed bc of Proof’s death, and so he was really protective towards her. They became famous together (him ofc as a rapper and f!reader as a model). But due to comments by her managers and the haters and journalists because of her body she developed an eating disorder and Marshall slowly saw the signs and he tries to help her. He’s scared for her by how much he loves her and he confesses his feelings in the end !! And maybe some sexual tension in the end ?? (Like he becomes a little angry by how much she doesn’t like her body and he decides to show her how gorgeous and beautiful she is)

@sweetmusicvoid (ik u were waiting for this 😼🩷)

You fiddled with the keys in your hand before unlocking the door to Marshall’s mansion, and making your way in. The house had felt all too familiar, your constant visits had turned the house into a second home for you. A place where you could find comfort, trust and most importantly, your best friend Marshall. He was lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching the TV, but not paying much attention. It was common for him to zone out when watching TV.

“Hey Ken.” You greeted.

Marshall snapped out of his trance and fixed his gaze on you, who was making your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Hey Barbie.” He responded as he watched his friend rummage through the freezer for ice.

“You seriously need to invest in those fridges that pump ice out for you.” You said, shutting the freezer with an expression of mock disappointment on her face.

“My fridge is perfectly fine. It serves its purpose and keeps my food and drinks cool.”

“Just a little advice.”

You sat next to him on the sofa and laid your head on his lap, a very common gesture between the both of you. You closed your eyes as you felt Marshall’s hand thread through you hair gently.

You and Marshall were the definition of two peas in a pod. You had known each other since highschool, and grew closer ever since. You helped Marshall with Proof’s passing and his difficult journey to sobriety, ensuring that you were right next to him through every step of the way. It only strengthened your bond, making it unbreakable. You both wouldn’t dare to imagine what a life without the other would be like. Marshall had also helped you in many ways too. One of his biggest being helping you to achieve your dream to become a model. You were both incredibly successful and loved by many. Rumours of you two dating would buzz through the media and tabloids, but you guys would always deny it, stating that they were only friends. However, the two of you secretly wished it wasn’t true, and that you were truly in a more intimate relationship. But both of your pride got in the way, restricting you from sharing this secret that laid deep down in your hearts.

However, the past few weeks had felt off, and oddly different. Marshall felt a shift in the air. The signs started off small. They were noticeable but not big enough to raise any suspicion. But it had only continued to grow. It first started off with you going to the gym more often. 1 hour sessions became 2 hours. 10 minute peaceful strolls to admire the sunset became 30 minute serious jogs with no time for rest. It only got worse when you started skipping meals, claiming that you had already eaten. And for the rare moments when you had eaten, you would take small proportions. Not to mention your habit of excessively drinking water came into sight as well. Marshall had never seen someone chug two glasses of water so quickly. 

He watched you with intent, examining your well rested face. He was so curious to know what was happening behind it. What was making you do this? He pulled out his phone and did some quick research. A few taps and clicks revealed an answer he wasn’t looking forward to. He felt his stomach churn as he read that all your signs had pointed to symptoms of an eating disorder. His breath got caught in his throat, as his eyes continuously scanned over the text again and again. Sighing, he put his phone down as immediate suspicions for your modelling agency came to his mind. He knew how toxic the modelling agency could be at times. He knew that you had been through a lot, but he also knew that you always came back up. 

Marshall softly exhaled through his nose, continuing to run his hand through your hair. A pang of guilt hit his system. How could he let his friend, the person he loves and cares for so much suffer in silence like this. He felt like an idiot for not noticing earlier. He felt a slight twist of sadness that you would keep something so serious like this from him. 

The evening rolled around as the sun started to set, making the sky a beautiful arrangement of watercolours blended together. Marshall looked back at the meal he’d prepared that was sitting on the stove. His lips curled into a victorious smile, feeling proud of his creation. The pair of steaks looked glorious as it sat on the pan, looking cooked to perfection. At that moment, you walked into the kitchen, the aromatic scent of the steaks immediately reaching your nostrils. Your eyes wandered over to the meal, taking in the beauty of it.

“That looks great Marsh.” You complimented, taking a closer look at it.

“Thanks. Set the table up. I’ll serve us some dinner. I made mash for the sides and I prepared some vegetables too.”

“That sounds amazing. But I already ate.”

Marshall felt that familiar odd feeling in his stomach again. His heart beated quickly as his jaw tightened, knowing that you were lying. “When did you eat?”

“When I went out for a jog. I stopped to get some food.” The lie left your lips so effortlessly, like it meant nothing to her at all. Like it was so easy.

“Oh, what did you have?”

“Just a burger.”

“Sounds nice.” Marshall cracked his knuckles, searching his mind for a good response. “If you get hungry, let me know. I’ll serve up some steak.”

You licked your lips and nodded. “Okay then. Thanks.”

You guys settled down at the table, sitting across from each other. In front of Marshall was the steak, plated on a white porcelain plate along with mash and a mixture of steamed vegetables. You sat on the other side, glancing over at the plate every moment or so. Marshall would catch you sneaking a peek every now and then. He could see you were hungry, he saw it in your face.

