#but thank you sm for your kind words 🩷

[torawro]

sosaaaaa i saw u tagged me in ur aizen fic 👀 i'm so excited to get to it!!! i already know it's going to be amazing <33

HAI DARLING <3 and yes you are correct in your observation, i most definitely tagged you 😇 i am even more excited to see your reaction to this particular fic >< i know how much you love aizen tew heheh

[bloomseishiro]

Hi! Can I request some BLLK drabbles (with whichever BLLK characters you like) where the boys see the reader in tight clothes for the first time? Like, the reader usually wears baggy clothing or stuff that hides their curves/body figure, so it’s a total surprise! It doesn’t have to be a dress—tight shorts and crop tops work too!

Anyways, I love you and your fics! You’re doing amazing, hunny! 💕 Keep doing what you’re doing—your stories make me smile and feel the thrill!! 💓🩷💗

what a surprise — he sees you in tight clothes for the first time

౨ৎ ft. nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, itoshi rin

a/n. THANK YOU SWEET ANON FOR THE REQUEST!! i had sm fun writing this and ur kind words def made my day ^-^ i chose the three characters i’m most comfy with heh one day i will expand!! >.>

contents. fluff, pre-relationship, timeskip/pro soccer player bllk boys, reader wears a tight dress for rin and nagi’s + crop top/short shorts for sae’s, these are suggestive so rated 16+ pls ! 

NAGI SEISHIRO

Nagi isn’t one to go to parties often. But this one was for Reo’s birthday and you were begging him to go. 

He thought it would be less of a hassle to simply agree with you and make an appearance. Besides, he could always bring his phone and hide in the corner of the room, if needed. 

But when Nagi sees the dress you’re wearing to the party, he decides maybe agreeing to come wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“Does this dress make my butt look big?” you ask from his room, popping your head out of the doorframe. 

The two of you are getting ready at Nagi’s apartment, mainly so he can’t flake at the last minute, and he had stepped out earlier to give you privacy while changing. 

At your question, Nagi looks around lazily before his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The dress on your body is short and tight, leaving nothing to the imagination when it comes to the shape of your waist and hips. 

Nagi swallows with uncertainty. It’s different from your usual attire, that much even he could recognize. 

“Yes,” he manages to answer your question honestly. 

You beam as if that's just the response you’re looking for. “Great! I was going to wear my usual clothes, but Reo said we should dress nice since his family invited some celebrities.”

Nagi nods in acknowledgment. “Your dress is nice. But your usual clothes are nice, too.”

Hiding a giggle, you tug the dress down so it covers more of your thighs. Nagi can’t help but notice how shiny and supple your skin looks there. 

“Do you like one more than the other?” you ask playfully. 

He shakes his head hesitantly and he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I like…both.”

“I’ll make sure to mix it up sometimes, then.”

ITOSHI SAE

Sae isn’t a saint. He’s never claimed nor pretended to be. While his focus has always been on soccer, he wasn’t one to turn down one night stands so long as they were conveniently timed for him. 

All that to say, he’s seen plenty of minimally-clad bodies before. But he’s never felt the dryness in his throat that he does now. All from seeing you in those denim booty shorts and cropped baby tee. 

Of course, the ridiculous shirt has, “Make Men Cry” written across your chest, only accentuating the curves you normally kept hidden even more. You may very well be able to reach that goal if you keep walking around like that. 

His face is neutral; only Sae himself feels the slight clench of his jaw as his eyes trail across your figure. 

“Do I look bad?” you blurt hesitantly, tugging at the hem of your shirt that landed just above your belly-button. Your fidgeting only serves to draw more attention to the exposed, soft skin on your stomach. 

Sae blinks slowly. “No. Who said that?”

“No one, but you just keep staring at me…” 

“Not because you look bad,” he corrects. “It’s because you look hot.”

“You think?” you ask shyly, peering up at him through your lashes. “My friend and I went on a shopping spree and I wanted to change up my wardrobe. Just sometimes, at least.”

Sae makes a mental note to thank your friend. “Well, if you need more clothes, you can use my card.”

“I’ll make sure to get more of these cropped tops. Since you seem to like it so much,” you tease.

“For whatever reason, only on you.”

ITOSHI RIN

Awestruck doesn’t begin to describe how Rin feels when he sees you in a silk dress that gracefully falls against all your curves. 

Galas are a pain, a stupid event he would skip if not for his PR team’s incessant prodding, but at least he managed to drag you along with him for this one. 

He didn’t, however, actually expect you to dress the part. He would’ve been fine if you had shown up in the oversized shirts and baggy pants you typically wore, but he was completely caught off guard at the sight of you now.

“Can you help me tighten the back?” you ask bashfully, turning around to reveal the almost-backless dress that held itself together by a few measly strings. “I don’t want it to fall off at the gala…”

Rin’s ears heat up and he mentally slaps himself for picturing that. “Yeah. C’mere.”

You aren’t one to wear revealing clothes often, and this is the most skin he’s seen since he ever met you. His fingers ghost the back of your spine as he fastens the strings into a little bow. His fingers jerk as he skims the softness of your skin and he clears his throat to distract himself. 

“Is this good?” he asks hoarsely. 

You tug at the straps to make sure it’s secure and nod brightly. “Yep! Thanks, Rin. Do you need help with anything? I can tie your tie in return!”

Panicked, he shakes his head and quickly fastens his tie himself. It’s the fastest Rin has ever gotten it done. Once finished, he catches you staring at him with a funny look. 

“You’re acting silly,” you say, sticking your tongue out.

“Sorry. I know. I’m just not used to you looking like that.”

Your gaze meets the floor as you shuffle your weight from foot to foot. “Is it weird?”

“It’s unfamiliar. But you look…” he trails off, cheeks a bright pink. “You look really pretty.”

You blink in surprise and an equally embarrassed look graces your features. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he coughs. “Not that you’re not always pretty. Just…it’s different.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, giggling through the shyness. “Well, if you want to see me like this more often, I guess you have to invite me as your plus one to more of these events.”

“Do you want to attend more of these with me?” asks Rin in surprise. 

“Not particularly,” you admit and Rin scoffs. “But maybe it’s worth it to see your cute reactions.”

His face heats up once more. “Shut up.” 

You laugh at him, placing your hand on your hips and only drawing more attention to your curves. Maybe Rin doesn’t hate galas, after all.

[luvstappen]

pairing: oscar piastri x fewtrell!reader

summary: “have my back, yeah, every day”

warnings: SMAU (no written parts), swearing, mature themes, a lot of (really really bad, sorry in advance) sex jokes, use of y/n

previous part | masterlist

a/n: so we’re at the end! i genuinely don’t have the words to express how grateful i am for every single one of you who’s read, reblogged, screamed in my inbox, or just quietly followed along <3 thank you for trusting the process (even when things felt messy or uncertain) and for letting these characters live in your hearts for a while. i’m so lucky to have you here 💌

a/n2: if you’re wondering what’s next: the upcoming smau series, arriving in a few weeks/months, will be about lando and it’ll be a loose continuation of this story :) lando girlies it’s not over yet!!!

liked by oscarpiastri and others

ynfewtrell just a girl, her flowers, and her highly unqualified feline chauffeur 🐾🚗💐

view all comments

oscarpiastri 🧡

ynfewtrell 💋

user2 my favourite wag fr

user3 can oscar fight?

maxfewtrell Against who? The cat?

user4 OSCAR JUNIOR IS SO BIG WHAT

ynfewtrell they grow up so fast 😢

user5 HE CAN DRIVE??????

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liked by ynfewtrell and 450,338 others

oscarpiastri Think there were a few sore heads after this weekend

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ynfewtrell WIRLF CHAMPBSNS

oscarpiastri Thank you!

user6 congrats on the championship ❤️‍🔥

user7 Y/N and her wag

mclaren Hey, champ 👋

user8 y/n in papaya 🧡

user9 he looks so happy 🥹

luvstappen a big thanks to l4ndoflove for the idea, mwah 💋

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

ynfewtrell happy friendiversary to my emotional support australian 🐨 thanks for carrying me home, laughing at my terrible jokes, and never once making me feel crazy for being the exact kind of person i am. i love you 💕

view all comments

oscarpiastri I love you too ❤️

ynfewtrell 💗💓💘💖💕🩷🥰😘😇

maxfewtrell Cringeversary

ynfewtrell that one’s celebrated on your birthday fym

user10 OMG I THOUGHT THEY WERE DATING????

user11 they are! oscar said in an interview once that y/n is also his best friend :)

user12 i’m not okay they are my parents

gigihart you're welcome btw ❣️

ynfewtrell 🫡

nicolepiastri Cuties 😘

ynfewtrell 💗

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liked by ynfewtrell and 469,163 others

oscarpiastri Second season done and dusted with plenty of smiles along the way. So grateful for all the support

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ynfewtrell thank you for the backshot 🧡 comment has been deleted

user what a season!!! 😍

user i know we’re all here because of y/n’s comment

user it’s deleted now :(

user future world champion 🗣

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previous part | masterlist

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a/n3: the summary should’ve been “have my back(shots), yeah, every day” OK I’LL STOP—

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TAGLIST: @harrysdimple05 @milkysoop @charlesgirl16 @wosof1 @illicitverstappen @back-on-my-bullsh @revrse @skepvids @screamingwines @a-beaverhausen @l-vroom4 @wildflowerhuggy @meglouise00 @formulaal @smithieandy @sltwins @awritingtree @colmathgames2 @org12 @alice-went-away @grovelingmen @taasgirl @anotherapollokid @d3kstar @gnarlycore @leclercdream @skeleton-elly @verstappensrealwife @seonghwaexile @hellowgoodbye @samantha-chicago @delululeclerc @5sospenguinqueen @riverxsq @s0meth1ngs @silentreader128 @cheer-bear-go-vroom @sarahsobsession @raweceekk @willowsnook @nxlx96 @saythename-sm @lesliiieeeee @landopoet @blushmimi @neferaskingdom @oikarma @mayax2o07 @obxstiles @speeedybaby

[elliesbabygirl]

Inspired by charli xcx's 'party 4 u' because I'm unoriginal and still not over the fact that my 'RYM' series has just ended :( + I love writing cool-ish loser! Ellie. She's like a guilty pleasure that I crave really bad 24/7. NOT proofread like always considering I import it from my google docs. 😭Consider it a sweet treat for showing my 'RYM' series sm love🩷

Summary: a small fic that follows you and ellie in a series of moments, where the two of you are too nervous to confess and instead decide to play the long game over some not-so platonic moments.

You told everyone it was just a chill hangout. "Lowkey", you said. "Just a few people, good music, my place." But you’d spent two days rearranging furniture, stringing up lights, and refreshing the playlist so it hit that perfect mood—right between casual and maybe-I-like-you.

Your tiny off-campus apartment buzzed with soft chatter, solo cups in hand, laughter spilling into the hallway. The bass of Charli XCX’s 'party 4 u' thumped low underneath it all, like a secret. And in the center of it? You. Smiling. Mingling. Laughing a little too hard and watching the door.

Jesse bumped your shoulder as he handed you a drink. “You owe me.”

You grinned, feigning innocence. “For what?”

“For casually mentioning this party to Ellie in our lab today. Loudly.. multiple times.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “She’s coming?”

Jesse just sipped his beer and raised a brow. “She said she might. That’s the most commitment you’ll get from her.”

Your pulse picked up. You thanked him—sincerely—and flitted off to refresh the chips or the playlist or just to keep moving so you wouldn’t go insane.

Twenty minutes later, she walked in.

Ellie Williams, with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, a faded science joke T-shirt barely visible underneath (“Never trust an atom. They make up everything.”) and worn jeans that somehow made her look cooler than anyone in the room trying too hard.

You were in the middle of a story—something about a disastrous mixer and three fire alarms—when you saw her. And for a second, your words faltered. She spotted you through the crowd, and her lips pulled into the faintest smile, like she wasn’t used to smiling but still wanted to try.

You waved her over before you could second-guess yourself, cheeks already warm.

“Ellie! You made it!” you said, maybe a little too excited, but you didn’t care.

She gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well… Jesse said there’d be free drinks and good music. He wasn’t wrong.”

