#finally posting this oneeee

[aliamor]

I have a request, but idk if it's NSFW. I'm not asking for smut, but the idea does have nudity (if you wanna throw a little smut in there, i wouldn't mind). The idea is basically Case x a reader who likes to sleep in the nude...LMAO. but like, this would take a while for the reader to admit, and it's a huge trust thing with her.

I got you on this oneeee, I LIKE THIS LMAO😭

ೀ once you know case likes skin to skin contact, he brings up the idea of sleeping in the nude but its takes you awhile to fully get comfortable with it.

ೀ each night to slowly get use to it, you would sleep with one piece of clothing off and build up to being comfortable fully nude.

ೀ every night as you as case lay next to eachothers, he would kiss the part that was exposed to him. For example if you had your shirt off but a bra on, he would kiss all over your collar bone to your arms and stomach.

ೀ and once the trust is built and you didnt wear a bra, he would still kiss all over the same spots but moving to your tits next.

ೀ after a few weeks of getting use to being bare to sleep, you finally asked case when you were going to bed if both of you could be fully naked and be skin to skin.

ೀ hes never said yes so fast in his LIFE, and took you to the bedroom so quickly.

ೀ he will even help you undress and kissing you as he helps.

ೀ never have you slept so good, caseoh is heater (and if your like me, heat makes me TIRED) and before you could even try to overthink about you being nude you were sounds asleep.

Mwah,

Literally when i do hashtags for my posts they ready have the four i use for caseoh programmed into my tumblr account 😭 they know me so well by now.

My mannn😻🙈

[batbitesthebat]

Okay I know Valentines Day is over but I still wanted to post one more little ship art. Just one more? BatBites can have oneeee little ship art, right?

DASHTON AAAAAAAA

I fuckin love dashton. I used to think it was not that great because a lot of Dashton shippers in 2020 were highkey toxic. (And before that- just READDDDD the fucking comment section on Dashis wikifandom page omg. Its insane.) But that has died down so now I get to finally enjoy the ship for what it is. Cute, sweet, wholesome bebes. Thats what Dashton is.

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

'Cause You're A Brand-New Species

Here's another oneeee

You're all going to be sick of me at some point but I'm gonna keep posting!!

Title is from Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon, and the idea for this fic supplied by @daeagon !

Word Count: 1.4K

Relationships: Bianca Pullman & Charles "The Jackal" Calthrop, Bianca Pullman & Vincent Pyne

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 9! A sprinkling of content from Episode 8 and also a tad from the beginning of Episode 10/Season 1 Finale.

This is a post-episode 9 fic fyi!!

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

The boat chase is highly exhilarating, if the Jackal says so himself. 

UDC is dead, his minions and the authorities racing after him… It’s all a victory lap, really, to really solidify the achievement. 

As he approaches a place to dock, he turns back to face the crowd. He can spot at least six boats tailing him, out on the water. 

A crowd of law-obsessed maniacs, they are. Some are just driven by hell and high water, doing it for whatever reason fits their purpose. 

And in that crowd, he swears he recognised one or two of those authorities, talking to each other, crouching down in their vessel… 

Right. He can’t take any chances. 

In times like these, he hates thinking on his feet. He always needs a schedule, everything meticulous and prepared well in advance. 

But being The Jackal means being able to suit up for any situation, to adapt like the tides beneath his feet. 

He lets himself laugh, smiling wickedly as he drops something in the driver’s seat, docking the vessel, and escaping. 

After all, he makes everything seamless. From a boat to a car, zooming down Croatian highways… 

It’s a beautiful thing to be wild and free of burden… Well, for the most part. The authorities are connected and he’s certain they’ll find some way to trace things back to him. 

Perhaps that’s exactly what he wants. 

All he has to do now is wait, and keep his eyes focused ahead. 

***

Vincent Pyne groans as the boat halts, many others surrounding Bogdan’s. He shakes his head and tuts, exchanging a glance with Bianca. 

“Remember how I told you he’s a fucking ghost?!” He exclaims, gesturing to the vessel ostentatiously. “Motherfucker just comes and goes without a trace. We had eyes on him!” 

Bianca huffs and crosses over from their MI6 vessel to where The Jackal was. 

There is nothing to hide, The woman thinks, even as she searches every nook and cranny for a lead, a clue, anything, And The Jackal does not make mistakes…  

When she takes her attention to the driver’s seat, finding an old cell phone and a number preloaded to dial, she’s left smirking. 

This is not a mistake. Nor is this a trap, so she hopes. This is an intentional move. 

“He must be desperate,” She picks up the phone, waving it in Vincent’s direction, “There’s no way he would’ve left this without noticing.” 

The man crosses his arms and watches Bianca as she steps back over to their vessel. “Well, we have no other choice, do we?”

She shakes her head. 

The other authority boats do not leave their post, instead drawing their guns in case of sudden fire. 

She feels better with the security, with Vince as her right-hand man. So why can’t she help the tremor in her fingers as she hits the dial button? 

***

He allows the phone to ring four times before picking up. 

“There you are,” He says, soft, slow, with the same satisfaction he had before killing UDC. 

Finally, they could speak, bringing this cat-and-mouse chase closer, more personal, even. He doesn’t know why he’s thrilled by the whole scenario… She could actually find him and he’d be arrested, worse, dead, in a matter of days. 

Maybe it’s because he hears her breath now, steady, but holding back from so much worse. Maybe it’s because she’ll start speaking, then start yelling at him, losing all her MI6 professionalism. 

He eases his foot off the accelerator, just to focus on her. In his mind, she should be feeling very privileged. 

“Yeah,” Bianca hisses, “Here I am, right where you want me,” She ends up sighing, glancing over at Vince. 

His eyes tell her everything: This is our chance. Rip into him, do whatever you can. Find him, Bianca.  

“I’m here, left with Bogdan’s tarnished boat… And you’re in a car, judging by the engine I hear, driving speedily down some roads, in…” 

The Jackal scoffs, tapping his hands against the steering wheel, “You really think I’m giving myself up? Leading you right to where I am?” 

“I’d appreciate it!” She forces out a laugh, and forces herself to take a few breaths. She can’t let her ambition and zealousness get ahead of her, not this time. 

Not when the MI6 agents have him on the ropes, closer than ever before. 

“You could tell us where you’re headed. Better yet, who’s paying you millions of dollars to take out these hits. Or…” She says slyly, letting out a laugh, “Why don’t you recall something for us?” 

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows quirk up, but of course, she cannot see that. She’s left with his curiosity in the moment and a hint of mischief that she hates to define, “And what will I be recalling for Bianca of MI6?” 

He remembers spelling out the details to Zina, convolutedly asking for her help: First name Bianca, tall, black, mid-30s or so, and another male, white, about the same age.   

He never ended up finding the name of the other male, but he has Bianca. Bianca, a woman of MI6, on the phone with him, right on his tail. 

“Your time in the British military?” She says in a knowing tone, “Must’ve been quite the journey. Expertise, weather and all.”  

She sits down now, aware of how long this call could take. At least, that’s what she thinks: That she should be taking notes, making sure not to lose any detail. 

Vincent grunts as he sits down next to her, admiring the crystal-clear view, the water, calm and fresh. Working in the MI6 does present plentiful opportunities for sightseeing… 

Bianca simply rolls her eyes at his sudden lax behaviour. This is not a time for slacking. She tells him with furrowed brows, pointing to the phone. 

The moment of silence lasts longer than she expects, and she’s prepared to press as though she hasn’t done so throughout the entire investigation. She’s killed to get here, and she’ll threaten more if she has to, if it means finishing up the job. 

The Jackal’s voice is softer when he next speaks, “I dunno, Bianca. It’s pretty… Complicated. Expertise can come from anywhere, these days.” 

He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, because he does his best to regard it as nothing. His whole unit, taken out by his own invention, and he’s still alive, making a sharp left turn onto a desolate street?  

Well, that’s how the cookie crumbles, so he’d like to think. 

He presses his sunglasses closer to his face, “Speaking of killing, I wonder how all that guilt is treating you these days.” 

The woman clenches her fist, laughing drily, “Yeah, and I wonder the same for you. Every day, you seem to pop a bullet through someone’s body. Innocent, corrupt, billionaire… You’ve gotta care, Jackal.” 

“I care about the work and that’s all.” He smiles, “I really think that you and I are one in the same. Bye, now.” 

It’s easy to hang up, to leave her with that parting thought. He can feel the mirth in the air he breathes… Everything is oh-so effortless, and everyone is oh-so gullible! Feelings are the key to unlock necessary hope in her, while providing no substantial intel. 

Her words happen to play on his mind, however. 

… Military, must’ve been quite the journey… You’ve gotta care, Jackal. 

And perhaps, that was her intention all along. 

***

“You think we were successful?” Vincent asks, shuffling closer and peering over the phone. “Sounds like we were.” 