“Hey, if you're hungry, you can always ask for the other steak.” Marshall said softly.

“No, I can't…” You replied, her voice quiet and timid.

“What do you mean you can't?”

A glimpse of panic spread over your face as you searched your mind for the correct response. “Well, because I already ate. And I'll be sick if I eat more and…” Your voice slowly trailed off. 

His face softened into one of hurt and sadness. He could feel cracks break through his heart as he heard the vulnerability in your voice. Your eyes turned glassy with tears as you struggled to hold them back. Your vision blurred, and finally, you let go, allowing a tear to run down your cheek.

“I don't know Marshall…” You replied as your voice broke. “I… I just…” You took a deep breath that felt shaky and unstable. A lump in the back of your throat formed, choking the words that you could barely form in your mouth.

Marshall got out of his seat and went to your side, kneeling beside you. He looked up at you, his expression one of worry and empathy. He placed his hand in yours, offering a sense of comfort and reassurance. “Let's sit on the couch. And we can talk about this together, okay?”

He brought you over to the couch and sat you down. His hand was still placed in yours, still giving his safety to you. As you sat down, his softened gaze was fixed on you, examining every aspect of your face. He squeezed your hand gently, letting you know that he was ready to listen.

“Everything was fine Marshall,” You started. Your eyes darted around the room, unable to make eye contact with him. “And then my modelling agency started telling me that I was gaining weight and that it didn’t look good.”

Marshall’s jaw tightened as he heard those words come out of your mouth as his blood started to simmer with anger. He nodded and tried to keep his composure as he gently moved his thumb up down your knuckles.

“They told me to start eating less and to exercise more.” A beat of silence hung in the air before you spoke up again. “And I did. I thought everything would be fine. But it just went downhill from there.”

The tears began building up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You let the bitter tears of sadness and pain roll down your cheeks. Marshall reached his hand out and wiped them away, his heart aching at the sight of your pain.

“Everytime I looked in the mirror, I would just feel disappointed at what I saw. I didn't feel beautiful or confident anymore. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin.” Your voice trembled with every word as more tears began falling down your face. “I just want it to stop.”

Marshall pulled you in for a tight embrace. You buried your face deep into the crook of his neck as you grabbed his shirt tightly. He slowly stroked your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, reassuring you deeply.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sobbed into his neck as a waterfall of tears left your eyes. He held you tighter and bought you closer, like he was never going to let you go. 

“Y/n, look at me.” Marshall said as he pulled you away from him. His hands stayed on your shoulders, a firm grip placed. Your face was shiny with tears and your eyes looked tired.

He wiped your tears away and rested his hand at the side of your neck. His thumb grazed your cheek, his touch gentle and easening. “You are the most beautiful woman I have met in my life. You have this beautiful glow to you, the most precious soul and your smile is worth more than anything in the world.”

“You’re just saying that.” Y/n mumbled.

“I'm not. I promise. I would never lie to you like that. I really mean it. And the fact that you don't see just how beautiful you are breaks me.”

“How can I believe you Marshall? I’ve been living in a world full of lies.”

“Because Y/n… I love you. More than a friend. I love you… romantically.”

A glimpse of surprise came over your face. You thought for a moment you were imagining, but no, it was the truth. He really has just confessed his love to you. You felt a cocoon of butterflies break free in your stomach. Your gaze softened and you smiled gently at him.

“Marshall… I love you too.”

“You do?”

“I have. For as long as I could remember.”

A moment of silence hung in the air, letting the tension between them gradually build up. You both inched closer to each other, almost like there was a magnetic force between the two of you, pulling you closer. The space between you became smaller and smaller before your lips touched into a kiss. It was slow and gentle, yet there was so much emotion behind it. You grabbed Marshall’s shirt and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

You both pulled away, still holding on to each other. You looked into each other's eyes, capturing each other’s vulnerability. He rested his forehead on yours and placed his hands on the side of your neck. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Prove what?” You whispered back.

“That you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

You hesitated for a moment as your breath hitched. You knew you wanted it, but you were scared. What if halfway through Marshall suddenly changed his mind and thought that maybe you weren’t as beautiful as he put you to be. 

The silence worried Marshall. He reassuringly grazed both his thumbs over both of your cheeks. “If you don’t want to, then we won’t do it.”

“No… I want to. But, you won’t change your mind, right? You won’t all of a sudden change what you think of me?”

“Of course not.” The tone of his voice displayed nothing but the truth. He wanted you to feel safe and worthy. He wanted you to realise just how important and precious you were to him.

“Then do it, Marshall. Prove it to me.” You murmured

Those words were all he needed to hear to light the spark in him. He pulled you into a kiss, this time it was more passionate and erotic. His hand trailed to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies were pressed up against each other, leaving not even a sliver of space between the two of you. His lips moved to your jaw, and then to your neck, peppering soft kisses on your delicate skin as he took your clothes off.

