#g��ven

[gringoslur]

los gringos tienen demasiada liviendad hablando de horrores internacionales y poniéndolos uno versus el otro como si fuera una parte de las olimpiadas, como si su pais no fuera uno de las principales fuentes de conflicto.

that shit doesnt make u sick? ill explain it in pop terms: i wanna cut ur gringo tongue and serve it to my people so it finally has a purpose.

[estinyans]

made khilo and grahas kids (real) in game (as adults)

left is f'lyhia, their daughter. she takes up pugilism like khilo and is pretty headstrong and extroverted, is older than her brother by like a year or two and acted as his Bully Deterant when they were little

right is g'venah, their son. he takes an interest in magic when he's young and gets taught by raha how to use it properly. a lot more introverted than his sister but has too many Silly Cat Genes in him to be a serious bookworm

[lanternlightss]

thinking about post rebellion venti and nameless bard sparring again,, old mond community i come to you pleading. please consider the two of them trying to figure out how to work their fighting styles together, the stumbling and cheering when they find a move that works. please consider how they might start the fights—bard twirling a wooden sword around and pointing to the sky, striking a pose, ready to go? or venti poking at the bard’s nose and dancing away, coyly smiling as a wooden spear materializes in hand. please consider them leaning against the other after it all, silently laughing, bard trying to catch his breath and venti trying to contain the anemo fluttering about around him. consider ,,,,,,,,,,,,,

[katn3y]

I Just-I just wanted to say I love your art style and I want to know more about your OC's-

SOMEONE IS ASKING ABOUT MY OCS!? I'VE WAITED YEARS FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT MY OCS! :DDD

Ok ok, I will share my secrets with you ;)

First is Rey & Isa.

So Rey had this childhood friend right, and her dream was to become a mech piolet. BUT WAIT she was a human! and only titans (or giants) could piolet mechs! So one thing after another happened, Rey's childhood friend died (supposedly) & he decided to become a mech piolet for her (its really sweet :,)

*Mechs in this universe is just advanced battle armor for giants*

Now enters Isa. Who was, guess what? Rey's childhood friend! Of course for plot details they didn't recognize each other ;) Anyways, Once Isa realized she couldn't become a mech piolet, she decided to become an engineer instead. Thus becoming an engineer for Rey's suit (basically repair, maintain, & upgrade the mech)

--

Next is Cas & Ven

(They are both orphans btw)

Basically Cas is a anti-social nerd who just wants to be left alone. When he was younger (like 5 or 9 years old) he ran into an injured wild Ven. Since then Cas has taken good care of Ven, making sure she doesn't get herself killed or injured. The running theory is that he's done this cuz he's been in love with her for forever. Ven remains oblivious to this of course. but recently it has become increasingly obvious that he cares for her.

little doodle of a comic I'm working on for them :)

Basically, Ven risked her life to help out someone she didn't know & almost got herself killed. Cas, being both pissed of & REALLY concerned for her decided to confront her. This is the first time Ven had ever seen him cry ;)

[the-acid-pear]

Es yo literal

[scrawlingskribbles]

/holds them gentle like hamburbger..................

[finely-tuned-line]

Hello?

I am once again sending out broadcasts, because I love meeting new iterators! Can never meet to many, I believe pfff.

I am Moss, I am located near the void sea, deep underground.

I'm mainly just looking for people to talk to! Currently procrastinating on sleeping, and I'm taking a break from organizing rocks currently, so I have lots of free time!

(Sent from @threemossystones <3)

RP:

FTL: Greetings, Three Mossy Stones. To introduce myself out of sheer courtesy, I am FInely-Tuned Line, Senior Iterator of Local Group 16.

FTL: I do somewhat disagree with your statement of that "you can never meet too many [Iterators]", but I suppose it's a matter of perspective and priority.

FTL: Located near the Void Sea... Interesting. I'd assume that you were either or both one of the last Iterators ever built and/or have a purpose that holds some sort of relevance to your location? Because it truly is an odd one. I cannot imagine it must be pleasant - though that mostly depends on your distance from the Void Sea.

FTL: I'm fine with holding a conversation with you, though I do not guarantee your satisfaction with it. Whatever it even is that you're hoping to achieve via this conversation. Surely it can't just be seeking companionship. Doesn't matter.

