charlotte-bal

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Needles. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

“That’s all you’ll give me for her?”

“I think this is a generous offer, all things considered.”

You’re sitting in a plush leather chair in the office of the owner of the Doll House while your father argues with her about pricing. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, your father growing more agitated while the owner remains calm and firm. 

“Sir,” the owner begins, leaning forward slightly over her desk, “there are two major issues with your daughter. For one, she has a previous owner. Most of our clients consider that a deal breaker.”

“She was just with that guy a little over a year!” your father retorts, his face slightly red. 

“I’m aware of that. But that leads us to the other issue.”  The owner pauses and glances at you. “Your daughter’s scars are quite prominent. They’re very hard to ignore.”

There’s a hint of an apology in her eyes. It’s unnecessary. You know better than anyone that you’re disfigured. Scars of various types and sizes cover over half your body, including a sizable portion of your face. 

Your father is sweating. “I‘ve heard some clients have weird  tastes, that they actually want… people like her.”

The owner leans back in her chair. “It is true that we sometimes get unusual requests. But it doesn’t happen often. She would have to be given highly specialized training, to emphasize that unique aspect.”

Your father’s face lights up. “Then do that!”

The owner looks from him to you, then says, “I need to speak to her privately before finalizing the purchase.”

“What? Why?” your father asks. 

“It’s a routine part of the interview, I assure you,” the owner replies smoothly. 

Your father hesitates, but then stands up from his seat. He gives you a stern look, a warning look, and then he’s out the door. 

The owner’s face seems to soften slightly. “How do you feel about this?” 

You shrug. “I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long time.”

The owner looks at a laptop sitting open on her desk. “Let’s go over a few things in your file first. It says here you were sold on the direct market on your eighteenth birthday. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You were with your previous owner for sixteen months before being removed, during which time he breached the contract by doing permanent harm. Hence the scars.”

“Yes,” you answer again. 

“And I see that your father sued your previous owner, collecting quite the hefty sum for your suffering.”

You nod. 

The owner closes the laptop and looks at you again. “And I’m guessing your father already blew through that money, despite only two years passing. So he’s selling you again. How many other doll shops has he taken you to so far?”

“Three.”

“Any offers?”

“None,” you say, eyes lowering toward the floor. 

The owner sighs. “If I don’t take you, he’s going to sell you on the direct market again, isn’t he?”

“He already tried,” you tell her, “but he said the offers were too low. If no shop will take me, he’ll probably go back and take a low offer.”

The owner grimaces. “He’s a real sick fuck, your father.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take you on?”

You think for a moment, then say, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything anyway.”

“When you say that,” the owner says, “do you mean physically or emotionally?”

“Both. I’ve been numb for nearly three years now.”

The owner picks up a silk fan from her desk and lightly taps her chin with it as she regards you. After a few moments, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you. I’ll make a slightly higher offer to your father, one he would be foolish to refuse. And in light of your unique circumstances, I’m going to add two extra clauses to your contract. The first is that you will have the option to change trainers if the one I assign to you is too much for you.”

You nod. “And the second?”

“All dolls sold through the Doll House are allowed to come back within one week of being purchased by a client, if they provide sufficient reasoning. In your case, I’m extending that to two weeks, and you don’t have to provide a reason. I’ll take you back, no questions asked, if you feel like your owner isn’t right for you. However, I would advise you not to abuse this privilege.”

“I understand.”

“Alright then. Let’s get your father back in here and finalize the sale.”

******************

Sukuna grins when he sees the message on his phone: “I have a new doll for you to train.”

He’s at home, in his swanky, upscale apartment in the city. Though he enjoys his alone time, he very much enjoys his work at the Doll House as well. Unlike the other trainers, Sukuna doesn’t keep a near constant flow of new dolls. He understands why of course. His training produces a very specific sort of doll that only a specific sort of client wants. But he trains enough dolls to keep himself well paid, and the work is incredibly satisfying. 

The standard training time is six weeks, which is exactly the right amount of time for Sukuna to thoroughly enjoy each doll without getting too bored with them before they’re handed over to their owners. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep the same doll for ten whole years. He knows he’s not alone in this thought, which is why doll rental services have been growing in popularity lately. 

He packs a few things into a small duffel bag. He keeps plenty of clothes and personal items in his room at the Doll House, so he only has to pack lightly for the six week stay. He’s in a good mood as he turns off the lights and locks the door. 

When  he arrives at the Doll House, he finds a rather interesting young woman sitting in the welcome room. Interesting because half her pretty face is covered in scars, as well as what’s visible of her left arm. Just how far do they extend? He’s looking forward to finding out. 

She glances up at him, but gives no reaction. Strange. Most new dolls look terrified, or at least nervous, when they see him for the first time. It’s probably the tattoos that frighten them. Sukuna is well aware that they make him look like a Yakuza member, or some criminal from a past era. But he so enjoys the way people instinctively shrink back away from them. 

The owner meets him in the welcome room and ushers him into her office. All trainers are briefed on their new dolls, except in unusual circumstances. But the owner looks troubled today, meaning this doll has a story. But he supposes the scars made that obvious already. 

Sitting in a chair across the desk from the owner, Sukuna places one elbow on the cushioned arm and props his face up with his hand. “So? What’s the deal with little Miss gloomy out there?”

The owner is tapping keys on her laptop, then he hears his phone chime from his pocket. “I’ve sent you her file. You really need to read over it. She has a complicated history.”

“Give me the short version,” he says, making a mental note to at least skim the file later. 

“Previous owner who abused and tortured her, shitty father who’s sold her twice now, and… she can’t feel anything.”

That last part captures Sukuna’s attention. “What does that mean?”

“She’s completely numb, both physically and emotionally. I’ve read over her medical reports, and they’ve concluded that there’s no significant nerve damage. The scar tissue dulls her senses in those areas somewhat, but they don’t leave her totally numb like this. And she can’t feel anything in the unscarred areas either.”

“Meaning it’s psychological,” Sukuna says. 

The owner nods. “It’s clearly a defense mechanism. Her body and mind simply shut off all sensation in order to cope. And that’s going to be her biggest issue as a doll. There are plenty of buyers who would find the scars exotic, but a doll who doesn’t react to anything? No one wants that. And if we don’t eventually find a buyer for her, she’s going to get passed around from one scumbag to another on the direct market for the rest of her life.”

Sukuna had little interest in the doll’s sob story, but he was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t feel anything. “So you want me to fix her? Make her feel again?”

“Yes. I figured if anyone could, it would be you. But be careful. She’s already been shattered. I don’t need you grinding up the pieces.”

Sukuna stands up and heads for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll reforge her,” he says with a smile, “in a way that pleases me.”

***************

The man covered in strange black tattoos introduces himself as your trainer. He’s handsome, well-built, and dressed like a man far too rich to be working here. A few years ago, you might have been attracted to him. Your heart might have fluttered at the thought of him touching you. But now? Now you feel nothing as he tells you to follow him to his room. 

He opens the door and walks in first, turning on the lights as he goes. You follow behind him and look around. The room looks like someone converted a fancy hotel room into a dungeon. 

The deep red carpets and expensive looking furniture contrast with the various… devices around the room. There’s an X shaped table, harnesses and chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wall of leashes, whips, rods, and other such items along the left side of the room. 

Ah, so he’s this type. 

You’re not surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Give the girl who can’t feel pain to the trainer who tortures his dolls. 

The man, who said his name is Sukuna, is watching your face, looking for a reaction. He won’t find one. But instead of seeming disappointed, he’s grinning. 