Before you even knew it, you were both stripped of your clothes, the skin of your bare, naked bodies touching. He laid you down on the couch, trailing his kisses down to your collarbones. He pulled away and sat up, taking in the sight of you outstretched on the sofa for him. His hands ran along your curves and down to your thighs. He marvelled at the grace of your body. 

“Y/n… you look beautiful. You’re so perfect.” He mumbled. 

He reached down again, this time he kissed your stomach gently whilst his hands stayed grounded around your waist. He wanted you to make sure that every inch of your body deserved to be loved and cared for. He buried his face into your chest as his hands began to massage your breasts. You let out a quiet gasp, as you ran your hand through his hair, trying to steady yourself under his touch. He began to suck your nipple, making a loud moan of pleasure escape your lips. He twisted your other nipple, making you arch your back and let out a heavy gasp.

He pulled away and made eye contact with you. His blue eyes burned into yours, and the more he looked at you, the more his eyes darkened with lust and desire. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. I want this.”

“If you feel uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll stop.” 

Without wasting a single second, he slid his hard, thick cock into yours. You moaned at the heavenly sensation, your cunt immediately tightened around him. He began moving, starting off slow and simple, rolling his hips into yours. The sofa creaked underneath you with each thrust. The sounds of your skin slapping merged with your quiet whimpers. Each thrust made your desire for him to grow even more and more. His dick felt perfect in your velvety walls, like it belonged to be there. Marshall groaned into your neck, as the arousal took over him. Your moans and whimpers were the only fuel he needed to keep him going.

“So beautiful… so pretty… So perfect.” He mumbled in your ear, taking breaths between his words.

He began to quicken his pace, his thrust became prominent with passion and excitement. A fine layer of sweat covered your bodies as the tension in the air began to rise. Each thrust became more powerful, sending ripples of pleasure and enjoyment through both of your bodies. The sounds of skin slapping against each other got louder as Marshall exerted more energy into his movement. You dug your nails into his back, creating scratch marks that were bound to stay for a while. Your whiny moans and his throaty groans meshed together, creating a perfect harmony. He whispered reassuring words and phrases in your ear, reminding you every second just how attractive you were. His quick thrusts made your cunt burn with a fiery desire. 

Marshall’s pace slowed down, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and less energetic. Despite the relaxed speed, every thrust continued to feel divine. Your moans had quieted down and had become more softer and lower. You could both feel the end arriving closer and closer with each second. With each push, you could feel the climax reaching your bodies. Each thrust still felt full with eagerness and arousement. 

The last final thrusts were swift and rough. You could both feel a pleasurable sensation bloom in your walls before Marshall let out his final push. Suddenly, his warm white juices squirted in you, coating your velvety walls. You screamed his name, feeling an absolute wave of euphoria come over you. He buried his face deep in your neck and breathed heavily, feeling the fall and rise of your chest.

“That was amazing.” He sighed.

“Yeah.” You agreed, feeling absolutely exasperated.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

After an intimate shower session of you and Marshall being wrapped in each other's arms and letting the warm water run down your body, you both get settled into bed. So much had happened in the last few hours and you were still trying to process it fully. And there was still an undisclosed tension between the two of you.

“Y/n,” Marshall said, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” You responded.

“I want to help you. With your eating disorder.”

You winced at the words ‘eating disorder’. It hurt you like a knife to know that you were struggling with something so serious, despite being in denial about it half the time.

“Marshall. I appreciate it, but it’s going to be difficult.”

“I know. But you helped me all those years ago with my overdose. You helped me overcome my addiction. You were there for the lowest point of my life. When no one offered to help, you did. And now I want to repay the favour.”

Tears welled up in your eyes for what felt like the 100th time today. You quickly wiped them away as your lips curled into a small smile. A glint of hope flashed in Marshall’s eyes that made you feel something deep in your heart. “Okay then.”

“You’ll let me help?”

"I'll let you help."

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured into your hair.

“I love you too.”

Ever since that day, Marshall had put in all his effort to help you overcome your eating disorder. Sure, it took a lot of time, but step by step, you both figured it out together. If anything, it made your bond and love for each other grow stronger. You’d cook meals together, he’d find healthy ways to cope with your stress, help you replace your unhealthy habits with healthy ones and even offered you some professional help. He even helped you to leave your old modelling agency and join a new one that was less toxic and more friendly.

In the end, you were beginning to build a healthy relationship with food. You started to feel happy with how you looked, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone beautiful.

And if one thing was for sure, you and Marshall loved each other very dearly.