FTL: You're capable of sleep? I don't believe that I've ever heard of an Iterator having that capability, truth to be told. What's even the point of that? A waste of time. May I also inquire as to why you're organising rocks? Are they just rocks you find in your general area, or is it a cataloguing thing? Seems a bit redundant, but who am I to judge.

[killjoy-prince]

Yesterday's manga haul and lunch!!

[atyourmerci]

Thinking about how Javier Peña wouldn’t let you come until you asked perfectly in Spanish. What better chance to make sure your Spanish was pristine than when you were so desperate?

“Javier please…” his pace never falters as he continues to rut into you, circling your swelled bud.

“In Spanish. You know the rules sweetheart.” He stills himself inside of your fluttering walls.

“Por- favor..,” you say in a whine.

His stubble scratches the outside of your ear, “por favor qué?” He taunts, unmoving as his tip presses into your sweet spot.

“por favor déjame terminar, Javier.”

He gives a smug laugh into your ear, beginning to pump back into you, “buena niña.”

Your hands grip back into the sheets, so close, and he knows. “What did I say?”

You are barely coherent at this point, eyes rolled back, your knuckles whitening in the grip of the bedsheets. “You- c-alled me a g-fuck- a good girl.”

He laughs again, pleased at his teaching strategies, “that’s right sweetheart, ven por mí.”

[shurisgf]

i can’t stop thinking about him omg ,

Armando carefully traced every inch of your body, making sure that not one part went untouched. His large frame was on top of yours as he leaned down and trailed kisses from your neck down to your collarbone. He was going too slow for your liking, you needed him. Now. And he knew that, that’s why he was teasing you. His hand moved dangerously close to your clit, leaving you longing for more. Still, he trailed kisses from your collarbone to your lower stomach, where he stopped to look up at you for a moment, all needy for his cock. You were a moaning mess, overwhelmed by his pleasure. “Sigue haciendo esos bonitos sonidos para mí princesa.” He spoke in that calm sexy voice of his, as his fingers began to rub your clit nice and slow, taking his time with you. “Bebé, please-“ your incoherent words were cut off by armando’s fingers pumping inside of that wet pussy he loved so much. Your moans began to get louder as you laid there, overstimulated from the fast pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You could feel your climax getting closer and closer by the second, trying to chase your own high, as you felt him stop his motions. You whined loudly when you felt him stop, causing Armando to chuckle a bit. “Shhh, nena ven aquí.” He gently turned you over in missionary, lining his thick cock at the entrance of your wet pussy, pushing it in roughly, earning a hard moan from both of you. “Joder, te sientes tan bien, toda apretada para mí mamá.” All you could give him was a weak moan in response. He thrusted at a fast pace, determined to give you the climax he didn’t give you before. As he thrusted, you arched your back in an attempt to feel the entire length of his cock. “Mierda-“ he grunted,

“Fuck! Armando-“ You whined out, desperately trying to let him know that you were close. Your walls clenched around his dick, earning a moan from Armando’s lips.

“I know, bebita, cum for me, yeah?” His own thrusts were getting sloppier as he sped up his pace, “Oh my g-“ you tried to get the words out, but your high came crashing down, as you covered his dick completely. Your own orgasam triggered his, as he slowed down his thrusts, before pulling out and releasing his seed on your ass. You instantly fell on the mattress and turned over so that you were on your stomach. Every bone in your body was weak.

He looked down at you, all fucked out and heavy breathing, tear stains on your cheeks from all of his overstimulation and leaned down to place a soft kiss on your cheeks. “Lo hiciste tan bien por mí mamá, let’s get in the shower, hm?” He whispered in your ear. You weakly nodded as he picked you up and moved towards the bathroom.

GLOSSARY !

Sigue haciendo esos bonitos sonidos para mí princesa. — Keep making those pretty sounds for me princess.

Bebé — Babe/Baby.

Nena ven aquí — Baby come here.

Joder, te sientes tan bien, toda apretada para mí mamá. — Fuck, you feel so good, all tight for me mama.

Mierda — Fuck.

Bebita — Babygirl.

Lo hiciste tan bien por mí mamá. — You did so well for me mama.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

TAGLIST; @ghettogirly @milliumizoomi @loakswifesworld @dyttomori

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[cuando-fingi-quererte]

Ven y cúbreme de chupetones.