“My specialty is probably obvious,” he says, to which you nod. Then he goes over to the wall of tools and toys, taking something small and shiny from it. When he returns, there’s a silver, claw-like item on his right index finger. Without a word of warning, he approaches you and quickly swipes the claw over your exposed right forearm. 

You look down, curious, to see a thin red line appear on your skin, small drops of blood beading along it before sliding down. You watch the blood with no expression for a moment before looking back up at Sukuna. 

His grin is wider than before. “You really didn’t feel that,” he says, not a question but a statement. He’s standing in front of you, staring at you, when he says, “Let me ask you something, and think hard about your answer. It’s going to determine how the training proceeds.”

You nod. 

“Do you prefer being this way to how you were before?”

You blink as the question settles into your mind. You’ve never really thought about it before, but do you prefer being numb? It’s helped you block out the hurt you felt upon being sold off by your father, being abused by your owner, but it also blocks out any joy. 

“I… I don’t know.”

He’s looming over you, looking down with an expression you can’t quite place. Is it desire? Pity? Disgust? Or have you lost the ability to distinguish them? 

“Do you want to feel again?” he asks, something about his deep tone telling you to answer honestly. The sheer intensity of his presence is overwhelming you. 

You can still remember when you felt things. You can remember a poor but happy childhood when your mother was still alive. Even after, when things got worse, there were still moments of happiness. Watching movies with a friend, eating cheap snacks from the convenience store down the street. A kiss from the boy you had a crush on in high school. You miss these feelings. And once you realize that, your answer is clear. 

“Yes, I want to feel again.”

“Even if what you feel is pain?” he asks. 

An emotion you haven’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, startling you so much that your voice cracks slightly as you reply, “Yes! I’d love to feel pain again. I’d love to feel anything!”

A smile spreads across his features, and his hands move to your shirt. “I’ll make you feel again,” he says as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “But it will only work if you want it.”

“I… I want it,” you say, realizing with some measure of shock that you’re already feeling emotions you thought long dead. 

He removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them strewn about the floor. Then he stands back to look at you. Completely bare before him, you don’t feel embarrassed. Shame is yet another emotion you can’t seem to feel anymore. But there is a strange prickling sensation on your skin as his eyes rake over you, taking in the scars that form a map of your suffering. 

“It’s like a work of art,” he says, his gaze lingering on the left side of your torso. The words make you feel something else, but you’re not sure what that is. Your own emotions have become unfamiliar to you. 

He leads you over to the X shaped table and lifts you onto it, then spreads you out on it like a meal. He slowly attaches the leather cuffs on each end to your ankles and wrists, still watching your face for any sign of fear. 

There is none. You’re starting to feel things for the first time in three years, but fear isn’t one of them. If he can bring back the girl you once were, one who could laugh and smile and feel, then you’ll accept anything he wants to do to you. 

Once you’re secured to the table, he stands back and unbuttons his shirt. When he slips it off his shoulders, you get a full view of the intricate tattoos on his body. They’re beautiful, the way they move and twist with his body’s motion. 

He steps back to the table and runs one large hand over your arm, trailing it down toward your chest, where he squeezes your scarred breast. You can’t feel it, so you don’t know if he’s squeezing hard or not, but when his fingers lightly slide over your nipple, a tingling sensation blossoms there. What was that? 

Did he notice that you felt something? You don’t think you visibly reacted in any way, but he’s smiling as if he knows. His fingers suddenly pinch your nipple, and you feel pressure, but little else. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and runs his tongue over that same nipple, then wraps his lips around it. You feel it again, that pleasant tingling. It reminds you of something, but you can’t remember what. 

His hand moves to your other breast, where his fingers grope and pinch. You feel this a little more, and your breathing quickens slightly. That’s when he stops abruptly and goes over to the wall again. This time he returns with a rolled up velvet pouch, which he unrolls to reveal a group of very long, very thin, shiny silver needles. 

He pulls one out and holds it up for you to see. “Let’s see how numb you really are,” he says. Then he grips your scarred nipple between his finger and thumb with one hand while using the other to bring the needle closer. He looks up at your face, perhaps still searching for a trace of fear. Finding none, he pushes the needle in, sliding it sideways through your flesh. 

Your breath hitches as a new sensation hits you. This… this is pain! You haven’t felt it in so long, you’d almost forgotten it. When he grips the other nipple, the one with no scar tissue to dull your senses, you almost flinch. He grins up at you, as if he’s reading your mind. He leans down and licks the nipple slowly, awakening it to sensation, before plunging the needle in. 

This time you gasp, your arms reflexively tugging on the restraints. You felt that! Not as keenly as a normal woman would, but far more than you’ve felt anything else in years. It hurt. It still hurts as his hand squeezes your breast, his tongue running over the needle imbedded in your skin. But you welcome the pain. It’s far more preferable to no feeling whatsoever. 

Then he steps back again, and walks around the table to the bottom, where he moves in between your widely spread legs. His hand moves to your pussy, kneading it gently for a moment before his fingers slip inside your folds, finding you clit. 

You draw in a sharp breath as he strokes it, feeling the pleasure so strongly that it’s almost as if you were never numb. Your previous owner had ignored your clit, having no interest in giving you pleasure, so these sensations were entirely new to you. 

When Sukuna uses his fingers to spread you open and leans forward to lick your quivering clit, your body nearly jerks off the table. He rises up and looks at you. “Not so numb down here, are you?”

You can only gasp out shallow breaths.  

His thumb begins stroking you again as he speaks. “I don’t care who your previous owner was.” He reaches over and pulls one more needle from the pouch, his tongue running over you again, making your nerves come alive. “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand different owners before me.” His thumb and finger pinch your clit, holding it in position. Your heart races as you wait, now holding your breath. “Because now,” he says, gliding his tongue across the glimmering needle in his hand, “you belong to me.”

He pushes the needle into your clit from the bottom and out the top, so slowly that you feel every single bit of it. Your body bucks from the table, your arms and legs jerk against the cuffs, and a loud scream erupts from your mouth as you feel excruciating pain for the first time in three years. 

It’s wonderful. 

Tears spring to your eyes, and you cum on the spot, weeping and shuddering. You were certain you would never experience an orgasm again for the rest of your life, but here you were, riding out the insane pleasure while Sukuna’s tongue prodded your clit, licking over the needle stuck there. 

**************

Sukuna watches his doll as she sleeps peacefully in his bed. She passed out not long after the “training session” was over, just as he was unfastening the cuffs on her wrists. He carried her to his bed and laid her there, and now he’s looking over her scarred form once more before covering her. 

He’s surprised by the progress they’d already made, but he can’t get too comfortable. 

Because he noticed it. When he pulled the needles out of her, which should have hurt, she didn’t even flinch. He’d squeezed one nipple afterwards, before beginning to uncuff her, just to test it. This should have made her scream, given how sore she should be, but she had no reaction at all. 

Meaning she’s numb again. The awakening of her senses was only temporary, and wore off after she came down from the high of her orgasm. 

Sukuna smiles. He certainly enjoys a challenge, and it’s clear to him that his job is far from over. 

