#‧˚˖✩ bp works

[berrryparfait]

I came across your work (the sex pollen one) and I really loved how you wrote the five LIs 🥹 I was happy to see that you're open to requests 🫶

Can I request for drabbles on how you think the guys would tell you to take a break from working / studying too much? 🤲 (currently in thesis hell and I've been looking for comfort fics 😮‍💨)

thank u for the food you've been cooking and currently cooking 💐

take a break with me ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: fluff, some innuendo, flirtatious / suggestive touching, reader is BURNT OUT and exhausted, fortunately for you he can be very persuasive

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: busy woman – sabrina carpenter

✧ a/n: thank u sm for the req pookie!! i hope this brings u some comfort amidst this very busy time for u... all the best with ur thesis—and please remember to drink water and sleep well okay! <3

So it turns out you’ve bitten off more than you can chew—nothing new there. God, this thesis is taking forever. You’ve been working your ass off this past month, multitasking and side-questing and taking care of things your peers somehow find themselves unable to.

You long to be able to relax again, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be taking some time off anytime soon. You don’t believe in doing things halfway, and when it comes to your craft, every little bit of effort counts—at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself to keep your engine running. You’re basically a machine at this point, running on autopilot and dreading the moment your body finally gives out for good…

“What are you working on, sweetie?” Sylus’ deep, gravelly voice slithers into the living room where you’re hunched over the dining table, your head drooping against a laptop.

You’re startled awake, but shake it off quickly. “Oh—hey. No rest for the wicked, am I right?” you smile wryly, suppressing a yawn.

He walks up to you and places a hand on your shoulder, massaging it gently. Squinting at the screen, he frowns. “There are five other people working on this document with you. Strange how none of them seem to be online…” A dark expression crosses his features as he takes in the equally dark circles under your eyes. “Doing the dirty work, love?”

The edge in his voice is unmistakable. Others would be intimidated, but your heart only warms at his concern.

“It’s fine, Sy. I stand to benefit, after all. Besides, hard work pays off—we both know that.”

His piercing gaze roves over your limp, exhausted state, and he raises a challenging eyebrow. Sardonically, he states, “It doesn’t look like you’re benefiting right now.” He brings his other hand to the back of your neck and rubs harder, smoothing out your tensed muscles with impressive skill.

Instantly, endorphins flood your brain, and you relax into his touch. “That feels good, Sy…”

He leans in close and whispers in your ear, “Take a break with me, won’t you, Kitten? I can put that pretty ass to work in far more…productive ways…”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel your resolve slipping. “...Fine. But only for a little while,” you huff, fighting a smile.

“Don’t eat your words, sweetie.” The devastating smirk that twists his lips makes your knees weak. “Now, come with me. We’re going to get some ice cream.”

He really does take you to an ice cream parlor, and it’s the best ice cream you’ve ever had. (***interpret this how you will)

“You’re up late.” The front door swings open as Zayne enters the living room, back from a gruelling twelve-hour shift at the hospital. He’s still in his lab coat as he kicks his shoes off and places his briefcase on the hall table.

“Oh, you know—the usual. Thesis needs to be fed.” You stretch your arms and yawn, blinking back the dryness in your eyes.

He takes the seat next to yours and leans over to examine the mess of words on your screen, sighing sympathetically at the workload you’ve been dealing with. “You did all this in one day?”

You nod, feeling proud despite every inch of your body screaming at you to take a nap.

“You’re overexerting yourself,” he says softly as his fingers play with a strand of your unruly hair. “Come to bed with me, will you?”

It’s inexplicable—the way he’s able to put you at ease without even trying. His mere presence brings you solace. His touch turns your brain to mush.

You scoff at him playfully. “You’re one to talk. If anything, I got these workaholic tendencies from you. You're a bad influence, babe.”

He feigns offence at your statement, which makes you laugh, but it quickly melts into genuine worry. “I’m concerned about you. I need to know you’re eating well—sleeping well, or I’ll go insane.”

You gaze into those earnest green eyes of his and know you’ve already lost. How could you resist his pleas when he’s looking at you like that? Reluctantly, you give in, closing your laptop and tidying the heap of papers and books away.

“Good girl. See? Was that so hard?” He places a tender kiss on your temple before heading for the shower. He calls over his shoulder, “Join me if you’d like.”