— G'

[myokk]

fast sketch of my Imelda oneshot🫶💓

remembering the snow

Word count: 3.300

Rating: G/T I don’t get the difference 🧍‍♀️

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves.

Her mother always talked about the circumstances of her birth with pride: Imelda came quickly as if she were eager to get out and see the world already, screaming even before she had fully left her mother's womb, determined to leave an indelible mark on the world.

The women in their village who had assisted the birth crossed themselves, chattering to each other in quick, soft, beautiful Spanish staccato about the baby who was already unlike any they had ever seen before. Strong and healthy and beautiful, her deep brown eyes already taking in her surroundings and watching them solemnly moments after her arrival.

Her father always talked about the circumstances of her childhood: running wild and free, flying before she could walk (a source of great pride), his little shadow who peppered him with endless questions about the world. He always brought her along to his work meetings much to everyone's delight; she was with him when he was offered the enviable position of Spanish Diplomat to the British Ministry of Magic.

At the age of five, they left the beautiful sleepy village where time hadn't seemed to exist. Imelda still dreams of long, hot, dusty days playing under the shade of orange trees, going to the market every two days with her mother draped in their finest silks, sleeping and lying around during the hottest part of the day, only leaving their house once the sun left its highest point and was about to disappear behind the mountains.

The older women in the village doted on her. If she thinks hard, she can recall their beautiful, wavering voices calling out to her as she raced past them: 'ten cuidado, cariño, te vas a mancar', 'ven aquí, cielo, te quiero ver la cara tan bonita', 'mira cómo se está creciendo, se nota que va a ser una belleza de mayor'...voices filled with comfort and love. She never knew anything different then.

She's their only child. Her mother was always brushing her hair and humming, trying to get her to sit still and listen to her endless fairy tales as the sun bore down on them; her father, treating Imelda like the son he had always wished for but accepting and loving her all the same. Sometimes, her mother would let her out of the house before the sun became too strong and they would fly around the mountains and be free free free.

Arriving to Edinburgh at the age of five, Imelda hadn't even realized she didn't speak the same language as the other children around her. As with everything else, she jumped in headfirst. Her mother always jokes that she became fluent in English the second she stepped foot on Scottish soil. To Imelda, it does seem that way. She can't ever remember not speaking in the soft Scottish burr, reminiscent of the soft Spanish she had left behind and still spoke at home.

As a child, she never had problems forging relationships with whoever was around her. She was brash and inquisitive and irresistible, taking charge wherever she went. The other children flocked around her, hanging on to her every word.

It changed, though, when her mother got her cough. It started out harmless enough, a slight cough and headache before bed each night. When her mother woke up every morning, she would be fine. But going to bed early changed to going to bed even earlier and earlier until it was time to accept what the three of them were steadfastly ignoring: she was getting worse.

Imelda was nine. She remembers her mother drying her tears with gentle, soft hands, caressing her cheeks and whispering to her that it would be fine. That she wasn't gone yet: they still had time.

'No pasa nada, mi amor. Siempre estaré contigo.'

At Hogwarts, things changed even more. She was a Slytherin and proud of it, but she never quite fit in with her classmates. She wasn't one of them, hadn't grown up with them, and they made sure she knew it. Gone were the days of running wild: she turned her single-minded determination to her studies and quidditch and found herself excelling at everything she put her mind to. It all came easily to her and she had no time for anyone who could distract her.

She wasn't a complete loner. She had her quidditch teammates, her partners in various classes, but nobody she hung out with outside of classes. She always studied alone, learned alone, trained alone.

(Of course, the picture she paints to her father in owls home is much different. He has enough on his mind - a daughter struggling to make friends is a non-issue as far as Imelda is concerned. And besides: she's fine.)

Imelda was quite content with the way things were working out for her. She would never admit if she was lonely or not, and enjoyed every part of her life. Until her fifth year, when everything began to change. Gone were her rigid schedules and studying alone and discipline. A new girl was sorted into Slytherin and Imelda found she didn't hate the girl's company. The two of them laugh together at night while they braid each others' hair, Imelda teaches her Spanish, and they have started to study together.

The new student drags her around Hogwarts and Imelda finds herself actually enjoying herself and enjoying spending time with the classmates she’s spent so many years ignoring.

  This is when she meets Poppy Sweeting.

Well...Poppy swears that they met ages ago, during their first year when they were partnered together in Potions. Imelda has no recollection - that whole year was a blur - it was the year her mother succumbed to her illness - so she has to take Poppy's word for it.