Tag List:

@akaotv 

[chaithetics]

Oscar Isaac Boys with Period, Endo and PCOS Reader HCs

Pairing: Multiple Oscar Isaac characters (Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Abel Morales, Nathan Bateman, Cecil Dennis, Laurent LeClaire, Basil Stitt, Santiago Garcia, Anselm Vogelweide) x AFAB reader Word count: 2.2K Dividers by: @saradika-graphics Warnings: Periods, endometriosis, chronic pain, PCOS, non-specified shitty medical experiences, pretty much all fluff though douchebag Laurent mention sorry. No pronouns or body descriptions are used for reader. A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! It's just fluffy blainrot because the endo/post-lap hasn't been great. Reblogs and comments are encouraged and appreciated! 🫶 Tagging: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Steven Grant

Steven researches endometriosis, PCOS, adenomyosis and period pains. He learns about all of the different types of treatment plans. He learns about dietary changes that can help with inflammation and that other people diagnosed with these conditions have said have helped him. He goes down a rabbit hole of different PCOS recipes and dietary lifestyles, Steven ends up knowing of more PCOS blogs on every platform than you do by the end of that fixation. 

He’s so sweet, there’s been many days where you’ve come home at the end of the day and been greeted with an endearing “Love, I found this new recipe, I thought we could try it for dinner? It has the PCOS and the vegan stamps of approval!” 

Steven is also a great listener, it’s easy to tell him about how long it took to get a diagnosis, how much doctors don’t seem to care and are keen to dismiss you, to tell you birth control is your only pain management option or that you’re anxious and it’s all in your head. He’s horrified by this, he never judges or condescends and talking to him is always validating. 

During your periods, he’ll happily cuddle up with you and attentively watch all your comfort shows and films, especially the guilty pleasure ones. He loves it. Steven finds good books and podcasts for you on the days of your period when you just want to stay in bed. He’ll read to you as a distraction, you find it cute, especially when it’s a mythology or historical book, his passion and excitement drips through more when he reads those books to you. He’s a sweetheart that’s always there for you.

Abel Morales

Abel will have every appointment of yours in his calendar, written in pen, he attends with you for support and as an extra voice to advocate on your behalf. Which he absolutely does. He has no issue speaking up if doctors are ever dismissive, especially when you’re met with a cold one. He’s spent his whole life trying to be taken seriously and to perfect his image. He knows how to use his eloquent words and charming people skills to get a doctor to do their job better and for you to have better healthcare. You both know that having him, a man in the room, makes it much easier for you and your pain to be taken seriously. 

In the evenings during flare ups, Abel sits in bed and quietly holds you. He’ll press gentle and loving kisses to your forehead and the top of your head and rub your back in slow circles while you nap or are curled up on him in pain. He hates seeing you in pain but he knows being there is important for you and it’s also important for him as a partner. It never gets easier for him to see you in pain though but Abel will never complain about getting to spend more time cuddling you so tightly.

Nathan Bateman

When you first start dating you tell him you have endometriosis, it’s something that’ll come up eventually for any relationship that goes anywhere, even a casual one. You think it’s better to rip the band-aid off sooner than later. Nathan takes it in casually, like you’ve just told him what your favourite condiment is. It surprises you to say the least. 

Nathan spends the next day scouring through numerous medical journals in order to become a human encyclopaedia on endometriosis and everything relating to the uterus and other reproductive conditions. If you’ve been medically cleared safe for a TENS machine, he doesn’t even spend a full afternoon building you one and it is the best one you’ve ever used, it becomes a regular essential in your pain management kit. 

The highest ranking and most expensive medical practitioners in the field are flown out to the compound for every symptom and condition. The top pelvic physiotherapists come out, the gynaecologists. You want a dietician to try a diet to help with inflammation and bloating? They’re already on a helicopter. You want to try acupuncture? Again, they’re already on a helicopter. A massage therapist? Again, they’re already on a helicopter to the compound before you can even finish that request. There’s a room in the compound that he had modelled for you and these appointments to essentially be the fanciest hospital room you’ve ever been in. Nathan has no issue throwing money and technological innovations at any issues your uterus might give you, it’s a way of showing he cares, he’s arrogant and he can be infuriating but he loves you and will use his brain and bank account to prove it.

Jake Lockley

Whenever you have a negative experience with a doctor he happily offers to go down and take out that practitioner, sometimes he’ll make a scalpel joke even though he prefers a gun as a weapon. You’re not always sure if he’sjoking or not… Maybe it’s better to not know, plausible deniability and all. 

He absolutely pampers you, every time you have a period, whenever there’s a cramp. Jake pampers you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, which is what you are to him. He makes you hot tea, soups, runs baths, puts on your favourite and comfort films. Jake offers to do things like brushing your hair for you and loves it. Jake pampers you! PAMPERS YOU!

Laurent LeClaire

Don’t. Just don’t. Sure, he’d be cute the first time you had your period and he’d happily offer period sex as a method of relief. But after the second period or flareup he’d attempt to gaslight you and say your symptoms or your pain being psychological. Then Jake Lockley would find a way to teach him a lesson.

Santiago Garcia

Santi’s long career has made him a master in observation and strategy, Santiago seemed to have a better understanding of your body than any period tracking app you’d tried to use, and not in a Tom Wamsgams baby-trap kind of way. More of a he was better at recognising the patterns, symptoms and remembering details than you were. Especially when the pain gave you brain fog. He picks up on the slightest details and after the first couple of months of dating you, he had a fine eye for pain. Whenever he spots the start of a flare up or painful period he goes straight into that mode, he checks in with you about pain meds, he gets heating pads ready for you and cuddles up with you on the couch or in bed while you curl yourself around one, runs baths and showers. 

He has a plan in place for everything; when pain or a symptom is at a dreaded emergency department trip, when pain is flaring up. There’s a plan made for each appointment with symptoms that have been flaring up, objectives of what to get out of the appointment. Santiago learns what your boundaries and limits are, he’s big on pacing with you and not pushing yourself to do more than what you can handle or what will push you too far and lead to following pain days. He really encourages this for you, something he doesn’t do so well for himself and his knees. 

Whenever Santi tags along with you to an appointment he’s great at asking follow up questions, especially if a doctor is being a dick. Sometimes it can feel overwhelming when you’re in appointments, especially when a doctor is talking, it’s easy to forget what’s been said as soon as you get home. Santiago always remembers every word that’s been said if you ever forget or want to double check. He’s an extremely practical partner and strong support. 

Basil Stitt

Basil will have a panic attack, he’ll quickly google ‘period symptoms’, he doesn’t remember if people get cravings on their periods too or if that’s just pregnancy, or is it neither? Just something else he’s thinking of? No, he’s overthinking it. 

During said panic attack, Basil will then do an uber eats order with several different types of chocolate and he’ll run to the kitchen to see what teas he has as Google mentioned peppermint tea several times. After checking the kitchen and making a mess in the cupboard and on the countertop during his search, he’ll order another box of it anyway just to be safe. Basil also is the guy who orders three different boxes of pads and tampons because he’s not sure what you prefer and he wants you to have options. Insert ‘What’s your pussy size, babe?’ meme, that’s Basil. 

Anselm Vogelweide

All anxiety evaporates from his body when you just want to cuddle on the couch with him, watch some weird movies and order pizza and drink tea. He smiles and completely lights up when you tell him you like the flavour of the chocolate he ordered. 

Going forward there’s a cupboard under the basin in his bathroom filled with various boxes of pads, tampons, and he eventually gets to the stage where he confidently has your period orders down and preferences of products. He’s quietly but goofily proud of the fact that he now knows your pussy size.

Anselm completely understands chronic pain from his own lived experience. You never have to apologise for a bad pain day, cancelling plans because your uterus is trying to kill you, when you need to spend all day in bed or in the bath to try and relieve pain and bloating. He completely gets that, he makes sure you have the softest and freshest pillows and blankets, bubbles, epsom salts, bath bombs etc. Whatever you could wish for to make you more comfortable. You no longer feel guilty for the things you used to before relating to having a chronic illness and terrible periods. You’re understood, seen but also pampered beyond what’s comprehensible. 