Her voice was casual, but she kept glancing around—at the people, the lights, your posters, the blanket you’d half-draped over the couch in a panic to make it look effortlessly cozy.

“So,” you said, stepping closer, voice soft under the music. “You’re not usually a party person.”

“I’m not,” Ellie said. “But… I guess I wanted to see what kind of party you throw.”

You smiled, heart skipping. “It’s literally for you. So… hope it’s decent.”

Ellie blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you teased, stepping back a little, playful. “I throw parties for all the quiet, tattooed girls in science shirts I secretly have a crush on.”

She laughed, head ducking slightly, the tip of her ear pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re here,” you said.

“Guess I am.”

For a moment, the room felt smaller, the lights softer. The music just a little louder.

Then Jesse passed by, grinning like he’d won a bet. And you didn’t care—because Ellie was still looking at you like you were the only reason she showed up.

Which, maybe, you were.

The living room hummed with energy—your sorority sisters playing some chaotic drinking game, a speaker nearly tipping off the table from the bass, someone shouting “who brought the glitter??” but in the kitchen, it was quieter, dim. The yellow light from the overhead bulb buzzed faintly. Safe.

Ellie followed you in with an awkward sort of hesitation, her hands fiddling with the strings of her hoodie, like she wasn’t sure if she’d crossed some invisible line by following you.

“I swear, this kitchen is the least aesthetic part of the apartment,” you said, grabbing two sodas from the fridge. “But… also the most peaceful.”

She took the offered can with a quiet “thanks” and leaned her hip against the counter. You mirrored her on the opposite side, just far enough to pretend you weren’t stealing glances at her.

“So..” Ellie said, popping the tab on her drink, “you really threw this party just because of me?”

You gave a light laugh, shrugging. “Well, technically it was an excuse to wear my cute outfit and force Jesse to help me clean my apartment, but yeah… mostly you.”

Ellie smiled into her can, trying to hide it but failing.

“I don’t really get invited to stuff like this,” she said after a pause. “Usually just study groups or… I dunno, weird board game nights in the dorm basement.”

“You’re seriously telling me no one invites you to parties?” you asked. “Like, Ellie Williams, girl-who-always-knows-the-answer-in-chem?”

She snorted. “Yeah, that’s my reputation. Super hot.”

You leaned forward a little, teasing. “Actually? It kinda is.”

Ellie looked up sharply, her expression unreadable for one second too long. Then she bit her bottom lip, hiding the way her face went pink.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I showed up.”

“Nope,” you said. “I say it every time you leave class with that nerdy little squint of yours”

She laughed again, more quietly this time. Her foot tapped nervously against the floor. Yours mirrored it.

The silence that followed was charged—soft and anxious and somehow perfect. Like the both of you were standing at the edge of something but didn’t quite know how to fall into it.

You took a sip of your soda just to do something with your hands. “You know, we could probably stay in here all night. They wouldn’t even notice.”

Ellie nodded, eyes drifting towards the doorway like it was another planet. “Yeah… I like it better in here. It’s… nice.”

You grinned. “You mean I’m nice.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

“Maybe I just like being cornered by the sorority girl in a too-perfect kitchen.”

“Careful,” you said, stepping just a little closer. “That almost sounded like flirting.”

Ellie tilted her head, curious. “Would that be… a problem?”

You looked at her, really looked at her, all nervous humor and fidgety hands with a hidden warmth.

“No,” you said. “It’d be a start.”

The music pulsed faintly from the other room, the sound like a heartbeat you didn’t have to chase anymore. And in that tiny kitchen—amid the empty solo cups and the hum of the fridge—neither of you moved, but something changed anyway.

Ellie shifted her weight, shoulder brushing just barely against the cabinet as she leaned in a fraction—like it was accidental, it wasn’t. You were leaning in too. Inch by inch, like gravity had its own agenda.

“Your playlist is kinda fire,” she murmured, eyes flicking to your lips and then back up. “Didn’t know you were hiding taste and brains.”

You smiled. “I have secrets.”

Ellie smirked, that soft, rare kind of smirk like she wasn’t used to letting herself have fun. “Bet you say that to all the chemistry nerds you trap in your kitchen.”

“Only the ones who wear punny science shirts and look like they’d rather die than admit they’re having fun.”

She laughed, quiet and breathy, and the space between you shrank again.

Your shoulder grazed hers, then your hands, and then her knee bumped yours under the counter and neither of you moved away. Her eyes locked on yours, green and stormy and very, very close.

“You always do this?” Ellie asked, voice almost a whisper now.

“Do what?”

“Throw a party for someone you like, then corner them and flirt until they can’t think straight?”

You blinked slowly. “I don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.”

She breathed out a laugh, but it caught in her throat. Her hand brushed against yours on the counter—barely there, but deliberate. Everything in you felt still, humming.

Her voice was quieter than ever. “Maybe I’m not.”

You leaned in, so close you could feel her breath on your skin and you didn’t even notice how close your faces were until your nose nearly brushed hers. She didn’t pull back. Neither did you.

Then—

“YO!”

Jesse’s voice blasted into the kitchen like a bomb.

You and Ellie jolted apart like you’d been caught setting off fireworks in a church.

“There is puke! Puke! On your rug!” he shouted, flailing into the doorway with a wild look in his eyes and a towel wrapped around one hand like a crime scene.

“What the—who?!” you yelled, stepping away from Ellie so fast you almost tripped over your own foot.

“I don’t know! Some girl in glitter boots and a unicorn onesie. I think she thinks this is the chi o afterparty..”

Ellie cleared her throat and took a big, unnecessary gulp of soda, pointedly looking away from both of you.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Of course! The one time I throw a party for a girl—someone nice, not a walking frat mistake—and this happens.”

Jesse blinked. “Wait. This was a—oh, Ohhhhh. I’m gonna go clean..i was never here.”

He disappeared as fast as he came, leaving a gust of hot wind behind him.

You looked at Ellie, your cheeks burning, heart still racing for a completely different reason now.

“I swear this never happens,” you said, voice hoarse.

She laughed—quiet, but warm. “Sure, but… you did corner me.”

“I did.”

She looked at you again, really looked. “You gonna finish what you started?”

You smiled. “Maybe. Just… after I make sure my rug survives the night.”

Ellie snickered. “I’ll be here, kitchen's kinda… cozy.”

The last of the music had faded into silence. Your apartment looked like a glitter bomb had gone off during a frat hazing ritual—red solo cups littered every flat surface, someone had left a half-eaten slice of pizza on a bookshelf, and the rug (miraculously) had survived.

Jesse was stacking cups into a tower in the kitchen, muttering something about “next time, no open invite.” Ellie was still here, to your total disbelief, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with an elastic she found on her wrist, helping you pick up confetti with two fingers like it was nuclear waste.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you said, dropping a plastic cup into a trash bag. “You’re officially above this. You helped clean glitter puke, you've earned your freedom.”

Ellie glanced at you from where she was crouched, grabbing a stack of napkins from under the coffee table. “Yeah, well… figured I’d see it through. Make sure your place doesn’t collapse.”

You smiled, tired but too giddy to care. “What a hero.”

She looked away quickly, but you caught the flush that crawled up her neck.

Jesse yawned loudly, clapping his hands once. “Alright. You two got this. I’m out.”

You didn’t stop him. Ellie didn’t either. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

And then there was just… silence.

Ellie stood in the middle of the room, holding a sad party streamer in one hand like she’d forgotten what it was. You stood nearby, frozen with a trash bag half-full, too aware of the fact that she didn’t leave. That you didn’t want her to.

You both laughed at the same time—nervous, overlapping.

“This is weird,” you said. “Why is this weird?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie replied, smiling sheepishly. “You tell me. You threw the party.”

“For you.”

“I know.”

The silence came back, heavier this time. But softer, too.

Ellie stepped closer, tossing the streamer into the bag you were holding. Her fingers grazed yours. Not an accidental mistake.

“You were gonna kiss me earlier,” she said, voice almost a whisper.

You blinked. “You were gonna kiss me.”

She smiled. “So what happened?”

You gestured toward the now-destroyed battlefield of your living room. “A unicorn onesie and bodily fluids, that’s what.”

Ellie chuckled, and the tension broke—just enough. She was still so close. You could smell her faintly—soap, and whatever cheap body spray Jesse kept in the bathroom.

Your heart raced. You looked at her, at her stupid science T-shirt and her flushed cheeks and the way she couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of her hoodie.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” you asked, half a statement, half full of hope.

Ellie shook her head slowly. “Not yet.”

She took another step.

You mirrored it.

Neither of you were sure who moved first—maybe it didn’t matter—but one second you were standing in the wreckage of a party, and the next her hand was on your waist, your fingers brushing her jaw.

The kiss started soft—testing the waters—but didn’t stay that way.

It deepened quickly, like both of you were letting go of something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. Her lips were warm and a little uncertain, but she matched your rhythm like she’d been thinking about this just as long, maybe longer.

Her fingers curled into your sweatshirt. Yours slid to her neck, your thumb grazing the side of her jaw, and she made the faintest sound in the back of her throat—surprised and shaky.

The world around you slowed. The music was gone. The mess didn’t matter. There was just the pulse in your ears, the warmth of her mouth, the quiet tension that pulled you both in tighter.

When the kiss finally broke, it was slow—reluctant.

You stayed close, noses brushing. Neither of you ready to pull away.

Ellie’s voice came out breathless. “That was… wow.”

You smiled, giddy and flushed. “Yeah. Definitely… wow.”

She swallowed, still catching her breath, still holding on. “I thought I messed it up.”

“You didn’t.”

Her forehead rested against yours for a second—like she didn’t want to let the moment go.

Then you both stepped back at the same time. Nervous and a little dazed.

You cleared your throat, gripping the trash bag like it was the only thing tying you to reality. “So, um.. more confetti?”

Ellie laughed under her breath, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah, sure Confetti.”

The hum of fluorescent lights. The low clatter of glassware. That faint, sterile scent of ethanol and dust and overachieving. It was another monday in chem 204—unforgiving and way too early—but everything felt different.

Maybe because you were still riding the high from last night.

Jesse slouched next to you at your shared lab bench, scrolling through the instructions on the tablet like he hadn’t just watched half your apartment get turned into a frat-adjacent crime scene last night.

“Honestly,” he mumbled, cracking open a vial, “I don’t know how there was that much glitter. Like—do they make concentrated glitter now?”

You nodded absently, measuring out sodium bicarbonate, pretending to listen. You weren’t.

Because across the room—station C3—Ellie Williams was setting up her beakers and pipettes like it was just another lab day. Like she hadn’t kissed you in your living room until your knees felt like static.

Her hair was pulled back in a low bun. Same hoodie from the party, layered over a different science-pun T-shirt (“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate”). You nearly choked on your own breath when you saw her walk in.

You’d barely said anything to each other this morning. A single text.

y/n: didn’t dream that right?

els: nope. you kissed me. pretty sure that was real.

And now she was here, four tables away, trying to act like she wasn’t sneaking glances at you every ten seconds.

You caught her eye again just as she pretended to adjust a burner. She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile.

You smirked, turning back to your experiment as your cheeks flushed warm.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what's going on with you?”

“Hm?” you said, a little too quickly.

“You’ve measured the same solution three times. And you’re smiling at… baking soda.”

You blinked. “Oh, just… really love chemistry.”

Jesse gave you a flat look. “You’re a communications major.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you risked another glance.

Ellie was pretending to take notes, her pen unmoving on the paper. She looked up and met your eyes.

And that smile again—shy and smug and like she was remembering every second from last night.

You mouthed, hi.

She mouthed, hey, like it meant more than it should.

Across the lab, burners hissed and partners whispered, and Jesse kept muttering something about your measurements being off, but none of it mattered. Not really (yes really, you were being graded on efficiency).

Because you and Ellie were caught in your own little chemistry equation.

The study room smelled like old paper and floor cleaner, with the buzzing of overhead lights that had probably been flickering since 2013. One wall was all glass, offering a clear view of the rest of the library, but inside—at this small round table surrounded by mismatched chairs—it felt like its own little world.

Four laptops were open. A tangle of wires, coffee cups, and half-eaten snacks sat between all of you. Textbooks were scattered in varying degrees of neglect.