She finds herself with friends for the first time in a long time. But, when the new student is running off with Sebastian doing Merlin-knows-what, things that Imelda definitely does not want to be a part of, she still finds herself seeking Poppy's company.

Poppy is sweet and fun and introverted in a way that Imelda finds familiar and comfortable: whereas Imelda turns to her studies and quidditch, Poppy often opts to spend time more time with beasts than humans. But there's something endearing about her earnestness and Imelda starts to find herself craving Poppy's calm company.

She always knows what to say when Imelda finds herself getting worked up over nothing.

  On the train home for the winter holidays, as Imelda is striding down the long corridor in search of an empty cabin where she can read and concoct fail-proof quidditch tactics, Poppy calls her over to her carriage and asks Imelda to keep her company. She only needs to ask once. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in Imelda's stomach as she sits across from Poppy and the other girl beams at her but it's...well. It's not altogether unpleasant. They play exploding snap and exchange book recommendations and laugh together and...well, if Imelda's knee brushes against Poppy's occasionally or their fingers linger as they exchange essays to look over...

She can't be blamed, can she?

A letter from Poppy arrives over the break. At the sight of Poppy's small brown owl tapping the window with the letter in its beak, Imelda's heart starts racing and she runs over to the bird, grinning like a fool, but she pauses before opening it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the wax seal.

Imelda's father is largely absent these days, a shadow of the man she had grown up with. She's noticed the difference over the summer too, of course, but the winter always feels different. More desolate; more harsh. They're nearing the four-year anniversary of her mother's death. It's impossible to ignore the fact that losing his wife has damaged his soul irreparably, and Imelda's seeing first-hand what being deeply in love can do to a person.

Maybe she'll put the letter aside and read it tomorrow.

Tomorrow bleeds into the next day turns into one week and before she can blink the bleak winter vacation with her father has ended and she's heading back to Hogwarts.

On the train, she walks past Poppy: the two of them make eye contact but Poppy flushes and looks out the window, tucking her honey-colored hair behind her ear and Imelda moves on to the next empty carriage. She pulls out some parchment and works on revising her Charms essay. It's for the best, anyway, she tells herself. For the best that she doesn't have any distractions. Their O.W.L.s are coming up and she's determined to get an O in every subject.

  The month of January goes by in a flash. Between the insane quidditch schedule she's concocted for her team and the study sessions in the library, she keeps herself busy. The new fifth-year, her first real friend, starts to show concern for Imelda, gently trying to ask her what's going on as they braid each others' hair before bed.

Imelda doesn't want to bother her, though.

(She doesn't truly know what's the matter, anyways.)

She resolves to do a better job with keeping her emotions in check - her friend has enough on her plate, and Imelda doesn't want her to have to worry over something that's not even a problem in the first place.

She's fine.

Out of the corner of her eye in the classes she shares with Poppy, Imelda notices that she doesn't look as happy as she normally does. Her face is more pale and withdrawn; whenever Imelda's eyes flicker to her, her own gaze darts away.

  With the beginning of February come a lot of blizzards, and they make Imelda remember the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

They had both run over to her, covering her with warm hugs and kisses, the tiny family huddled together in this foreign place where the people looked and spoke differently, where nothing was the same and she missed the old women who would give her mazapanes whenever she ran by, missed the tiny clouds of dust that would puff up as she ran and the hazy mountains in the distance and the hot, hot sun beating down while she played in the shade of the orange trees while her mother slept away the heat. Pulling her mittened hands off of her tear-stained face and telling her 'mira cariño, mira qué bonita es la nieve. Tócala, ya verás que no pasa nada...estamos aquí contigo...'

Her tears had soon dried and she was laughing and playing in the snow and she couldn't even remember what had made her so sad in the first place.

Imelda's sad now as she stares out the window.

Her mother isn't there anymore. She has no one to turn to in this self-imposed exile.

Four years ago today.

She's hidden herself away in an alcove, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees watching the snow swirling out the window. She canceled quidditch practice today due to the storm, much to everyone's surprise. Just last week, she had forced them to train in the freezing rain and today's snowfall is mild in comparison. But...today she doesn't have the energy. She's spent so much effort pretending that everything's fine when it's not and now she's sad and alone and confused.