A/N: hi everyone! Got a few things to share. Firstly, this is my first 2010’s em fic which im so happy to finally do! Another thing is that i decided to write this in second person instead of third. Please tell me which one u prefer!! Also, if u are struggling through anything serious like this in your life, i am always open to talk to. I’ve struggled with body dysmorphia in the past and i’d be happy to talk to anyone who needs it💗

[vampireimiko]

love ur lap - mini fic

note, little multiple people fic again, i lowkey forgot what it's called.. multifandom?? anyway this is something rlly short, cute, and with a relaxing tone 🫶🏾

imagine after a long day of work or activities, all they wanna do is lay across your lap while you both watch something on tv. without a word, they make their way to you, their movements slow, like they’ve been waiting for this moment all day.

the moment their cheek touches your thigh, they're out. the warmth of your thigh is enough to make them relax immediately. it’s instinctive, the way your hand reaches, gently threading through soft strands, your fingertips grazing their scalp in a way that makes them hum softly. 

at this point, the tv is background noise as you tend to them, running your soft fingers through their hair soothingly, and occasionally caressing their cheek. it felt good knowing that something so simple yet domestic like this could be enjoyed. 

you leaned back into the cushions, letting the warmth of the moment envelop you. your other hand settled on their shoulder, your thumb tracing lazy patterns against their skin. their soft breathing, creating a lullaby of sorts, one that made you feel like time had slowed just for the two of you.

you hear them mutter a simple "thank you" before the both of you eventually drift off to sleep.

aki hayakawa, baizhu, battinson, carl grimes, chris redfield, cloud strife, dick grayson, eddie brock, jordan li, mark grayson, naruto uzumaki, neuvillette, peter parker, rick grimes, shoto todoroki, sofia gigante, touya todoroki, victor aguilar, wally west, yuji itadori, zuko + whoever else you think of :3

additional note ! send requests 😼 im ACTUALLY consistent now and not dodging requests 🧙🏾‍♀️

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 . ”

character : dazai osamu

context : you’re an agent going undercover, you encounter port mafia executive dazai. he finds you interesting. yeah..

authors note : you should listen to the diner by Billie ellish to get the vibe to it.

warning : stalker briefly mentioned, stalker!dazai, can be interpreted romantically or whatever, shout out to my bbg @riiwrites 😼☝🏽, murder and blood mentioned too, gender not mentioned, literally we rock with they/them 💋‼️.. uhm I think that’s all gays yeah..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It was a view [name] had come to appreciate, standing on the balcony of the modest clinic where [name] built their cover. As a doctor specialising in human behaviour, their role was simple enough—listen, observe, and blend in. Standing there in viewing the people going about their days, [name] ran their fingers along the balcony’s iron railing, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath their skin. In this quiet neighbourhood, [name] was simply known as Dr. [name]—a doctor who listened to the woes of the weary, a person who could help people understand the storms in their minds. In some ways, [name] had taken to the role more naturally than they expected. It wasn’t far from what I had trained for, after all. But beneath that calm exterior, my real purpose was far more pressing.

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the papers on my desk inside the small office. I stepped back inside, closing the door behind me as I glanced at the scattered reports and profiles I’d been reviewing. Every interaction I had here was a potential lead—every patient, every conversation was a thread that might lead me to the missing documents. I was hunting for the whispers in the crowd, the signs that something was about to crack.

I sat down and opened one of the files again. A name stared back at me—Takeda Masaru, a local journalist with a reputation for being nosey. He had been in to see me twice, under the guise of seeking help for stress and insomnia. But I knew better. Knocking me out of my train of thought, my smartwatch started vibrating. It was morse code.

‘GOOD EVENING AGENT [NAME], IT'S NICE TO YOU ALIVE AND WELL.WE HAVE NEW INTEL. THERE'S BEEN SIGHTING AT THE LOADING. THE DOCUMENTS SHOULD BE THERE. IT SHOULD BE A DARK RED CARGO BOX WITH THE NAME ‘MELLUVS ART AND WRITING SUPPLIES’ . QUICKLY GET THERE BEFORE ANYBODY INTERVENES. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU.’

I quickly changed my clothing still keeping my pants and shoes and swapping my glasses with sunglasses, my shirt with a business shirt. Taking my coat off the rack I jumped off of the railing onto the pavement. The cold air hitting my face, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. The peaceful exterior I’d adopted as a doctor was peeling away, revealing the true purpose behind the mask.

I arrived at the loading dock slipping past guards. While remaining on my toes, looking around, finding the maroon cargo box, picking the lock, catching it before it could fall can make noise. Opening the door and sorting through papers. I found the papers of the document, putting the papers in my doctors folder, I turned to step out just to be greeted with…

"Are you lost?" a voice rang out behind them.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards the stranger with a simple smile.

“I said, are you lost? Dr. [name].” He repeated.

Standing in the shadow of a weathered chimney was a young man, barely older than them, with an unsettlingly casual grin. His black hair fell messily over his eyes, his posture loose and unthreatening, but I knew better than to trust appearances. There was something sharp beneath that smile.

“Ah. No I’m not..”

"Dazai Osamu," the man introduced himself, stepping closer without a care in the world. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

"Coincidence?" [name]’s voice was flat, unamused. "I don’t believe in coincidences."

Dazai’s grin widened. "Smart. I don’t either."