You’ve never sprinted faster in your life.

“Woah, you’re up early.” Rafayel’s fluffy bedroom slippers pad across the living room floor as he hums the melody of a Sabrina Carpenter song, beelining straight for the fridge.

“Good morning, Raf…” Your voice is strained, your throat dry as a desert.

He frowns at you, milk carton in hand. “Wait, did you pull an all-nighter? Without me?” He looks almost insulted, as if you spent the night partying instead of citing sources and correcting typos.

You stick your tongue out at him, but your movements are weak, half-hearted. He makes two bowls of cereal before walking over to you, his silky cream pajamas glistening in the sunlight.

“You should probably get some rest, you know… I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be staying up like this.”

You shrug. “It has to be done. When you’re a one-man show, the world needs you.”

The air of lightheartedness he usually carries is gone, replaced by unease and doubt. “Not that I think you’re incapable or anything, but… You need to relax a little, babe. You’re gonna pass out if you keep this up. And there are much better activities to be passing out from.”

His sneaky suggestion doesn’t escape you. “If other offers are on the table… Perhaps I could be convinced.” You lick your cereal spoon clean, slow and deliberate.

The fresh glint in his eye doesn’t escape you either, and in a single breath, he’s scooped you into his arms and carried you away from your dreaded laptop.

“Oh, you’re gonna be working real hard, alright.”

“You’ve been occupying my spot for hours.” It’s rare for Xavier to jab at you like that, so when he does, you make sure to match his energy in full force.

“What can I say? I just love this seat. Makes me feel like I’m sitting on you…”

He turns pink immediately, falling dead silent. So easy. Mirth bubbles up inside you, though you’re quickly reminded of the tasks at hand. Time is of the essence, and you can’t afford to waste even a second.

“…You’ve been busy lately,” he says after a moment. It comes out as a whisper—hesitant, yet curious. You briefly wonder if you haven’t been spending enough time with him. Guilt pangs in your chest.

“Yeah. I’ve been working on this thesis lately, and it’s…wow.”

He comes up behind you and, in a rush of warmth and cotton fuzz, wraps his arms around your shoulders. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and sighs, and you melt into his embrace.

“I miss you. Please take a break for me.”

How could you say no? “…Sure, baby. But only for a couple of hours, okay?”

He nods, slipping his fingertips beneath the neckline of your shirt. “Only?”

You shudder, anticipation coiling deep in your stomach. It feels like you’re on the cusp of receiving a well-deserved academic award.

“Someone’s greedy today…”

His hands begin to explore, and suddenly none of the words on your screen make any sense. “You like it.”

“Whatcha’ doin’, Pips?” Caleb bounds into the living room, energized and uncharacteristically free. He must be taking a break from Flight Simulator.

“Writing my thesis. It’s…taking a while, to say the least.” You yawn like a cow and drop your head into your elbow, fighting the urge to doze off on the spot.

A cheeky grin pulls at his lips. “Wanna write your thesis in the bedroom?”

Although tempting, you push the thought back. Priorities, you remind yourself. “…I can’t. There’s a lot of work to be done, and—“

He sits down next to you and places a hand on your thigh, a hint of concern on his face. “Listen, honey, I know you’re a workaholic and want to push your mind and body to the limit and all—but this is unsustainable. You’ve gotta take breaks sometimes, and this is coming from a fighter pilot.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading in your chest. He always knows just what to say to calm you down, and you’re incredibly grateful for it. Who knew being acquainted with someone whose personality oscillates between annoying and mature could be so comforting?

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll take a sip of water or something.” You get up to pour yourself a glass of water, but he grabs you by the arm and effortlessly spins you around like a ballroom dancer, the placement of his hand on your waist making you giddy.

“Or, you could take a sip of water in the bedroom…” he nips at your earlobe, and you giggle.

“Stop that, Caleb— It’s ticklish—!”