“Yeah, right…” Bianca rolls her eyes once more and pats Vince on the shoulder. “All we know is that he’s on the move, and that he’s potentially being chased by authorities. Knowing him, they’re either dead or exhausted.” 

“So we got jack shit. Hip hip fucking hooray.” He scowls, shaking his head. “Apologies for the optimism, Bianca.” The sarcasm in his voice is as clear as day. 

She looks between the phone and her co-worker, thoughts running through her mind. We may have never reached contact if he didn’t leave this for us…  

She shoves the phone into Vincent’s hands, determination ablaze in her eyes. 

“Not quite. We look after this phone, call him at random intervals. We judge what we can on voice, sound, and intel, along with anything from Isabel and Osi. We can’t give up on this fight.” 

Vincent nods, smiling broadly, “I never said that we were.”

[rinawrote]

I’m obsessed with your Ollie fics so I hope you don’t mind if I request one hehe!! Okay so picture this: Ollie comes to watch F!reader in a play where there’s a really intimate scene with another actor, and has to excuse himself partway through bc he can’t take it anymore 🥲 Then when reader questions him about it later (over post-show dinner?)…… BOOM confession 😋😋

Heyyy sorry this took me a while! Hope you enjoy this oneeee 😽

In the Crowd

Ollie Plimsolls (The League of Gentlemen) x f!Reader

AO3 link here

Summary: After watching you on stage with someone else, Ollie begins to unravel, and the truth he’s tried to bury finally slips free.

Warnings: Angst, mild swearing

Ollie Plimsolls fell in love with you slowly - which is inconvenient, really, because he’s never done anything slowly in his entire life. Everything with Ollie is bluster and speed - slamming doors, barking orders, rewriting scripts at 3AM with a biro clenched between his teeth. But with you? It crept in. Like a spotlight through a stage curtain. Like warmth.

He doesn’t even realise it at first. Not properly. There’s just these moments. Little things - stupid things - that linger longer than they should. The way you roll your eyes when he’s being too much - which is often. The way you hand him tea before he’s even asked. The way you laugh - not politely, not professionally, but freely, like you forget he’s even there. That one in particular kills him.

You’re not part of Legz Akimbo, thank God. He couldn’t take it. You’ve got your own projects, your own people, your own theatre crowd that actually knows how to light a stage and perform a monologue without it sounding like a GCSE drama piece. But - somehow - you’re his friend.

It’s been a few years now - you met at some awful theatre event where you tore apart one of his plays - not unkindly, but thoroughly, and instead of sulking, he chased you down in the car park and demanded to know why. You told him the truth - he was talented, but insufferable. And his work needed less self-importance and more actual heart.

He’d fallen a little bit in love right then and there. Of course, he’d never say that. Not aloud. Ollie doesn’t do emotional vulnerability - at least, not in ways people can call him out on. He just hovers. Offers to read your drafts. Asks your opinion on costumes for his latest “hard-hitting” play about teen smoking or whatever social crisis he’s half-baked this week.

And when you talk, he listens. Properly. Eyes soft behind his ridiculous red glasses, head tilted slightly like he’s afraid to miss a word.

You don’t know, do you? How much he watches you. How often he rewrites lines in his scripts that sound too much like something you’ve said. How - sometimes - when he’s alone in some shoddy dressing room miles from home, he lets himself think about what it would be like to kiss you - just once, just to know.

He thinks about it again on the train to your show. It’s a cold, grey evening. The kind of weather that makes him pull his sleeves down over his hands, hunch his shoulders in his big, baggy jumper like it might protect him from the ache nestling behind his ribs. He tells Dave and Phil he’s off to “support a friend,” and they raise their eyebrows in quiet disbelief, because Ollie doesn’t do that. Not without an agenda.

But you’d asked him to come. You’d handed him a flyer with a little grin, and he couldn’t get it out of his head. The poster’s still in his pocket. Folded, slightly bent. He’s read the synopsis at least five times.

The theatre is small, and smells faintly of dust and paint. Volunteers usher people in, and Ollie ducks his head as he’s led to the third row. Close, but not too close. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He tugs at the sleeves of his jumper and shakes out his hands. He shouldn’t be nervous; it’s not like he’s the one performing, but the energy sits strangely in his chest. Restless.

Then you appear. Not on stage - not yet - just walking through the wings, checking props, adjusting your lipstick under the low glow of the stage light. He sees you before you see him. Something in him softens and melts. You move like you belong there - like the whole play rests on your shoulders and you don’t even feel the weight of it. You look up, eyes catching his, and you smile. God, you smile. Ollie forgets how to breathe.

When it’s your cue, you disappear into character like mist into air. From the first moment you step onto the stage, something shifts in the room. There’s a hush - a heavy silence that hits Ollie right in the chest, falling somewhere behind his ribs. It’s not just that you’re good - it’s that you’re real in a way that makes everyone else around you seem vaguely artificial by comparison.

He’s seen you rehearse before. Run lines with you over a glass of wine in your kitchen. But this is different. This is you, in your element - utterly magnetic and absolutely devastating.

The play isn’t perfect - nothing ever is - but it doesn’t matter. You carry it. You are it, and Ollie watches, completely still, hands clasped between his knees like if he moves, he’ll shatter something. He’s proud. So proud it makes his throat ache. And so completely in love. Sitting here in this cramped little seat, watching you give your all to a room full of strangers, he realises with startling clarity that he’s never felt this way before. You make him want to be better. You make him want to be quiet, for God’s sake - just so he can hear more of you.

And for a while, that’s enough, until the second act begins. Until he walks on stage - the other actor. Tall. Masculine. One of those men who always seems perfectly at ease in his own body. He plays your lover - of course he does - and he’s good. Charismatic. Polished. The chemistry buzzes clear enough for the audience to lean forward in their seats. Clear enough that Ollie feels something burning and terrible twisting in his stomach.

It starts with a touch - a hand on your wrist. Then a glance that lingers too long. Then a line - a line that’s too close to something he once said to you, late at night in your flat, when you were both a little drunk and laughing about nothing.

And you smile in the same way you did then. That’s when the dread sets in. Ollie shifts in his seat. Folds his arms. Unfolds them. Crosses his legs the other way. He can feel it building, scene by scene - the pull between you and a man who isn’t him. The intimacy tightening like a coil - and then it happens. Low lighting. Quiet music. Your character sits on the edge of a bed and speaks softly. Your head tilts toward his. Your fingers curl against his chest as the actor pulls you into a passionate kiss, hand cupping your jaw.

And Ollie can’t do it. He can’t watch it. Because it’s not just acting. It’s not just theatre. It’s you, giving that softness - that ache - to someone else. Even if it’s fake, it feels like something he shouldn’t be seeing. His chest feels tight. His jaw clenches until it hurts. He seethes with jealousy. Because there he is, sitting in the dark like a fool, while that man gets to touch you. Gets to kiss you the way Ollie’s only ever dreamed of. Gets to say those words - those beautiful, aching words - and pretend they’re his.

And then you look up - at the actor, not at him - with that longing expression, and it undoes Ollie completely. He squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to breathe. It doesn’t help. Something inside him breaks. He has to go. He doesn’t wait for the lights to go down again, just slips out in the middle of the scene - quietly, but with enough haste that someone behind him mutters something under their breath. He barely hears it. He doesn’t care. He just needs out.

The theatre door clicks shut behind him and the air hits his face sharp and cold. Everything feels wrong. Too loud. Too full of that awful heat in his chest - the kind that creeps up his throat and stings at his eyes.

He walks. Not far, just around the corner. Just to move. He exhales hard, jaw clenched so tight it aches. He doesn’t cry. Not properly. Not the way he used to, years ago, when everything fell apart and Linda told him she needed something else. Someone else. He doesn’t let himself get that close to the edge anymore.

But tonight comes far too close. Because he hadn’t expected it to physically hurt. Not like this. Not watching you with someone else - even if it was acting. It wasn’t meant to matter. He was supposed to sit there, clap politely, take you out for dinner after and tell you how brilliant you were.

Instead, he’s standing under a flickering streetlamp like an idiot, pretending he’s not on the verge of falling apart. He sees the restaurant before he realises where his feet have taken him. It’s small. Familiar. One of your favourites. You picked it. You were excited. He’d nodded, said “fine” in that breezy, dismissive way he always does when something means too much to say sincerely.

And now he’s here, outside it. Just standing. Like if he waits long enough, he’ll find the version of himself who deserves to walk through that door.

Inside the theatre, you notice the empty seat the moment you return to the stage. It hits you sharply. One moment he’s there, the next, he’s gone. You try not to let it distract you, but it coils in your stomach. You’d wanted him to see this. You’d wanted him to see you - properly. You wanted him to be proud.

The applause at the end is generous. You bow, smile, thank your cast mates. But your eyes keep darting to the door. Hoping, just for a second, that he’ll come back in. That maybe he just got a call. Or needed some air. Or anything that isn’t what your heart’s already half-certain of. He left. He left you.

