#🎧 an

[autistic--daniil--dankovsky]

remember this? well. let's go!

both ena and an have pretty famous fathers, and it was always somewhat expected of them to be worthy of their legacy, in some way. both of them were told, "of course you're good at art - you're shinei's daughter!" and "of course you're good at singing - you're ken's daughter!" respectively.

they were always perceived via their fathers, not allowed to step outside their shadow and be seen for themselves. they couldn't be ena or an.

and, you know, for a time, they went along with it. i mean, they were good at what they were doing.

but then... all comes crashing down.

for ena, there's the obvious bullshit that's going on with shinei. completely destroying her. because she admired her father, because he was the reason she wanted to do art to begin with, and he told her to her face that she would never be good enough.

her entire world fell apart, that day.

because no matter what she says, ena wants the approval of her father more than anything else. she wants him to tell her that she's worthy of being his daughter, that all her hard work amounts to something; anything.

but then, there's the eventual revelation that she wasn't anything, actually. she wasn't special.

everyone was better than her.

before, ena was a fish in a small pond, and of course, she was among the best. but now she's been dropped in a vast ocean, and she's small, and insignificant.

devoured by all the other fish.

one of them - and admittedly, the most important of them all - being futaba. she joined after ena, but she proved herself in much less time than her. and, even succeeded where ena failed - she never gave up, even when she was harshly criticised. never regressing artistically. never running away from art.

and there's something else, somewhere deep down - a fear. a fear that nightcord will abandon her when they realise she can't keep up with them. that she's not as good as they thought she was.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

an goes through something similar.

she meets kohane, and she decides that this person is going to be her partner. that they're going to surpass THE rad weekend together, that no one could be better for this task but her.

but when she starts that relationship, it's with the assumption that she'll always be the teacher and that kohane will always be the student.

not in a mean, or pretentious way, no, not at all. simply, an was always told there was no way she couldn't surpass rad weekend, since she was ken's daughter. in her small pond, she was also among the very best.

but then, an realises something, too.

kohane is much better at everything than she is.

very similarly to ena's situation with futaba, kohane made much more progress in barely a year than an has in years. taiga - one of the old RADers, and somewhat of an uncle for an - recognised her potential, and asked to train her. not an, but kohane.

and of course, an is happy to know that! because that's her partner and friend, and an is happy to see her grow more confident and get better every day. because she cares. because she loves her.

but there's something in her chest - something that hurts and aches. she has to face the fact that she's not as good as she thought she was, that she isn't worthy of her father's legacy. that she isn't worthy of being kohane's partner, that she might be holding her back.

that she might be abandoned. left behind to rot.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

to me - ena and an are two kids suffering under the weight of a legacy that's too heavy for them to carry, but that they can't let go of. they're also struggling with seeing their peers succeed where they repeatedly fail. they're all about being terrified of being abandoned because they're not good enough.

they're both confronted by this fact.

and it terrorises them.

[firey-performer-an]

Hello.

@pianist-of-lost-souls

Oh, hey Toya!

[autistic--daniil--dankovsky]

@funnier-as-a-system

sometimes you just have to let yourself be a bit neurodivergent.

i hate going out, it gives me a lot of anxiety and sensory input that i dont like, and i am often forced to talk to people.

so i do this thing on more difficult days, or sometimes just for fun, where i "bring a fictional character with me". i walk and imagine Fictional Character walking next to me. they talk to me, reassure me, hype me up, whatever i need them to do.

today dean winchester came christmas shopping with me. he went over the list with me of stuff i needed to get, told me i was doing a good job every time i finished in a certain shop, reminded me to take a deep breath when i got a little overwhelmed.

and yea. its kinda silly. and i know its just me talking to myself in a different voice, but it Works! especially since all of my special interests/hyperfixations tend to be tv/movie related.

so do what you gotta do to Get Shit Done. stop holding yourself to neurotypical standards. if you need Fictional Character to tell you you're doing a good job, do it! if you need Favourite Singer to walk you to school, do it! yea it might feel silly but you're literally fighting against your own brain to get stuff done every single day. you can have a little self indulgent daydream, as a treat.