Anselm immediately finds a team of the best professionals, new studies and treatments, both conventional and experimental, are quickly and quietly funded and greenlit. He offers you a world of treatment options you’d never considered or knew existed.  Anselm always has his estate stocked with pain medication, all the drugs, drugs you’ve never heard of, drugs a normal prescription definitely wouldn’t get you. There’s medications and all the different options of treatment and pain management you could imagine available at the estate, hydrotherapy pools, massage chairs, massage therapists, sensory relaxation rooms, saunas, staff are there to cook all your favourite and comfort meals. Are you in pain and sad and needing cuddles with animals? Don’t worry, Anselm has a room being turned into a barn and a third cousin twice removed bringing a petting zoo over for any cuteness needs you might have. They should be there in five minutes. 

Marc Spector

And if there somehow isn’t something there that you want, don’t worry, you just need to ask if he doesn’t read your mind first and then it’ll be moments away because Anselm can afford anything and everything and he always knows a guy.

Marc knew periods weren’t a walk in the park and were uncomfortable but it wasn’t until dating you and being around somebody with endometriosis and chronic physical pain did he realise how bad it could be. 

The first time you had an endo flare up, it had really woken him up to that reality. He couldn’t help but grimace at seeing how you transformed from your usual self to being hurled over in pain. It freaked him out and his mind had panicked over the thought of this being your reality multiple times a year. It never gets easier for him to see you in pain or discomfort but he starts to find it easier to respond and be more present during flare ups. 

He’s extremely observant, especially when it comes to you. He quickly learns how your facial expressions shift when you have a migraine, he closes all the curtains and turns the lights off. When you curl over on yourself in pain he’s there with a heat pad within minutes. When you screw your face up and say you’re nauseous he’s immediately there with a bucket on the side of the bed. During one of your worst flares when you’d been throwing up, he hadn’t even complained once. He’d helped you feel clean afterwards, there were no comments that made you feel bad and he cleaned the bucket out so it wasn’t something you’d have to worry about. Marc found it much easier to show up and do these acts than to be the verbally reassuring type, he shows up and these acts of service and care make you feel supported, loved and cared for.

Cecil Dennis

“Babe, do you wanna get high?” 

“I read about cannabis and chronic pain, there’s honestly so many articles on the internet about it.” 

Gets just as upset as you do when you're in pain, quite possibly cries more than you do whenever a flare up is happening. He'll watch films with you and he buys a CBD ointment and offers to rub it on your abdomen while you’re cuddled up in bed.

I’ll stop there, I’m sorry.

[sapphichotmess]

All I Do Is Dream of You

Ellie Williams x plus size!f!reader (not really specified, but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song All I Do Is Dream of You

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

continuation of this

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), fluff, reader wears makeup, reader is able-bodied, reader is right-handed

PLS COMMENT & RB FOR ME PLS

thanks for reading this for me babe @les4elliewilliams u deserve to be fucked so good <3

It has been several days since you were literally knocked off of your feet by one Ellie Williams. And every day since then has been better than the last. You two have been texting non-stop, giddily giggling into your phones with warm cheeks at all hours of the day. 

All it took was one meeting, and you were utterly captivated by the adorably dog-like auburn-haired woman, her presence—even if only by phone—filling your heart with a warmth you couldn't explain. 

You can’t get the woman out of your head, always seeing her pale green eyes piercing into you when you close yours. And don’t get you started on her adorable smile, her lips quirking up and parting, showcasing a slight bit of white teeth. You groan, staring into the mirror on your desk, right hand holding eyeliner up though doing nothing to put any on. All you can think of is the way her cheeks flushed adorably, highlighting the smattering of freckles on her face. You want to trace them—learn the pattern to a T. Learn everything about her, really. 

Your daydreaming is disrupted by the buzzing of your phone which is sat face-down on your bedspread, music blaring from it’s tiny-but-mighty speakers. You drop the eyeliner you were using to make the wing on your eye, drawing a black line down your cheek in your haste. Socked feet making gentle thudding on the hardwood floor, you reach your bed in record time. With your heart racing, you swiftly pick up your phone and flip it over to see the notification. It's another message from Ellie; the sight of her name sends a wave of excitement through you, your heart dropping from your chest out of your ass and a warm flush tickling your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you open the message, eager to see what she has to say. 

Ellie's message pops up on your screen, and you can't help but grin as you read her words:

heyyy you! just wanted to say hi and see how your day is going. i've been thinking about you bunches today. craving one of those bomb cupcakes you whip up... you know, those red ones with the fucking insane frosting? the one i had the other day?

Not bothering to wait more than a few seconds, you quickly type out a response, unable to hide your own excitement:

hi ellie! literally made my day hearing from you fr ❤️ 

you send one text, instantly starting on another:

oh, the red velvet ones? i won’t be making those in the shop for a bit… BUT i can totally open the bakery on an off day and make a batch for you?

Happy with your words, you go to sit down your phone again, butterflies swooping around aggressively in your stomach, but before you do, it’s vibrating in your hand. 

It was Ellie reacting to your first message with a heart. She must have been waiting for your reply—or you were being a horrible loser and texting back too fast. Shaking your head at that thought, you watch as the texting bubble appears, heart racing as you wait for her reply. 

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of Ellie's response. Was she as eager to continue the conversation as you were? Or perhaps she had something else in mind? With bated breath, you wait for her message to come through, the seconds feeling like an eternity as your mind races with all the possibilities of what she might say. The anticipation only adds to the butterflies swirling in your stomach, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Finally, Ellie's response comes through, and you eagerly read her message:

DUDE, no way! opening the bakery just for us? that's fucking awesome! i'm so down to hang out with you, especially if it means i get to devour those bomb-ass cupcakes. hit me up whenever you're free!

A grin spreads across your face as you read her words, your heart soaring with happiness. It seems Ellie is just as excited about the idea as you are, and the thought of spending time together fills you with warmth. It would be the first time you guys would meet face-to-face since your first encounter. 

Fuck you couldn't wait to bask in the magnificence of her; her being in your space, filling her lungs with the very same air you breathe. 

You are in trouble if these thoughts are an indication of anything. 

Quickly typing out your reply, you suggest a few possible dates and times for your cupcake date, hoping that one of them will work for both of you. Positively beaming, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth, you finally set down your phone and turn on your sock-clad heels to head back toward your vanity. You make it halfway before you remember what day it is.

The bakery is closed. 

You could see Ellie today. 

Then, you’re slipping against the hardwood, trying to get back to the bed as quick as possible. You finally get your footing after sliding around and almost ending up on your ass, practically flying toward your bed and divebombing onto the soft mattress. Your phone bounces with the impact as you scramble to get to your knees and grab it from mid-air. Somehow, you end up on your back with your phone smashed onto your nose. 

Ouch. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

You grab your phone, scrubbing a hand at your sore nose. After the shock of the hit has left, you regain your urgentness, unlocking your phone, bringing up the messages app, and clicking on your and Ellie’s chat. 

Your fingers move at what seems like the speed of light as you type out a new message: 

so, um, funny thing... i was thinking, and why wait for your cupcakes when you could have them today? how about you swing by the bakery this afternoon?

Thinking for a second, you quickly send a second text:

we can even bake them together! how does that sound?

Nausea creeps up on you as you wait, heart racing and dry eyes staring at your messages to Ellie for several minutes without a text bubble. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a bubble appears on the screen, only to disappear just as quickly. This pattern repeats a few times, leaving you on edge.

