kandlegirlstudio

[daedracore]

[skyrimlesbians]

Vex is a lesbian!

[skecherss]

"He knows I'm not the possessive type. I'm totally cool with him having other friends." Girl twenty issues earlier you stole your mom's scrubs to sneak into a hospital and spy on your boyfriend's female friend after he repeatedly told you they were just friends. ARE you cool with it

from Robin (1993) #101

[lucrezianoin]

Yenna is like

and this is my family

a devil-celebrity, a warrior from the hells, a vampire, a cultist, an alien woman, the murderous son of a god, a wizard, a guy who is a bear 50% of the time, a bickering non-married couple, a pair of angelic lesbians and a skeleton man

[alexiethymia]

a post trimax headcanon

It’s an ordinary day. There isn’t any chaos for once. Vash is enjoying his donuts, while Meryl is enjoying her ceylon tea. Maybe Milly’s outside fixing the camera.

Milly and Meryl are going back to No Man’s Land Broadcasting’s main office. It might be a while since they’ll next see Vash for their segment.

Right after she finishes her tea, Meryl says: “I’m off to work, Vash.” (“Ittekimasu, Vash-san.”)

And quick as anything, all casual-like, without even thinking about it, Meryl kisses him on the lips. Just a peck, she just plants one on him. Vash freezes. Meryl withdraws and she’s talking normally saying something about how many days it’ll take for them to reach headquarters, until she just…stops. Processes what she just did.

For one long moment, Vash and Meryl just stare at each other, until Meryl lets out an unholy shriek and starts blabbing out apologies for what she did. She’s sorry for taking advantage and she doesn’t know what came over her. She buries her face in her hands because she can’t bear to look at him, and she already said she didn’t want him to think crying was the only thing she could do. But she really can’t help the tiny tears because she doesn’t want to see that soft apologetic look as if not wanting to break her heart. She wishes she had Jessica’s optimism or Luida’s fortitude. Fistbumping him would have been less mortifying.

Because she has her face hidden, she doesn’t see Vash’s face slowly turning crimson, mouth gaping. But seeing how tightly Meryl is bunching her fists together, he grows concerned. Slowly, he approaches her, tries to softly remove her hands so he can see her eyes. At first there’s resistance, but Meryl eventually gives way. His eyes soften at seeing her blushing and embarrassed and holding back tears. He hesitates at first. The moment he moves closer, Meryl instinctively backs away slightly, but he crouches and looks at her imploringly. Even though he’s taller than her, it’s as if he’s looking up at her to ask for something. Again, she gives in. She stands her ground but screws her eyes shut instead. Vash can’t help the soft giggle which makes Meryl open her eyes to narrow them at him. Vash smiles, and hand cradling her face, quick as anything, all casual-like, he pecks her sweetly, just one soft touch, lips to lips.

Vash: “Have a safe trip, Meryl.” (“Itterasshai, Meryl.”)

Meryl releases an awed sigh, before she’s matching Vash’s smile with her own.

(And off to the side, Milly is keeping down her squeals as she tapes everything for posterity. She’s sure senpai and Vash-san will thank her for it later.

Little does she know, she was actually broadcasting live, and thus births NMLB’s most popular program to date, hidden-footage style outtakes where after the official program on Vash the Stampede, TV watchers get to see the aforementioned outlaw and the investigative journalist tailing him being sweet on each other. Meryl doesn’t have a clue. Milly doesn’t have a clue. She just keeps rolling the cam. A particular fave was when she caught them cuddling with Vash’s arms around Meryl as she dozed on his shoulder. The after program does wonders for Vash’s reputation. He’s now the most Wanted by teenage hearts all over No Man’s Land. Parents are suing NMLB since their kids are suddenly saying they want to set off to find their own outlaw sweetheart. Everyone who knows them is livid that this is how they get confirmation of their will-they-won’t-they. Vash, Meryl, and Milly still don’t have a clue.)

[lopsidedtreetrunks]

amedot fusion amedOT FUSION AMEDOT FUSI

[bugsbucket]

WIP of my love Leah 💕🪴 i had such a clear vision of her throwing clay last night i had to expel it from my soul

now we render 🤗

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

find a new place to be from: Crystal Palace Playlist!

Crystal Palace: a hollow in the shape of a girl. Determined to be better than she was.

Or, Crystal Palace: the only living soul in a room full of ghosts, full of fire and soul and too much love to stand. Constantly trying her best and often failing but pushing on because what is she if she is not trying?

"Crystal is too young and too alive and too exhausted. All of her friends are either dead or adults in butcher shops or a Cat King on his fourth life and it’s too much. She is flayed raw. Ripped open by lack of sleep and glimpses of David and saving Charles in the forest and this case being too much.

And Crystal hits the end of her rope. She snaps, because she has been pulled too taut for too long, because she doesn’t know how to be a girl instead of a void with teeth, because she doesn’t know who she is when she isn’t fighting for herself."