Jesse and Dina sat shoulder to shoulder, her legs thrown over his lap, both of them wearing matching hoodies they definitely stole from each other. Jesse was quizzing her on anatomy flashcards.

“Name the bone that connects the shoulder to the elbow,” he said.

“Your arm bone,” Dina said.

He stared at her. “You mean the humerus?”

“That’s what I said.”

Meanwhile, you and Ellie sat directly across from each other, separated by one open chemistry binder and roughly three inches of space.

Ellie was pretending to read. You were pretending to highlight something useful. Neither of you were doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

Ellie looked up so fast she almost knocked over her iced coffee. “Hey.”

You smiled, nervous and warm. “How was your day?”

She blinked like you’d asked her to recite the periodic table backwards. “Oh. Um—good. Pretty average. I made a perfect hexane compound model in lab, which I know is thrilling content.”

“Super hot,” you whispered, teasing her.

Ellie let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “You?”

“Also thrilling. I watched three people fight over a toaster in the dining hall. Guy nearly cried.”

She snorted, trying to hide her smile behind her sleeve. “College is wild.”

You nodded. “We’re living the dream.”

Neither of you moved, neither of you said anything else for a second. You could hear Dina kissing her teeth as Jesse tried to explain what a scapula was. Ellie’s fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the table. Yours were close by.

Then—so soft you weren’t sure it was on purpose—her pinky brushed against yours.

You didn’t move, didn't look away. Just slid your hand a little closer.

She didn’t pull back.

Your fingers touched. Not holding hands, not really. Just touching. Playing, in that quiet kind of way that made your pulse skip. Her nail grazed your knuckle. Yours traced the side of her finger.

It was nothing but everything at the same time.

Ellie glanced down once then looked back at you. Her cheeks pink.

“You’re not… freaking out?” she asked, voice low so only you could hear.

“Not unless you are.”

She shook her head slowly. “Not freaking out.”

You smiled. “Cool, me neither. Totally chill. Definitely not counting how many times you blink.”

Ellie laughed—really laughed this time, head tilted back slightly. Jesse looked over.

“Ellie, you good?”

Ellie cleared her throat, sat up straighter. “Yeah, just… bonding over carbon chains.”

Dina snorted. “That’s what the kids are calling it now?”

You both looked down, hands slipping apart for a second—but not for long.

Because two minutes later, your fingers found hers again, underneath the table this time.

The booth was sticky. The lighting too yellow for your taste. The laminated menus hadn’t been cleaned properly since at least last tuesday. And still, somehow, it felt perfect.

You sat across from Ellie in a near-empty waffle house, the windows fogged slightly from the steam of the kitchen and the chill outside. A waitress with a name tag that read “barb” had taken your order without judgment, like she’d seen hundreds of college kids walk in with wide eyes and not-a-date date energy.

Ellie sat curled into the corner of the booth, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, chewing on the straw in her coke.

“This isn’t a date,” she said for the third time, obviously shitting her pants (metaphorically) from nerves.

You grinned over your mug of watery coffee. “Definitely not. Just two people eating waffles alone together at midnight.”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, nodding solemnly. “Very casual...very platonic.

You both broke out into quiet, giddy laughter.

The cook called something from the kitchen, and a plate clattered onto the pass-through window.

Ellie drummed her fingers on the table, then looked at you with that shy little tilt to her head. “So, tell me a weird fact about your childhood.”

“Oh, we’re doing that game now?” you teased.

“It’s tradition, non-date waffle house rules.”

You thought for a second. “Okay. When I was eight, I was completely obsessed with those mini baking ovens. Like—the easy-bake ones? I made the weirdest, driest little cakes and forced my parents to eat them.”

Ellie cracked a grin. “Were they good?”

“They were inedible. I made ‘pizza bagels’ once and nearly set the microwave on fire.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling. “That’s actually kinda badass, future arsonist vibes.”

“I prefer ‘culinary visionary,’” you said, mock offended.

Ellie smirked. “Alright, alright. My turn.”

She leaned back, eyes scanning the ceiling like she was pulling the memory from deep storage. “When I was ten, Joel taught me how to carve wood. Like—real, pocket-knife, dangerous shit. First thing I ever made was a little dinosaur, looked more like a lumpy potato with legs, but I was proud.”

You blinked, surprised. “Joel taught you?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice softening. “He’s kind of a hard-ass, but… he has this whole woodworking setup in the garage. Said it was good for patience... said I needed that.”

You smiled. “Do you still do it?”

Ellie shrugged, suddenly shy again. “Sometimes. It’s easier than talking, most days.”

There was a pause—comfortable, warm.

You reached across the table, gently nudging her fingers. “That’s really cool.”

She glanced down at your hand, then up at you, cheeks pink. “You ever wanna bake something not in a microwave, we could, uh… make a weird trade. Wood-carving for baking.”

You raised a brow. “Are you asking me on a real date now?”

Ellie grinned, eyes flicking away. “Maybe, you into lumpy dinosaurs and waffles?”

“Very,” you said, grinning back. “But only if you eat my awful cupcakes.”

Barb dropped off your plates with a tired smile, and neither of you reached for them right away.

You were too busy smiling like idiots, pretending this still wasn’t a date—even if you both knew it was.

The first bite of waffles hit like a religious experience.

You closed your eyes dramatically. “Holy hell.”

Ellie was halfway through her own plate of hash browns, looking similarly awed. “Why is this so good? Have we just been eating garbage all semester?”

“We have been eating garbage all semester,” you said through a mouthful of syrup. “This is real food, god-tier.”

Ellie grinned, syrup on the corner of her mouth, pointing at your plate. “You gonna finish that bacon?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Touch it and die.”

The banter went on like that, easy and unfiltered, between bites that got messier and sloppier as neither of you cared about being “cute” anymore. Hunger trumped awkwardness. You were both suddenly seventeen again, staying up too late and eating like you’d never see a kitchen again.

By the time you were both leaning back in the booth, plates cleared and stomachs full, you were practically melting into the vinyl.

Ellie glanced at you. “You wanna… come over? I mean—not like that,” she rushed, ears going pink, “just—I live super close and I have, like… tea? Or something.”

You tried not to smile too hard. “Tea sounds dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Totally reckless and wild.”

+

It was small, but the kind of small that felt lived-in, cozy. You stepped through the door and took it all in slowly; stacks of books lined the floor by the windows, a second-hand couch facing a tiny TV, shelves full of random junk—rocks, figurines, more than a few cracked mugs. But what caught your eye were the walls.

Framed Savage Starlight comics, a whole set. Not just pinned—framed. Carefully, reverently, like museum pieces.

And above her desk, posters of galaxies and star charts, some yellowed at the edges, others so crisp they must’ve been recent finds. NASA logos. A glow-in-the-dark moon.

You turned in place, smiling. “Okay. You are, officially, a dork.”

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, well… I had a phase.”

“You’re still in it.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but she was smiling too, leaning against the kitchenette counter, arms crossed like she was trying to act unbothered. But you could see the twitch in her jaw, the way she kept flicking her eyes toward you—checking your reaction like this was some test she hadn’t studied for.

You walked over to the comics, pretending to inspect them like a snooty art critic. “Wow, this one’s worth, like, eighty bucks on ebay. Should I steal it?”

Ellie snorted. “Touch it and die.”

You looked over your shoulder, smirking. “Hey, that's my line.”

She blinked, caught off-guard, then laughed. “Damn, you're right.”

The silence that followed was soft, expectant. You weren’t doing anything particularly romantic—just… existing in her space. Letting her show you who she was without saying it out loud.

And Ellie, trying so hard to play it cool, stood there like her whole body was buzzing.

You finally turned fully to her. “I like your place.”

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s very… you.”

“Messy and space-obsessed?”

You shrugged, stepping closer. “Exactly my type.”

Ellie flushed instantly, looking down at her feet. “You’re impossible.”

You leaned against the counter next to her, close enough that your shoulders brushed together.

“Still not a date, by the way,” you said quietly.

She glanced sideways at you. “Definitely not.”

Ellie made the tea, or something vaguely like tea. It tasted like cardboard and chamomile, but you drank it anyway because she’d nervously handed it to you like it was a sacred offering.

Now the two of you were squeezed onto her too-small couch, feet tangled awkwardly over a throw blanket that smelled like laundry detergent and cedar. The TV was on but muted—some old sci-fi movie flickering in black and white, just enough to give the room a quiet glow.

You were pressed shoulder to shoulder, legs brushing occasionally, both pretending it wasn’t happening.

Ellie sipped her tea too fast, like it gave her something to do. “Sorry there’s, like, no room. It’s, uh— a studio. I didn’t think this far ahead.” An awkward frown on her face as she looked at you.

You tilted your head towards her, smiling gently. “You mean you don’t prepare for late-night almost-date hangouts with every girl you share waffles with?”

Ellie choked on her tea.

You patted her back as she coughed, laughing softly. “I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not,” she muttered, grinning despite her face turning red. “You’re such a menace.”

You didn’t answer. Just let the moment settle. The silence wasn’t awkward anymore—just full, soft. The kind of quiet that feels like permission to say something you wouldn’t normally say.

She turned to look at you, eyes a little tired but warm. “Hey.”

You looked back. “Yeah?”

Ellie opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked at your mouth, then looked away. “…Nothing.”

You reached up gently, brushing her knuckles with yours again, the same way you had in the library.

“Ellie.”

She looked at you again. This time, neither of you looked away.

The kiss was barely a kiss—more hesitation than action. Her lips brushed yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to pull back. You didn’t.

You kissed her again, slower this time, still unsure, both of you smiling into it like idiots. It wasn’t perfect—your noses bumped, and the angle was weird on the tiny couch—but it didn’t matter.

It was clumsy, real. Warm.

Ellie pulled back, blinking, breath hitching as she let out a soft laugh. “Okay, so that happened..”

You nodded. “yeah..”

“Still not a date, though.”

“Definitely not.”

The two of you didn’t move for a moment, just stared at each other, hearts in your throats. Then Ellie shifted, slumping sideways, and you followed, curling instinctively against her.

You fit together like it had been waiting to happen.

Her arm tucked behind your shoulders. Your hand found hers again. The TV kept flickering, casting faint shadows over the framed comics and cluttered bookshelves.

And slowly, the tension melted away. Your breathing slowed down to sync with hers, your limbs tangled, and Ellie’s cheek rested against the top of your head.

By the time sleep came, the awkwardness had faded into something quieter. Something sweeter.

The living room was a controlled disaster.

Half a pizza sat in its box on the coffee table, two different board games were half-set-up and ignored, and someone (probably Jesse) had spilled root beer and made a failed attempt at cleaning it up with paper towels. The overhead light was off (thank god), replaced by the soft flicker of some D-list sci-fi movie Ellie had insisted on playing “for the vibes.” A spaceship exploded in the background as someone screamed something about “quantum portals.”

Ellie sat on the floor, legs crossed, chewing on a twizzler and pretending not to be pressed up against your leg.

You were half-leaning on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, your knee bumping hers every few minutes like it was casual. It wasn’t. She still gave you that same flustered little glance every time it happened.

You were officially girlfriends now. You’d said it—out loud, with words and everything, a few weeks ago. Maybe longer. But apparently the universe didn’t care, because you still flirted like it was week one.

“Okay,” Jesse said from across the room, holding up a card from the trivia game that had been abandoned twenty minutes ago. “New question. When, officially, do you two stop acting like you just brushed hands for the first time in a high school hallway?”

Dina cackled, curled into Jesse’s side like she lived there. “Seriously, it’s like watching a coming-of-age movie in real time.”

You groaned, reaching for a throw pillow. “I hate both of you.”

“You hate us?” Jesse leaned forward, pointing at you with a chip. “Ellie literally flinched when you tucked her hair behind her ear two hours ago. I saw it. It was like she was struck by lightning dude.”

Ellie, still chewing her twizzler, raised her hands. “Okay. In my defense, she does that thing with her thumb—on my cheek—and I’m not built for that level of affection, alright?”

You covered your face with your hoodie sleeves, muffling a laugh. “You’re such a nerd, ohmygod.”

“You’re dating this nerd,” Ellie shot back, poking your side.

You poked her back. It devolved into a low-effort war of soft jabs and teasing mutters in front of Jesse and Dina.