But then, finally, Ellie's response lights up your screen:

i'm so down for a baking session at the bakery. what time should i be there? 

A wave of relief washes over you as you read Ellie's enthusiastic reply—though you are confused as to why it took her so long to come up with this response. With a wide grin, you quickly type back the details, feeling excitement building in the pit of your stomach. 

Finally having that done, you put your phone back on the bed—hopefully for the last time for a while. Then, you finally sit back down at your vanity, ready to finish your makeup for the day. When you look in the mirror, your smile falters and your mouth hangs open in disbelief. 

There is a long, thick black line running across your cheek. 

“Fuck.” 

***

You’re just setting up everything you need for red velvet cupcakes when you hear the front doorbell ring. Your head snaps up so fast you’re surprised you don’t break your neck. However, any pain is worth seeing Ellie walk into your bakery looking so damn fine. 

The olive-skinned girl is wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit her ass nicely, a grey t-shirt, and a burnt-red flannel that looks well-loved with tearing seams and fading colors. Her shoulder-length auburn hair is pulled into a half-up, half-down look, with some stray hairs framing her face. Your hands itch to push them behind her ears, even standing at the distance you are. 

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you set the pan you had in your hands onto the counter with a clatter, causing Ellie to start. Making your way towards the front of the store where Ellie stands with hands in her pockets, you call out her name.  

"Ellie!" You greet her with a wide grin, unable to contain your excitement at seeing her—even if it was planned just short of an hour ago. 

“Ah, uh… Hey!” the freckled girl stutters out. “I… it’s good to see you?” 

“Was that a question?” you ask, hiding your smile behind your hand. 

“Uh, no?” Ellie says before realizing that she phrased her response as a question, too. “I mean, no. No, it wasn’t a question. I, um, I am excited to see you.” 

You can't help but find Ellie's nervousness adorable as she stumbles over her words. Suppressing a giggle, you offer her a reassuring smile, eyes crinkling on the edges. "Well, I'm excited to see you too," you reply warmly, noting the faint blush creeping up on her cheeks.

As Ellie's gaze drifts somewhere behind you and she nervously swipes her hand over her nose, you realize just how nervous she must be feeling. Wanting to ease her discomfort, you gently reach out and place a hand on her arm—holy shit, you didn’t realize she was strong, but you can feel her muscles under her flannel. "Hey, it's okay. No need to be nervous," you say softly, trying to ignore your thoughts about what she could do with that strength. "We're just here to have fun and bake some delicious cupcakes together."

Ellie’s green eyes finally meet yours again, though a crease forms between her eyebrows as she does. “I just, ah… you’re, like, stupidly pretty. And, you know, it’s really distracting.” Ellie's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she confesses, her final words coming out in a rush.

Your heart skips a beat at Ellie's unexpected compliment, and a warm flush of pleasure spreads through you. "Wow, thank you," you reply. "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise at your compliment, her right hand coming back up to shuffle across her nose. “Ah, thank you?” 

Giggling at her utter lack of words or charm, you grab her hand as it falls from in front of her face. “C’mon! We have so much to do. I’m so excited to teach you how to bake!” you say in a high-pitched voice, obviously excited. 

Pulling her by the—fucking giant—hand to the back of the bakery where you do all the… well, baking, you continue, “I’m almost done setting up everything for us. There are a few ingredients I have to pull out since I wasn’t gonna be using them, but it shouldn’t be too long until we can start.” 

“I—oh,” Ellie lets out a strangled breath as she is suddenly dragged by you into the back room. “That’s okay. I’m just, uh, really excited for the cupcakes.” 

As you lead Ellie towards the back of the bakery, you can't help but chuckle at her adorable awkwardness. "Don't worry, I promise it'll be fun," you reassure her, looking behind you with a warm smile. "And don't worry about being nervous. Baking is all about having a good time and enjoying the process."

Ellie nods once, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be great," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Reaching the back room, you release Ellie's hand and gesture towards the kitchen area. "Here we are," you say, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the chairs you pulled back here from the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable while I grab the rest of the ingredients."

As you rummage through the cabinets and pull out the remaining ingredients needed for the cupcakes, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of teaching Ellie how to bake. Getting to spend any time with the adorably awkward, puppy-like freckle-faced girl was a blessing, but getting to do your favorite thing with her? It’s a dream come true. 

Returning to the counter with an armful of ingredients, you grin at Ellie. "Alright, let's get started," you say eagerly. “First up, we have to… turn on the oven,” you stumble in the middle of your sentence as you get lost looking at Ellie’s tanned face, trying to memorize the placement of her paint-splattered freckles so that you could imagine her going do—that isn’t what today is about.

Ellie nods once, standing to her feet. “Sounds easy enough.” 

As Ellie stands up, hands on her knees to help her get up, you can't help but admire the way her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as she looks at you. Holy shit, she’s looking at you. "Great!" you exclaim, shaking off your momentary distraction—for the hundredth time—and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

Together, you and the freckle-faced girl move towards the oven, your hands brushing against each other as you reach for the knob. Heat crawling up your neck and over the apples of your cheeks, you quickly move your hand and turn the knob to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, the soft hum of the oven heating up filling the air.

Still hot in the face, you turn toward Ellie, "Okay, next step, cupcake pans," you say, gesturing toward the neatly lined trays on the counter. With Ellie by your side, arms brushing, you grab the pans and place them on the counter, ready to put the liners in. 

As you work, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring her focused expression as she carefully places each cupcake liner in its designated spot like it’s some kind of science experiment that could go wrong. Her tongue slightly sticking out of her plump lips in concentration is definitely cuter than it should be. 

What you weren’t ready for was to have the auburn-haired girl turn her head and look at you as you distractedly stared at her, unable to shake the image of her soft, freckled cheeks, long, slender fingers, and strong arms from your mind. 

Caught off guard by Ellie's piercing green gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat as you quickly avert your eyes. Clearing your throat, you focus on the task at hand, determined to maintain composure.

"Um, so, uh, yeah," you stammer, trying to regain your train of thought. "Looks like we're all set with the cupcake pans." You can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as you turn back to the task, hoping to distract yourself from the intensity of Ellie's gaze.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the extra cupcake liners, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully place them back in a stack, ready for you to put away later. 

When you're done—and your hands aren’t shaking anymore—you finally drag your gaze back to Ellie. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she is still looking at you. Her green gaze—what you can only describe as a moss-covered forest bathed in warm, sparkling sunlight—feels like taking a knife to the heart, her head tilt—so dog-like—a sucker punch to the gut. You want her eyes on you forever—to bask in the warmth of her eyes and bathe in the depths of her soul—you realize as your heart tries to beat out of your chest. 

Somehow, you find it within yourself to tear your eyes away from Ellie’s; it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, and you run a bakery by yourself. Clearing your throat and staring at the prepped pans, you say, “Ah, um, we can start making the batter now, I guess.” 

Ellie doesn’t hold in her laugh at your obvious discomfort, her melodic laughter filling the room with a warmth that soothes your frayed nerves. Despite the embarrassment of being caught in a moment of vulnerability, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the sound of her laughter.

"Yeah, let's get started on that batter," Ellie says, her voice laced with amusement as she reaches for the ingredients on the counter. “What do we start with, pretty girl?”

“I–uh, holy shit…”

The freckled girl laughs even harder at your stunned expression, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” she says, lips quirked up as she nudges your chin with her hand. 