She doesn't hear Poppy when she comes near.

The other girl crowds into Imelda's space, pressing against her in the alcove. The two face each other, and Poppy brings a gentle hand up to Imelda's face to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling.

"What -" Imelda starts saying, but a fresh sob chokes her and she can't. Poppy leans forward and wraps her arms around Imelda, pulling her into a close embrace. Imelda feels everything crumbling around her and she sobs into Poppy's shoulder - Poppy whispering reassurances and smoothing her hair, cradling Imelda as she cries and cries and cries.

They don't leave the alcove for another hour, almost staying out after curfew.

  Imelda is subdued the next few days. The snow continues to fall until the whole castle looks like it's straight from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her as she brushed her hair. Imelda shows up for meals, shows up for classes, shows up in the study group, but she feels like she's just going through the motions.

She can tell her friend is getting worried, but Imelda can't confide in her. Her friend does small gestures anyways because she understands: saving Imelda a seat in class, asking her about quidditch, saving her favorite muffins for her at breakfast.

Maybe she talked to Sebastian about her worry because even he is being nicer than normal to Imelda, asking her if she wants to play wizarding chess with the two of them. Imelda doesn't really understand how or why they like playing the game so much - her friend is awful at it and Sebastian seems to enjoy the destruction and chaos more than actually strategizing. Even though Imelda hates the game - every move is painfully obvious and she can't understand how nobody else sees it like she does - maybe it would be nice to do something different.

Imelda freezes when they enter the Astronomy Tower to play: Poppy is there, waiting. For her. They haven't seen each other since she broke down humiliated and sobbing and she doesn't know what to do.

Sebastian looks between the two of them, brows furrowed, then leans down to their friend and whispers something in her ear. She nods and the two of them disappear, leaving Imelda and Poppy alone.

Poppy stands and Imelda can feel her heart start to hammer against her throat. Poppy walks forward slowly, only stopping when she's right in front of Imelda. When she speaks, her voice is high and sweet and Imelda realizes how much she missed her. "I-I'm sorry, I just didn't know how else I could talk to you. Will you come with me? I have something to show you."

Imelda nods mutely and Poppy takes her hand. They lace their fingers together and it's the first time - apart from a few days ago - that they have voluntarily touched each other. She feels Poppy's fingers tighten around hers and Imelda focuses on the feeling of soft knuckles under her thumb, but now...she's self-conscious for the first time about her quidditch-rough hands and maybe she should have listened to her friend when she tried to encourage Imelda to use some hand lotion.

Maybe Poppy will let go of her hand and leave in disgust.

But...Poppy doesn't do any of that. Every so often, she looks up at Imelda, smiling slightly. When they reach the Entrance Hall, she lets go of Imelda's hand and Imelda feels its loss with a pang.

Poppy opens the bag at her side and pulls out two huge yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves. As she's reaching up to wrap one around Imelda, she whispers: "sorry, I only have these. But yellow looks good on you."

Both of them flush and smile at each other and Imelda doesn't know how long they stand before Poppy grabs her hand again, making sure their fingers are laced, and then they are heading out.

Poppy looks more and more excited the closer they get to the Forbidden Forest, but Imelda's never set foot even remotely close to the forest, and she feels quite apprehensive at first. But, Poppy's excitement is exhilarating - Imelda can feel it rolling off of her in waves and despite herself, she begins to feel excited too. They still haven't spoken since leaving Hogwarts, but it's a comfortable silence. Imelda's glad for the scarf - their breath is puffing out in soft clouds as they breathe and it's quite cold - the freezing temperatures in Scottish winters are still something she's never quite gotten used to.

Their boots crunch through the snow-filled landscape - it's nearing dusk and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange and pink, but it gets obscured by the tree branches the further into the Forbidden Forest they venture, the golden light only showing in bursts now.

"Almost there," Poppy says breathlessly. She beams up at Imelda, whose breath catches at the sight, before turning back and pulling her faster and faster until they stop in a clearing. They've stopped in the middle, and Imelda looks around.

Here, they can actually see the sky and it is breathtaking in its beauty - the gnarled, naked trees around them twisting and reaching up as if they could try and grasp some of the beauty for themselves. The snow is perfectly smooth and untouched except for the footprints that the two of them have just left. Apart from that, the clearing is nondescript.

This is what Poppy had been so excited to show her?