You don’t let yourself linger backstage. You change quickly, thank everyone again, and slip out the side entrance, coat clutched too tight around your arms. The night air bites at you, but your feet carry you to the restaurant without hesitation. To him.

You see him first - standing just off to the side of the door, one hand half-raised like he’s about to go in but doesn’t quite know how. His head’s down. Glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. He looks smaller like this. Not dramatic. Not demanding. But for once, just quiet.

You take a shaky breath, and call his name. He hears your voice and it strikes through him like lightning. He turns. Tries to force a neutral expression. Maybe surprised, or casually apologetic, but the act falters the second he looks into your eyes. He sees you’re not angry. You’re just hurt - which is far worse.

You don’t press, though. You just give him a soft smile - a little guarded - and nod toward the door. He trails behind you as you slip inside. The restaurant is warm. Buzzing faintly with conversation and clinking cutlery. You’re seated near the back, in a little corner with a flickering tea light between you on the table. It’s cozy. Intimate. Ollie shrinks into his seat, fidgeting with his napkin like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

You talk - mostly about the play. About how relieved you are that it went well. Ran smoother than it had all week. You’re proud, he can tell. And you should be. You were amazing. He tries to say so, quite a few times. Opens his mouth, leans forward, gets halfway through a compliment - then panics and backs off with something half-baked and slightly backhanded.

You just laugh, knowing him far too well to take it personally. Still, he wishes he could say what he’s actually thinking.

‘You were astonishing. I couldn’t breathe, watching you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to pretending this is just a friendship now.’

Instead, he watches you. Not just politely - really watches you. The way your hands move as you talk, fingers tracing shapes on the table. The way you tuck your leg under your chair. The way you glance up to meet his eyes every so often, and every time you do, he feels like he’s being seen too clearly.

He looks like a kicked dog and he knows it. The candle flickers and you set down your fork. And then, softly, “Why did you leave?”

It hits him like a punch in the gut. He doesn’t answer right away, just blinks, looking down at his hands. He runs a thumb over a fraying thread on his sleeve like it might buy him time.

“I-“ He clears his throat and tries again. “I had to get some air.”

You don’t say anything. Your gaze feels like an interrogation. He shifts in his seat and scratches at the back of his neck. “It got a bit warm in there. I didn’t want to- I thought if I stayed, I’d-“

He cuts himself off. He can’t lie to you. Not about this. Not with that look in your eyes. So he exhales. Shoulders low. Voice small.

“I didn’t leave because it was bad, I promise,” he says. “I left because it was … too good.”

He risks a glance up at you. And it’s written all over his face now, plain as day. The jealousy. The pain. The ache he’s been trying to bury beneath pride and bravado and critiques. You see it, he knows you do.

You tilt your head, quiet and calm, but it cuts deeper than shouting ever could. “Ollie,” you say. Just his name - that’s all. But it tells him everything; you know he’s hiding something.

He swallows hard. Looks back down at his plate like he might find answers there. You wait. Not pushing, just presence. Steady. And that’s the worst part - because he could’ve left it. Could’ve played it off, made a stupid joke, deflected with one of his usual performances - loud and cocky. The version of himself that makes people roll their eyes.

But you’re not looking at him like a joke - you’re looking at him like it’s worth the truth, and he fractures.

And when he speaks, his voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t take it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shifts nervously, elbow on the table, knuckles pressed to his mouth like he might be able to shove the words back in - but they’re already spilling out.

“That scene,” he says. “That bloody scene. Him. Touching you. Saying those things. Kissing you like that. I- I know it was acting, alright? I know it wasn’t real.”

He stops. Takes a shaky breath. “But it felt real.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes. He’s not looking at you anymore. Just staring somewhere past you, like if he makes eye contact he’ll crumble. Maybe cry.

“I watched you kiss him and I- I felt sick,” he says. “Because he got to touch you. And say those things. And pretend they were real. And all I could think was - God, I wish it was me.”

You freeze, but your eyes go soft. He doesn’t notice. He can’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth.

“I’ve been trying so hard not to say anything, because I thought - I don’t know what I thought. That it’d ruin everything. That I’d make it weird. That I could just keep it to myself and be happy enough being your friend.”

He huffs, bitter at himself. “But I’m not happy. I’m miserable. Because you’re right there, and I still feel like I’m a hundred miles away.” His voice cracks. Just slightly.

“I wish you’d look at me like that,” he says, finally meeting your eyes in a desperate, wounded glance. “Even once.”

The silence that follows is thick and aching and full of all the things you never expected him to say. He lets it hang there, breath shallow, waiting for you to laugh or recoil or say something clever that puts him back in his box. But you don’t - you just keep looking at him. And his heart is beating so loud he can barely hear anything else.

He looks at you like he’s bracing for impact - like the words were a grenade he just threw between you both, and now he’s waiting for the blast. But it never comes. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. Don’t even blink. You just look at him.

One long beat - your gaze moving over his face, searching, softening, seeing. His flushed cheeks, his glassy eyes, his mouth slightly open like he’s preparing an apology he won’t be able to finish. And then you reach for him, slow and cautious.

Your hand lifts to his face, and he leans into it like a sad puppy - like it’s instinct. Like he doesn’t even mean to. Your palm cups his jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut like he can’t quite bear to look at you while you’re touching him like that. His breath hitches.

And that’s when you kiss him. Not tentative. Not polite. You crash into him like something’s finally broken - like you’ve been holding it back just as long and just as hard. His hand shoots up, gripping the edge of the table, needing something solid to ground him. He kisses you back immediately. Desperately - like he’s terrified you’ll change your mind. He tastes like wine, and he makes a quiet, broken sound into your mouth that tells you exactly how close to the edge he’s been all night.

When you pull back, just barely - breath hot against him, foreheads nearly touching - he’s staring at you with wide eyes like he can’t quite believe what just happened. His eyes immediately clench shut, like it’s all too much for him. Like he’s waiting to wake up.

“Look at me,” you whisper, voice low and uneven.

He does. Oh, he does. Like you’re everything he’s been waiting to find at the end of a long, bitter monologue he never thought would end. He’s shaking. You feel it under your fingertips where your hand still rests against his jaw. His breathing is shallow, lips parted like he’s trying to form words but none of them are arriving. You kissed him and now he’s coming apart at the seams.

He blinks a few times, stunned. Still blinking when you press your forehead to his, gently, grounding. Still blinking when you speak - quiet, steady, like a line you’ve been rehearsing in your heart for months.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”

And that’s when it really hits him. You wanted him too. You waited for him. His eyes snap shut, and a shaky laugh breaks out of him - half breath, half disbelief. He pulls his hand up to cover his face, cheeks flushing red.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he mumbles into his palm, voice muffled and fraying at the edges. “All this time - Christ.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling now, thumb brushing his skin. “All this time.”

He drops his hand just enough to peek at you over the top of his fingers. His eyes are glassy again behind fogged glasses - blue and full and wide, like he’s got nothing left to hide behind.

“I thought I’d blown it,” he whispers. “That you’d think I was pathetic.”

“You are pathetic,” you murmur, playfully, brushing your nose against his. “But not for this.”

He exhales sharply - letting out a sound between a laugh and a sob - and lets his hand fall to the table, fingers twitching slightly, searching for yours. You thread them together without hesitation. He looks down at your joined hands like he’s never seen anything so impossibly good in his life. Still shaking. Still stunned. Definitely ruined. But now, finally, he’s smiling too - small and disbelieving. Like someone who’s just been handed a miracle and doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

He squeezes your hand tighter, like he’s not entirely convinced it’s real - like if he lets go, you might vanish. Or worse - he might wake up. But you’re not going anywhere - you’re right there in front of him, thumb brushing soft, slow circles over his knuckles. Still looking at him like you mean it. Like you meant that kiss. That touch. Meant everything.

Ollie looks at you like he doesn’t how the world’s still spinning. His gaze flicks between your eyes like he’s trying to memorise them - glasses halfway down his nose, jumper sleeves bunched up around his wrists. His eyes shine with hope. Like something wide open inside him has finally been allowed to speak.

And then, just barely, like it falls out before he can stop it, “I’m in love with you.”

So quiet it could’ve been a thought. A breath. But he says it. And the second he does, his eyes go a little wider, like he hadn’t meant to. Like he didn’t even realise it was going to come out. His mouth opens again, maybe to backtrack, to laugh it off, to panic - but nothing comes. Because it’s true, and you can see that all over his face.

He’s absolutely bewildered by it - like this feeling’s been living under his ribs for a million years, and suddenly, it’s real and outside of him and you heard it and he’s still alive. He swallows hard, but doesn’t look away. He can’t.

“God,” he whispers, almost to himself. “That was meant to stay in.”