Her hand on you gets your mind racing in all different directions before you remember where you are. Snapping your gaping mouth shut, teeth clacking together, you gather yourself. “Uh yeah… we have to, ah… start with the dry ingredients.” 

Ellie hums a “Mhmm” out, mouth still curved in a cocky smile as she tilts her head again—her stupidly pretty auburn hair catching the midday light filtering in from the window—leaning her hip against the counter. 

“We have to shift the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and baking soda together into… this large bowl.” you point at every ingredient when you name them, picking up the stainless steel bowl when you find it.

“Sounds easy enough.” 

This time, it’s you who hums an answer as you put the bowl down and grab the ingredients to start measuring. “If I measure, would you shift, Ellie?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” she gives you a little salute. 

So, as you hand over every measured dry ingredient, Ellie shifts it into the bowl. Her tongue makes another appearance as she focuses on getting every ingredient into the bowl with no spillage, causing you to overfill the ¼ teaspoon of baking soda. You quickly get the right amount into the teaspoon and clean up your mess, wiping your hands on your apron. 

“Okay, now that’s done, we have to add the salt and whisk everything together.” 

Ellie reaches for the salt, adding it to the bowl as you grab the whisk. She slides the bowl over to you, watching intently as you whisk. It’s one of the most mundane, boring parts of the baking process, yet she looks so entranced by the whisk circling the bowl, mixing the ingredients together. 

Once everything is thoroughly mixed, you tap the whisk on the bowl and set it aside, putting your hands on your hips and turning towards the girl leaning casually on your counter. “Can I trust you with a knife?” 

“Wh–I–Yes!” She splutters, eyebrows raised. 

Giggling quietly to yourself, hand over your mouth, you shake your head. Dropping your hand, you say, “Sorry, I just had to ask. I need you to cut the butter if you could, please.”

“How could I say no to those puppy dog eyes, hmm?” 

This time, it’s you who splutters, caught off guard. Instead of deigning the tease with a response, you turn your back to Ellie, hiding your burning face and grabbing the stand mixer you equipped with a paddle attachment. When that’s set up, and you can feel the burning embarrassment leave your face, you turn to Ellie, who is wielding a knife, cutting the room-temperature butter into uneven pieces. 

“Babe, it’s gotta be more uniform than that.”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowed, pupils blown wide, and knife almost cutting into her fingers. “Wh–what did you just call me?”

Caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to come up with a plausible explanation. The air feels thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity as you search for the right words to say. You hadn’t even realized you said it; it came so naturally, calling the auburn-haired girl babe. “I… nothing, nothing at all,” you spit out quickly, eyes going wide. 

“Nah-uh, you called me ‘babe.’” A loud clattering sound makes you startle, your eyes moving from Ellie’s piercing greens to the knife that just hit the countertop. 

"I… I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It just… slipped out."

Ellie's gaze remains fixed on you, you can feel it like a weight on your skin, pinning you in place as you struggle to regain your composure.

“Look at me,” she demands. You follow her directions immediately, your gaze taking in her expression. She looked almost dazed with a quizzical brow as she scratched her head.

"I'm sorry," you continue, your words tumbling out in a rush. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

For a moment, the silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing. And then, without warning, Ellie's features soften, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. 

As Ellie's soft smile spreads across her face, her pearly whites making an appearance, a sense of relief washes over you like a warm embrace. Your shoulders drop from where they had taken a place beside your ears, and tension leaks out of you like butter in a baking croissant. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted away like a heavy fog dispersing in the morning sun.

"Thanks," you murmur, gratitude lacing your words as you meet Ellie's gaze once more. Her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart flutter, a silent reassurance that everything is okay between you.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ellie leans closer, her voice a soft whisper falling from her plump lips that sends shivers down your spine. "You know," she says, her tone teasing, "I don't mind being called babe."

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Ellie's presence. "Good to know," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll try to remember that for next time."

As the last of the tension melts away like butter as it’s baked into the delicious treats you make, you and Ellie dive into the joyful task of baking red velvet cupcakes together. With each step of the recipe, you find yourselves falling into a comfortable rhythm, working seamlessly together as if you've been doing this for years.

The scent of cocoa and vanilla fills the air as you and Ellie chat and laugh, exchanging stories and getting to know each other on a deeper level. From childhood memories to dreams for the future, you two open your hearts and minds to each other. 

As the cupcakes bake in the oven, you steal glances at Ellie, admiring the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions and the infectious laughter that bubbles up from within her. 

And when the cupcakes are finally cooled and ready, their red tops gleaming with perfection, you and Ellie decorate the cupcakes with swirls of cream cheese frosting and a sprinkle of red velvet crumbs together, playfully bumping shoulders and laughing at Ellie’s attempts at decorating. 

As you sit down to enjoy the fruits of your labor, savoring each bite of the moist, decadent cupcakes, you realize that this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and perhaps something more. 

[zepskies]

Show Me - Part 2

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: I know I said I'd release this on Wednesday, but I thought I'd get this out a bit early. Here’s Part 2! **Read Part 1 here.

Word Count: 5,300

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, body appreciation.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “A Thorough Reminder”

It’s a few hours’ drive back to Lebanon.

Dean stops at one of your favorite restaurant chains for takeout, though he notices how you only eat about half of what you ordered. Even he managed to eat all of his bacon cheeseburger, and that was after an entire afternoon of snacking and day drinking.

“Thought you were hungry,” he says.

You shrug as you package up the rest of your dinner and lean back in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

You’re normally a stress eater, by trade. But today, a familiar anxiety has crept in, taking root in your chest, and creating a mental block between your throat, your brain, and your stomach.

Despite what some people might like to believe, Dean does notice the small things, when it matters.

He glances at you, catches the way you rub at your tired face and release a small sigh.

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask.

You nod absently. “I’m fine, Dean.”

His lips press together. That doesn’t sound like fine. It sounds a lot like Winchester fine.

“I didn’t know he was a hunter,” he remarks.

You both know who he’s referring to. You look over at him, resigned, and a little annoyed.

Dean’s palms lift halfway off the steering wheel as he shrugs.

“You made it seem like he was a normal Joe,” he says. “Some dude you met in Miami.”

“We did meet in Miami,” you confirm. Part of you falters with another sigh. You don’t want to talk about this, but you suppose you might as well get it over with. Dean deserves an explanation.

“Okay, here it is,” you begin. “Carter came into town on a job. I caught wind of it not long after he did, and when we eventually ran into each other, we agreed to work the case…”

And you and Carter were good together, at least on the hunt. There had been a certain rugged charm and confidence to him that had drawn you in (apparently, you had a type). When he’d asked to stay with you for a few days, you hadn’t been able to say no.

“I thought it was because…he wanted to see more of me,” you explain. Your expression turns dry. “Maybe that was part of it, but mainly, he was broke. He literally couldn’t leave. Not until he scored some cash.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about how that guy charmed you, luring you in with what he thought you might want to hear. Though he processes all this with a nod. You’ve filled in most of the gaps, and he thinks he knows where this part of the story leads to: the one thing you did tell him about your ex.

“So you helped him get a job,” Dean supplies. His wry gaze meets yours. “At the local strip joint.”

“As a bouncer,” you specify. “He wasn’t qualified for much else. As it was, he needed me to talk to the manager for him. It was a Miami club run by Latinos. They weren’t going to hire a random white guy off the street who didn’t even speak Spanish.”

“Not until you finessed them,” Dean smirks.

You flash him a small smile. “I’m good with people.” 

You hadn’t realized it at the time, under the haze of a hunters’ romance, but everything with Carter had been at his convenience, and whatever he needed from you. A hunting partner. A bit of money (a loan, he’d claimed). Some good food and a place to stay, free of charge. Not to mention a warm bed.