This wasn’t good. My mission had suddenly become complicated—this was Dazai, a notorious figure in the Port Mafia, rumoured to be both brilliant and dangerous. Getting caught up with him was exactly what their agency warned them about. But retreating now would be even worse. They couldn't afford to show any weakness.

"You’re in my way," I stated plainly, their eyes locked onto him. Dazai’s expression flickered briefly with interest.

"Am I?" he mused, not moving an inch. Instead, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I wonder what someone like you is doing up here. You don’t seem like the usual riffraff the mafia deals with. You're different."

I said nothing. They were trained to maintain a poker face, but they could feel Dazai’s gaze piercing through them, searching for cracks.

After a tense silence, I decided it was better to end this encounter quickly. "I have no business with you. Walk away."

Dazai’s grin softened into something almost playful. "I could say the same. But I don’t feel like walking away just yet. You intrigue me."

Before you could respond, a shout echoed from the alley below—footsteps, too many of them. The mission wasn’t over yet. With a sharp glance at Dazai, [name] moved quickly, shoving him out the way with the documents I hand, disappearing into the shadows of the cargo port.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟 . ♡ . 𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎢

The mission was complete, the documents recovered, and the city’s fragile calm preserved. Days passed, and YN pushed the encounter with Dazai to the back of their mind. They believed they had left him behind in that port, a fleeting figure from a fleeting night.

But they were wrong.

It began with small sightings—first at a diner near one of their agency’s hideouts, a quaint place where [name] often went to clear their mind. They walked in for a quiet moment, only to find Dazai, seated by the window, sipping his coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes met theirs, and that familiar grin spread across his face.

The next time, it was at their ‘job’. [name] worked as a hired security operative for a private military company, and the sight of Dazai loitering near the building was more than unsettling. He didn’t approach them, but his presence was a constant reminder that he was watching.

The evening air felt heavy as [name] returned home from a long shift, exhaustion pulling at their every step. They hadn’t noticed the lingering presence outside, the demon in the shadows, waiting. The lock clicked into place behind them as they shut the door, and for a moment, they stood still, listening. No footsteps followed. The silence was almost comforting.

They kicked off their shoes, fingers absently unbuttoning their dress shirt, craving nothing more than the solace of the couch. As they sank into it, something caught their eye—an envelope, placed conspicuously on the coffee table. A surge of unease rippled through their tired mind, heart beginning to race as they reached for the envelope, fingers brushing the edge of the paper with caution. Slowly, they opened it, their eyes scanning the contents.

‘THIS IS A REALLY NICE PLACE YOU’VE GOT HERE! MIND IF I MOVE IN? I HOPE YOU’RE READING THIS SILLY NOTE! I MIGHT’VE STOLEN SOME DOCUMENTS AND IMPORTANT FILES FROM YOUR OFFICE, SORRY, AGENT [NAME]~!’

A low groan of frustration escaped their lips as they crumpled the note and tossed it into the garbage. [name] rubbed their temples, too drained to deal with the antics of a certain mafioso tonight. Just as they tried to let the tension slip away, they caught sight of something—someone—standing on the balcony.

Their heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, they reached for their gun, gripping it tightly as they cautiously approached the window. They slid it open with precision, never taking their eyes off the figure leaning against the railing. "You’re persistent," [name] said, gun ready but posture steady.

The man on the balcony didn’t seem fazed by the weapon. Dazai Osamu smiled as if this were all part of a game. "And you’re elusive," he countered, voice light and carefree. But there was something beneath that tone, something deeper, lurking behind the casual amusement in his gaze. "I like people who don’t give themselves away so easily."

[name] sighed, lowering the gun but keeping it in hand. Arms crossed, they met his eyes with thinly veiled exasperation. "What do you want, Dazai?"

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ve been trying to figure that out. You’re… interesting. And I’m rarely interested in anyone."

"Flattering," [name] muttered, voice laced with sarcasm as their patience wore thin. "But I’ve got work to do."

Dazai’s expression shifted, his grin softening, but his presence growing more intense as he stepped closer. "I know," he said quietly. "That’s what makes this so fun. You, with your little secrets and dangerous missions… I can’t help but want to unravel it all."

"You can’t follow me forever," [name] warned, voice quieter now, each word a warning laced with resolve.

Dazai’s smile softened further, almost genuine. "Maybe not," he agreed, his voice low, "but I can follow you for a little while longer.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” [name] snapped, their voice sharp as they levelled the gun at Dazai. The cold metal clicked audibly as they cocked it, a clear threat in the air. They pointed toward the door, eyes hard and unyielding. “Do it now, or I'll shoot you.”

Dazai’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling amusement, as if the threat didn’t faze him in the slightest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his body remained relaxed, nonchalant, as though he were in complete control of the situation.

“Shoot me?” he mused, voice light but laced with something darker. “Now, now, Agent [name] that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m joking?” [name] growled, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

Dazai took a step closer, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with theirs. “No, I don’t. That’s what makes this so exciting.”

There was a tension in the room now, thick and palpable. [name] held their ground, but Dazai’s calmness, his lack of fear—it was disarming. He was playing a game they weren’t sure they could win.