You don’t blink - you just look at him. And then, soft and simple - like it’s always been waiting there, “I’m in love with you too.”

He makes a sound - barely - something raw and ragged rising up in his throat, like his whole body’s trying to process the fact that you mean it. That you said it back. But before it can break free, you’re already leaning in. Your hand’s in his hair this time, tugging him in fast, yours - and your lips find his before the wrecked little noise can escape. It never gets the chance, and neither of you care. Because he kisses you like he’s finally allowed to. Like he’s never going to stop. Like maybe now he doesn’t have to pretend anymore.

The candle flickers, and the rest of the world falls quietly away.

[thehighladywrites]

i’ve got some works done and i’m not sure which ones to post first, i really need to make a proper schedule fr but pick oneeee👀👀🤭🤭

omg not enemis IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ENEMIES fuck that’s embarrassingly stupid

[nerves-nebula]

okk i think if i can get at least up to 8 pages done of my final comic hw then imma let myself post chapter oneeee

[bberetd]

Hey there! Since you also reblogged the post saying you want people to send you asks (actually I even reblogged it from you), here I am to ask you a question. A potentially very tough one. Ready?

If you had to pick only one (1!) favorite Mario character who would it be and why?

I'm just trying to get to know my mutuals a little better, y'know?

But most people seem to be using that 'send me asks' post as another opportunity to say mushy stuff to each other, so let me also do that! I'd like to remind you that I'm very glad that I'm following your blog. You're certainly a fun and kind person, and must say I like you very much 😀❤️ Thanks for always supporting my art, it really means a lot to me.

Also please teach me your ways to draw so fast, I just finally finished sketching my latest fanart today (yeah, that ambitious one) and it took embarrassingly long. And this one is supposed to have a proper lineart too💀

Oh, that reminds me: I'm really excited for your animations! Once I'm done with my current fanart, the next bigger fan project on my list is also one animation I've been thinking of, so I hope we'll be able to motivate each other a bit 😁👊

OH just oneeee? 😩

Whew, okay, well... while Daisy has a huge place in my heart (especially lately, as you can tell 😹), my all-time favorite will always be Luigi.

See, the funny thing is that I hardly cared for him before the movie, and even a little after I watched the movie. My first favorite Mario character was actually Rosalina when SMG came out, because I was SO obsessed with space when I was younger (and still kinda am), and blue was and is my favorite color (such a deep reason, right? :P)

I always tend to lean towards the underdogs of a franchise, yet I don't remember the exact moment that drew me to him. There were just a bunch of edits and videos of him flooding all of my social media pages when the movie hype was still fresh, and I guess one day I decided, "yup. that's my guy."

I think the moment that really solidified my love for him was when I replayed Luigi's Mansion (I kiiinda played it before, but I was 4 and just pressing buttons lol... it's strangely a core memory for me). His bravery throughout the game despite his evident fears and anxieties is just... so inspiring and real to me, genuinely. And a little bit of him shone through his commentary of some of the objects throughout the mansion, which was also endearing 😆 The game gets creepier the deeper I think about it, and I just can't help but give him more flowers for going through it three different times!

plus, he's just so happy and awkward and silly. how could you not love him?!

But in short, he's my favorite because he's relatable to me, and I find his little quirks adorable and endearing.

yet despite all that, he knows when to lock tf IN. that's my hero <3

anywhoooo...

Mugi!!! I couldn't be any happier that we're friends and moots! You've blessed my timeline with your gorgeously detailed art and commentary, and I'm so grateful you support my art just as much ♥️♥️ I admire and like you very much as well, you're amazing <3

as for quick art, basically-

and thank you!! the animation might take longer because classes start tomorrow for me, and year 3 of uni is definitely gonna be more challenging and, er, expensive. 🫠 Hopefully I'll learn to manage my time better so I can make decent progress every day, but I do know where I want to go with the animation. Big yes to motivating each other!! I know that ambitious art will be PHENOMENAL when it's dropped, and I can't wait to see your style in motion! :))

[soupygremlin]

-say im gonna go eat

-don’t go eat

-hungy :((((

-“just ONEEEE more reblog”

-repeat till now

-write this post

-finally go eat

[allur1ngs]

Picking Hoyeon as Hyunjae's face claim is amazing 😭 AAAAAAAA SINCE YOU FINALLY POSTED IT I CAN SAY WHO HIFHWIUFISID IM GONNA EXPLODE LOVE YOU MEL BYE

YOU KNEW FROM DAY ONE BAE YOU'RE A REAL ONEEEE🤭 HEHEHE BYE LOVE YOU!!!🩷

[wackymaci]

twt crosspost I FEEL like I can finally see the approaching end of the Maci article wrap up even tho that’s not really true it’s a few more headings but. so much to write. BUT will these other pages take a shorter time??? I feel like yEah since like her backstory is the most detailed I have so???possibly?

my revised end date goal is next July to have at least enough main characters to make this “releasable” but uh wow that’s. well this is so far almost five months to do ONEEEE SINGLE PAGE and not for any lack of constant work it’s just, that long, sooo. is this the timeframe I need to be planning for that’s so AAHHHHHHHH

anyway since the time since I posted those to twt today all my wiki work this evening has consisted of nonsense work on some category pages instead of finally tryinggggggfgg to finish Maci so like heewwo

[flomoee]

Update since the last lil pregnancy post I put up here:

It’s not twins anymore. One baby ate the other baby. 🫣 so it’s only oneeee now, and he is a boyyyy. Kyren has a new little brother on the way. I am currently 23wks, and have 17wks left to go. More than half way there big mama! 🤗 ngl, I did end up caving and finding my way back to Branden again. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough on my own. I missed him a lot and with me being pregnant it was just a lot on my mind constantly and I really felt horrible not speaking to him. I have the best of hopes that everything goes well with him and I, and if not then I’m sure coparenting wouldn’t be bad. I just really want everything to go smoothly, but fr. I can only handle so much. Smh — anyway, I finally told everyone the big news yesterday and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders fr. I talked to uncle Freddy last night and of course his nosey ass asked who the dad was. And tbh, I told him the truth. He found out before my dad and that’ll probably be an issue but idec. I was fucking scared to tell my dad I was even pregnant in the first place so it is what it is at this point. I’m thinking my baby shower will probably be the first weekend of December. I’m also thinking the theme will be “there’s a new sheriff in town” and it will be western/cowboy themed. 🤠🩵

Very excited to meet my new lil man. And I hope that this will bring Branden and I closer and strengthen our bond. I’m also very curious to see how Kyren will respond once he realizes there’s a new baby sharing our space.

Also, RAMONE assssss be tryna kick his way out of me fr. That’s it, that’s all. 🥰

[just-a-madrigal]

Mmm, cheeseburger

Last Train to Bluemoon Canyon

Nancy Drew Embroideries

[aiden-png]

Shadow being a lil gremlin with reflective eyes who doesn’t sleep = heart attacks for anyone getting a glass of water in the middle of the night

(check out my $5 kofi commissions!)

[ambrosialdesire]

Congrats on 30 followers! :) Since you’re requests are now officially open I have oneeee.

Canon verse yandere childhood best friend Eren :) Maybe reader starts dating someone and Eren won’t accept having the love of his life be taken away from him.

(I’m not really sure if this is how to write a request btw.)

boundless

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 eren x fem!reader word count: 2k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, one-sided pining, childhood friends, kinda angsty at first ngl, implied non-con at the end, all characters are 18+ synopsis: you start dating and it's not the man that everyone had expected, the one who's been at your side since forever. love is a powerful emotion and eren has too much of it for you to ignore. a/n: thank you sm anon and this is a perfectly fine request! depending on how descriptive a request is somewhat affects the length of the fic :) btw this is pre-rumbling and pre-marley invasion (aka when eren was pretending to be a injured soldier). really bad and unreliable synopsis but hope this is a good read!! double posting today haha (mostly because i haven't posted in a bit lol) note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

The sounds of cutlery hitting the plates and the wooden table caused your cheeks to flush more, a hand rubbing at your nape as you began to avert your gaze from the group. Wide eyes were staring at you, as if you said something that was a complete shocker. God, this had to be worse than actually fighting Titans.

"You're what!?" Sasha was the one that finally broke the silence, hands slamming on the table as she got up from her seat abruptly.

"And to who?!" Connie followed suit, slamming his hands down but instead hitting his dinner, gravy sauce going everywhere. His face cringed at the mess but he still stared at you with seeming horror.

"Guys, it's not that serious."

"Bullshit, it's not serious! You're dating—"

"—And it's not Eren?!"

Your body tensed up immediately, realizing that he was the only one that barely reacted to your confession, still focused on his dinner as his now long brown hair marred the side of his face. A part of you felt nervous not being able to really know what he was thinking, the other part of you felt worried. Jean slapped the back of both Sasha and Connie's heads, a scowl on his face.