“Exhibit A,” Dina said, waving a hand. “Couple of actual teenagers.”

Jesse leaned over to her. “Should we leave them alone? Or, like, offer juice boxes and tell their parents they’re holding hands after school?”

You flipped them both off with a smile. “This is harassment.”

“This is friendship,�� Jesse corrected, raising his root beer. “And we’re proud of you, but also painfully aware of how soft you both are now.”

Ellie leaned into you just slightly, like she didn’t mean to. You bumped her back.

The sci-fi movie in the background exploded again—something about a failed wormhole this time.

You sighed dramatically. “Next time we’re watching a rom-com.”

Ellie glanced over, mouth twitching into a smirk. “You’re really gonna try and make me watch 27 dresses again?”

“Hell yes, I am.”

Jesse groaned. “God help us.”

Dina nodded solemnly. “The true horror genre.”

And just like that, it settled—easy, familiar. You and Ellie, curled up together in the chaos. Still awkward, still soft, still brushing hands like it was brand new.

Girlfriends, yeah. The kind who talked about sci-fi movies like they mattered and touched each other like they still couldn’t believe they were allowed to.

The best kind.

[ephemii]

Hello! First of I wanna say i LOVE UR ART SM and your art style is just *chef's kiss*. I was just curious about your oc, i know you said she has to almost go undercover and not potray herself as a girl. Do any of the twst characters know her actual gender identity? She is so cute and I lover her design!

Hello!!! Yes, there are a good few of them that know that she's a girl. Her group of first years all know, of course, as well as crewel and trein. Vil and rook have suspected it, and after book 6 it was confirmed for them, and the Savanaclaw trio also know (because... duh lols)

Although my favorites in this case would be Ruggie, I think!

He always knew, of course. It's just that actually getting to see Grace dress femininely is a bit rare! Even when she's out with the first years, she continues to dress up a bit more androgynous. The one frequent case he gets to see her a bit more dolled up is when they're on their way to the many jobs they hop between in the city! "there's a difference between necessity and courtesy!" she would argue, "I need to make a good impression."

...Then there's another case entirely, where she actually begins to realize the comfort she feels in both being feminine and being androgynous. In a way, it actually made her feel a bit more free with her identity!

Maybe one day I'll actually start writing those drabbles and fics for Grace and the twst cast. Sigh. Anyway, please excuse the awful lighting ^^;

Thank you for the kind words, anon! You're very sweet!! 🩷🌷

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

[b1eedthefreak]

hiiii i love your writing sm genuinely so talented <33

i have a little smutty daryl request where he's kind of cocky/egging you on and almost enjoying watching you beg for him cause he's never had someone want him so bad??? idk if that's coherent but thank you for blessing us with your writing lovely🥳🩷🩷🩷

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. What You Need

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇daryl enjoys watching you beg :3

warnings⌇smut, begging, teasing

word count⌇2.0k

a/n⌇I LOVED THIS REQUEST ANON!! AND THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!! 🫰

The afternoon heat had settled heavy over Alexandria, the sun casting golden streaks across town. You’d been sitting on the porch for hours, a cold glass of water sweating in your hand, but it was nothing compared to the view you had.

Daryl was across the street, sleeves rolled up, hands wrapped tight around a wrench as he fixed up one of the fences. Sweat slicked down the back of his neck, his shirt clinging to the muscles in his shoulders, the way his jeans hung low on his hips.

Every time he lifted something, your thighs rubbed. Every time he grunted or wiped the sweat off his brow, you stared in awe. By the time the sun dipped low and the sky turned orange, you were practically vibrating with need.

Later, you found him in your shared room, sitting on the bed. His hair was damp from a quick shower, a few dark strands falling into his eyes, and his skin still glowed from the heat of the day. You couldn’t not touch him.

You practically crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands found your hips, steady, warm. You could feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s gotten into ya?” His voice was low, teasing, his breath warm on your ear.

“Daryllll…” You dragged out every syllable, voice soft and needy, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Please…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raised, clearly enjoying every second. “Please what, baby?”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t help it. Your body was buzzing for him. “I need you. Please, baby, you’ve worked so hard today… let me take care of you, let me make you feel good…”

Daryl let out a low, breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief like he couldn’t believe he’d ever be in this situation, someone as sweet and perfect as you practically begging for him.

His hands slid down to squeeze your ass, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You really want me that bad, huh?”

“Yes,” you whispered, desperate. You pressed kisses to his neck, his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin. “Please, Daryl…”

He leaned back on the bed, dragging you with him, and when you settled on top of him, he smirked up at you like the cockiest man alive. “Gonna have to show me just how bad you want it, baby.”

The way he looked at you, dark, hungry, starving, made your breath hitch. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to grind down on him, and you could feel him, already half hard, under your thin sleep shorts. Every slow roll of your hips made you gasp, but he just watched, biting his lip, refusing to give in.

“Please, Daryl, please,” you whimpered, voice cracking, and that’s when he really lost it.

He flipped you over in one smooth motion, pinning you down beneath him, his mouth onto yours. His hands roamed, everywhere. Your waist, your thighs, your chest, like he couldn’t get enough. And when he finally slipped his hand into your shorts, fingers brushing your heat, he groaned like a man starving, like the feel of you was too much.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me,” he muttered, voice rough and low, his lips brushing your ear. “You beg so fuckin’ pretty. Never had anyone want me like this… shit, I—”

You cut him off with a kiss, hips arching into his hand, and he loved it, chuckling darkly as he rubbed slow circles on your clit, watching you squirm beneath him.

“Daryl, please, please—”

“Nuh uh,” he teased, pulling his hand away just when you were close, smirking down at you like he was the one in charge now. “Ain’t gonna let you come yet baby. Gotta hear you beg some more.”

Your voice was wrecked, breathless, gasping. “Daryl, please, please, I need you so bad—”

He groaned, low and filthy, leaning down so his lips were brushing yours. “Say it again, baby. Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you whispered, desperate tears brimming in your eyes, and that broke him.

He slipped out of his pants and boxers then and there. He slid into you slow, deep, filling you up in a way that made you sob his name. Daryl moaned into your mouth, his breath stuttering, and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people left in the world.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he rasped, voice rough, shaky. His hips moved slow, deep, like he couldn’t believe it was real, like he wanted to feel every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, his mouth dropping open when you clenched around him.

“Daryl, please, I—”

“Shh, shh, I gotcha, baby,” he whispered, brushing your hair back from your face, his voice so soft, so gentle. “Fuckin’ love hearin’ you beg for me… you’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby, so goddamn perfect.”

You were so close you could barely breathe, and he was loving every second, teasing you, holding you on the edge, watching you fall apart.

“Daryl, please, I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can, baby. C’mon. Let me hear you.”

When you finally came, it was everything, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, and he watched with wide, awed eyes, like he couldn’t believe he was the reason you were falling apart like that. And when he finally came, it was with a broken moan, forehead pressed to yours, his body shaking as he whispered your name like it was the only thing that could ground him.

After, you curled into his chest, breath still uneven, his arms tight around you. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, over and over like he couldn’t get enough.

“Never had anyone want me like that,” he murmured, voice soft and raw.

“You deserve to be wanted, Daryl,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep in your bones.

And he just held you tighter, like he was never letting go.

[kooklovee]

Soaked in you - Myg

Rain, love and your boyfriend’s guitar.

Pairing - bf!Yoongi x gf!Reader

Genre - fluff, established relationship au

Wc- 1.3k

Warnings - nothing? just fluff, some kisses, soft rainy moments <3

a/n - here goes my first yoongi fic🩷 I miss my yoongles sm. also it's funny how I'd written this when I had a cold (you'll know when u read this haha) btw alt title was "Drawn to you"

Masterlist kofi

------------------------------------------------

You’re barefoot on the cool tile floor, your oversized shirt hanging loose on your frame-Yoongi's, of course. The weather outside is the kind that turns the world slow.

The space filled with the gentle strumming of your boyfriend’s guitar. It's a soft tune, one you’re sure he’s making up on the spot. He always does that when the mood strikes.

Carefully holding his coffee in both hands, you pad over to him, rain-scented breeze all over. His dark hair is a little messy, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, looking so peaceful. And this is a kind of love you never knew your heart needed.

Yoongi looks up, lips tugging into that smile, the kind that’s gentle and made just for you. He shifts his guitar slightly, opening his arms, wordlessly inviting you in.

You settle into his lap like you were made to be there, the swing bed sways a little more. He takes the mug from your hands with a soft “thank you.”

Then the guitar is back in his hands, and so are you. tucked between him and the instrument now, your back warm against his chest.

This time, the music feels different. Like it’s being played just for you.

You lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the melody continues. His chin brushes the top of your shoulder. It’s intimate in a way words could never be.

This is your favorite song. And it doesn’t even have a name.

“I love this,” you whisper, your voice almost lost beneath the rain.

Yoongi softly hums, fingers moving with a lazy grace, never missing a beat.

“Did you make this now?”

He hums low in his throat, a subtle confirmation. “Mm,” he says, barely louder than the guitar. “It’s what came out when I heard the rain.”

You smile, the corners of your mouth tugging up as your heart squeezes with so much affection you don’t know what to do with it. Yoongi never used to like the rain.

But somewhere along the way, after years of love, patience. He’s started to accept it, like it even.

Maybe because now, when the rain falls, he has moments like these to hold on to.

You shift just enough to press your lips to his jaw, as the soft tune continues.

“Teach me,” you say after some time, voice bubbling with excitement.

“Teach you what?”

“Guitar,” you grin. “I wanna learn.”

He chuckles, “You wanna learn now?”

“Yes,” you nod eagerly, adjusting in his lap. “The weather’s perfect, you’re here, I’m here, the guitar is here—it’s fate.”

He laughs, really laughs this time, tilting his head back a little. “You’re unbelievable. You don't even know how to hold it, baby.”

“I know how to hold you,” you say dramatically, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“That’s not the same,” he mutters, but he’s smiling so hard now it’s impossible to miss.

Yoongi shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, alright. But if we’re doing this, you need to sit properly. Come here.”

He catches your waist and turns you gently adjusting the guitar in front of you, his hands warm as they reach around.

“Okay, this hand here,” he murmurs, fingers guide yours into position.

You watch him, focused, lips slightly parted in concentration.

“And this one…” He lifts your right hand and rests it near the strings. “You’ll strum with this one. But not like you’re attacking it, okay? Be gentle.”

You huff out a laugh. “I’m always gentle.”

“Hm a little chaos at times.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You would,” he mutters fondly, and leans in just enough to bump his forehead lightly against yours before pulling back. “Now focus.”

Laughter spills through both of you bright and full. The swing creaks gently beneath swaying in rhythm with the soft breeze. Yoongi’s head tilts back, eyes crinkling, the sound of his laugh blending with yours. Both of you tangled, fingers brushing, hearts light.

Everything feeling slow and golden.

Eventually, after another hopeless strum and an exaggerated sigh, you let your hands fall away in defeat, lips pouting in mock frustration. Yoongi chuckles softly, taking the guitar back with ease.

You settle against him again, resting your cheek to his shoulder, watching him as his playing resumes.

Your gaze lingers on him, his cheeks still tinged with pink from laughing, a gentle glow in his eyes that makes your heart ache in the sweetest way.

“What?” he murmurs, glancing at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You shrug lightly, the words slipping out before you can think too much. “I love you.”

He pauses, eyes flickering to yours, there's a subtle rise in the color dusting the tips of his ears.

A hum leaves him returning to plucking the strings like he didn’t just steal your breath.

You laugh under it, snuggling into his side. “Won’t say it back, huh?”

He doesn’t answer with words. But the way his arm curls around you a little tighter says everything.

The rain has quieted to a gentle drizzle. You rise from the swing, slipping off without a word, drawn to the edge of the balcony where the air smells like earth and calm.

“Yah—baby, get back,” Yoongi calls, concern lacing his voice. “You’ll catch a cold.”

You glance back at him with a sheepish grin, already stepping into the open. “It’s okay,” you say, arms slightly outstretched. “It’s not even raining that much. Come join me.”

He sets the guitar down brows furrowed with worry. “You get cold so easily,” he mutters. “Don’t be reckless baby, get back.”