Poppy gives no explanation for why she brought Imelda to the Forbidden Forest, but she's almost quivering in excitement - Imelda can feel the tension in the hand that's clutching hers tightly. The sun sets lower and lower, the two of them watching it as the colors around them start to fade and mute and then -

Poppy gasps in delight.

There -

A small, dancing, brilliant white light sparks to their left and disappears just as quickly.

"Look," Poppy whispers. Imelda glances over to her - she can barely make out her face in the dimming light, but Poppy seems to be glowing with happiness.

There - again -

More and more of the brilliant white lights appear, glowing and flickering on and off, and moving in almost a pattern, dancing around their heads. Imelda laughs as she watches the tiny creatures fly around them. It's magical and beautiful and -

"I found the snow sprite nest a few weeks ago, when the blizzards started, and I've been observing them since then. I...I wanted to show you and tell you about them the second I found out because I haven't stopped thinking about you but after...well, you know...I just wanted to cheer you up..."

Poppy trails off, looking uncertain when Imelda doesn't say anything in response.

She can't, even though she desperately wants to. Her mouth goes dry as she looks to the girl at her side, who has done all of this, for her.

Poppy looks impossibly lovely in the glow of the snow sprites, as they dance and spark around their heads in a beautiful waving pattern and Imelda doesn't even think as her hand goes to Poppy's cheek. Poppy stops rambling as she looks up into Imelda's eyes.

Then, before she can lose her nerve, Imelda leans forward and presses her lips to Poppy's. It's only the lightest of touches, but her heart is beating so quickly and Merlin, she can't believe she just did that. She quickly retreats, face flaming, but before she can get away Poppy reaches up to cup Imelda's cheeks with both hands and she pulls her forward, her mouth greedy, desperate, as they finally kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily as their foreheads rest against each other, Imelda can't help the huge smile that's threatening to split her face open. It mirrors the expression she sees on Poppy, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed and she is just so lovely that Imelda can't help but lean forward and capture her mouth again. Their lips mold to each other and it's the culmination of all of their stolen glances, touches, secret wishes.

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves, after all.

[aita-alternia]

[] i didnt mind, b_t my l_s_s s_re was pissed O.o []

MY M^TESPRIT DID NOT EVEN MIND MUCH TH^T I SHOWED UP ^T HIS HIVE UNN^NNOUNCED THIS E^RLY IN THE EVENING. GET YOU ^ GIRL WHO WILL PUT UP WITH YOUR HOOFBE^STSHIT

[deepinsideyourbeing]

Necesito saber cómo creés que sería Enzo en el sexo. Aspectos generales, gustos, kinks, si gime, etc.

Gracias por la investigación de mercado jajaja

+18!

-NSFW ALPHABET-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Le gusta masajear tu espalda, tus brazos o cualquier parte de tu cuerpo hasta que recobrás el aliento y podés beber el agua que te ofrece, luego te acompaña hasta el baño y de ser necesario entra en la ducha para ayudarte y/o acompañarte (y más...). Siempre tiene a mano algún snack o prepara algo para comer y ambos lo disfrutan mientras ven alguna película o acurrucados.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

A Enzo le gustan sus manos pero sólo porque adora cómo se ven sobre tu cuerpo. Le gusta ver el contraste cuando sujeta tus muñecas sobre tu cabeza, mientras acaricia tus pechos o tu cadera, cuando sus dedos aprisionan tu garganta o tu cara.