“Get out.” [name] demanded, not lowering the gun but sensing this encounter was only going to spiral deeper.

Dazai’s smile softened just a touch, his tone almost genuine. “Nope~!”

“You’re testing my patience,” [name] warned, heart pounding but steady, still aiming squarely at his chest.

“Good,” Dazai murmured, stepping back toward the balcony door. “I like it when people have limits. It gives me something to push.”

With a final glance, he gave them a playful wink. “Until next time, Agent.” Then, as quickly and casually as he had appeared, Dazai slipped out, leaving the tension in the room behind him like a lingering shadow.

[name] stood still, their gun still raised, breaths coming in heavy. The sense of danger hadn’t left—it was only a matter of time before he returned.

additional author notes : ending kinda sucked ass again smh..

word count: 1k

reposts are welcome but do not steal my work!

[dee-writes-anime]

Hopes, Dreams, and Trials with Choso Kamo

FEATURING Choso Kamo x Reader

SUMMARY Trying to start a family in general is hard, but trying to start a family with a cursed womb painting is even harder.

CONTENT WARNINGS WARNING, WARNING!!! this fic is really heavy and deals with themes regarding infertility, please please please read at your own risk and prioritize your mental health <3

AUTHORS NOTE four fics in two days?! I must be an imposter... just kidding! The truth of the matter is that these drafts have been ROTTING in my files and I finally decided to busted them out and finish them up 😼

SERIES MASTERLIST

The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating the quiet anguish etched into Choso’s features. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the small stick lying on the nightstand. The room’s oppressive silence was broken only by the faint hum of the heater, struggling against the winter’s chill. Choso’s hands trembled slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not yet. Not while the negative result stood as a glaring reminder of another failed attempt.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, arms wrapped around your knees, the tension in the room pressing down on your chest like a weight. This wasn’t the first time—not even close—and both of you knew it likely wouldn’t be the last. Yet, the knowledge didn’t dull the sting of disappointment. It never did.

“Maybe we should…” you began, your voice a fragile tremor in the stillness.

“Don’t,” Choso interrupted, his tone softer than you expected. His shoulders sagged under the invisible weight he carried, his posture speaking of defeat. Finally, he turned his gaze to you, his expression a raw mix of guilt and despair. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” you countered, your voice steadier now despite the tears pooling in your eyes. “We’re in this together. It’s not about fault.”

Even as you said it, you knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Choso had always carried the burdens of others—a habit formed from years of protecting his brothers, even in death. Now, with this, he felt as though he was failing at something he desperately wanted to give you: a family.

Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your knee. The gesture was tentative, almost apologetic, as though he doubted he deserved to touch you. You covered his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing tightly.

“I just…” Choso’s voice broke, and he exhaled sharply, his free hand scrubbing over his face. “I don’t understand. We’ve tried everything. The doctors said it could take time, but… how much more time? How much more hope do we have to lose before…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by the quiet despair hanging in the air.

“As much time as it takes,” you said, though the words felt like a fragile thread of hope in the face of mounting doubts. “Choso, we have to believe it’ll happen. It’s the only thing keeping me…” You faltered, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Keeping me going.”

Choso’s heart broke at the sight of your tears. He shifted closer, pulling you into his arms. The familiar scent of him—a blend of sandalwood and the faint metallic tang of his cursed energy—washed over you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. Any of this.”

“Neither do you,” you murmured against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm amidst the turmoil.

That night, tangled together under the weight of heavy blankets, you whispered promises into the quiet. He swore his love for you would never waver, no matter what happened. You promised not to let this struggle drive a wedge between you, even when the burden felt unbearable. It was a fragile truce with fate, but it was enough to see you through another night.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The routine became all too familiar: tracking ovulation, scheduling doctor’s appointments, enduring endless tests and invasive procedures. Each visit to the fertility clinic felt like navigating a labyrinth of sterile rooms and clinical jargon, leaving a gnawing sense of inadequacy that neither of you voiced aloud.

Choso loathed the way the nurses looked at him—with pity masked by professionalism. He hated the hushed tones and the apologetic smiles that seemed to suggest he wasn’t enough. And worst of all, he hated the way a small, insidious part of his mind whispered that you’d be better off with someone else—someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

You despised the way the world moved on around you, oblivious to your struggles. Friends’ pregnancy announcements, baby showers, the cheerful chatter of parents in parks—each was a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have. Yet, despite the cracks forming in your resolve, you clung to each other. Even when the silence between you grew heavy with unspoken fears, you stayed tethered to the love that had carried you this far.

One evening, after yet another exhausting day at the clinic, you sat on the couch in the dark. The only light came from the muted television, casting flickering shadows across the room. You leaned against Choso, your head on his shoulder, while his fingers absently traced patterns on the back of your hand. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours, content to simply exist in the shared quiet.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Choso stiffened, his hand stilling in its movements. “What?”