You almost whine, your laugh bubbling out as you turn your face up toward the sky, letting the soft drizzle kiss your skin. “It’s just fun,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut.

Yoongi just watches, his sigh lost in the quiet hush of rain. His gaze softens in awe, like you’re something endless. Maybe even unreal.

You, with droplets clinging to your lashes, smiling at the sky, the drizzle dampening your hair. Time feels slow. Perhaps stopping just for the two of you.

You open your eyes feeling a warmth. Yoongi stands in front of you, his hair a little drenched and tousled. looking at you like he couldn’t help it but be drawn to you.

A grin spreads across your face as you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, tilting your head up. “Hi,” you whisper, eyes gleaming.

Yoongi’s eyes reflecting your smile. like the rain, like the moment.

He leans in, breath mingling with yours as his hands rest lightly on your waist before he's kissing you.

It’s the kind of kiss that feels like home. Like a quiet promise between raindrops.

His lips linger. The world feels blurred. Just the two of you, soaked in gentle drizzles.

“Thought you didn’t wanna join,” you tease playfully.

Yoongi huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, eyes flickering over your face like you’re the most ridiculous, beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His thumb brushes lightly against your lower lip.

“I didn’t,” he murmurs, that smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. “But you’re impossible to resist.”

And with that, he kisses you again,

just because he can.

Yoongi turns you around in his arms, pulling you flush against him. His chin rests lightly on the top of your head.

You close your eyes, leaning back into him, your hands resting over his as they hold you close.

There's no rush. Only warmth and peace.

Just love in its softest form.

You hear a barely audible breath behind you.

“I love you.”

simply a truth, whispered just for you.

You don’t say anything back right away. Your smile widens, eyes still closed, heart so full.

Because this, this is all you ever needed.

------------------------------------------------

[pomefioredove]

I LOVED the stim headcanons sm! it scratched my autistic brain in a good way :333

I was wondering if you could possibly do headcanons with the rest of Diasomnia, Pomefiore, and Heartslabyul with the same premise (the stimming thing)? I can see Trey being very accommodating for the reader :3

Thank you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

hi anon I was in therapy yesterday for the first time in a while and when I got out I realized I had been stimming the ENTIRE time

dorm leaders + jamil

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader who stims!

type of post: headcanons characters: ace, deuce, trey, cater, epel, rook, sebek, silver, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

now, I don't think Ace makes fun of it, but he definitely...

"you're doing that thing again,"

listen, it's not that it bothers him, or distracts him. it's not even weird!

he just... finds you really... interesting?

will say you're an "interesting critter fr bro" and leave it

Deuce is the complete opposite

he will never ever say anything about your stims

won't even ask

he just really doesn't want to be rude. he's not that guy anymore!

(you don't know how to tell him that he stims without realizing it)

he's like your knight in shining armor... kind of

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

guys I hate to say it but Cater has 100% armchair diagnosed most of the people he knows

and like... he's right... but come on!

at least he usually keeps it to himself. so when he picks up on your stimming he just... doesn't say anything

it's just another nice little tidbit of information on you :) of which he has many

for normal reasons

of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Trey is a sweetie, as always

but he's also a liar

he is not, in fact, "this nice to everyone"

he actually does the bare minimum he needs to do to get by

the guy is spoiling you

making sure you're fed and warm and comfortable the moment you step over the threshold

stimming is no problem

if you like the feeling of dough, or the sound of eggs cracking, he'll have you in the kitchen with him :)

he rather likes you, and your stims

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I know Rook's autistic self isn't about to say anything

but, really, he already stims. subtly, but constantly

and seeing you mirror his own behaviors...

he is smitten

as if he couldn't grow any fonder of you...

now, unless it becomes upsetting or harmful, he sees no reason to stop you. he rather likes watching your every little move

and Epel is a loyal little thing

once you're his, that's it, it's over, you could literally kill someone and he'd show up with bleach and a mop like "where's the body"

so, yeah

some humming or tapping or clicking isn't going to bother him

honestly half the time he doesn't even notice

bro is too busy fighting his sensory issues with his uniform

(the sensory issues are winning)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sebek scolds you for distracting him

he can already hardly think straight when his eyes are always drawn to you!!! >:(

now you're moving, too?!

he can't help but stare, which just upsets him more

it's not until Lilia takes your side that he calms down

the aforementioned having his own... quirks

(and much louder ones, too)

this is all background noise for Silver

is he just used to it? is he currently half-asleep and wouldn't notice if a bomb went off behind him?

who's to say!

he's passing out on your shoulder while you repeat the same word over and over either way

[satorusugurugurl]

Could I request JJK men helping you masturbate? More specifically, it's late at night and reader masturbates, they wake up but are too tired to actually do anything so they just whisper in ur ear or just guide the toy with their hand 😇 Modern AU with Nanami, Gojo, Geto, and Sukuna if possible, thank you sm I love ur writing it gets me GOING everytime you post teehee!! 🩷😁‼️

Guide You

Summary: A modern!au when during a late night solo session gets spicy as JJK men help you get off. 🥴

Characters: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ryomen Sukuna, AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,492

Warning: Spicy, smutty stuff, masturbation, toy use, praising, language

A/N: Hi Nonnie! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoyed it! I hope it wasn't too repetitive I kinda struggled for a bit in a couple of places! 🥲 but I loooove you thank you!! 💚💚💚

Nanami Kento:

Your husband was the best pediatric ortho doctor in the city, which came with its positives and negatives. He was paid well, loved what he did, and was able to spoil you. Rotten with gifts and luxurious trips. The downside was the hours and overtime he hated to put in and the fact that you rarely got to see you some nights.

This was one of those challenging weeks while he was on call because it seemed like every child in the city decided this was the week to break their bones. By the time his week was finally over, your poor husband was exhausted, mentally and physically

You lay in bed, gently stroking his snored into his pillow. His features were finally relaxed as he dreamed peacefully next to you. You loved seeing him relaxing, with a gentle look on his face as he finally got the rest he deserved. The poor guy was tuckered out, and when he got home, he promised to make up for the long week to you this weekend with his mouth and his cock

And you were desperate to have him

You both made several attempts this week to have a quickie in the morning, the kitchen, and the car ride to work, but each attempt was interrupted. It was like the worst kind of edging. When Nanami had gotten home tonight, you had the full intention of riding him until he passed out, but the moment you saw how tired he was, you decided your pleasure could wait until he was well rested.

That’s what you kept telling yourself: to not jump his bones, you could wait. You weren’t some Horndog that needed to be consistently fucked within an inch of her life. You could function as a normal human. Telling yourself that helped for a second before thoughts of pushing you against any surface and having his way with you had your short soaked and your pussy throbbing

Maybe you weren’t too strong

Squeeze your thighs together, rubbing some relief, but it was suddenly too hot, and your brain was buzzing too loudly at one in the morning. You needed to get off, but you didn’t want to wake your exhausted husband, which meant you needed the hell of your trusty wand vibrator

You pulled the blue toy out of your nightstand before slipping under the sheets. An orgasm would be enough to tide you over for the night. Tugging your shorts down your hips, pulling them around your thighs, you press the tip of the wand against your clit, turning it on the lowest setting. The buzzing vibrations had you moaning softly, tilting your head back against your pillow.

The simmering desire between your legs began to increase to a boil, fire, throbbing, making your legs twitch and tremble as your eyes tight, imagining being the one to touch you, bringing you this delicious pleasure that was burning hot. You pictured him slotted between your legs, tongue torturing the little bundle of nerves, while honey-brown eyes stared into yours, eagerly eating you out and driving you towards release. That image of your husband had you turning the speed to the toy up. The buzzing grew louder as you chewed on your bottom lip to hold back the moans, trying to

While you did your best to keep your moans silent with the sound of the vibrator muffled by the sheets, it was the squirming of your legs that caused your husband to stir next to you. Nanami hummed his eyes, opening them just in time to watch your mouth fall into an ‘O’ shape while your eyes shut tight. He blinks lazily, trailing down the curves of your trembling body, listening to the soft humming buzz of your favorite toy

His poor wife must be pent up. As much as he would like to roll over and fuck you into the mattress, he was too tired. He might not be able to fuck you, but he could still offering and helping hand.

You were in your fantasy that you didn’t realize Kento was right next to your ear. His breath flushed over your cheeks, his lips pressing against it. Feeling his warmth next to you and his lips on your skin, the smell of his body wash had you whimpering as you spread your leg

“Mm, that’s it, baby. Does that feel good?” Nanami whispers in your ear. “You’re trembling, and it must feel good.”

“It feels really good, Kento, so good.” Your leg shakes more as he buries his face in your neck, kissing it gently fuck

“Turn it up higher. Don’t tease yourself like that.” As Nanami’s hand wraps around the wand, he presses one of the buttons, increasing the speed to a higher setting. “You’ve been such a good girl. You deserve to cum.”

Your hips buck forward as your left-hand grips the sheets. You could feel the burning fire growing hotter and hotter between your legs, spreading down to the tips of your toes to your abdomen, where the kindling flames grow hotter. A coil tightened. You were so close, and Nanami was sleep-deprived, could tell. He turned the speed up higher with a moan, grinning against your skin as you inhaled sharply, legs clamping together as you gripped his forearm with your hand.

“Oh-Kento! Oooh fuck~ fuck I’m gonna cum! !”

“That’s right, let it go cum for me.”

“Nnngh!” Nails dug into his skin as waves of pleasure washed over you. “Oh my god! Oh my god, c-cumming~!.” Your husband chuckled, his breath warming the skin on your face as you both worked yourself down from the intense orgasm.

“Pent up, darling?”

You hum, nodding as you pull the toy away, turning it off before putting the wand on your nightstand with a pleased sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry I woke you up.” Large, calloused hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his body.

“No, you’re fine. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help out more.”

“That was hot enough to tide me over until you get some well-deserved rest.”

Nanami’s lips press against yours in a kiss as he shuts his eyes. “Then you better get some sleep. I have a week to make up for, so you’ll need all the rest you can get.” The promise of him ruining almost how you want, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat had you falling asleep with him in your arms.

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend, was well known for his company, Six Eyes. A game developing company that produced some of the best video games of the era, making your rich boyfriend even richer. Gojo was constantly whisking you away on spontaneous trips. If you saw some new viral dessert in Canada, you both were off to try it. If you were stressed, no worries; a weekend in Fiji would fix that.

While his job paid exceptionally well and was stable, he also went on many business trips. The Jet Lag was real, but your boyfriend made it a point to try to readjust his sleep schedule whenever he got home, which sometimes meant he’d stay up close to twenty-four hours to do just that. Some nights when he got home, like today, he had been up so long that he was out like a light the second his head hit the pillow.

You didn’t mind. Just sleeping next to Satoru, wrapped in his arms, made up for the two weeks he was away. But being wrapped in his arms like you were right now also had downsides. His breath was hot against your neck as his chin rubbed that sweet spot where your shoulder connected to your neck, and his leg was firmly pressed against your sex.

God, you were so horny you felt like your whole body was on fire. There was no way you could fall asleep like this wet and needy. It would be awesome if your boyfriend was up and able to help you with your situation. But the rumbling of his snores clued you in that there was no hope for two A.M. quickies.

Taking matters into your own hands, you crawled out of his koala grip, reaching into your nightstand and pulling out your g-spot vibrator. God, you were so wet you didn’t even need lube. All you needed to do was rub the toy up and down over your folds before dipping the tip inside of you. You hissed out in pleasure before pushing the toy deeper inside of the tip, pressed firmly against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you, the one that made you squirm. With a whimper, you turned it on and began thrusting it in and out of your tight pussy.

It felt so good, and it made your body burn hotter. The familiar coil in your abdomen began twitching to life. You hummed, rocking your head forward as you laid on your side gently, thrusting in and out of you faster, working yourself up to release, but you ran into the same problem you always did with a toy like this.

It got too intense.

You’d feel yourself getting close; your legs would clamp down together, making it nearly impossible for you to move the toy when you were trying to rub circles around your twitching clit. You would struggle to keep the rhythm pace and ultimately end up edging yourself endlessly.

“Fuck!” A harsh whisper sounded as you felt your orgasm slipping away again, your legs clamping together tighter. “Come on.” You were so close you could almost cry. The sweet release was just within your grasp and kept slipping away.