"Knock it off you two! Of course she wouldn't date him, we're talking about Eren for God's sake."

They started bickering with each other and you tried to resolve it as always, but every single sound and word started to muddle together like his head was pushed underwater. His fist clenched around his spoon, to the point where he could feel the metal bend to the shape of his hand. You didn’t pick him. He wasn't as nearly surprised as the others, mostly because he had already seen it coming, but witnessing it come true was a pain that was utterly indescribable.

Out of everyone, they had to be some random civilian that caught your eye. Someone who doesn’t know the true horrors of the world out there, someone who never struggled the same way you and he did growing up. Maybe he'd be fine if you ended up with Armin or fuck, even Jean was a viable option but no. You went off and found yourself some guy who didn't come close to understanding you.

It didn't make sense, Eren's been with you since the two of you could walk. He was the one that saved you over and over again by those bullies that taunted you and Armin, never minding the fact that Mikasa had to save everyone at the end of it. He was your shoulder to cry on, especially after everything that happened back when everyone was still young scouts. He was the one who sacrificed everything for you. Everyone in the squadron knew that the two of you were inseparable, like two peas in a pod. No wonder everyone was surprised that you guys didn't end up together but the Paths denied him the end he sought out for years, even if he had only seen the flashing glimpses of the inescapable future.

"Er— Ere... Eren. Hey Eren!" You snapped your fingers in front of his face, his gaze latching onto yours immediately. You always had such a kind look in your eyes, he's glad that it never went away despite what you've gone through.

"Your spoon." He looked down and saw that he completely severed the metal utensil in half, the indentations of his fingers prominent in the silver handle. The others were looking at him, puzzled and confused expressions on their faces. He knew what they were thinking. Why didn't you take a chance?

There was no chance to begin with. Eren was on the losing side of the game no matter what.

"Must've forgot how to hold a spoon. Remember what happened the last time I held one like this?" He mused, placing the broken halves down on the table. The more they quietly stared at him, the more he wanted to run out of the room with his shattered heart pieces. He dismissed himself out of the mess hall, saying that he was exhausted. They knew that he wasn't but none of them mustered a word of any sorrowful condolences, his frame disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

The pitter-patter of running came up from behind him and he felt the brush of a hand against his, heart pumping back to life as he recognized the familiar texture of your skin. Eren looked beside him and saw you, smiling at him like you had no clue what was running through his mind. Breathlessly, you asked him a simple question.

"Rooftop?"

He nodded, letting you lead the way for him. Rooftop meant that you wanted to talk in the spot that you found for each other back when you two started in the Survey Corps, a flat area at the top of the building where the night sky was all that you could see. The rules were that you weren't allowed to bring anyone else up there besides each other and that you weren't allowed to go there without one another. Eren wouldn't admit it but he did sneak there every once in a while, basking in the memory of you and him being young and slightly naïve.

"You're upset." You finally stated as you settled yourself down on the floor, an old blanket covering the rough ground.

"I'm not."

"I know you are, you get all awkward about it instead of bursting out your feelings." He grimaced, was he really that predictable as a kid? Eren leaned himself back on the edge of the roof barrier, staring up at the sky.

"Are you... happy that I'm dating someone?" He could hear the hesitancy in your question, curiosity and fear intermingling. His hands clenched against the concrete, the texture scraping his skin. If he knew that this is what you wanted to talk about, he would've avoided you like the plague.

He took a slow inhale.

"What do you want to hear, the honest truth or an honest lie?" Eren heard you stand up and walk closer to him, cautious hands grabbing his and pulling him towards you.

"The truth."

You've always looked so pretty under the night sky, the way your eyes reflected the stars and the way the moon shone down on your form. He never told you because he was so scared of ruining what the two of you have. This was nothing like what he felt towards Mikasa or Armin. You were special, you were his. Now that he knew what lies beyond the future, he should've said something before. Would that have changed anything now?

"The truth is, I'm not happy. There's nothing you can say that will change my stance about it." You frowned and squeezed his hands before letting go of him, your warmth escaping him.

"Eren, you can't keep disapproving every man I'm interested in."

"Yes I can and I will. You've always had terrible taste, remember how you liked Bertolt back in training?" You gasped in horror, hitting his arm.

"Stop! I never want that to ever be brought up again and I only liked him because he helped me out that one time with the chores," There was a flush on your cheeks, embarrassed about how you once was ever interested in a traitor. "But I'm serious this time, this relationship is serious."

In all of his years of knowing you, serious was never a word that fit you. Eren rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning towards you.

"How long?"

"How long, what?"

"How long have you been seeing this guy?"

You started fidgeting your hands, your tell-tale sign that it's been a while and you're figuring out how to lie about it. You could never lie to him though, he'd always figure you out.

You finally sighed and relented, giving up on trying to say anything but the truth. "2 years."

"Fuck, so it was right under all of our noses huh?" His hand gripped against his sleeve, his voice almost shaking as he spoke. He thought that you trusted him with everything, whatever you tell him would be confidential. He would never snitch on you, he thought you knew that. Eren had to turn away from you because if he didn't, you would've witnessed the tears roll down his cheeks. He felt your hand against his back, slowly rubbing circles on his back.

He hated you. He hated the way you made him feel like a pile of mush. He hated how you pretended not to know that he loved you, not as the childhood friend but as the man who pined after you the minute he was able to comprehend what he was feeling towards you.

He hated your smile, that annoyingly beaming grin directed at him whenever and for whatever reason.

He hated your affection, how you pretended to truly care about him when you were off loving another man.

He hated your warmth, radiating like an everlasting sun and cheering everyone up as if you were a carbon copy of Historia.

With all the love he had for you, there was the same amount of hatred that came along with it.

Eren looked at you, turning his body towards yours and you looked at him. As if he was under a spell, he felt himself mouthing the words that he longed to tell you for years. Your reaction was unexpected, perhaps even completely expected. His cheek stung from your strike, your eyes big and wide as if a Titan just walked up in front of you.

"Eren, y-you don't mean that do you?" His hand rested on his cheek, his fingers digging into his skin.

"I meant every word," He uttered softly, suddenly grabbing your hands and pulling them close to his chest. "Do you feel it? I love you. I'll love you until my bones are nothing but dust, I'll love you until my lungs stop taking in air, I'll love you until the world falls apart. Please Y/N, I'm already forever yours. Will you be mine?"

There was only silence that came from you after his confession, the pounding reverb of his heart being the only thing he could hear. You pushed him away, a stunned and confused look reflecting in your moonlit eyes. He felt wounded, like you stabbed a blade even deeper into his chest.

"N-No, no. Eren, I'm already dating someone. You can't just say all of this now." Your hands gripped your uniform pants tightly, the fabric scrunching together. "You're too late."

He shakily sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. What he hated most about you was your ability to constantly deny anything that you didn't want to hear.

"I thought you might say that."

He was instantaneous, quick. You never reached the level of ability of being fast on your feet in sparring and you wouldn't ever beat him in it now. He pinned you down onto the old blanket, his hand gripping both of your wrists tightly together above your head as he rested himself in-between your legs. You fought back but he didn't budge, only pressing you harder into the ground. His other hand made quick work in removing your pants and undergarments, shoving your panties in your mouth to keep you silent. No one needs to know about the rooftop after all.

Eren's selfish, you've always known that he was. You just didn't know how deep it went, how his selfishness of what he had deemed was love for you dug in and rotted into his heart. You tried begging through the cloth, muffled and incoherent cries being the only thing that was heard. He clicked his tongue, dragging his thumb across your spit-slicked lips before giving you a light kiss on the side of your face.

"If I can't change your mind with words," Eren pulled back and drank in your partially nude body, admiring you as he watched tears form at the corners of your eyes. He placed his free hand over your mound, fingers barely inserting themselves into your folds, your body reactively shivering from his touch. "I'll fuck you over and over until you can think about nothing but me."

[generallysapphic]

talking to you about everything +18 (riri x reader) part 1

after you and riri pass your finals, you both decide to get high, relax, and talk, as your relationship starts to grow and develop. talking about boundaries, desires, and where you see your relationship heading for the future.

riri my love, you will not rest so long as i can write! y’all wanted this very badly and the playing dumb story line is just so good, i had to continue!! so this is a three part story, bc i’ll be branching off from what the reader and riri talk about in multiple parts so this is a long oneeee

same reader from playing dumb and say it more, so read those before this one!

song inspo: LOVE by kendrick lamar

warnings , the usual: overstim, tribbing, multiple orgasms, talk of sex, praise kink, squirting, recreational drug use, name calling, light bullying, mentions of lesbianaphobia, talk of kinks and boundaries, mentions of previous slightly abusive relationships.