“All of this,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “The appointments, the treatments, the constant disappointment. Do you think we’re just setting ourselves up for more heartbreak?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Are you saying you want to stop?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” you admitted, tears spilling over once more. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Choso’s arms encircled you, pulling you close as though he could shield you from the pain. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop,” he said firmly. “But if there’s even a part of you that wants to keep going, then we’ll keep going. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. In that moment, you realized that no matter how difficult the journey, you weren’t alone. Choso was your anchor, your partner, your everything. Together, you would face whatever storms lay ahead, one day at a time.

The following weeks brought a mix of cautious hope and deep uncertainty. Your doctor proposed trying a new treatment, one that was more invasive but held a higher chance of success. The decision to move forward felt daunting, like stepping into uncharted waters, but neither of you could bear the thought of giving up on a dream you had nurtured for so long.

Choso stood by you through every step—every injection, every scan, every procedure. He held your hand tightly in the waiting room, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. On days when the side effects left you exhausted and irritable, he met you with patience and quiet reassurances. Warm tea. A favorite blanket. Silent companionship when words felt too heavy to bear.

There were moments of light amidst the darkness. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling appointment, Choso surprised you with a small potted plant. “It’s a symbol of hope,” he explained, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “Something we can take care of together.”

You laughed through your tears, touched by the gesture. The plant found a place on the windowsill, a small but enduring reminder that even in the bleakest times, life could still flourish.

As the months wore on, the emotional toll on both of you became undeniable. There were arguments—raw moments where the grief and frustration boiled over, leaving scars of guilt and misunderstanding. But each time, you found your way back to each other, reminded of the love that had brought you together in the first place.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber, Choso took your hand in his. His voice was quiet but steady as he said, “I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I know that whatever happens, as long as I have you, it’ll be enough.”

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned into him, your heart swelling with a bittersweet mixture of love and sorrow. “You’re enough for me too,” you whispered. In that moment, a fragile sense of peace settled between you, the knowledge that no matter where the journey led, you would face it together.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[micahenjoyspepsi]

We should redo this trend anyway, I drew my man. My personal headcanons are he has a crooked nose, yellow teeth and a more dull pallet also his skin is darker, if I was better at drawing crooked teeth he would also have crooked teeth anyway the amount of headcanons I have of him is long so maybe I’ll make thread.😼

[sephirothsplaything]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐨- The Acolyte

A Star Wars Fanfic

In which a Jedi faces her dark side

OR

In which Rune finally figures out what she is missing

PARINGS: BLACK OC/QIMIR,SLIGHT YORD,OSHA/JECKI

....

"What do you want then?"

"The power of two."

𝐀𝐍𝐀-𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐘𝐀

or

The Darling Moon of Brendok 

The Galaxies' Abomination

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓❝ 

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍,𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐎❝ 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑/𝐐𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐑

or

A Sith

The Master

❝ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅  𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐇,

𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑.❝

[I will repost once the chapters go up! If anyone wants to be tagged lemme know😼]

VOLUME ONE

  𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏!

   You sweet starry maiden

.......

000./prologue/ the thread/ 001./ the moons/

002./ the stranger/

003./ the ascension/

004./the longing/

005./the journey/

006./the jedi/

[pupyuj]

i NEED domestic yujin, just pure floof :(((

hehe 😼 my first post after a while and it's sfw?? something shifted...

everybody that sees you two always gets so jealous bcs you are both such eye candies and you're so sweet to each other?? just pure couple goals 🥺 yujin is of course the type to always be touching you—arm around your shoulder or waist, holding your hand ofc, and she always melts under your touch 🥺 like she just can't help but lean into you when you gently put your hand on her back or on her arm whenever you're talking to someone :(( she feels so warm knowing that even though your full attention isn't on her at the moment, you're still thinking about her!!

this is probably self-indulgent cuz yujin's my baby daddy but she does that boyfriend thing where she offers to carry all of your shopping bags for you while you waltz around and treat yourself to a well-earned session of money-splurging 😭 literally watching you with a loving smile every time you try on an outfit, tells you to not worry about the price if you happen to come across a particularly expensive piece of clothing bcs she'll buy it for you 🥺🥺 makes sure to save a surprise at the end of your shopping spree where she suddenly pulls out a small box with the prettiest piece of jewelry you've ever seen?!?! 😩💕 also looks at you with a shy smile AS IF SHE AIN'T BEEN DOING THIS FOR YEARS and is always so nervous as to whether you'll like it or not??? BUT SHE COULD LITERALLY GIVE YOU THE SHITTIEST NECKLACE OR SOMETHING AND YOU'D STILL WEAR IT PROUDLY.