Biting down on your bottom lip, watching your trembling legs try to clamp together for the third time, making it almost impossible for you to move the toy in and out. If your vibrator were charging, this would have been much easier to do. But alas, your toy was dead, meaning you had to use your fingers while trying to thrust your toy in and out of you, feeling your orgasm for the third time. You were about to give up when an ivory hand reached between your legs, finding your clit with ease.

“H-Haaah, Satoru!” you gasped out as the warmth of his body snuggled closer against your side.

Gojo had been dreaming when you cried out in frustration, his eyes open, finding you struggling to reach that sweet release. He lay there momentarily, eyes still heavy as he debated oncoming to sleep when your voice broke. You sounded like you were going to cry and not in the way. So, fighting against the drowsiness, he inched closer to you, deciding to give you a helping hand.

The sharp circles you loved around your click while he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them to stay open, giving you the chance to fuck the toy faster into your heat. The stress and struggle on you were lifted as Toru rubbed his chin over that sweet spot on your shoulder before he trailed kisses down your neck.

“I got you.” his voice was thick sleep. “I got you; you can relax, sweetheart; you can cum~”

“T-Toru—” you whine out your hand, moving faster. “Satoru!”

Your boyfriend is leaning over your body, watching you drive closer to release. “That a girl~ don’t it up, don't stop.”

“B-But—”

“Shh~ relax, baby.” Gojo’s other hand reached under your body, his hand wrapping around yours that was thrusting the toy. “Keep moving like this, just like I do with my cock. You like it when I do that, right? When I that tight little cunt?” his lips brush over your shoulder as he moves the toy at a faster speed.

Your head tilts back as you feel the coil in your abdomen tightening.” C-Close—!” you whisper, eyes rolling back into your school as you beat up.

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart? You gonna cum?” His husky breathes as you nod. “Good girlfriend, that’s it. I can feel your leg shaking. You’re gonna cum so hard.”

“T-Toru!”

“Yeah, yeah, baby, good girl, such a good girl~!” Satoru causes your body to convulse as your breathing catches in your throat. “Mhmm fuck!”

Your pulse was racing, causing both you and Satoru’s hand to still as you cum. Waves of pleasure send you rocking back against him the entire time you cry and shake, littering your shoulder with kisses until you gently pull the toy out with a satisfied cry. His hand rests over your hip, gently holding you as you toss the toy to the foot of the bed. There was always time to clean it later; you were afraid if you tried to get up on wobbly legs, you would most likely collapse on the floor.

Opting out of leaving the bed, you roll over to face Satoru. His eyes are heavy as he looks at you through white, luscious lashes with a gentle smile. Grabbing Satoru’s handsome face with your hands, you kiss him deeply, making him hum happily as he lazily kisses you back before you pull away.

“Thank you, Toru.”

“Mhmm~” his eyes finally shut as he rubs his face into the pillow before squeezing you closer to his body. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru. Get some rest, honey.” Before those words leave your mouth, your boyfriend snores softly against the pillow with a gentle smile.

Geto Suguru:

The problem with dating an EMT was the fluctuating hours. Some weeks, you and Suguru worked the same hours on the same days, while others had him on the night shift. This week had been nothing by the night shift. You couldn't complain, though. At least he would have the next four days off to spend with you. You could go out on dates, fuck each other, and he could rest, catching up on the sleep he had been deprived of. You both usually did that, but tonight, there was a problem.

You were currently ovulating and unbearably horny.

Suguru had worked his ass off this week, having been on calls nonstop for the entirety of his 12-hour shift. Usually, he’d be raring to go, needing to take his frustrations out on you, but today has been hard, rough call after call. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes as a kid tissues off and made it straight to the bathroom to take a hot shower, but we’re probably passing out face first in bed.

You lay down next to him, pressing your lips together as you stared at his sleeping face. His hair fell over his eyes, and he hugged his pillow tight as his sweats hung low on his hips. One leg was underneath the sheets, while the other was bent near his chest. How was it legal for him to be this fucking hot. That wasn’t even the hormones talking. That was a straight fact.

The hormones were telling you to breed you until you cried. But Suguru’s pale skin in the dark circles under his eyes prevented you from waking him. Waking him up to satisfy your needs was cruel when you were perfectly capable of satisfying yourself.

As long as you could see his handsome face and his breath, it would be to keep you in the moment. He was out so hard he wouldn’t see you staring at him like you were some pervert while you got yourself off lying on your side facing him; you bit back a moan as you rubbed your favorite flexor toy over your opening before sliding it inside of you with a shiver

The toy was pressed firmly against your g-spot and clit. When turned on, it would flex, mimicking fingers moving inside of you. It was your favorite toy, one your boyfriend had bought specifically for you, which made this even hotter. Small whimpers left your mouth as your eyes focused on Suguru, who slept soundly across from you.

Doing something like this, masturbating in front of him without him, knowing had your walls twitching in pleasure

“Haaah—” wind, one hand, gripping the pillow behind your head while the other grasped at the sheets. The curling motion and vibrations made you wetter than you already were, which seemed almost impossible. Your arousal seeped out of you, coating your folds, thighs, and your favorite pink toy buried inside you, and the pleasure of doing it in front of your handsome boyfriend without his knowledge had you squirming, resulting in the toy slipping out of you.

“H-Huh?” The feeling of the vibrations against that spongy spot inside of you vanished. “What the?” reaching down, you pushed it back in place, but your wet walls had it slipping out again. “Y-You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You repeated the same process, pushing the toy inside, but it continued slipping out, turning your very steamy solo session into a much more frustrating scenario. It was hard to get into the moment when you were constantly having to push your favorite toy back inside of you. You finally reached down, holding it firmly in place with one hand. So you could handle the situation. Before you could lose yourself in the pleasure, you glanced back up to admire your boyfriend, only to meet his dark gaze, watching you with a lazy grin.

“S-Sugu!”

“Oh~ don't stop, please~ I love watching you get off.” he hummed with a smirk, snuggling closer into his pillow. “Could wait for the morning~ had to get out your toy?”

“Y-Yes—”

He glanced down, “Need a hand?” You can only nod as he reaches down, replacing your hand with his own. “Fuuuck~ baby, you're so fuckin’ wet.” he pushes the toy deeper inside, holding it snuggling in place.

“I-I was I-imagining you, f-fingering—nngh—” Your mouth falls agape as you watch Suguru as the vibrator flexes against your clit and g-spot perfectly. Your hips buck, and your leg trembles as you cry out softly.

“Yeah~ you always get needy for my fingers.” he gently rocks the toy black and forth, making a whimper crawl up your throat. “Does that feel like me~? Rocking my fingers against that spot?”

“Ooooh fuck S-Suguru, Sugu~”

Your boyfriend’s thumb presses the button, increasing the speed to the highest setting. “Oooh baby~ you sound so pretty, moaning my name like that.” He smirked as you grip his bicep, digging your fingers into the muscle. “You’re gonna cum~ I can tell.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Sugu, please, please, I need it!”

As much as he would like to edge you, keep this going, he was still tired. So he rocks the toy back and forth, faster and harder, drawing out the loudest moans from you. It felt so good. It felt like he was touching you while guiding a toy he had purchased for you. Your nails nearly broke the skin as you clinched your hand around his bicep, the coil in your abdomen tightening harder and harder until it finally snapped.

“I'm cumming!” screamed out legs, trembling and shaking as you gushed all over the toy. “C-Cummin’ cumming!” Subaru couldn’t help but chuckle as you arrived against the mattress; you were so sensitive, so easy to please, because he knew you like the back of his hand.

As the rippling contractions of pleasure ceased, your grip on his arm loosened before gently rubbing away the crescent moon shapes you left behind. “Feel better?” Suguru asked as he gently removed the toy from inside you.

“Yeah, it's your fault—ahh—” your words cut off as you watched your boyfriend slide his tongue slowly up the toy collecting your cum off of it. “W-What are you?!”

“A midnight snack should be enough to tie me over until I fully devour you in the morning.”

Your boyfriend nonchalantly placed the toy on his side of the nightstand before hugging his pillow and shutting his eyes as if he hadn’t just done something so sinfully hot! If it weren’t for the mere intensity of your orgasm, pulling you into dreamland, you would’ve taken him right then and there and told him to relax while you did all the work. Suguru was right; you would have to wait for a proper meal in the morning, and you would beat him to it.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ryomen Sukuna, you’re hot, tattooed, and pierced boyfriend, was snoring next to you in bed. His right arm was in a black brace courtesy of the sofa. You had begged him to wait until you got off a call to help him move it, but he insisted that he would be fine alone. And he was until the damn thing nearly crushed his little brother Yuuji when your back was turned.

It was a hairline fracture that would quickly heal in six to eight weeks. Plus, with the hairline fracture, Sukuna could still do simple things like piercings and scheduling appointments at Geto’s tattoo shop. Your boyfriend had been lucky that he had a lot of muscles to take the blunt of the hit from the massive sofa. Your boyfriend wasn’t fortunate enough to avoid your wrath when he said he could care for himself and his brothers alone.

Hearing him say that caused you to blow a fuse. It was bad enough that he had tried to move a sofa alone! Then he dares to tell you he doesn’t need help around the house. Sukuna told you he would be fine nursing a hairline fracture while working and caring for his brothers, which caused you to tell him to shut up and stop being an asshole. That’s how you found yourself with your bags packed in the corner of his room as your ass was planted firmly in his bed while he slept off his pain meds.

He could fight you all he wanted, but you wanted to be there for him.

With a heavy side, you brush back some of your hair as you glance at the clock on the wall. The adrenaline had been pumping through your veins, keeping you wired most of the evening. You were wired after taking Sukuns to the hospital, picking up his brothers, and packing a bag to bring. Seeing that it was now one in the morning, you had a couple of choices to help with your insomnia. You could pull an all-nighter and take a nap on the day, or you could relieve the tension with an orgasm and fall asleep that way.

Having to choose between sleep, deprivation, and pleasure wasn’t a hard decision. Without any other thoughts, you reached into Sukuna’s nightstand, pulling out the vibrator he kept there for you. With that bad boy, he would be able to cum in no time. You had just laid on your back and went to turn it on the highest setting for it to do absolutely nothing. You gave it another click, finding your favorite toy dead.

“No,” you whine, leaning against the pillows. “Fuck no.” as much as you hated it, you would have to go back to the ages and get off with your hand if that was even possible.

With a soft side, you pull to the side before your swollen clit with ease. You gently began rubbing it with your forefinger and slowly teasing circles. Your toes curled as you pressed down on the bundle of nerves with a whimper. It felt good, but you weren’t sure if this would be enough for you. Your boyfriend had not only been your first for almost everything, but he has successfully ruined you for anyone else

And the smug bastard knew that, too

Rubbing your clit faster, you spread your shaking legs with a shaky sigh. Touching yourself, of course, felt good. It always did, but it wasn’t enough, whether it was the lack of callouses or how your fingers were much smaller than your boyfriend's. Or it could just be the fact that your hand wasn’t his. Those thoughts only made it harder for you to focus on the pleasure,

“Kuna,” you whispered, glancing at the ceiling. “Yes~” You were trying to mimic his fingers over your swollen bud, picturing his mouth on your tits, sucking at your nipples. “Fuck.” imaging that only increased the pleasure, making you rub yourself as fast as your fingers would allow. The pleasure only seemed to intensify, urging your hands to grab the sheets instead of continuing to get you off. “Fuuck.” They were about to slow down when Sukuna swatted your hand away and replaced it with his left one. “Haaah!”

Looking up, you found your groggy boyfriend sitting on his knees, the right hand pressed close to his chest while the other rubbed furiously at your clit. “Gotta move your fingers faster than that kitten.” his voice was deep and groggy from the sleep and the medication he was on. “You’re never gonna cum like that.” Your hands dug into the sheets and snapped your fingers faster and harder. I guess that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!”

“What? You were begging me to do so. This is what you wanted, right?” Sukuna moves his hand as fast as he can as you bite down on your bottom lip when the pleasure becomes almost too much.“Then do it, cum all over my fingers like the good kitten that you are.”

“I-Im gonna—!”