Dedicated To; @vlkyriesverse @verachii 🤎🤎

tag list! @nightlife-things @widowmakker @luvvtrinnii @no-oneelsebutnsu @playgurlxoxo @dejaonline @remwritess @letitias-fav @blackgcomica @rebellious-mutant @chidinma @ppawmpkin @an1meslvt @shuristan101 @quintessencewrites @chiimerangel @yvxmpire @rxcently

enjoy 🫶🏽

your hands still feel cold, even through the gloves you wear as you stand outside, waiting for the professor to post grades.

you know you passed, that’s not really what you’re worried about, you just want to see how well you did. a couple of students start letting out “finally”’s once the professor comes out and tapes the grades to the door. he turns to settle you all, “alright, alright, it’s early as hell and it’s right before break so get a picture or a quick look and then go back to your dorms, enjoy your breaks.”

he shuts the door and everyone piles the the front, cameras out and ready. you squint and adjust your glasses, trying to get a good look before you give up and just take a picture and shove your way through the crowd.

your eyes follow your last name. y/n y/ln………97%

you smile, so proud of yourself and your thoughts immediately jump to, i have to tell riri, and your face heats up, even in the cold.

you pull your scarf over your face, and head to her dorm. you had been dating riri officially for some months now and it’s so perfect, she’s practically your every waking thought. you used to just keep to yourself, never really sharing your grades and minding your business, but riri made you feel so proud. she never let you dumb yourself down, and even though she definitely got a higher grade than you, she always made sure to celebrate you as you did her.

so sweet, so loving, you blushed and suddenly you were at her door, the trip nearly cut in half as you’ve been so many times, it’s ingrained in your mind. she’s at the door before you even knock, an expectant smile on her face. you laugh, “97!” and she laughs with you, hugging you tightly, and picking you up. she’s practically spinning you around before you tap on her shoulders to put you down, almost dizzy.

“okay, okay! let me in cmon i’m freezing,” and riri laughs and pulls you into a kiss as you both back into her dorm, shutting the door behind you. you wrap your arms around her and pull her closer, sighing deeply into her mouth. riri’s kisses were practically a fucking drug, you could feel your mind floating away as she maneuvered you out of your coat.

she moves you both against her desk and you moan, she’s worked up, you conclude, as riri’s hands move lower and lower, squeezing your butt and you moan a bit into her mouth. “ahh, riri, wait,” you say softly, and she pulls back, eyes blown and lips wet.

“oh, sorry, i thought we were about to have celebratory sex,” she says all too confidently and casually, and you stutter still not used to her boldness. “i— im not saying we’re not, i just— you didn’t even show me your grade for your finals.” you deflect, avoiding her gaze and she chuckles and grabs her phone, showing you a picture of her grades. 98%, of course, you sigh and lean closer, “congrats, i literally hate you,” you say sarcastically and laugh.

riri laughs with you, “i know, i know. now can we have celebratory sex since we won’t have to deal with lectures from the worst people alive?” and you smile and nod,

“yeah, we can,”

“haa, fuck— fuck,” you huff out, the music behind you drowning out as riri held your legs open, one hand soothing over your thighs. she’s practically swallowing you, it feels like, her fingers stretching you out at a slow pace and her mouth sucking on your clit, and you toss your head back, feeling your orgasm rush over you.

you hold onto her hand, gasping, “riri, riri fuck— i’m cumming— i’m cumming, baby, fuck—!” and she moans against your pussy, letting you know you could let go and you do, pulsing against her and feeling your thighs flex under her hands. you let out a long drawn out moan, whimpering in overstimulation once youre done, pulling away from her slightly, and she does the same. riri comes up to your mouth, kissing you and letting you taste yourself, moaning in your mouth when you do the same.

the song changes behind you, and riri pulls away “good?” she asks, breathless and mouth still glossy from your cum. and you nod, licking your mouth slightly, “your turn?” she smiles, “yeah, but i want you on top, is that okay?” and you shy up but giggle and nod, sitting up as riri takes off her shirt and lays down, opening her legs and you climb on top of her.

you always loved tribbing with riri, even though you weren’t a fan of it before, riri had made you a fucking porn star when you two did this, riding against her like she was your only life line. you slowly lowered yourself on top of her, your clit kissing and she lets out a curse, watching you eagerly, and holding eye contact. you close your eyes both to avoid her gaze and to focus on your pleasure, beginning to move slowly against her, and your holding on to her thigh. your clits start rubbing slowly against the other and you moan, and riri squeezes your thighs in her hands, sighing lowly.

the friction of her clit on yours has you gasping already, still coming down from your last orgasm. you don’t why you agreed to be on top, your legs were already giving out and the support from riri’s thighs wasn’t helping, your legs shaking as you felt another orgasm spark inside you, suddenly right at your pussy, you moan, quietly, “i don’t— uhhnn riri i can’t, i can’t —” tears threatened to spill from your eyes and riri shushes, soothing over your thighs, “it’s alright baby, just let me feel you yeah? be my good girl, it’s okay,” and you gasp, the praises spiking your brain directly and causing you to speed up in your hips, moving with more vigor, wanting so bad to hear her again.

you could hear how wet you both sounded after not too long, the sound of your slick combing right under her moans and her music. you decided to look at her, riri’s mouth agape and her watching your pussies rub together has you tossing your head back, overwhelmed at the sight of her. you twitch slightly, obviously overstimulated, but wanting to make her cum has you rutting harder and harder against her.

and before you know it, riri’s cumming before you do again, you can tell, she’s cursing louder and louder, biting at her lip and thrusting up towards you. you huff, “you close?” and she whimpers out an “mhmm, fuck—” such a lovely noise, and you want to push her over and have her cum against you, she babbling now, “fuck, fuck, make me cum baby, god fuck i’m so close, you feel so fucking good, fuck—!” and you moan in tandem with her as she cums, hips stuttering and nails digging into your thighs and you feel it— her pussy is twitching under yours, a slew of curses and moans leaving her mouth and you buck against her, your orgasm right behind hers.

riri’s rubbing up and down your thighs now, whispering “good girl, so pretty for me,” as you ride your orgasm out, your pussy squirting and squeezing around nothing, and your head lulls forward, you feel yourself shaking and sighing. riri leans up and kisses you, capturing all the air in your mouth and you wrap your arms around her again, moaning softly as she rubs your back.

she pulls away first, “you’re so sweet yknow,” and she sounds practically high, mumbling and eyes low and you giggle, “i should say that about you, you’re so nice to me,” and riri chuckles, “i was talking about your mouth but thank you,” and you scoff, shoving her playfully, both laughing a bit, as you two start to move and lay down next to each other, letting your bodies calm down.

her music is soft in the background and it’s a comfortable silence before riri sits up, “imma get some clothes, you want my hoodie?” and you nod, starting to head to the bathroom yourself.

it’s so nice, you think, having a girlfriend like riri, all she does is just make you happy. you think back to your previous relationships and how you felt like you were pretending to be someone else or how much you hated yourself in those situations and it’s just never like that with riri. you smile at the sink in the mirror as riri hands you her hoodie, dressed with some shorts on, “whatchu thinking about?”

you smile at her, putting on her hoodie that covers your whole body, “you. how much i like you,” you say boldly and riri chuckles, “well i hope so, i wash my sheets damn near every week because of you, that dorm laundry mat is not cheap, baby,” and you laugh, “oh whatever, you love it! just reminds you of great my pussy is,” and riri lets out a hard laugh at that, and you lean over and kiss her cheek, smiling to yourself and walking back over to her bed, and yep, it’s still a little damp.

she sits next to you, sighing, “finally on break, fuck. what’re you doing?” you shrug a bit, being honest. “i don’t know honestly. i can’t go back home so maybe i’ll get a little air bnb or something,” and riri looks at you solemnly, “right, yeah,”

you had told riri about your mom, your whole family even, and how little support they had given you, during college and even after you came out. it was hard, doing a lot of everything on your own and riri had assured you that regardless of where you came from she’d be there for you. but most breaks you had spent alone, this being your first break with riri, so who knows where you two might end up.

riri speaks again, trying to get your brain away from what she knew you were thinking about, “hey i already told you, you got a room in chicago, baby, or even if you wanna stay here, i can get us like a little mini apartment or something.” you laugh a bit and shake your head, “no, god, riri don’t waste your money on me, i’ll be fine,” and you get up before she can retort and change the subject, “wanna smoke?” you ask to completely throw her off.

it works, “since when do you smoke?” she asks, smirking, most likely proud she’s had an influence on you. “just, causally, don’t get too excited now,” and she laughs, pulling her lighter from behind her pillow as you go for your bag.

you huff out a puff of smoke, riri’s music still playing in the background as you scroll on her wishlist, “why do you want a blender?” you say, probably too loudly, riri’s laying down with her eyes closed and joint in hand. she stirs up, “you said you liked smoothies that one time, and that smoothie king was too fucking expensive so i figured we’d make some at home, instead,” she says and takes another huff.