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff. post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader, + special guest appearances from the seijoh 4 because i love them. 800+ words.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Oikawa squints at you, then at Iwaizumi, then back at you again. “Something's different.”

“First time we see you in almost a year, and you're already acting weird.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, pulling out two chairs for you both to sit down. “Nothing's different.”

“Glad to see leaving Japan hasn't changed you, Oikawa.” You chime in, sliding into your seat. It was a nice little cafe, not too crowded, but not empty either. The table Oikawa had chosen was tucked away in the back, right by a window overlooking the street, giving you a perfect opportunity to watch the people walking by.

“No.... no, something is definitely off.” Oikawa looks over to the other two occupied seats, searching for some sort of agreement from his companions. “You two see it, don't you? Something has definitely changed since our last meet-up.”

“Our last meet-up was last September. I think it would be weirder if we hadn't changed a little since then,” Matsukawa laughs, waving him off. “I mean, look at Makki's haircut.”

Hanamaki looks thoughtful for a moment, nodding at Oikawa. “Nah, I think he's got a point. You two seem a little—Wait, what do you mean? What's wrong with my hair, asshole?”

“Hey, I didn't say it was bad! Just... different.”

“So, different in a good way?”

“Uh... sure, if that's what you want to go with.”

“You—”

“This isn't about Makki's hair!” Oikawa interrupts, pointing an accusing finger towards Iwaizumi. He looks up from the menu in his hands, glaring back at Oikawa. “It's about them. Something happened between you two, didn't it?”

“Maybe they got engaged.” Hanamaki suggests.

“They have to be dating before they get engaged.” Matsukawa pauses, realization on his face. “Wait, is that it? Did you guys actually start dating? Do I owe Makki ¥2000?”

“You're all imagining things.” Iwaizumi says bluntly. “Now, are we going to order or not?”

Oikawa's suspicion doesn't waver, but the mention of food distracts him enough to begrudgingly let the topic go. He waves over a waitress, ordering drinks and snacks for the whole table. Once she is gone, the conversation shifts to Matsukawa's work, then Hanamaki's lack of work, then everything Oikawa has been up to in Argentina.

Throughout the visit, you sit back and relax, chiming in with your own anecdotes and comments every now and then. For the most part, you keep quiet, content with listening to your friends as they catch up. Ever since graduation, when you all went your separate ways, reunions with all five of you were few and far between, so you were just happy to be together once again.

You barely notice the time passing at all, until Oikawa is five-minutes deep into a rant about his new team. Iwaizumi looks at his watch and balks, standing up from his seat.

“It's already five.” He says, cutting off Oikawa's voice. “I gotta get going soon.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“Already?” Matsukawa groans.

“Both of you?” Hanamaki asks, raising an eyebrow. “You have plans you'd like to share?”

“He's my ride home.” You shrug, gathering up your things. “It was great seeing you guys though. We'll have to hang out again when you're all free.”

After your goodbyes, the two of you leave the cafe and walk the short distance to Iwaizumi's car. Once you're alone, you settle into a comfortable silence, accompanied by the quiet sounds of the city in the background. Without your friends' scrutinizing gaze, Iwaizumi walks a little closer to you, until your shoulders lightly brush. The slight touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you make no effort to move away.

“So, Oikawa seems to think something is up.” You say casually, watching Iwaizumi frown at the mention of his friend.

“He can think whatever he wants to think.” He rolls his eyes, holding open the side door of his car. “We don't owe him anything.”

“We do have to tell them at some point, don't we?” You continue, as you climbed into the passenger seat. “You of all people should know he's not going to shut up about it until we do.”

“Of course I know that.” Iwaizumi grumbled, as soon as he was sat in his own seat.

“So...?”

“So what?” He adjusts his mirrors, glancing over at you.

“Is he right?” There's a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's clear you find it much more amusing than he does. You lean closer, whispering the words like they're a grand secret. “Is something different, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head a little, but can't hide the small smirk on his face. His hand reaches out to grasp your chin, tilting your face upwards so he can press a slow, sweet kiss to your lips. As he leans back, there's a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I don't know. Has something changed?”