(not that yujin will ever want to give you something that was less than perfect. only the best for her baby! 😤)

yujin loves dating silly little strolls in a park! 🥺 she'd drive you both to one of the prettiest and biggest parks in the city and just take your hand and go for a relaxing walk! she's so in love with you :(( she'd just stare at you while you tell her about a few funny things that happened throughout the week so far,, smiles so brightly when you laugh, she just loves your voice so much she could listen to you talk about anything forever 😣 she'll sit the two of you down by a tree and cuddle up to you, sometimes kissing you and laughing at the way you would blush and look away,, and she's just a sucker for the way you would absentmindedly play with her hands while you're sitting there 💕 and best believe she'll capture every moment of you during your time there! her gallery is literally just you and it's so sweet ☹️☹️

yujin definitely waits up for you if you happen to get held up at work, even if you come home after midnight :(( you'd find her sitting up on the bed with a book on her lap wearing her stupid nerdy glasses, barely awake and so tired 💔 you pepper her face with kisses and she would only pout and blink sleepily at you, the cutieeeee 🥺 she'd whine and pretend to be upset that you're home way too late but really, all that 'anger' is towards your boss for always giving you so much work 😣😣 and omg even when she's tired from staying up, she will NAWT leave you alone 😭 she's forcing herself out of bed and tailing you very closely while you make and sip on your tea, doesn't even let herself finally sleep while you're in the shower and chooses to be awake for another half hour bcs she really can't sleep without you 🥺 she is all over you when you finally join her in bed—leg over your body, arms wrapped tightly around you, nose buried in your hair, and whispering sleepy nonsense against your skin before she finally succumbs to sleep.. she's so silly.

yujin wakes up on top of you in the mornings 😭😭 but she's not like, suffocating you she actually serves as an extra warm and soft blanket!! like, you'd always find her sleeping peacefully on your chest and you can't help but kiss her forehead and thread your fingers through her hair :(( more often than not, she'd stir awake and you'd feel a bit guilty for cutting her rest short but her bright smile and lame ass "hey, beautiful~" makes it all not a big deal 🥺💖 neither of you will ever stop falling in love with each other.. STAND UP!!!!

[enimsiyobeht]

changin (& their kinks). 3/4! 🦊

minors do not interact! kinks stated per imagine.

YANG JEONGIN. muscle kink, mutual masturbation, voyeurism. (this is what i mean when i say maknae on top)

i swear everyone in skz has muscle, but i proudly believe that even if they have muscle they can have a muscle kink for their significant other.

Jeongin couldn’t stop staring.

You had just walked out of the bathroom, towel slung over one shoulder, sweat still clinging to the edges of your chest. Your biceps flexed casually as You dried your hair—and Jeongin bit his lip.

“You’ve been working out again, haven’t you?” Jeongin asked, voice soft, teasing.

You looked over. “Maybe.”

Jeongin stood, walked over slowly. “You’re getting too hot, hyung. It’s not fair.”

You smirked. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Jeongin didn’t answer—he just ran his fingers down your abs, then leaned in to press a kiss against your chest. “Gonna show you how much I appreciate it.”

He dropped to his knees, tongue tracing the cut of your abs while his hands gripped your thighs. You groaned, threading a hand through his hair. “God, baby… You’re gonna make me lose it.”

“You’re the one who got all hot,” Jeongin purred. “I’m just reacting.”

the maknae needs love, even if he doesn't want it, i feel like some mutual masturbation with eye contact is lethallll 😼😼.

Jeongin’s breath hitched as You slid a hand under his shirt. “Wanna watch you touch yourself,” You murmured.

Jeongin flushed. “At the same time?”

You nodded, already pulling off his sweats. “Right next to me. I want you to hear how pretty you sound when you moan.”

They lay facing each other, cocks in hand, eyes locked.

Your strokes were slow, measured—controlled. Jeongin’s were shaky, messy, already leaking.

“You’re so sensitive,” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “I haven’t even touched you properly.”

“I-it’s ‘cause you’re watching,” Jeongin whined, hips jerking. “You feel so close—and you’re so big—”

You sped up just a little, eyes burning. “Say my name when you come.”

“y/n—fuck, y/n—”

They came together, breath mingling, hands sticky, hearts racing. And You didn’t let him go—just pulled Jeongin in close, whispered praise until Jeongin was melting in your arms.

idk how to explain it, but i feel like jeongin would love voyeurism, to the point where bang chan would have to separate you and him from being in the same room....

Jeongin straddled your lap, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts, arms around your neck.

“You sure you wanna do this here?” You whispered, glancing at the guys barely ten feet away.

Jeongin smiled against your neck. “They’re not watching. Not really. But I want them to see how good you make me feel.”

You tensed.

“You jealous, hyung?” Jeongin teased, grinding just enough. “You don’t want them thinking they could ever have me, right?”

You growled low in your throat, hands sliding down to grip Jeongin’s ass. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby.”

“I wanna be ruined in front of them. Wanna show them I’m yours.”

You didn’t need more convincing. You pulled Jeongin in for a bruising kiss, grinding up into him with slow, possessive rolls of your hips. Jeongin was loud on purpose—moaning, gasping, nails digging into your shoulders.

And when You finally pushed in, hand wrapped tight around Jeongin’s throat, You growled right against his ear:

“Eyes on me. Let them see. But only I get to fuck you like this.”

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