Tiene un punto débil cuando se trata de tu boca y tu lengua, tus muslos y la curva de tu abdomen donde siempre coloca sus manos. Son sus lugares favoritos para marcarte con su semen y eso nos lleva a...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hiperespermia, nada más que agregar.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Un poquito de CNC y polaroids comprometedoras en su billetera. Adora someterte y saber que si no cooperás puede amenazarte con enseñar a sus amigos y conocidos las imágenes que tomó cuando eras un desastre, en las cuales se aprecia tu expresión de satisfacción y los fluidos que manchan tu rostro y cuerpo.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Suele decir que no tiene mucha experiencia y tal vez sea cierto, pero no es impedimento alguno para que sus dedos, su lengua y su miembro te brinden los orgasmos más intensos que tuviste en toda tu vida. Siempre está dispuesto a probar cosas nuevas, es un firme creyente de que uno no debe dejar de educarse.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, vainilla pero romántico como a él le gusta. Le encanta poder ver tu rostro mientras te da placer, la forma en que tus pechos se mueven con cada una de sus estocadas y besarte cuando se desespera porque siente tu interior muy apretado y muy caliente :)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Es bastante serio y jamás pierde la concentración, prefiere mantenerse atento a tus reacciones para actuar rápidamente en caso de que algo te genere incomodidad o te haga sentir abrumada.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Siempre mantiene el vello corto y prolijo, pero cuando se depila por completo su miembro parece todavía más grande y la imagen por sí misma te hace delirar.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Enzo es muy romántico, le gusta tenerte lo más cerca posible en todo momento para besarte y abrazarte con fuerza. Si está arriba tuyo siempre va a reposar su frente en la tuya y mirarte con una intensidad casi abrasadora, todo mientras te retorcés de placer debido a sus movimientos.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Las polaroid en su billetera y algún que otro video que guarda en una carpeta oculta en su celular son lo único que puede utilizar para masturbarse cuando no te tiene cerca. Está obsesionado con vos y con tu cuerpo y al pasar tanto tiempo en el set de rodaje y en zonas horarias incompatibles no tiene otra opción.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink porque es posesivo y le encanta marcarte de esa forma. Además disfruta ver la forma en que su semen escapa de tu entrada antes de -ignorando tus quejidos- empujarlo hacia dentro con sus dedos.

Cockwarming si está demasiado cansado y decidís ser caprichosa. Te ordena quedarte quieta mientras sentís cómo palpita entre tus paredes, muy de vez en cuando sujetando tu cadera para moverte lentamente, y sólo cuando le rogás entre lágrimas te permite hacer el trabajo.

Dacrifilia... No puede evitarlo, sos demasiado tierna cuando llorás y adora ver la forma en que tus labios tiemblan o las lágrimas corriendo por tus mejillas.

Daddy kink. (Controversial pero...) Cada vez que tu voz entrecortada pronuncia esa palabra y tus ojos suplican por más, tiene que hacer un gran esfuerzo para poder controlar la fuerza que utiliza para manipular tu cuerpo -que está enteramente a su disposición-.

Finger-sucking porque además de ser la única forma que tiene a veces para mantenerte callada, también le gusta ver cómo cerrás los ojos y simulás que lo que está entre tus labios es otra parte de su anatomía.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nada se compara con la comodidad de su cama o el sofá de la sala, pero puede que surja la ocasión en que no resiste y te sienta sobre la mesa o el mármol para poder tener fácil acceso a tu entrada. No vamos a hablar del asiento trasero del auto o el parque.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Todo tu ser lo excita, pero le cuesta contenerse cuando lo sentás en la cama para enseñarle alguna prenda nueva o la lencería que acaba de llegarte por correo.

Tiene un pequeño problema con la particular forma en que comés helado y se niega a tener citas si implican permanecer dentro de una heladería.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No le gusta incorporar ningún elemento si cree que tienen el potencial de herirte verdaderamente, por lo que el knife play y objetos como látigos o nipple clamps quedan descartados por completo.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ama pasar horas entre tus piernas, succionar tu clítoris o acariciar tus pliegues y tu entrada con su lengua hasta volverte loca. También le fascina ver cómo besás su miembro y la forma en que tu lengua lo recorre o forzarte a tomar toda su extensión y hacer que te ahogues cuando golpea tu garganta una y otra vez ♡

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Un pequeño drabble dedicado a este punto ♡

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Le gusta tomarse todo el tiempo del mundo cuando se trata de darte placer, pero si están más desesperados de lo usual no va a dudar en arrastrarte hasta la superficie más cercana o hacia algún escondite.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Un poquito más de hiperespermia (qué linda palabra).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bajo la cama tienen una caja llena de juguetes, todos en tu color favorito: un pequeño vibrador, dildos de diferentes tamaños, butt plugs, collares, correas, cuerdas para shibari, antifaces, cock rings y más.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Enzo no oculta sus gemidos y siempre se encarga de hacerte saber lo bien que lo hacés sentir, ya sea con sonidos o con palabras de aliento similares a las que repite cuando es él quien te lleva hacia el orgasmo. Cuando estás moviéndote sobre su cuerpo le es imposible contener sus suspiros y jadeos o maldiciones.