you smile to yourself and feel your face heat up. most of the wishlist items weren’t even for her, they were for you, you had noticed. from the skirt you really wanted to small things like her agreeing to making smoothies for you instead of buying them out. and you don’t miss what she says either, ‘we’d make some at home,’ casually referring to her dorm as your shared home. you were over her dorm more often than she was yours too, mostly because her junior housing was much bigger than your sophomore one.

you lay next to her, “okay, so are any of these items for you?” she laughs out some smoke, “yeah, go to my private wishlist, password’s your birthday,” you smirk at her and go back on her page and find it, 26 items, and type in your birthday, gasping once the page pulls up.

it’s a lot of sex toys, some boxers, a couple of books, and some lingerie. you feel your face heat up, scrolling, and getting more and more hints of what riri was into, “am i allowed to ask questions about this?” you say, jokingly and she laughs, getting up and grabbing her computer, “yeah, i don’t really care,”

you chew on your lip a bit, not really knowing where to begin, “you like lingerie?” and you glance at riri, who’s sitting back down next you and her face is slightly illuminated by her computer screen, “mostly on other girls,” she says casually, and your mind backpedals into thinking of the implications of what she could mean.

you whisper it out, “you want me to wear lingerie?” and she holds your gaze, “yeah, if you’re up for it. it’s a wishlist because i don’t know what you like, but i know what i do, it’s all hypothetical, baby,”

fuck, okay, you say it before your mind convinces you to not, “do you wanna know? what i like, i mean..” the weed in your veins has made you bold, you assume, and it catches riri’s attention, completely wrapped at what you said and pushing her computer aside, “yeah, yeah i do,” she scoots closer to you, sitting criss cross right in front of you and rubs your thighs, encouragingly.

the soft music in the background plays and you swallow, most likely your pride, and set her phone down. “um, well, i haven’t experimented that much, yknow, i told you about my ex, so yknow i didn’t do a lot,” and riri nods, licking her mouth and holding on to your every word.

you continue, “but, um, i know i like when you’re on top of me, i like it a lot. i like when you do that— take control and hold me down thing, like when you ground me, i think is the term—”

“you like when i tell you what to do?” she gasps out, and you look at her, and nod, suddenly breathless, high, and horny. “yeah, like when you encourage me,”

“praise,” riri nods, and you do too, giggling a bit, “you know everything, huh?” and she laughs dryly, “yeah, well i got around for a bit before you finally talked to me.” you scoff, “you could’ve talked to me, yknow. i mean i wouldn’t have believed it, but you still could have,” and riri smiles, genuinely, before grabbing the joint and inhaling and leaning over blowing out in your mouth. you inhale it and sigh, her lips inches from yours,

“yeah, well, i like obedience. i only praise when it’s deserved,” and you cock your head at her, “what do you mean?” asking honestly and she chuckles a bit, sitting back down, “you’ll see what i mean, maybe later. tell me what else you like, mami,” and she’s rubbing your legs again, just barely past your underwear and you feel yourself grow warm.

you stutter, “um, i haven’t tried it but i think i’d like strapping, like you strapping me, if that makes sense,” and riri’s eyes grow a bit, now more interested, “yeah? like you’d want me to strap you, you’d be okay with that?” and you nod, eagerly and encouraged by her excitement. but a question buzzes in your head, “you’ve strapped before?”

and riri smokes again, nodding and looking off upset, “yeah but she was kinda crazy. we were in this friends but not really friends with benefits situation; i was just eager to experiment because i knew i was gay but like i didn’t know what i liked, just yet. and she didn’t either so she’d strapped me, i’d strap her, all that type of stuff.” you feel jealousy grow at the bottom of your stomach as riri talks about this ex of hers, and she sees it, your nose flaring and the way you’re not making eye contact anymore.

she smirks a bit, “but we broke things off. she transferred and went to a culinary school in cali so calm down, baby,” she whispers the last part, coming closer and kissing your nose. you huff out of it, “yeah, good, because i probably would’ve found her if she was still here,”

and riri laughs, big and loud, surprised by your outward jealousy, and nods, “noted, you get jealous,” and you huff, offended you were so obvious, “maybe, but like how would feel if i random told you all the time my ex fucked me?” and she laughs quietly, “oh i kill her regardless, but not for that, you told me how shitty she was to you, so it’d be for a different reason,”

you mumble and change the subject, “tell me what else you like,” and you take the joint from her hand, and inhale, “well, i found out i really like strapping, and even though i haven’t done it in a while, i’d love to try with you,” she whispers the last part, watching your lips exhale the smoke and you lick them, still feeling bold, “we should order one then,”

riri blinks a couple of times, you were surprising her a lot tonight, and you smile, “i saw the one you wanted on your wishlist. it looks fine, to start, i mean,” and she smiles a bit, “i mean, it’s 6 inches so imma drop down a size, but you’re serious?” and you nod, grabbing her phone and unlocking it, not before seeing her screensaver— a picture of you and her cuddled up, from her laptop.

you find the strap set, a pair of black boxers and a 5’1/2 inch dildo that it comes with, as well some water based lube. riri is watching, still surprised at your readiness to have one. ���what? cmon, we were just talking about it, don’t tell me you’re shying up now?” you challenge her and she scoffs out a laugh, “oh no, i’m not, go ahead and order it, but don’t be mad when i fuck you so hard you can’t walk,”

fuck, why would she say that so close to you! you laugh shyly a bit, shocked by her boldness and click purchase, the delivery date for three days from now. you toss her phone, “done. it’ll be here in three days,” you say with false confidence and she smiles again, leaning over and grabbing your face to capture your mouth, kissing you wetly and holding you still. you moan a surprised gasp in her mouth and taste the weed in her lips and the melon flavored chapstick she was wearing and follow her lead, moving slowly against her mouth, and sitting up on your knees.

you’ve done it a million times but making out with riri has you high every time. the internet’s ‘hold on’ is playing in the background and sway slightly, nearly sitting on top of her and she prods at your lips, nearly inviting herself in, moving her tongue around. you moan a bit, fuck, you wanted to fuck her all over again, as if you didn’t just do so not even three hours ago.

riri moves you both until she’s on top of you, rubbing your (her) hoodie up until your nipples are exposed and your practically naked once again. she releases your mouth, panting and looking at you with wide, high eyes.

“keep telling me what you like,” she whispers to you and you alone, breathless, and you nod, high and complacent, and she kisses at your neck and handles one of your breasts in her hand. you moan a bit, squirming, “i like— haaa, i like when you kiss me and call me yours. i love it when you say i’m sweet and that i’m your good girl,” she moans against your neck, “yeah?”

and you nod again and again, she’s kissing down your stomach now, pinching at your nipples and sliding your underwear off, “i like it— i love it when you call me names, when you call me baby and mami and sweetheart— fuck, riri it drives me crazy,” she’s face to face with your pussy now, your leaking and aching like you hadn’t just cum and she kisses at you lips and you gasp and arch, the next thing you were gonna say getting caught in a breathless moan.

“keep talking baby, can you do that for me? be my good girl, okay?” she says into your thighs and you whine, the combination of being high on riri and weed spiking your brain in waves, but you nod nonetheless. “i— i like it when, ungggg— fuck!” and she’s licking at you, swallowing you once more, keeping her mouth sucking on your clit and holding your legs open.

“riri, baby, fuck— i, i can’t, i can’t—!” and you want to whine and give up, just lay there and let her devour you but what riri said hits your head like a train; “i like obedience,” shes saying lowly in your head and you gasp, wet tears spiking your eyes, and you moan. she wants you to listen to her, regardless of what else is going on.

you sigh, “i like, i like when you make me— haaa, i like when you make me ask for it—! unnfffuccckkk, i like when, when— like it when you make me squirt and you keep… fuck.. keep fucking me after i’ve cum— haaaa, riri baby, i can’t, i’m cumming, baby, please—!” and you feel her nod against you, your clit pulsing under her tongue and it washes over, body twitching and twisting in your overwhelming orgasm. you moan and buck, pussy twitching under her mouth yet again, and you sigh out small ‘thank you’s as she pulls away and kisses you mouth, and you sigh, pulling her closer and wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her against you once more.