He picks you up like you’re a teddy bear and whisks you away, the pile of books on the table long forgotten.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[venompinks]

JISOO ♡ྀི LIGHTS LOVE ACTION — TOUR FAN EDITION

[enimsiyobeht]

untitled 04.12.25. long drabble. give the people what they want (they want chan)

mdni 🤍 !! boypussy bang chan x amab reader. use of pussy, entrance, hole, clit, cunt as chan's gential. implied 9th member reader. implied secret relationship, chan is needy, subtle voyeur kink if you squint, lots of pussy eating (i mean, who wouldn't?); oral (c. receiving), minor fingering (c. receiving), subtle mutual worship kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (chan), subtle overstimulation if you squint, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), p-in-v, pretty vanilla imo.

The dorm was dim, the hallway quiet except for the hum of someone’s laptop behind a closed door. You knew the others were still buzzing from the live, sprawled across bedrooms or glued to screens with leftover adrenaline. But Chan?

He slipped away right after.

You found him alone in his room, lights low, a hoodie slung over his shoulders like a shield. He looked up when you entered, eyes softening instantly.

“You came.”

You shut the door behind you, slow and careful. “Didn’t get to see you properly after the live.”

Chan chuckled under his breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah… didn’t want anyone to see how bad I needed you.”

You moved in close, fingers brushing his jaw, tilting his chin so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. “You're cute.”

He shivered, cheeks pinkening. “Don't say that like you’re not gonna ruin me in five minutes.”

“I’m not.” You leaned in, brushing your mouth over his ear. “I’m gonna let you ruin yourself.”

That did something to him. His breath caught, lips parting, thighs shifting subtly where he sat on the edge of his bed. The hoodie slipped, baring his collarbones, the edge of a sweat-slicked tank top still clinging to his chest.

“You want me to close the door?” he whispered.

“It’s already closed. But you better keep quiet.”

You nudged his knees apart and he opened for you instantly—like instinct. Like his body knew yours. You kissed him slow at first, tongue soft and coaxing, one hand cradling the back of his head while your other ghosted down, pressing between his thighs.

He whimpered when you cupped him over his shorts. He was already wet—soaked through, actually. The dark fabric clung to the soft swell between his legs, and when you pressed your thumb there, Chan bucked forward helplessly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, breaking the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ve been leaking since we got off live.”

You smiled, dragging your hand down to hook your fingers under the waistband, pulling everything down in one smooth tug. He helped you without a word, lifting his hips, breath shaky.

There it was—slick, flushed, already twitching.

His pretty little pussy.

You dropped to your knees.

He looked down at you like you were a god.

You didn’t start right away. You spread him open, thumbs pressing gently against the soft, wet flesh, watching the way it clenched and fluttered around nothing. You leaned in and breathed against him, lips just barely brushing before your tongue slipped out to taste.

Chan gasped—hand flying to his mouth, thighs trembling around your shoulders.

“You better stay quiet,” you murmured, teasing the rim with slow, firm licks. “Unless you want them to hear what a slut you are for my tongue.”

He nodded desperately, fingers digging into the sheets, breath shaking with every pass of your tongue. You flattened it and licked a stripe from his entrance to his perineum, then back down, moaning low in your throat just to feel the way he throbbed in response.

You knew exactly how to get him undone.

His pussy was twitching, so wet already, fluttering like it needed to be filled. You eased a finger in while your mouth stayed on him, tongue circling his entrance with slow, worshipful strokes. He clenched tight around your digit, hips arching off the bed.

“Such a tight little pussy,” you muttered, adding a second finger. “So good for me. So fucking wet.”

Chan cried out into his fist—biting down hard, whole body trembling.

You didn’t stop. You devoured him. Lips sealed around his hole, tongue pushing in shallowly while your fingers curled just right, stroking his sweet spot with relentless pressure.

And when his thighs started to shake, when his head dropped back and tears pricked his lashes, you finally let him fall apart.

“Go on, baby,” you said, voice thick with lust. “Cum just from this. Show me how bad you need my mouth.”

His muffled moan broke high, sharp, desperate—and then he was cumming, whole body shaking, hole clenching down around your tongue while his cock throbbed untouched against his stomach.

You stayed there, licking him through every wave, every spasm, until he was squirming and oversensitive, pushing at your shoulders with a whimper.

You looked up at him, lips wet, chin slick with his taste.

He looked wrecked.

And you weren’t even close to finished.

Chan looked wrecked. Flushed, glassy-eyed, breath shaky—but underneath all that, a flicker of something soft. Trust. Love. Need.