You laugh lightly, savouring the taste of his lips on your own. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[thee-butterfly-sanctuary]

hello! we're chrysalis (or just chrys, both work), a mixed origins system :)

like is stated in the description, this really is just a blog to share plural stuff on so our main (which is at autistic-daniil-dankovsky) isn't too cluttered!

so far, the people posting/planning on posting on here are:

• an (she/he/it, 🎧)

• lore/lucas (he/him, 🐶)

we are pro endos and all that jazz, so please kindly fuck off if you're not 👍 ty!!

we don't have a simply plural yet, but maybe that'll change? anyway, i won't add much more on my own!

thank you for reading this :D

[autistic--daniil--dankovsky]

ign

meh. it's fine

Imma do this because I’m fucking bored.

What’s your url?

Now take away any and all numbers (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0), take away the letters F, Z, M, Q, L, H, B, T, P, E, A, Y, S, B, D, and X, take away all dashes (-),

What’s your new fucked up version of your url?

crustycreature

crucrur

[tiramissyoucake]

Thinking of Viltrumite Mark who was taken back to Viltrum from Earth shortly after his birth, then when he reaches a certain age he goes to earth by himself to learn about the half-earthling part of him

He miscalculates and crashes into your backyard, glancing up and seeing a human looking out their door with eyes as big as saucers like he was the weirdo when they're the one who were dressed like the first person who'd die in a fight. (He'd learn later that humans prefer loose clothes when they sleep)

You hear this guy shout in your backyard that he demands to know about 'earth' or he'll kill you, you let him in, explain as best as you could why he shouldn't fly around given earthlings are... defensive of their planet. Like any other planet. An alien would be classified as a threat, so it's best that he hides or lays low while he learns.

He takes it as an invite and he settles for staying with you, your home as his base, borrowing whatever clothes he can find from you until he gets his own, glaring and looming as he studies the surroundings of the planet while following you, like a scary dog you never signed up for.

At night, he asks if you know how insignificant your planet is compared to Viltrum, and you shoot back claiming if it's so insignificant, why did he seek it out? He can't answer because he knew he could've shrugged aside the half-earthling origin, but he didn't. And he stayed.

He's sort of glad he crash-landed in your backyard.

[nadeshikogf]

・*。chii-tan~ ♡ (*´ω`*)

credit 💕

[ddeonghwa-s]

good behavior .ᐟ.ᐟ

you're riding kim mingyu and find him absolutely beautiful and perfect. and so it's so easy for good boy to slip from your lips. little do you know that's all he needs to take full control so he can truly show you how much of a good boy he really is.

꒰୨୧꒱— kim mingyu x fem!reader

꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 2.8k

꒰୨୧꒱— genre : smut (mdni)

꒰୨୧꒱— cw : switch!gyu and switch!reader with dom!gyu. penetrative sex, unprotected sex. gendered praise on both sides (good boy/good girl), pet names (reader: princess). descriptive dirty talk, both narratively and with dialogue itself. heavy praise kink!

꒰୨୧꒱— tw : overstimulation, dummification, crying during sex from pleasure n overstimulation. cumming inside, heavy (?) subspace.

꒰୨୧꒱— notes : pure smut! this fic is written very stylistically for smut lol

you don’t think you’ll ever get over the sounds your boyfriend makes. 

kim mingyu is beautiful; this is no different even when he is beneath you. 

your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips. your arms are behind you, hands braced on his strong — thick — thighs. you can feel the clench of muscle underneath you with every gentle fuck of your hips, every sweet roll. your body is like the bow of a violin, his the instrument; with every soft grind of your body against his, the most beautiful, loud song sings, his thighs and abdomen clenching underneath you, his mouth parted wide. 

your boyfriend’s pleasure is undeniable as you look down at him. your hips move in sweet figure eights that make his hands constantly shift from gripping at your thighs to the bedsheets, that makes his head tilt back and bare his golden throat to you. 

and of course his voice. 

mingyu is not quiet with his pleasure, body or sound. so while his body bends and shifts beneath yours, seeking and pushing from the pleasure of his dick in your cunt, his mouth sings. 