“mhmm, fuck, you want to?” she whispers against you, and you nod, already moving against her and she slides off and shorts and bucking against you, her pussy slapping against your once more. she gasps against your mouth and sighs, “you wanna know what i like baby?”

and of course you’re all ears, listening to her and your pussies rubbing together, “i love hearing you, love making you cum,” she twists in a way to wear you feel her entire clit on yours, moving harshly against yours, and she uses her hands to settle your shaking thighs as you buck and moan, “i love when you listen to me, when you’re good for me, baby, you’re such a good girl, yknow that mami?” and she sounds so sincere and it makes you toss your head back and gasp, “yes! uhffff, i’m your good girl, all for you, riri, fuck—!”

and it’s all riri needs, she suddenly gasping against your mouth and slowing her thrusts as she cums against your pussy, her legs shaking slightly, as she moans out curses. you feel it just like you felt it not even three hours ago, her low pulses against your own clit cause you to moan and twist, but you still your body so she can finish.

she lays on top of you once she’s done, sighing and gasping as you hold onto her, sighing yourself. riri leans back up and kisses you again, moving your legs around her waist again and you moan; she’s not giving you any pressure or moving you, she’s just holding you against her.

she releases your mouth and lays on the side of you, sighing, “fuck, my legs are weak,” she says quietly and you nod, giggling and agreeing. “pussy’s that good, right?” and tosses her head back to laugh, shoving your arm. she sighs again and calls you quietly,

“thank you, baby,” and you smile, confused, “for what?”

riri shrugs, “for talking to me, for telling me what you want. i really do like that, yknow, like no bullshit. it might be a kink, honestly.” you laugh slightly, “but in all honesty, i appreciate it. i’m happy you talk to me, about anything,”

so fucking sweet. you smile harder, sitting up slightly to kiss her mouth, mumbling, “of course,” before kissing her deeply.

when you wake up, there’s a smoothie on the dresser next to riri’s bed and you wear the shower running. you sigh, and smile, grabbing the smoothie and sitting up to drink. once you’re up and stretched, you open the bathroom door, “thank you!” and riri gasps, “holy shit, you fucking scared me! i thought you were still sleep,” she says signing and you can see her through the shower curtain, your mind wondering back to night before.

“i was just saying thank you, baby, didn’t mean to scare you,” you giggle, and start to strip, setting your smoothie down outside and stepping in the shower, the hot water hitting you immediately. riri sighs as you wrap your arms around her and pull her in for a kiss, she mumbles a “good morning” against your mouth and you agree with her, because it actually is.

part one completed!! don’t worry the other two parts will be out soon, y’all know how i do, they’re being worked on right now. also my requests are still closed at the moment, so do be mindful of that before you ask me to do something; i have a set list i’m working on right now, so i’ll let you know when they open again!

i hope you enjoyed and reblogs, replies, and likes are always appreciated! i hope you guys are having a good new year!! 🤎🤎

[aruuq]

Texting your boyfriend at 3AM when drunk – Tokrev boys scenarios

characters: mikey, inupi [separately] x gn!reader

genre & style: fluff, maybe a bit angsty in mikey’s part, shorts, scenarios

word count: 1.2k

notes: sorry for not posting for a few weeks. i’ve had a lot to do since i moved across continents plus my old laptop died plus i started working. also i hope it doesn’t bother you, dear anon, that i made scenarios out of your reqs and not smaus. i’ve just never done smaus and i felt more comfortable doing these short writings. i also apologize for not answering at your request but i accidentaly deleted it but fortunately enough i have a screenshot of it! i think i’ll do part two of these scenarios with more characters in the future, cause writing this was fun! 

warnings: alcohol obvs, being drunk, dumb messages, pet names, if you see anything i should also put in here, lemme know

Manjiro “Mikey” Sano

Mikey sighs as he plops his tired body onto fluffy sheets of his bed. It’s been a busy night for the members of Toman, and all Manjiro wants right now is a long relaxing nap. However, the moment he connects his phone to the charger, which battery died earlier this night, a series of loud notifications attack his ears. Mikey groans as he grasps onto his phone to check who has had the audacity to spam him like this only to see tons of messages from you.

Bunny: hey honey, do you have plans for tonight?

Bunny: i’m bored, sorry for texting agsin, just wanted to make sure that maybe you just weren’t in a room when i sent my message, and you will hear the motif of this oneeee

Bunny: after i sent the precious message i realised that if you had time you would check your phone anywans and answer me lol sorry for this

Bunny: previous*

Bunny: you know what? since it’s weekend and i don’t have anything to do, i will go and buy myself a beer. if you read my messages, you can come and drink with me

Bunny: four cans of beer* it was cheaper this way

Bunny: also if im not mistaken, i saw your friend at the shop, the one with glasses. he said hi but i wasn’t sure if it was him so i ignored him

Bunny: kay, uf you want to cme, renember to bring your alcohol, cause theres no beer ledt

Bunny: if* come* remmeber* left*

Bunny: remember*

Bunny: i just drnk ghis vodks u biught mr lst timee

Bunny: imiss uou :((

Bunny: yoi*

Bunny: um heafing ovet!!!

Bunny: okau byt waalking to upur houde whrn drnk wss suchag reat isea, itd so brautifl!

Bunny: why arnt u snwerin my xalls? :(((*(

Bunny: bsby

Bunny: the lofe of ny lide

Bunny: swer mw “:(

Bunny: ru msd at mr>

Bunny: bunubn :(

Bunny: ithnk in losr

Mikey blinks a few times while scrolling through your messages with his thumb mindlessly, when finally something clicks in his head, and he realizes the seriousness of the situation. You are drunk. In the middle of the night. And you got lost somewhere on your way to his house. Manjiro curses at his stupidity, because how the hell could he let something like this happen. He jumps off the bed, and quickly puts on his flip-flops, while trying to call you.

“C’mon, Y/N, answer my call,” he murmurs, leaving his house with a flashlight in his hand. “You were so eager to talk to me, so answer. your fucking. phone.” His teeth are clenched. He’s not mad at you. He’s mad at himself. And he’s worried and scared. “Fuck!” Mikey almost throws his phone away when he hears your voice but it happens only to be automatic voicemail. “Why won’t you answer me?”

Mikey starts running towards your house, still trying to call you, but without any results. For a moment he feels scared that somebody could have kidnapped you. But lucky enough for him, the moment he enters your street, he is able to see your silhouette, all curled up under the front gate of your house.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouts, speeding up his run. “Y/N!” he drops to his knees next to you and embraces your body close to his chest. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

“Hu-uh? Bun-bun?” You mutter, trying to look up at him. “I think I lost my phone when I tried to visit you. I also lost my keys,” you babble drunkenly, while you clench onto his shirt. Mikey pulls back a little to look at your face, then cups your cheeks in his palms, squishing them tightly.

“Never, ever do this again, okay?”

Seishu “Inupi” Inui

A sudden blue light hits Inupi’s squinted eyes, way too bright for his liking, making his eyelids to narrow even more, as he checks the notification. Next to the symbol of a speech bubble is your name with a few colorful hearts next to it. The boy looks at the hour. It’s 3AM. And it’s Wednesday, the middle of the week. Wrinkles of confusion appear on his forehead. You should be long asleep, since you should have work tomorrow, unless you haven’t told him about taking a day off or something like this. Still, the fact that you text him out of the blue in the middle of the night feels concerning for him. As he feels that negative thoughts that something wrong may have happened to you are starting to flood into his mind, he decides to simply check your message.

Y/N💜💙💖: heh baby iwabted osay tgst i Ilobr tpuuu❤️❤️

Inupi blinks one, two, and five times before he reads your message one more time. Usually when you text him, there aren’t a lot of mistakes in the text. Maybe sometimes there’s a typo or two, or there’s not enough commas, but something like this? He knows that there’s only one explanation for this situation, but he doesn’t want to believe it. You must be drunk. Unless you have suddenly started to sleepwalk, but still, even then you would have spelled more correctly. Inupi decides to text you back. “Are you drunk?”

Before receiving your message, the boy felt sluggish. But after this he knows he won’t be able to find sleep until he makes sure of what is happening. Inupi taps his phone case nervously, waiting for your response.

Y/N💜💙💖: cime to me andfnidout if uoure this curioys ;p

They’re drunk, he thinks. Before Seishu answers you, he quickly checks if there are any buses or trains running at this late hour, since you live far from him. He clicks his tongue, when a big “No Connections Available” pops out. He needs to know if you are safe and the whole world seems to make it difficult for him for fun. “Are you home?” He’s sure that it’ll take some time for you to answer, so he quickly checks the amount of money in his wallet – he knows he will have to refuel on his way to your house. Not a single yen. Inupi curses under his nose and starts analyzing if it’s better for him to borrow money from his parents or try to find a group of kids outside and borrow it from them.

Y/N💜💙💖: whu u askibg? Uu wamma🤡 see ne so bsd> ;))

The poor boy sighs, and texts you back. “Yeah, sure. Just tell me where should I go to see you, baby.” Inupi swiftly puts a jacket onto his shoulders, and checks if he has everything he needs in his pockets. His phone rings one more time.

Y/N💜💙💖: m im my bsckyarrd

He texts you a quick “coming, don’t go anywhere” before leaving his room with a mission of borrowing money from his dad’s wallet. Hopefully both his parents are asleep, ‘cause he doesn’t have time to explain to them why he needs to ride somewhere on his bike at this hour. He doesn’t need any more troubles, a long night awaits him. He also needs patience for bearing with your hungover ass in the morning when he will have to encourage you to explain to your boss why you can’t show up at work.