For her chapter in the initial fic (though I have PLANS with her arc involving both her parents, her relationships, and her humanness in a world filled with ghosts):

[daz4i]

every time i have a long drive with my mom the same week as a new bsd chapter/episode i tell her what happened. so today she got to hear abt the old man yaoi divorce. and i've never seen her more interested and excited to hear my infodumps before. she's truly one of us

[icanbeyourgenie]

[ a drunk Calypso opening and closing the oven, not understanding why the peach pie doesn't magically appears, and not knowing they have to do everything themselves ]

".... What are you doing?" Yasmeen asked, clearly puzzled.

"Looking for the pie obviously! I wonder where they get it from." It was clear from the way Calypso shaped her words that she was still drunk, but Yasmeen suspected that it wasn't the only reason she thought that pie made themselves.

".... They get it from the oven."

"Oh! Th-"

"After they made it by themselves, using their hands and different ingredients!" Yasmeen clarified as Calypso was heading to the oven.

A silence fell on the room. The three siblings looked at each other. Yasmeen was brutally reminded of their royal status; not any royals, but the children of a High King. Weirdly enough, it didn't scare her this time. Instead she burst into laughing.

"Maybe we could cook one ourselves then. It can't be that complicated, right?" Malachai interjected which made Yasmeen force herself to stop. She whipped her tears and focused on the situation.

"Really Mal ? Have you ever even watched someone cook? Cause I know I didn't." It was not entirely true, but Nathaniel had no memories of his time as a human anyway, so close enough. "And even if we did, we don't have pies under the sea because we don't have ovens!"

"Yes. That's the only reason we don't know how to make pies. Otherwise-" Malachai started but Yasmeen cut him.

"You've been here for months now, though." Plus, she knew as a fact that the boys were regularly expected to go to the surface as part of their training, so it was no excuse.

"Well..."

"I just I want a pie..."

Calypso seemed so sad and it made Yasmeen move around the kitchen to fetch out the specific ingredients they needed. She knew this kitchen by heart. She always came here to steal some food - when it was uncooked it was easy to determine which food was safe for mortals or not. Once she was finished she put everything on the table. effectively stopping the arguments between the siblings as to who should know how to make a pie.

"Wait.. Can you make us a peach pie?" Calypso asked, hope returning on her face.

"Yes I can... But I won't."

It was funny how Calypso looked like a puppy when she was drunk, unable to hide her sad expressions. She was really drunk indeed. Nathaniel matched her energy even if he hid it better. Malachai seemed pretty sober even if Yasmeen knew she was the only one here who didn't drink.

"Instead I'll teach you how to do it yourself."

"But..."

"No 'but'. This is a very important skill. Come here, all of you."

They came closer and she hopped onto the counter, trying not to laugh as they watched the ingredients and different kitchen tools she took out of the drawers.

"So, here's the deal." Yasmeen spoke and was surprised of how intently they all listened. "Let's turn this into a game. I'll be the judge, jury and executioner here. I'll tell you the instructions of how to make the pie only once and then you're on your own. The winner will name their price. Whatever they ask for they'll have to get it. The loser, however... will be charged to go into Crazy Maggy's hut and come back with one of her items. Whatever you want. I'd personally go for one of her famous bottle of wine, but it's really up to you."

The three of them suddered. They were only in the fae land for months but everyone knew who Crazy Maggy was. Really old fae, living near the court but in an isolated hut in the enchanted forest. Nobody knew what was her relationship with Morgana or the royal family. Nobody even knew what her real name was. What everyone knew however was that no one should go near her or talk to her. She got her nickname from always saying odd things and being borderline paranoid of everything. She became like the boggy man for fae children, and they were usually not easy to scare.

Yasmeen judged her skills progress by that lady. The day she got into her house and took something without being noticed and chased away with violent broom swings was the day she started considering herself a decent thief and spy. Maggy saw everything. If she didn't see her that meant no one would. Yasmeen could've stopped going at her place, but she wasn't kidding when she said it rivaled the cavern of wonders. Everything was stored in that little hut. She couldn't wait to see how the siblings would deal with her.

"Do you accept my terms?"

"Do we have peach pie if we don't?"

"No." Yasmeen answered Calypso.

"Then of course we do!"

"Huh I don't know about you guys but I don't want to go into Crazy Maggy's hunt. I like my head on my body thank you." Nathaniel shuddered.

Malachai raised a brow, clearly amused. "So you're giving up?"

"Over my dead body! I'll win anyway, and then I'll get to see you get cooked by Crazy Maggy."

Fueled by pure siblings rivalry energy they all listened at the instructions and started working. Yasmeen was already playing with her knife, watching all of them look so focused on making that pie it almost seemed like they were trying to crack some enigma. It was funny, and oddly relaxing, to see them all work.