“Yeah? Gonna finally cum now that your boyfriend’s helping you out?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Yeah, your fingers aren’t as rough as mine, are they?”

“No!”

Sukuna presses down on your clit harder, rubbing circles around it. “Awe, so honest~ come on, baby cum, you deserve it for telling me the truth and helping me out today. Consider this one of the many ways I plan on repaying you,” you scream, eyes going wide as your orgasm hits you with the promise of more pleasure to come.

Your body rides and arches off the mattress as you cum all over your boyfriend’s hand. You grip the sheets, eyes clamping shut as your tights clamp around her hand. Sukuna slows his fingers down, grinning as he watches your face go from scrunched up with pleasure to a more relaxed expression. His quick circles turn into lazy strokes until, finally, your legs shakily release the vice grip on his hand.

“Mmm.” he licks his fingers clean as you fix your shorts. “You taste so sweet.”

“Mhmm,” you respond almost lazily as he pulls you into his chest. Drowsiness creeps up on you, making your eyelids heavy, and Sukuna sighs heavily. “Night, Kuna; let me know if you need anything.”

Sukuna hums in response, watching as you slowly drift off to sleep on his chest. Would asking you to move in be too much to ask? Because you were everything he needed.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[deansbeer]

hey girl. i love telepath! reader. ik it’s not halloween yet but i can literally see her trying to match bolt and be a playboy bunny. how do you think dean would react to that?🩷

oh, mans would so malfunction at the sight of her in a playboy bunny costume ‼️ + thank u sm for loving telepath!reader !!! it truly makes my lil heart so happy to hear <33

you're standing in your room, carefully applying the finishing touches to your halloween makeup as bolt lounges lazily on your bed, watching you with his twitching nose and curious little eyes. as usual, you're talking to him like he's your personal stylist.

"what do you think, bolt? the black ones or the pink ones?" you hold up two options of bunny ears in front of him. he doesn’t move, just stares, but you take his silence as an answer. "black it is. good choice, bub. classy."

he's your little partner-in-crime tonight, at least in spirit. you're going as a playboy bunny, and bolt, well, he's the inspiration behind the whole thing. he’s staying behind with dean and sam, though. you'd asked dean earlier if he could bunny-sit, and of course, he agreed. it wasn't like you asked him to do much—just keep an eye on the little furball while you were out.

you glance at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything is in place. the black satin bodysuit fits you like a glove, hugging your curves in all the right places. the sheer black tights make your legs look impossibly long, and the stilettos you chose—which you're still not entirely sure you won’t regret later—add the perfect touch. the bunny ears sit atop your head, completing the look.

"how do i look, bolt?" you ask, turning to face him with a grin. he twitches his ears, and you laugh. "yeah, i thought so. stunning, right?"

bolt doesn't answer, obviously, but you like to think he's silently hyping you up.

when you step out of your room, holding bolt in one arm and fixing the bunny ears as you walk, you head toward the library where sam and dean are. sam's sitting at the table, nose buried in some kind of research, while dean is leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.

you adjust one of your heels as you step into the room, the soft click of them echoing in the quiet space. both of their heads snap up when they hear you.

"so?" you say, smiling as you approach the table. "how do i look?”

sam's the first to speak, a warm smile spreading across his face. "wow, you look great. very… festive."

you laugh, setting bolt gently on the table in front of him. "thanks, sam. you're watching him while dean drops me off, right?"

"yeah, no problem," sam replies, reaching out to scratch bolt behind his ears.

then you turn to dean, who hasn't said a word yet. he's just sitting there, staring at you like he doesn't know what to do with himself. his jaw is tight, and his eyes keep darting between your face and—well, everywhere else. finally, he clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter.

"you look… uh, good. yeah. real good," he says, his voice gruff.

you notice the way he shifts in his seat, his hand briefly brushing over his thigh as if he's trying to adjust something. you don't think much of it, though, just flash him a smile.

"thanks, de. ready to go?"

he nods, standing up a little too quickly. "yeah, let's go."

the ride to the party is quiet at first. you're messing with your phone, checking for texts from your friends, while dean keeps his eyes firmly on the road. but you can feel the tension in the air, the way he keeps shifting in his seat every few minutes.

"you okay over there?" you ask, glancing at him curiously.

"yeah, fine," he says quickly, his voice a little too sharp.

you raise an eyebrow. "you sure? you've been squirming since we left. what’s going on?"

he hesitates, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "just… sore, that's all.”

you tilt your head, confused. "sore? why would you be sore? didn't sam say you skipped working out today?"

he grits his teeth, clearly regretting his excuse. "just drop it, okay?"

you roll your eyes but don't push it. whatever's going on with him, he'll tell you if he wants to. maybe you'll just have to get inside his head yourself. but that's an invasion of privacy and you'd prefer him to tell you, rather than you sticking your nose in his business.

when you finally pull up to your friend's house, the street is already packed with cars, and you can hear the faint thump of music from inside. you spot your friend waiting near the door, waving excitedly when she sees you.

"thanks for the ride, dean," you say, opening the door.

"no problem, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice tight.

you step out of the car, adjusting your tights and tugging the bodysuit into place as you walk toward the house. your friend meets you halfway, pulling you into a hug.

"oh my god, you look so hot!" she gushes, pulling back to look at your outfit.

"so do you!" you reply with a laugh, but before you can say anything else, a guy steps out onto the porch, joining your friend.

he immediately places a hand on your shoulder, leaning in to introduce himself. you're polite, smiling and nodding, but you can feel the older winchester brother's eyes burning into the back of your head from the car.

he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. the guys laughs at something you say, his hand lingering on your arm a little too long for dean's liking.

"sonuva bitch,” dean mutters under his breath, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal as he pulls away from the curb. he doesn't even wait for you to go inside before speeding off, the tires squealing slightly as he turns the corner.

his heart is pounding in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of anger and jealousy. who the hell does the guy think his is, touching you like that? you're his girl. well, not officially, but still. you're his.

he spends the entire drive back to the bunker stewing in his own thoughts, alternating between cursing himself for not saying anything and cursing out the guy for daring to lay a hand on you.

back at the bunker, sam glances up when dean storms inside, slamming the door behind him.

"everything okay?" sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

dean doesn't answer, just heads toward the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and mutters, "watch the damn bunny."

sam exchanges a confused look with bolt, who twitches his ears in response.

meanwhile, dean sits at the table, staring at the bottle in his hand, already counting down the hours until he can go pick you up—and maybe punch the guy in the face while he’s at it.

[lelengerine]

woonhak(bnd)+ your eyes only(enha)

͙͘͡★ dear, my muse

song prompt. “you’re in charge of the photography exhibit, and i thought i was just another random student in the crowd—until i saw that i’m in more than half the photos.”

pairing. bff!woonhak x photography student!reader

tags. best friends to (sort of implied) lovers, hints of mutual pining and slow burn mixed with fluff, photography as a love language bc <3, gender neutral reader, think that’s it!

wc. 1.0k words

notes. aaaaa i’m really proud of this one >0< unagi is like a little baby to me so writing this was sm fun 🥺🩷 thank u sm for requesting anonie and i hope u like it mwah <3 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list | event m.list ꒱

the gallery lights were dimmed just right—soft but intentional, casting golden glows against white walls where every photo sat neatly framed. you stood near the far end, fussing over a crooked label, when you heard it.

“hey… is that my good side or what?”

you froze in place because no one else would say something so unserious in the middle of an art exhibit, and definitely not in front of a photo they weren’t supposed to recognize.

you turned, and sure enough, kim woonhak, was standing in front of your favorite shot—head tilted, one hand on his chin like he was trying to interpret the meaning of some abstract piece of art when, in reality, the photo was a portrait of his face.

you still remember the day you took it. it was a candid you took during a club bonding trip to the beach. he was laughing in it, eyes half-closed, hands mid-gesture, teasing jaehyun over the way he stumbled into the waves that crashed along the shoreline. you had barely realized you’d taken it until weeks later, going through the gallery of your camera and finding him right in the center of everything—sun-kissed, loud, alive.

“woonhak,” you hissed with slight embarrassment in your tone, walking over quickly, clipboard tucked against your side. “what are you doing here?”

he turned to you with a smile that was too wide for comfort. “enjoying the art, obviously,” which was followed by a fake gasp, “wait—you’re the curator?”

you narrowed your eyes. “you knew that.”

“did i?” he gave a dramatic shrug. “i just followed the posters. they said there’d be free food and artistic enlightenment.”

“so, you just wanted the free macarons.”

“okay, but i stayed for the unauthorized woonhak retrospective,” he said, gesturing behind him. “seriously—this one? that one? that one, too? oh, and what do you know—me again?”

he moved down the line of prints, pausing at each photo you’d taken over the semester. some at school events. others in quieter moments—him walking ahead during the club outing, him sleeping on a bus with his cheek smushed into the window, him in the background of a class picture, his figure blurry from movement but he was unmistakably grinning.

you didn’t follow. 

you simply watched in place as he looked and observed each picture of himself. he eventually turned to you slowly, an eyebrow raised. “why didn’t you invite me personally? i thought we were best friends?”

you clutched your clipboard like it was your last line of defense. “you’re not supposed to be here. i- i wasn’t really expecting you.”

“kind of hard not to when i’m in, like, half the gallery,” he said, clearly amused. “is this some kind of soft-launch for your not-so-secret crush on me?”

you nearly choked on thin air. “what?”

“because i’m honored,” he continued, completely ignoring your mortification. “but also a bit concerned ‘cause that’s, like, a lot of me.”

“you just show up in everything!” you said, flustered as you try coming up with a lame excuse. “you’re always around so...”

he shrugged, like that was obvious. “yeah, because we hang out all the time.”

“exactly,” you added, trying to sound normal. “of course you’d be in the background.”

he grinned. “or the spotlight, apparently.” you groaned, turning to walk away, but he caught up easily—hands behind his back like he wasn’t casually dismantling your sense of composure.

“you know,” he said, glancing sideways at you, “you could’ve told me. i would’ve posed more. y’know, given you my whole emotional range.”

you scoffed. “i didn’t need all that. you’re dramatic enough without trying.”

he laughed, bumping your shoulder with his. “so you're saying your work is… capturing the truth of me? sounds like someone’s a little obsessed—”

you stopped and gave him a look. “do you want me to crop you out of all of them?”

he held up both hands in surrender. “okay, okay. i’ll behave. kinda flattering, though. having a whole wall that says someone sees you like that.”

you looked at him—really looked at him. teasing as always, but it's softer now. there was something about the way his voice dipped when he said that, like he truly meant it, like he saw you too.

there was a beat of silence as you reached the end of the gallery wall. someone across the room pointed at one of the group photos and smiled. woonhak’s eyes followed.

“you really like this, huh?”

you glanced at him, giving a questioning look that urged him to continue.

“this,” he repeated, nodding toward the gallery. “catching people when they don’t know they’re being seen.”

your grip on the clipboard eased a little. “yeah. it’s like… everyone forgets the small moments, but cameras don’t.”

he nodded, eyes drifting to another photo of himself—laughing, mid-motion, alive in a way that didn’t always show up when he was trying too hard.

“i forget i looked like that,” he murmured. “that happy.”

you nudged his arm. “you still look like that.”

he turned to you. “yeah, but only when you’re around.”

you blinked, mouth parting—caught between a smile and confusion.

“…are you serious?”

his grin came back—softer this time, but still him. “i mean… you’re kind of my favorite person. that’s a thing best friends can say, right?”

you looked away before your brain could spiral. “only if they say it less dramatically.”

he leaned in. “i’ll work on it. but for now…” he tapped the camera still hanging around your neck. “can i request an updated portrait? you know. to commemorate this historic moment of accidental fame.”

you rolled your eyes but lifted the camera anyway. “fine. one photo.”

“make it iconic,” he said, throwing a peace sign and angling his face like a mock model. “i need something to autograph later.”

you snorted. “you’re the worst.”

“and yet,” he said, eyes twinkling, “you still point that thing at me every time.”

click.

the shutter snapped, and for once, he was actually looking at the lens.

just like he always looked at you—loud, alive, and like you were the only thing in focus because maybe you weren’t the only one with a muse.