“fuck,” he whines, dark brows furrowed together. he hisses, white canines glinting in the bedroom light as his jaw drops in his moan. you can see where his teeth are indenting his pinkish brown mouth, marking his lips while in his sexual trance. 

“feels good,” you question, voice breathy as you continue to gently fuck down on him. it’s a trick question: you know he feels good. you feel so fucking powerful: mingyu, tall and broad and handsome and perfect mingyu, beneath you, his fat cock so deep inside your pussy you swear it’s in your cervix, gravity pushing you further and further down with every roll of your hips. 

his fat dick is deep within you, his large hands digging into the flesh of your thighs, and he’s moaning, mingyu is moaning, lips curling with pleasure. this man, this absolute powerhouse of a man, is moaning and whimpering beneath you, and fuck if you don’t feel absolutely heady with that power. 

when you fuck down on him you ensure his cock is sliding along that pleasure-spot in your pussy, sweetly stoking your own fires of passion. you can’t help but roll your head back at the slide of his dick, eyes falling shut prettily at the sensation. 

mingyu’s hands slip over you. he’s touching without any particular aim, just wanting to feel. he slides his hands over your thighs, your knees. he brush his fingers along the outside of your legs before he grips at your hips. he nails, neatly trimmed and cleaned, dig into the flesh there. 

he doesn’t use his grip to manipulate you in any way. mingyu just holds you like that, possessively marking your skin. 

“feels so good,” he says, hands flexing against you. you can feel him shift beneath you, hips minutely tilting. “you feel so good, princess.”

you let out a little huff of laughter. sweat dots your hairline, your skin is discolored from his enthusiastic mouth and teeth, and your cunt is soaking from your arousal and his precum; yet you’re princess. 

you move forward. you place your hands on mingyu’s abdomen. for a moment you just take in the feel of him beneath your hands. his soft skin, the way it rises and falls with every ragged breath he takes. you don’t think you’ll ever spend a moment not admiring mingyu; his heavy thighs and plush tits, his brown nipples and sweet mouth. 

using your hands to give yourself leverage, you raise your hips off of mingyu. he lets out a shuttering hiss, voice cracking high on the tail-end of it. 

when you drop back down on his cock, the flesh of your thighs meeting his with a sharp slap!, mingyu lets out a deep groan that seems to bubble out from deep within him. 

you laugh again. “that’s it,” you say, still smiling as you raise yourself up off of his dick once more. “gotta be loud for me, sweetheart.”

mingyu lets out another little noise at the deceptively-soft nickname. “gonna kill me,” he whines. “you’re so —”

you drop back on his dick roughly. if you hadn’t spent so long riding him already, hadn’t already been thoroughly fucked open by his cock, the momentum would’ve absolutely torn you in half. as it is you feel breathless, as if the wind had been knocked out from you. 

mingyu lets out a moan. “princess —”

“good boy,” you say, not quite aware of what words are escaping from between your lips, “such a good fucking boy.”

mingyu’s dark eyes open wide, his mouth parting. for a moment or two he just stares, just looks at you. 

you raise your brows at him, hips shallowly fucking down on him, a silent challenge. 

but then mingyu is flushing, blood rushing to color his golden skin. “say it again,” he properly whines, “say it again.”

you laugh at him, breathless. “taking me like a good boy,” you say. “you feel so fucking good inside of me, baby. stretching my tight little pussy so good like the good boy you are.”

mingyu groans again, and then he’s using his grip on your hips to tip you over onto the bed. his dick slips from your pussy as he moves the two of you, pressing your hot, sweaty body into the sheets and claiming your mouth with his. 

mingyu kisses you with absolutely no finesse. it’s all tongue. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and sucks at yours in turn as he lines his dick back to your pussy. 

he doesn’t fuck back into you immediately. mingyu holds his dick with one hand, sliding the tip of it along your folds. you’re absolutely soaking, and you can already feel fluid, a combination of your own juices and his precum, leaking down your cunt. 