After a while she got closer to each one of them individually, to really see their struggles. Calypso was not the most agile, so cutting the peaches wasn't her strong suit, and she lost way too many eggs by making some of them fall. Nathaniel was too busy eating the peaches and the dough to actually be any good. And when she got to Malachai. she saw him frozen, eyebrows knit together, looking at the salt.

"Is it... Is it the flour?" Yasmeen actually tried no to laugh but it was impossible.

"Don't make fun of me!" He protested, but he was clearly smiling too. "We never had to be in a kitchen before. Plus, if the head chef wasn't so against merefolks, and had cooked the pie himself instead of rudely calling us out, we wouldn't be in this mess. So really, it's all the Faes' fault. And you only said it was the white powder one. There's three white powders here!"

"If I only knew how bad you were at that, I'd have challenged you to cooking contests a while ago. At least I'd be sure to win... Well. I do win most of our fights anyway." She teased, but still pointed the flour to him. He was about to respond when Nathaniel cut.

"Hey!! No cheating you two! Cally look, he's trying to cheat by flirting with the judge!!"

"I'm not!"

"I have my eyes on you now, brother!"

"Those peaches are so hard to cut..."

Eventually, all the pies were over (alongside another few bottles of champagnes) and presented to Yasmeen. And oh did she regret her choice.

"So..." She started. All three pair of eyes were on her, clearly waiting for her feedback. She always praised herself on her capacity to stay decent in a world filled with evil. But this was another kind of test. "You're all.... terrible at cooking."

They started protesting. But when they tasted it themselves, there was no denying the truth.

"I do have a rank though. Are you ready to hear it?"

"Go ahead. Tell us which one of us is going to die soon."

"Okay, here we go. In the 2nd place of the podium is.... Calypso."

The girl squeaked and it was truly lovely. Later, Yasmeen would admit that Calypso's pie was actually the worst. But best friends always had each other's back, right? They all started protesting again until Yasmeen stopped them.

"Okay, now.... Malachai?"

"Yes?" He actually sounded nervous, and Yasmeen had to ignore the voice in her head that called it cute.

"Step forward please." He did and in the background Nathaniel and Calypso held their breath.

"How do you feel about your pie?" Yasmeen asked in her most neutral tone of voice and realized that she was having too much fun.

"Well... Frankly I think you should have been clearer with the instructions."

"Oh so now it's my fault that you're a terrible cook?"

"I didn't say that... But as far as teaching go, there's definitely room for improvement."

Yasmeen feigned being shocked for a moment. "Oh then, maybe I'll be the one to blame for when Maggy will eat you alive..."

"But-"

"Not this time though. Congratulations, you won. You can name your price. Nate, enjoy your last night with us."

"WHAT?! I disagree!" The siren protested.

"There's more peaches in your belly right now that there is on your pie, and you forgot to use sugar."

"Ah! Loser."

They all started arguing and Yasmeen watched, warmed up by this sibling affection, before a still drunk Calypso spoke again.

"We still don't have any pie to eat..." Yasmeen rolled her eyes then sighed.

"Okay I'll do it. But pay close attention this time."

[thedeadthree]

hi i have new f*allout oc girlie lore

[spiderfaang]

ngl I'm surprised picklenight isn't more popular. But then again, out of all of what was going on in CF's trial, I didn't expect people to linger on it too much. Like if the erins ever decided to give nightcloud another mate, I hope it would be pickle. I think she deserves a soft kittypet husband

[appreciatingtokrev]

warrior cats hyperfixation era me was so close to figuring out she’s trans and aroace. so close.

warrior cats hyperfixation era me: ‘‘yeah i usually rp as male cats :) idk i just prefer writing them and it’s easier for me to think as them than as female cats? idk i just prefer them. but irl i’m a girl xD’’

GIRL YOU ARE TRANS.

THAT’S WHY YOU PREFER PLAYING AS TOMS. BC IT REPRESENTS YOUR GENDER MORE ACCURATELY

warrior cats hyperfixation era me: ‘‘my fav clan rank? definitely healer! they don’t have to fight, they just collect herbs and treat the wounded cats. sometimes they also hunt. also they aren’t allowed a mate or kits which is a stupid rule but most of them don’t want that anyway. and yes i love rping healers who just have close friends no mate no kits no forbidden romance no nothing! but i’m omniromantic :)’’

GIRL NO. YOU ARE LITERALLY AROACE

warrior cats hyperfixation era me was so so fucking close. she was so fucking close and she still didn’t realise shit

[vonlipvig]

i honestly can't choose what my fave megan look is, but it's definitely either silence!megan or 20weekwar!megan because LOOK AT HER

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m like. rotating in my head y’shtola’s shb line about wishing she had the echo to peer into the heart of the WoL w/o words combined w eyrie post EW and how it really is like. she knows them (the torturous unbearable way of knowing someone)

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂

You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂⠄

a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.