He reached up, fingers brushing yours as he murmured, “Want you inside me…”

You kissed him, slow and deep, tasting the aftermath on his tongue.

“Yeah?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “You sure you can take it?”

He nodded. “Want to feel you… not just your mouth. All of you.”

You smiled, nudging him gently onto the bed, hands already reaching to strip off your clothes. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

Chan lay back against the pillows, skin flushed, chest rising and falling in deep, shaky breaths. His thighs were still trembling, slick with your spit and his own release, but the way he looked up at you—soft, trusting, so full of want—made your heart ache.

“I want to feel you,” he whispered again, quieter this time. “Not just your mouth. Just… you.”

You leaned in to kiss him. Slow. Deep. Your hand cradled his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye, and when he sighed into your mouth, you knew—he wasn’t just giving you his body. He was offering himself.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” you asked, voice low, lips still brushing his.

“I’ll want more before I want less,” he murmured with a small smile, thighs parting again in invitation.

You groaned softly, forehead pressed to his, letting your hand trail down between his legs, gathering slick before rubbing gently around his twitching clit. He was so warm, still pulsing slightly from the orgasm you’d given him with your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” you said. “So fuckin’ soft. Still clenching around nothing, baby.”

Chan bit his lip, cheeks hot. “Then fill me.”

You pushed in slowly, guiding your cock to his cunt and easing forward with careful control. He opened for you beautifully, the stretch making his breath hitch, one arm flung over his eyes as his back arched.

“F-fuck,” he gasped, “you feel so big—”

“You’re doing so good.” You leaned in, kissing his jaw, his neck, one of his nipples as you bottomed out. “God, you feel so tight, baby. So warm around me…”

You stayed still for a moment, letting him adjust, letting yourself feel him—slick, snug, fluttering around you like he was made for it.

Then you started moving. Slow, steady thrusts. No rush. Just hips rolling against his, cock dragging over that sweet spot with every deep press. He moaned for you—soft, breathy, hands gripping your back like he never wanted you to leave.

“You’re so full,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Can’t believe how good you feel inside…”

You smiled, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “I love how you take me, baby. Like you were waiting for it all night.”

“I was,” he breathed. “I—I always am.”

His legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in deeper, and you let your forearms frame his head as you kissed him through every gentle thrust. His whole body moved with yours—warm skin against warm skin, soft gasps and slick friction, the bed creaking ever so slightly beneath you.

“Look at me,” you whispered, cupping his jaw.

He did. Glassy-eyed, flushed, vulnerable. And yours.

You fucked him like he mattered. Like every inch of him was sacred. Like you had all the time in the world and nothing was more important than making him feel good. And when he clenched around you again, another orgasm building, you reached between his legs and stroked him gently—just enough to push him over.

“Cum for me again,” you said. “Let me feel you while I fill you up.”

Chan’s mouth dropped open in a silent cry, his body tensing as he came again—hot and messy between your stomachs, his hole squeezing you tight until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You buried yourself to the hilt, groaning his name as you filled him up, thick ropes spilling deep inside while your hips jerked once, twice, then stilled.

He was whimpering softly beneath you, body twitching, holding you like he needed to keep you there forever.

You kissed his temple, his cheek, his lips—slow, again. You didn’t pull out. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you whispered, hearts still racing in sync. “I love you like this.”

Chan smiled, eyes fluttering shut, arms wrapping around your back.

“Then keep me like this.”

And you did. No teasing. Just warm skin, slow thrusts, whispered praise—and the quiet creak of bed springs you hoped no one else could hear.

(honorable mention of the series)

[fanworkspermissionstatement]

[Image description: The title, "Fanworks Permission Statement Builder," and black line-drawing-style pictures of a hand holding a pencil and of a microphone with a pop filter, over a background of crumpled paper. End ID.] (credit to @rystonlentil for the image ID)

Hey fanworks creators!

Excited about the idea of someone creating something based on your fan creation (like podfics, fanart, translations, etc)? On the other hand, do you not want people creating stuff based off your fanworks and don't want to have to turn them down? Or do you have a more nuanced idea of what you are and aren't comfortable with people doing based on your fan creations? Don't particularly care one way or the other about what people create based on your stuff?