“say it again,” mingyu demands, eyes pleading. his curls stick to his forehead sweetly. altogether he paints a cute picture of desperation, of a man trapped in a place where the lines between want and need blur completely. 

you laugh against his mouth. you wind your arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to yours once more. you suck at his lower lip, and for a moment he’s so distracted by your mouth that he forgets how he was taunting you with his dick, cock and the hand guiding it stilling. 

“fuck me, mingyu,” you say against his chin. “fuck me like a good boy.”

mingyu lets out a groan, and then he’s fucking his fat cock back inside. 

your cunt is, rather bluntly, gaping; there’s no pain from the stretch of his dick against your walls because there is no stretch. your pussy has so sweetly molded itself to the shape of him, allowing mingyu to seamlessly thrust back in. 

immediately he’s pushing until his dick is perfectly nestled in, the root of his dick against you. mingyu tucks his head against your neck, letting out a shuddering breath. 

you smile, one of your hands going to entangle with the sweaty curls at the base of his neck. “c’mon,” you gently taunt, “fuck me, baby.”

mingyu groans, a strangled noise, and then, ever obedient, he begins to fuck you. 

the slide of his dick against your walls has you tightening your hold on him, knees squeezing at his hips and toes curling. mingyu can’t help but grunt a little as you constrict him. so he shifts, arms moving to loop underneath your legs and forcing them up, breaking your hold around his neck. 

“gotta fuck you good,” he huffs. he uses the fold of your legs as leverage, slowly, maddingly, pulling his cock back from the hot heat of your pussy. “gonna fuck you so good, princess.”

his hands slip along the underside of your thighs, gripping them as mingyu moves to his knees. mingyu begins to fuck you properly, his thighs meeting your ass with sharp noises that seem to echo throughout the room; they do nothing, however, to hide the wet squelching noise of his cock thrusting in your pussy. 

despite all the times you’ve fucked before, you never seem to be able to get over this. the feeling of his dick striking against your cunt walls, the slight burn of your legs from the position he has you in, the noise of your cunt squelching with every quick thrust. 

because mingyu fucks you so eagerly. he’s chasing that high, chasing that hot pleasure that burns at his core. but he isn’t, of course, a greedy lover. 

mingyu makes sure to grind his hips against you, makes sure to rub against your walls and make those electric bundles within you dance from the stimulation. and he talks as he does it, lisp becoming prominent, eyes bright with the fever of passion. 

“feel so fucking good,” he says, and you almost can’t hear him over the sharp slap of his hips. “you’re so fucking hot and wet, princess — so fucking perfect, fucking made for me, made for my cock. 

“perfect pussy — it’s mine, princess. you’re mine, fuck —” and when your cunt clenches down around his dick in response, mingyu can’t help but laugh breathessly, canines peaking. “like that, princess? like me telling you that you’re mine? you are. all fucking mine, no one else’s.

“no one else gets to see this,” he says, eyes darting over your body. he takes in the jiggle of your tits as he thrusts, the sweat that glistens on your skin. “no one gets to see you all fucked out ‘n pretty like this. no one else gets to see your pretty fucking tits, your cute little cunt.”

he lets out another laugh, and then he’s covering your body with his, hands sliding to the backside of your knees to force them lower and lower. you can’t help but groan a little at the pain of it, toes curling at the stretch. 

and his dick — his dick seems to slide deeper in you, somehow forces itself further. 

“tell me,” mingyu hisses, beginning to fuck you once more. “tell me i’m doing good, princess. gotta say it. say i’m fucking you good.”

you can’t speak for a moment. so much is going on. your pussy is clenching, gut tightening. you’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel everything so acutely; the slap of skin against skin, the stretch of your legs, his fat cock going so deep inside —

“tell me.”

your mouth quivers for a moment. when you speak it’s all automatic, not a single actual thought running through your brain. “so good, gyu — so — you fuck me so — so good —”

finally, and inevitably, mingyu slips his hand down to your cunt. it’s an easy glide of his thick fingers, slippery with your precious juices. for a moment he feels at your hole, feels your little hole gape around his dick as he fucks in out, in out. 

then mingyu’s hand continues on its journey, slipping up to frame your cute clit with his fingers. you’re already tensing up, pussy gripping his cock, in anticipation. 