The giver in you had been all too ready to oblige.

“And when he got enough money to hit the road, he asked me to go with him,” you continue. “My grandma was still alive at the time. I had never left the city for more than a few days before, in case she needed me, but she told me to go. To live my life…so I did.”

You turn to Dean then. You suck in a breath as your eyes begin to sting.

“It’s my biggest regret,” you say. “She was gone by the end of the year.”

Dean sobers. His eyes soften, and he reaches across your thigh for your hand. You lace your fingers with his.

“I told you, she basically raised me,” you say. You brush away a tear from your cheek, sniffling. “…I should’ve been there.”

Dean raises your hand to his lips. “That’s not on you.”

You shake your head instead of answering. You’d been on a hunt with Carter when you got the call from your grandma’s neighbor. For almost a year, you’d lost what you hadn’t realized was precious time.

Meanwhile, you’d become what you’d thought was a partner, both on the Job and in life. Turns out, you’d been more like a sidekick, allowing Carter to tell you where, when, and how. It took your grandmother’s death to snap you out of the trance. 

So you went home, picked up the pieces of your life…and you started again, somehow.

“A few months later,” you say, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I met you in a dirty bar in Las Cruces.”

He shoots you a more amused look.

“You mean you tried to hustle me,” he says.

Your lips curve into a grin. “Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into.”

Dean chuckles at that, tossing his head back against his headrest.

“Well, not exactly,” he says. Your hand is still tucked in his, and his thumb draws back and forth across your fingers.

He hadn’t known you were a hunter at first. He’d noticed your curves in those tight jeans and fitted top, your red lips, the shade of your hair, the perceptive gleam in your eyes—he’d liked it all.

Still, after he watched you hustle a guy out of all his money that night, just to give him $30 back so he could afford to get home…he’d known then that there was something special about you.

Then you’d slid into the seat next to him at the bar. Your English had been as smooth as your Spanish, and he’d been all too willing to get hooked into a game of pool with you.

He hadn’t known then that he was staring into the face of his future. 

“I knew I wanted you in my bed that night,” Dean says. His easy smile is flirtatious, but his eyes are honest, finding yours. “I just didn’t count on you being even more badass than I took you for.”

Your cheeks warm as you fight a deeper smile, shaking your head.

You lean over as far as you can with your seatbelt on and press a kiss to his cheek. You linger there, with your hand reaching out to caress his face. You don’t want his eyes to leave the road, but you want him to know what he means to you right now. 

After you pull away, he gives you one of those grins, and his eyes are dancing. It makes him both a giant dork, and incredibly charming all at once.

Not for the first time, you’re grateful to know this man—let alone be with him.

And yet, Dean knows.

Something���s not quite right with you.

He feels it in his gut when you two get back to the bunker that night. You shower quickly and alone, and you took a change of clothes into the bathroom with you, like he’s never seen you naked before.

By the time Dean finishes his own shower and gets dressed, you’re getting ready for bed as you putter about the room. He eyes your long pants and sweatshirt.

“You cold?” he asks, while digging in his dresser for a clean pair of sweatpants.

You spare him a glance, but you don’t fully turn to him while you go through your skincare routine with your hair clipped up.

“No, I’m good,” you reply.

“So why the long johns,” he quips, gesturing at your pants. He can’t remember the last time you wore anything but a shirt and underwear to bed (or less). He catches the look on your face in the dresser mirror: a slight pause, a press of your lips, but your face is otherwise guarded.

“I guess I am a little cold,” you say. You head to the bathroom again to finish the rest of your nightly routine, but you don’t see the way Dean’s frown follows you.

He later waits for you in bed. He pauses in his iPad scrolling when you slip in beside him under the covers. You've let your hair back down, nice and wild the way he likes it.

You heave a sigh. “Good night.”

“Hold up,” Dean says. With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you from facing away from him. He leans in and caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a small smile.

And he gives you a slow, purposeful kiss. He pulls away, just enough to see your eyes, beautiful and warm. He leans in again and angles into a new kiss, one that deepens with a spark of heat. He props himself up with a forearm above your head, digging into your pillows.

His thigh slots between your legs. For a reason you don’t want to name, you fight the instinct to press your center against him. His hand on your cheek slides down your neck, down the front of your close-necked shirt, between your breasts. He finds purchase on your hip and squeezes soft, tender flesh.

That’s when you stop him with a gentle push on his chest.

You slowly break from his kiss and lick your lips. Your eyes are apologetic.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m tired,” you say.

Dean nods and lets out a sigh through his nose. He shifts more fully onto his side, lifting his weight off of you, and brushes your hair back from your face.

“You sure you don’t have anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re letting that asshole get back into your head,” Dean replies.

His gaze feels heavy on you, and you pause, staring back at him in soft shock.

“I’m not—”

“Look, I know you. And whatever this is, it’s more than what we talked about in the car,” he says, with a firm, yet gentle gaze. “If there’s something else you need to get out, you can tell me.”

Dean has worked hard to help you through the mental roadblocks you’ve had in the past—about you being comfortable with yourself, and with him. He’s not going to let some dipshit like Carter undo all of that, unraveling you with a single thread.

But your mouth works as you start to get annoyed, and even a bit angry at his accusation.

“Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I’ve got a problem, okay Dean? I just want to sleep,” you say tersely.

Dean’s jaw clenches at your tone. His head quirks, and he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll sleep.”

He turns around and shut off his beside lamp, casting the room in darkness. You huff and turn onto your side, away from him.

You cover yourself with the blankets up to your shoulders, but the longer you lay there in silence, the more that guilt prickles in your chest, along with the tightness of anxiety that welled up when he started to touch you.

Fuck, what’s wrong with me? you think, trying to work through the emotion clogging in your throat. You haven’t felt like this in years…

Slowly you turn back towards Dean. By now your eyes have adjusted enough to see the outline of his broad back in his gray shirt. You steel yourself with another shaky breath, and you scoot forward across the bed. Your curled hands rest against the middle of his back, where you also press your forehead. You feel his body tense up a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in the dark.

After a beat, you hear him sigh. Dean reaches out to turn the lamp back on, filling the room once again with soft light. He turns and finds you haven’t moved, though you stare up at him with shining eyes.

His own soften. He takes one of your hands and presses the back of it to his lips.

“Talk to me,” he says, and he waits for you to gain your courage.

After another couple of steadying breaths, you begin.

“There’s too many things I didn’t realize at the time,” you say. “He didn’t force me to go with him, to stay with him. Even when I felt like shit inside, I thought he was right about me. About how I looked, and…and what I was good for, I guess. I thought he needed me, and that made everything else okay.”

You sniffle, and a tear rolls down your cheek. Dean’s hold on you tightens a fraction. He’s listening intently, but in his silence, there’s anger. He wishes he really had broken that guy’s hand. Or at least his goddamn mouth.

“I mean, what the hell was I thinking?” you ask, laughing a bit through your tears. “I always thought I was stronger than that, you know? I just realize now that…I must not have liked myself very much.”

Dean lets go of your hand, just to dry your face. He’s no stranger to looking in the mirror and not liking the man staring back at him, but he doesn’t think that’s your problem. 

He caresses your cheek, shakes his head, and he offers a rueful smile.

“Nah. You just have a habit of fallin’ for poor sons of bitches who don’t deserve you,” he says.

You read between his self-deprecating lines there, raising your brows at him.