SPEND JUST A FEW MINUTES TO QUICKLY GENERATE A FANWORKS PERMISSION STATEMENT LETTING PEOPLE KNOW YOUR PREFERENCES!!!

What is a fanworks permission statement?

A fanworks permission statement (also known as a blanket permission statement or transformative works permission statement) is very simple: it's something you post in a publically-visible place (usually your AO3 profile) that tells other fan creators what you are and aren't okay with in terms of other people making fanworks based off your stuff. It can be as simple as a sentence or two, or as complicated as you want to communicate your preferences clearly.

Who should have a permission statement?

A permission statement is for anyone that creates fanworks! Yes, even if you don't think anyone would ever want to create something based off your fanworks. You never know! It's not egotistical to post a permission statement, it's HELPFUL. Yes, even if you don't want people making something based off your works. It means no one has to reach out to ask you, they can know your preferences right away.

Is it only for fanfic writers?

Absolutely not! It's great for fan creators of ALL kinds to have a fanworks permission statement! Fanartists, someone might want to use your fanart as inspiration for a fanfic or create fanart inspired by your work in a different medium! Podficcers, other people creating in an audible medium might want to insert clips of your podfics into their work, or copy the way you did certain effects! Fanbinders, you might inspire an artist with the way you do your binding! This is really for everyone, because fandom is infinitely creative and who knows how another fan creator might be inspired by your work!

What do I even say in a permission statement?

That's exactly why we built the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder! So you don't have to think about what to say or how to say it. Just spend a few minutes answering questions about your preferences that cover many of the common things people might want to specify, and you'll have a permission statement ready to copy-and-paste into your AO3 profile, or to edit to your heart's content!

Why use the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder?

Don't want to come up with a permission statement on your own? Not sure what should even go into a permission statement? Want someone to at least give you a starting place that you can edit to better reflect your preferences? Want someone to just hand you a ready-to-use permission statement that you can paste into your profile? Spend just a few minutes answering some questions about your preferences, and you'll have a permission statement ready to use or edit!

[byler-alarmist]

Do people know most paper receipts are harmful to their health?

I'm going to get up on my soapbox for a minute, but do people realize how pretty much everyone is being overloaded with endocrine disruptors like BPA/BPS on a near-daily basis??

I don't think many people understand that ever since most of the world transitioned to thermal paper receipts (cheaper than ink), almost every receipt you handle from the gas station to the grocery store to the Square terminal printer at the local co-op is coated with Bisphenol-A (BPA) or its chemical cousin Bisphenol-S (BPS).

These chemicals have not only been proven to cause reproductive harm to human and animals, they've also been linked to obesity and attention disorders.

Not sure if your receipt is a thermal receipt? If you scratch it with a coin and it turns dark, it's thermal.

BPA/BPS can enter the skin to a depth such that it is no longer removable by washing hands. When taking hold of a receipt consisting of thermal printing paper for five seconds, roughly 1 μg BPA is transferred to the forefinger and the middle finger. If the skin is dry or greasy, it is about ten times more. 

Think of how many receipts you handle every day. It's even worse for cashiers and tellers, who may handle hundreds in a single shift. It is also a class issue, since many people who work retail and food service are lower-income and will suffer worse health consequences over time from the near-constant exposure.

Not only that, receipts printed with thermal ink are NOT recyclable, as they pollute the rest of the paper products with the chemicals.

People don't know this and recycle them anyway, so when you buy that "green" toilet paper that says "100% recycled"? Yup, you are probably wiping your most sensitive areas with those same chemicals (for this reason, I buy bamboo or sugarcane toilet paper as a sustainable alternative to recycled paper).

This page from the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency has some good links if you want to learn more.

As consumers, we need to demand better from our businesses and from our governments. We need regulation of these chemicals yesterday.

If you are a buyer or decision-maker for a business, the link above also contains a shortlist of receipt paper manufacturers that are phenol-free.

If you work at a register, ask customers if they want a receipt. If they don't and you can end the transaction without printing one, don't print one!

As a consumer, fold receipts with the ink on the inside, since that's where the coating is. Some more good tips here.