and then mingyu begins rubbing at the muscle on either side of your clit, sending electric desire sparking up your body. he doesn’t rub in rhythm with his thrusts; instead mingyu keeps his hips quick and rabid and his rubbing smooth, a constant wave. it’s so much, it’s verging on overstimulating. 

you don’t know what to focus on — you can’t focus. 

your hips are bucking up into his, trying to meet each thrust, trying to spear yourself on his fat cock. at the same time you’re trying to force his fingers against you, trying to seek them out, and it’s this horrible, delightful overstimulation where you just don’t know what to do. 

it’s mind dumbing. you feel frantic; wantonly so. there’s no thought in your mind, no desire other than this. 

you want and you’re not even sure what you want; his cock fucking you so good, drilling into your sopping wet pussy, or his fingers, coaxing around your clit. 

you feel dumb with desire and overstimulation. you don’t know, you just don’t know. 

and it’s inevitable, really: you burst into tears. they spring out from your eyes and your mouth opens in a sob, your head pressing back against the mattress. you want want want but you don’t know, you don’t know —

mingyu presses his body against yours, grounding you with his heavy bulk. he presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders and throat and chest, trailing his lips. “c’mon,” he says, “gotta cum for me, princess. cum on my cock, fuckin’ cum on it.”

and you want want want —

mingyu’s teeth are sharp as he bites down onto your shoulder, digging in. the pain is bright and furious as it slices through you. it’s so startling that your entire body just seems to snap, and then you’re cumming, cumming cumming. 

it’s — you don’t even know what it is. all-consuming; electric; overpowering. it’s a cosmos bursting into everything and nothingness. 

mingyu stops thrusting as you cum, instead focusing on rubbing at your clit to get you through the orgasm. the loss of sensation has you sobbing once more, fingers twisting into the sheets as you buck your hips. 

you try to say something; fail. you try again. “p — please, please —”

mingyu lets out a loud groan. once he’s sure your orgasm has subsided, he withdraws from your cunt. you can’t help but cry at the loss, cry at how empty and gaping your pussy feels. 

mingyu manhandles you, twisting your body so your chest is pressing against the mattress and your ass is in the air. he mounts you, cock thrusting inside of you in one swift, almost brutal, movement. 

you press your face against the sheets, crying into them. so much is happening. your body is still ringing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but mingyu is fucking you, and it’s so so so much and it’s so so so wonderful. 

because you feel so utterly used. you’re just a hole for him at this point, just a pussy for him to fuck and get his full of. 

and mingyu does. 

mingyu fucks you. there’s no love in it other than the fact he’s fucking his girl, his princess; no love other than the fact you’re his. he fucks you purely to seek his end, to make that burning-hot fever within him snap, and it just so happens the hole he’s using belongs to you. 

his hands are strong as they grip your hips, slapping you back onto his dick. he lets out soft pants, deep moans. 

“good boy,” he hisses out, mostly air. “‘m your good boy, yeah? fuckin’ you so good, princess. say it. say i’m fucking you so good.”

you fight around the sobs that escape you, and when you speak your words are muffled by the mattress. “fuckin’ me good,” you sob, “my good — good boy, gyu —”

mingyu lets out a low noise, a growl, of satisfaction. he fucks your cunt a few more times, each thrust harsh and quick. the noises are crude, the sound of wet skin against skin, of his dick resisting against the wet suction of your pussy with every pull out. 

and then mingyu’s cumming in you. his cum is hot and thick, and as soon as you feel it fill you there’s an overwhelming satisfaction that shoots through you. 

you made him cum; he came from your cunt. 

mingyu drapes himself over your back, ignoring how your body collapses beneath him. he’s still inside of your pussy, dick plugging your hole and keeping his white cum from dripping out. 

he pushes your sweaty hair aside, presses his nose against the shell of your ear. when he speaks his breath is hot against your flesh. “good girl,” he groans, his hips giving a gentle buck into you. “what a good girl you are. you’re my good girl, aren’t you? my babygirl with the fucking perfect little cunt, perfect little pussy.”

you whine, nodding against the mattress. his words echo in your brain: good girl, good girl, good girl. 

“say it.”