Me comí un par de letras pero sé que Enzo me va a perdonar y ustedes también 😌❤️

[yawarakaizai]

pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader

ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All

A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!

Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.

You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.

Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.

You were as sweet as your mother.

Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."

When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.

Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.

You picked up what your Mother left behind.

Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.

Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.

By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.

He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.

" Father, but why? "

Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.

Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.

It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.

You are made of bright crimson and spite.

At sixteen, you ran away.

It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.

Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.

You are a mixture of love and loss.

Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.

You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.

A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.

You had been a..

" Very bad girl. "

The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.

" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "

In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.

" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "

You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.

And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.

" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.

Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.

" I wished to make you something special. "

You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.

" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.

Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.

" Belladonna. "

He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.

" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.

Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.

You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.

Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.

You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.

" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "

By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.

" What would you do if I were to die? "

" Osamu. Stop that. "

You muttered.

You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.

" Answer me, Y/N. "

You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.

The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.

You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.

Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.

You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.

When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.

" I think I would kill myself too. "

Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.

" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.

" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.

Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.

With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.

He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.

You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.

" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.

There was something mystical about Osamu.

Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.

And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[run2seob]

txt with a mexican s/o

p: ot5 txt x mexican!reader g: fluff, bullet pointed head cannons w: written in spanglish notes — no soy mexicana , así q corríjame porfa ㅠㅠ request :: masterlist

SOOBIN

este conejito-

take him to the zoo y mira lo q hace: go straight to the bunnies

he's in his habitat jajaj

it would be so fun

peroo...

después de eso solo lo llamas conejito y no tiene ni idea

"conejito ven aquí!" cuando quiero un besito

or if you're tired y deprived of cuddles "conejitoo~"

you say it todos los días pero él todavía no sabe lo que significa

cuando el te preguntas, you'll be so surprised.. jaw para abajo y todo

"you didn't know..?"

"no :(" con la expression adorable

how could you not be absolutely in love cuando se ve así?

"conejito es un bunny" and you boop his nose afterwards

q lindo T0T

YEONJUN

he's so excited to meet your parents ><

you've been dating paraa... 2 años?

where it's not pushing "ey cásate conmigo" but you're still clingy and in love como las telenovelas

cuando llegues, he'll be smiling so wide :(

como el modismo "smiling ear to ear", he's doing just that

his teeth are shining through and it's so cutee

as soon as you step inside, your parents are attached to him

"ah sir-" "llámame papi" (o papa)

ai he's so happy afterwards, *especially* when the food comes out

ojalá q he doesn't get a stomachache from cuantos tamales que comio

he's smiling the entire time 😭😭

su amorcito

BEOMGYU

un mexicano at heart

si pones en un cuarto mid festival he'll fit right in

y sii, el no sabes NI español (save: hola y si)

pero if the times he's repeatedly yelling "sii!" whenever he's happy doesn't say enough that's he's trying

(or maybe that the chaos is so loud that even beomgyu puedes entenderlo)

then the fact that he's talking to your little cousins should prove it

"vas a casarte con yn?" (and yeah it's nosy.. but i mean can you blame them for asking? you two look way too cute together with your hand guiding him everywhere and smile being one he can easily find)

"i hope so."

TAEHYUN

he's always using pet names on you i'm heavy on thiss

"mi alma, what's wrong?" whenever you're crying

and he says it with such a soft tone q te recuerda a casa

his hands would come up to cup your cheeks softly, moving away your worries and your tears in one movement

he wouldn't kiss you just yet, as he wants permission

but you can see in his eyes, even without his lips against your face or lips how much he loves you

"mi amor.. you can tell me anything"

HE'S SO SWEET WITH IT (get me someone like taehyun if you can. please.

truly someone to court you just with two words. or one.

el es un magician

KAI

kai y amor joven >>>

lt's say you met… middle school? older or younger no se, es tu imaginación 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

anYWAYS

everybody is opening clubs in whatever year it is he's walking around with his overalls, his hair bouncing in each step because he's just so excited to promote robotics club

pero nadien really focuses on robotics… but he loves it a lot

y tu también, and when two people are the only two in a club.. 😻

jaja pero let's just say that the language barrier messed you up a lott so you only talked through code and making each other things through code

un corazón, por ejemple

y cuando you got separated and met again YEARSS later

you can finally show him the heart you never got to show him before and grow your budding love again

notes — i'm not sure if i'll make a full english vers. but lmk ^^