And whatever you do, DO NOT RECYCLE THERMAL RECEIPTS

[robobarbie]

I need......xyx.......crumbs .. . PLEASE

here's smth I wrote for the bp server a couple years back (jesus) when I played a game of Saw with them (they were great sports about it)

When Xyx drove you out for a 'romantic weekend getaway', you knew there would be some sort of twist– there always was– but as you peer at the massive cliff looming overhead, you start to wonder if you'd live to see the romance part of the trip.

"Having second thoughts?" Xyx pops up from the pile of equipment in the back of the car behind you, flashing you a razor grin. "Too late to back out now. I've got the car keys."

"Ha ha…Me, chicken? Never."

You had hoped that engaging in his banter would keep him satisfied, but your anxiety is too transparent to make the lie stick. Xyx frowns and sets down the equipment. "Hey, love. If you're unsure, we can always do something else. I won't be offended."

"No, no! I'm just– having some jitters."

His eyes search yours for a moment, and the silence hangs heavily between you, until Xyx finally sighs and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"Alright, if you insist. Let's get you suited up, then." He gives one of the harnesses an appraising look before handing it to you. "Step into the loops and pull them up. We'll tighten everything once you've got it on."

You stare at the pile of straps and loops, turning it over in your hands to puzzle out where your legs go; in turn, Xyx sees your predicament and bursts into laughter.

"Aw, doll, I didn't mean to stump you. Might have to start, though," he smirks. "You're adorable when you make that face."

You huff as he takes the harness from your hands, obediently stepping in with his guidance despite your scowl. "Adorable?!" 

"Well…" You watch his hands shift the loops around your thighs, and gasp when they linger and squeeze. "Actually, for this particular moment, I don't think I would use that word."

"Y-you sure you still want to go rock climbing?"

"Mm. Yes. But I think we may have to change our plans afterward." He gives the harness–and your thighs– one more squeeze. "Be a doll and stay still for just one more minute, would you? I have to tie you in." 

Xyx turns back to the equipment, retrieving a length of climbing rope that he gathers loosely in his hands. His face moves tauntingly close to yours as he reaches for your waist, loops the rope, and sets to tying a complex knot with ease; you can count the freckles on his face at this distance, and start doing so in order to keep your focus from slipping. Instead, it's reminding you of how easily you could kiss him right now, how if you tipped forward just enough–

He gives the knot a final, decisive tug, savoring your reaction as you're jolted back to reality (and pulled closer by the hips). "Now, just one more thing."

"Huh?" 

Closing the distance you had just been mourning, Xyx leads you in by the jaw and meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. You instinctively tilt your head; he replies with a pleased hum that rumbles through your head and down your spine. His hand caresses your cheek when it finally, reluctantly withdraws along with his face.

"For luck," he breathes.

You can scarcely breathe yourself, but with Xyx so close to you, looking at you so playfully and yet so helplessly in love, you imagine that the luck he's given you could take you anywhere.

“Now,” he says, taking your hand in his, “let’s go exploring.”

[dreamtydraw]

Maybe nakedtoaster in wedding dress?

eveytime someone ask me a character in a wedding dress the only though I have is "I hope they have an open back because wedding dresses make you sweat a lot"

very not charming remark to make I know... ANYWAY-

[r3db3ans]

Wait for the next chapter of breans vs fanfiction time guys

Cause I'm working on it :)

And at the same time, have a fun quick stuff between Burgerpants and Breans

[plumbus-central]

sorry squanchy

(based on a scene from 30 rock)

[berrryparfait]

sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from stardew valley)

✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3

Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.

The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?

The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…

“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.

All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you— Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.

“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms the both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”

“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”

You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”

“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”

The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”

“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”

“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[venompinks]

JENNIE ☆ ZICO in the studio

[localceilingdevil]

hallo!! so I've been booting up my local iterator group up on artfight to prepare for the event!!! all their lore will be listed on toyhouse. though typically all my things are set for logged in users only, my iterators will be fully public on toyhouse for the sake of making navigating easier, so people without accounts can still indulge in their lore :]

here are their refs and here's my artfight!!

[soupetiedee]

page 2/???

me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when tmc angst

[apateu]

rosé & lewis hamilton at the gq met gala after party.

[aetsiv]

do they (yatoyota) know it's legal now

[squeapereaper]

american... pizzaman...

i snuck a little elliot forsaken reference in there for stinky ok bye