“‘m your good girl,” you whimper.

mingyu laughs against you, breathless. “yes, you are. and ‘cause you’re my good girl you’ll let me, let your good boy keep fucking your cunt, yeah? let me fill you up?”

your body is exhausted. your mind is exhausted. you can’t think, and you don’t know, quite frankly, how you’re even breathing. absolutely nothing is happening; even your blood seems to slow to a stillness within you, your body overwhelmed to a point of merely existing. 

but still: 

“my princess is a good girl,” he says, nipping at your ear lobe. “you’ll let me fill you up again, yeah?”

and you are. you are his good girl, are totally, completely his. 

and so you say: 

“yes.”

[autistic--daniil--dankovsky]

an shiraishi would punch transphobes. sent post

[firey-performer-an]

Shiraishi-chan? Do you think that we can practice together today? I want to see if our styles mix well together.

-@theater-person-emu

Oh, of course! Let me tell my groupmates first though..

[pearltoon]

probably my favourite picture i’ve taken so far!

13/09/24 | grand festival venue

[rynfiles]

break up with your bf !

✎ᝰ — jjk men having a crush on you, so ofc they want your bf gone !

★ — gojo, geto, choso, toji x reader

★ — genre + warnings: fluff/crack + me trying to be funny and failing terribly

★ — a/n: I tried to put in nanami but nothing came to mind🧍🏽‍♀️. I’ll make it up to yall and post aot version…soon !

𖥻 bye babes, drink your water and I love you MWAH 💕

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗋𝗒𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff! post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x implied fem!reader. 500+ words. since you guys liked the last one, here's more iwaizumi :) he's so <3

Iwaizumi is a gentleman. It's made immensely clear even before you started dating him, that chivalry isn't dead as long as he is living and breathing.

You never have to touch a doorknob when you're walking by his side, because by the time you reach out, he's already turning the handle. It's instinct by now; he could be midway through a monologue about the clients at his job, or the mediocre weather they've been having, or any other topic, and he'd still never forget to hold the door open for you to pass through first.

It's a wonder how you didn't notice sooner, with how frequently it happens, but it's not the only thing. It can be subtle at times, so much that you barely notice when he guides you to the street side of the footpath, leaving himself closest to the road, or when he lends you his umbrella, even if he has a longer walk home.

The habits are charming, but no moment shows his ways better he asks you out. A bunch of neatly clipped roses in hand, in his nicest shirt and pants, he arrives with a whole speech ready to confess his feelings. For once, he even looks nervous, almost stumbling over his words. But all of that is gone as soon as you smile at him, accepting his invitation with a breathless laugh.

Suddenly, with the walls of friendship knocked down, and faced with the chance for more, it only amplifies. Now, he gets to hold your hand, and drape his jacket over your shoulders, and slide his arm around your waist to draw you closer. Whenever you go out together, he's always either at your side or close by, holding your drink when you duck into the bathroom, and glaring at anyone who dares to make you feel uncomfortable.

And it's not just you who sees it, it's everyone else too.

On his birthday, a few of his closest friends gathered for drinks together, celebrating the occasion together. You were enjoying yourself for a while, but the gathering was starting to drain you. It was loud, and it was cold, and Iwaizumi noticed. He always did.

“You good?” He asked lowly. “We can leave early if you want.”

“I'm fine,” You said, stifling a shiver. The movement wasn't lost on Iwaizumi, and his brows furrowed minutely. He shrugged off his own jacket—the nice, comfortable black one you bought for him as a gift—and gently laid it over you. The weight of it settling across your shoulders was comforting, and you smiled in gratitude.

“Can't believe this favouritism,” Mattsun, sitting a barstool over, rolled his eyes, light-heartedly slapping Iwaizumi on the back. “He never treats us like that, you know. What if I was cold, huh?”

It was true, you realize slowly. You've never seen him interact with anyone else quite in the same way as how he interacts with you. Perhaps that's to be expected, with you being his partner, but it was obvious even before. Even with all his rough edges, every part of him was softened especially for you.

You smiled at Iwaizumi, with nothing but love. “Oh, that's just the way he is.”

A gentleman, through and through.

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3