[makeyoumine69]

Hi Lexiii and hear me out! You always cook with Patrick's pov, so listen: imagine having rough sex in his office? We're so down for him, we're so needy and soaking for him! I'mma scream if you do something with such plot and daddy kink and maybe make Patty show some love to our tits? Anyway, I'm sure you'll deliver! I love ya sm!🩷💖🤭🤭🤭

NSFW PROSE 1 (Patrick's POV)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: PWP, unprotected rough vaginal sex, nipple play, body worship, hair pulling, creampie, Daddy kink, minor degradation kink, dirty talk, pet names, dom!Patrick.

ᴀ/ɴ: Hello, thank you for your kind words and for sending me this request! I'm slowly working my way through all my WIPs, I hope to finish them all whenever I have the time!

Being stuck in the office late at night was the worst thing that could happen to me, but being stuck in there with you was a whole other story. 

When I pressed you against the door of my fancy office with your back to me, hiked up the hem of your dress and pushed my fingers into your mouth, you took them eagerly, almost hungrily. My lips then covered yours, craving your taste more than anything else in the world, and I heard you whimper into the kiss as I pressed you harder against the solid door.

"Daddy..." you begged as you heard me unzip my pants. "You're so hard...is it because of me?"

God, you wanted me so badly, even though you probably didn't know what you were asking for. Smirking, I just chuckled at first, but a little later I slipped the straps of your dress to reveal your full breasts and squeezed them with both of my hands—your tits fitting so perfectly into my large palms.

"A-ahhhh..." a muffled whimper escaped your swollen lips as you covered my hands on your breasts. "Are you gonna...f-fuck me?"

Your little nasty sounds drove me fucking crazy. So goddamn desperate—like you were begging with every breath. I grinned against you, I could feel your heart racing—your body pressed so tightly between me and the door... it's like I could feel every inch of you shivering. 

Shaking. Needing. Melting.

My hands tighten on your soft mounds, thumbs grazing over those perfectly hard nipples, eliciting another sweet moan from you. By this time you were practically pleading under your breath and I was loving it. Slowly, almost torturously, I pressed my hips against your ass, grinding just enough for you to feel how hard I was and fuck...you were so wet...I could sense the dampness even through the fabric of your panties.

"You want me to fuck you right here..." I growled, my hands slipping lower down your sides, gripping your hips with enough force to leave marks; your body arched instinctively. "You want me to fuck you until you can't even stand, sweetheart?"

Your breath hitched, then another muffled moan caressed my ears. I let my hand slide over the curve of your ass—leisurely pulling your dress up until it was bunched around your waist. You gasped as I moved your panties aside to feel all of you—directly, without barriers.

"So fucking soaked..." I grunted against your neck, my fingers trailing down your slippery slit—slowly at first—just to make you squirm even more. Damn, I could feel every reaction. Every trembling sigh. You were literally writhing now—pressing your ass back into me like you were starving for it. And I couldn't help the smug grin that spread across my face. The way you reacted to my every touch. "I'm gonna ruin you."

The second those filthy little sobbed whispers left your lips—"Please...Daddy...my pussy...hurts without you...inside..."—I lost control.

Aroused as hell, I didn't even bother to pull your panties down completely, I couldn't wait. Not with you like this, not with you moaning my fucking title like you forgot how to breathe without it. A little aggressively, I grabbed a fist full of your hair, yanking your back just enough so that your body arched perfectly against me, my free hand reaching for my zipper—the rasp of it loud, intimate, just like every fucking gasp you made.

"P-Patrick..." Your breathless stutter barely escaped your lips before I aligned myself with your tight little hole. You were dripping, shaking, and I hadn't even pushed all the way in yet. And I didn't even ask you how you felt, nor did I care to give you time to adjust.

I thrust into you—mercilessly and harshly.

Your cry was muffled by the door, your hand slipping up to brace itself as your entire body jerked forward from the impact. My grip on your hair tightened as I slammed into you again as hard as I could, owning every inch of you. You were almost screaming now—loud enough that I was sure the echoes would fill every corner of this business center, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered when your body responded to everything I did—every thrust, every inch of my fat cock brushing against your warm, tight walls. Without a second thought, I pressed my hips harder against your backside and buried myself deeper inside you. Fuck... you felt so good, so fucking good. And the way your cunt clung to me with every movement? 

Jesus.

I pulled back just enough to thrust into you again, deeper this time. Your cries were uncontrollable now—pure fucking pleasure spilling out of your throat like you couldn't even stop it. Each thrust sent your body forward—your breasts pressing against the cold door of my office. My hands gripped your hips harder, digging into your soft flesh, and I could feel you tightening around me with each passing second.

You were so fucking close.

"You like that, huh?" I growled into your ear before my teeth grazed the back of your neck as I rammed into you again—faster now. "You love being fucked like this... don't you?"

Your answer was almost a scream—desperate, high-pitched. "Yes! Oh God... please... don't stop... Daddy... please."

I lost it completely.

My rhythm faltered for a second as I buckled deeper, hammering into you until each thrust sent you over the edge. Teetering on the brink, you were trembling all over, your legs barely holding you up as I ravaged you from the inside out. Meanwhile, I could feel it building inside of me, too—the way your hot cunt cramped around my throbbing dick, the way you moaned my fucking title over and over...

I was right there, right fucking there.

My hands moved from your hips to your breasts again, squeezing them roughly as I pounded into you one last time, causing your entire body to tense, to fucking shatter into pieces—you let out a sharp yelp—your hands gripping the door like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

And then everything fell apart.

You came hard—your legs quivering, your pussy convulsing around my cock like it was trying to pull me deeper inside. And your gasps, damn, they were erratic and so fucking desperate. At that moment I could barely hold on, knowing that your body was a fucking mess beneath me, shaking violently as your orgasm tore through you, every nerve ending firing. And I... I couldn't take it anymore.

With my eyes closed, I thrust into you one last time, sinking deep into that perfect cunt before everything fucking crashed through me, my grip on your breasts tightening and my whole body tensing as I finally released inside you.

The whole world collapsed upon us.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

🤍❤️🤍thankyou🤍❤️🤍

Request for @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono

Thank you for trusting me with your ocs 🥺🙏

[metamiie]

METAMIIE. [warning: vent-ish ask]

Sorry you don't have to respond to this. But that little pip on Twitter that complained under your metamy post is driving me a lil insane. I'm not sure if you'd need this but I love your metamy I hope that little bugger hadn't soured your willingness to post more metamy as u want 🥺 It can happen to metamy enthusiasts, but I didn't think it'll still happen even now. I (respectfully) love you and your art man....

I'm probably overreacting but it just upsets me everytime someone attacks metamy 🌸 (but I can't retaliate as I want because it'll reflect bad to everyone who likes metamy) so god bless their soul for spreading hate....

GAAA Hello demapatto! 🌸

Thank you for the kind words! However, do not worry, my love for metamy is still going strong! 💙🩷 What that person said is far from my concerns, as I still have unfinished projects I plan to finish and share!! I appreciate your/everyone’s concern. Ily guys sm!!

[johnpriceslamb]

heyy is it okay if u maybe due a little story of arthur morgan?? i jus love him sm

arthur comes back to camp after a job in a bad angry mood since it didnt go to plan then the reader (being his sweetheart gf) cheers him up :(🩷 -🎀

𝓐𝓛𝓦𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓡 , ˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ꒰ The obvious annoyance which swelled in his stomach almost dies instantly when he makes eye-contact with you. ꒱ ˎˊ˗

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┆female ! reader . hyper-fem ! reader . Arthur Morgan is a die-for 4 his sweetheart gf . OOC ! Arthur Morgan . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than character mentioned below . not proof-read . 1.0k wrdz

꒰ arthur morgan x fem ! reader . ꒱

Muddy, wet, icky.

Sweat easily adheres to his already warm skin, rolling down the creases on his forehead and clinging to the ends of his hair. His clothes are attached to his sweat-stained skin, rusty spurrs jingling loudly with the leading sounds of water-filled boots. The sun glares down at him, taunting him even, to make his day even more miserable as it scorches the back of his neck because of the hat; lack thereof- lost from travelling back.

He’ll go find for it soon enough. Just not now.

It’s unlikely for a usual stagecoach robbery to go wrong, he’s done this many times before. Maybe he was starting to feel the effects of ageing. But somehow, things went south a bit too quickly and the man ended up in.. water. With many dead bodies floating around, and cash that wasn’t even worth it at the end.

Just thinking about that whole situation almost makes a vein pop in his head.

A grunt and a low huff escapes his chapped lips when entering the vicinity of the camp. The same water-filled boots squeak each step he took as he storms back to his bed-roll. Everyone knew he was in a bad mood, despite being far away.

Unfortunately for him, someone could not take the hint.

Miss Grimshaw.

“Mister Morgan.” She greets.

“..Miss Grimshaw.” He grunts, wiping the mud off his face just to seem less.. bearable to look at.

The older woman stares down at him for a while, sizing him up with narrowed eyes. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been putting money in the camps communal funds for a very long time.” She prods at him.

She does not leave any room for him to reply back with just one simple glare. Arthur is smart enough to let out a low sigh and nod at her words mindlessly, not really paying attention. Said-woman sneers at him as she usually does with the others. The sight of the mud coated on his garments caused the wrinkles on her cheek to crease further, furrowing her brows in disdain.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She flails her arms around, “A grown man covered in crap like this—” Her hand is raised, but with a light tap on her shoulder from behind comes the reluctancy of lowering her hand down to peer whom distracted her.

A meek, soft voice from behind immediately catches his attention, “Miss? Ive finished folding your clothes.”

Her attitude does a huge spin. She’s softer now, bickering to herself before mumbling a ‘thank you, dear.’ You tell her that you’ve set it by her bed-roll, to which she nods and walks away, leaving you with the man whom seemed like he was about to burst from irritation. He swore you were some kind of angel in disguise, how you manage to make her soften up just a bit is beyond his comprehension.

His eyes land on yours. It was almost like a non-verbal way of saying ‘thank you’ from practically losing the beast.

You look up at him with those familiar beady eyes, a small smile etched on your face as you eagerly come closer to him. Almost immediately do you feel the aura he radiated- tired, exhausted, angry.. and most importantly, wants to be comforted.

“Oh, dear..” You pity him akin to a pup getting kicked. The way his muck-covered clothes wiped a bit of grime on yours is something you don’t question, “Are you—

You don’t have time to say your full sentence. He’s grabbed you by the waist and easily pulls you to his tent. A soft squeal escapes your lips at the sudden movements, eyes widening at how quick he was.

And you’re squished to his chest, practically glued to him as he wraps his arms around you. The muck is easily visible on your clean dress, but did you mind? No.

You loosen up in his tight hold, placing your chin on the curve of his neck. Your finger-nails drag up and down on his back, drawing little patterns and shapes. Despite being absolutely humid, Arthur doesn’t let that become an obstacle when being with you.

Your serenade-like voice pulls him back to reality, sleepy eyes staring down at yours.

“Was it that bad?” You unconsciously touch his growing stubble, noting to yourself to cut it later. He leans into the palm of your hand, nodding wordlessly.

“Bad don’t even manage to describe the hell I went through today.” He squishes you tighter like a stuffie. He buries his face in your shoulder, the faint scent of pinewood and cinnamon invading his nose- and gosh was it such an addicting smell. He notices the simple bow you adorned in your hair, and the little bow sewed to your top. He noticed every single thing, despite feeling like he’s about to burst.

Slowly but surely, did the irritation fade away from his stomach as he holds you closely.

“‘M sorry to hear,” You apologised, frowning at the sight of your beloved so worked up. Sometimes, he wondered how the hell you even manage to be apart of this gang, “D’ya wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head with a low grunt, “Nah. Just wan’ be near you.”

The layers-upon-layers of light pink coloured frills covered his lap as you were plopped on him. He mindlessly fiddles with the pretty design, sighing loudly.

“‘M always here to talk to, y’know?” You press a kiss on his cheek.

“I know.” He sighs, cuddling you closely. You really were an angel.

“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles quietly. You squint your eyes at his own comments, clearly not like it.

“You do.”

A moment of quiet and peace between the two of you, his hand affectionately squeezes yours as a way to comfort himself more than you.

Suddenly, the realisation hits you.

“..Arthur, think you ‘n’ I needa get a bath after this.”