“Hey. That might be true, but you better not be lumping my boyfriend in with the rest of them,” you say firmly. Your arms slip around his waist, and you press yourself in close.

Dean chuckles and welcomes you into his arms as well. His hand tangles in your hair, and his lips find your neck with a deep inhale.

He knows what kinds of thoughts are likely plaguing your mind, just like he knows that whatever he says will only go so far. He presses a kiss to your neck that grazes with teeth. You let out a little hum of surprise. He smiles and begins to move down, letting his lips brush across your skin.

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower and brushes the side of your breast. “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.  

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

His grin deepens, teeth shining. “Yes, ma’am.”

This man is nothing if not endearing, and it earns a giggle from you as he moves down your body. First, you help him with getting your sweatshirt up and over your head; the collar is close to your neck and he doesn’t want to choke you (yet).

His gaze focuses on the rise and fall of your chest, the familiar sight of your full breasts, waiting for him to touch and tease.

Before he can start to follow through with his mental plans, you sit up with him and your hands dive under his shirt, both to start inching it up, and to feel him. His stomach clenches under the soft graze of your nails, but he gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“What’d I just tell you?” he chides.

You give him an incredulous smile. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Dean reaches up to pull his shirt off from behind his neck. It’s a smooth move, and your eyes roam over his chest, and lower still.

He smirks. “Just be a good girl and wait your turn.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. You let him finish undressing you by peeling off the sweatpants. You were getting hot in those anyway.

He leaves your panties on for now, but he travels back up to slot himself between your open legs. With a forearm braced above you, he starts again from the top.

He caresses your cheek, and begins with a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You sigh at the attention, tilting your head to make room for him. The sound of your voice is just one thing that he loves (and you know it), but Dean also loves the smoothness of your tan skin. He doesn’t mind a few faded stretch marks here and there, the lower he gets. He’s got a few scars and worry lines himself.

What matters to him is the sounds he’s able to pull from you as he nips and licks down between your breasts. He massages and teases one with his hand, while his tongue lavishes attention on the other. He earns a breathy sigh, a moan when his lips find the hardening buds, your knees starting to bend and squeeze his waist. He already feels the dampness of your clothed core brushing his thigh.

“Already squeezing on me, huh? I’ve barely touched you,” Dean teases. He nips at a plush spot on your left side, below your breast—something you might’ve been insecure about, if his thumb wasn’t also still distracting you by swirling over a nipple. His hands are sinfully good (something you love).

You utter a small moan and grasp his wrist just for something to hold onto as his mouth continues worshipping every curve of your body. Even the parts you’d usually rather him steer away from.

Dean senses your tension, however, when his teeth graze your soft stomach. He glances up at you, finding a bit of insecurity in your eyes.  

“Here’s the thing,” he says, and his lips move against your skin. “You act like I haven’t already seen and conquered every square inch of you. Like I haven’t torn you apart, time after time.”

He sits back up, and his hands squeeze your hips and thighs and ass. He moves up to look down on you with almost predatory focus. Like he’s trying to determine what part of you he wants to devour next.

It’s a look you’ve seen before, though it still makes your face warm and your pussy clench on nothing. Your mouth parts with an unsteady laugh. 

“You’ve got a point,” you nod. Dean shoots you a smirk, but he still takes your hand from where it’s been tangled in the sheets. He presses a kiss into your palm.

“You don’t gotta hide from anybody,” he says. “For damn sure, you ain’t hiding from me. You're too damn beautiful for that.”

You smile up at him, softer now as you thread your fingers with his.

He soon lets you go though. Because his hand moves down and down, to brush his fingers along your clothed core. You breathe deeper in anticipation, but his grin tells you that he’s not going to make this quick.

“Dean,” you implore him.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers. The pads of his fingers stroke and press into you. You lean into his touch, wanting and craving more. But he doesn’t give it to you just get.

He keeps teasing you, brushing your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. It’s sort of what you want, and yet nowhere near enough. You can taste the edge of pleasure, just starting to make you squirm against his hand.

“You’re killing me here,” you whine.

“I’m ‘a need you to be patient,” he says. 

You laugh, both incredulous and frustrated. His grin is damn near insufferable now.

Dean’s fingers move your panties aside, but they do no more than brush against the wet seam of your pussy. You hum and try to press into his hand. He doesn’t heed your unspoken demand.

He thinks you’re sexy as hell like this, writhing and waiting for his touch. He just wants to savor that for a bit longer—that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. He’s the only one who gets to tease you, to be with you, to love you. 

You’re getting impatient though. With a ragged sigh, you sit up and hook a hand behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss. He chuckles against your lips when he feels your hand sliding from his chest to the generous bulge in his sweatpants. You stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand.

“I get it, baby. I do,” you pant, “but I need you.”

He falters for a moment, grunting when your hand slips into the front of his pants and boxer briefs and takes his cock firmly in hand. Your touch is soft and warm and you know how to elicit a shiver running down his spine.

Dean has a plan though, and he forces himself to focus through gritted teeth. He takes your wrist, carefully guides it out of his pants, and pins it beside your head, using his strength against you. It’s as frustrating as it is hot, making your skin flush as you stare up at him. 

“We’re not there yet,” he tells you. Amusement gleams in his eyes. “But I like the enthusiasm.”

Without warning, he pulls away from you. He sits up on his knees and grabs the nearest pillow. He grasps your thighs and raises you up enough to slide the pillow underneath your ass, which he bares after snatching off your panties. You yelp and the suddenness of your underwear sliding off your legs. He tosses them elsewhere.

“What, now you’re speeding things up?” you remark.

Dean raises his brows at you. “What gave you that idea?”

He shifts down the bed and sinks down between your thighs. You lean up just on your elbows so you can try to figure out what he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess). For a delicious moment, you feel his warm breath against your pussy. You clench in anticipation…

Until he veers further down the inside of your thigh. His hand moves smoothly underneath one of your thick thighs and hooks it over his shoulder. He starts with wet kisses from the inside of your knee, steadily moving up your thigh. Your eyes close as your breathing shallows.

You force yourself to take deeper breaths as the gentle feeling of his lips, and a hint of teeth, continues to make your body tingle with pleasure. You feel warmth and wetness pooling between your legs. Your core is already throbbing with need.

Just as Dean draws near to the apex of your thighs…he changes course, starting the same path of kisses up your other leg. You blow out a shaky sigh and have to clench your hands into the sheets. His name falls from your lips, both a reverent sigh and a plea.

You know what he’s doing. He’s worshipping your body in the sweetest of ways. You knew he was going to take his time with you, working you up, but this is both heaven and hell.

“Would you relax?” he says, chuckling into your skin.

You release a breathy giggle. “Yeah, right. I love and hate you right now.”

Dean’s shoulders shake with near silent laughter. His free hand soothes up and down the thigh he holds propped up on his shoulder.

“As long as it’s more of the first one, we’re good,” he teases.   

You groan, but eventually you relax against the bed. You realize now that you’re more comfortable, more focused more on the pleasurable sensations he’s giving you than on how exposed you are right now. You smile begrudgingly, as you realize that’s probably what Dean wanted all along. 

Just when your body is starting to settle into this, you gasp when you feel his tongue finally lick a warm stripe up the seam of your pussy.

Your head raises, and you see your man’s mischievous green eyes and the edge of his smile between your legs. Your mouth opens to say something petulant, but you cry out when his fingers slip past your wet folds and find your clit.

He knows where you’re most sensitive, what’s going to have you even more slippery and pulsing with need. His tongue replaces his hand, licking and sucking at your clit, while his fingers slip into your tight entrance and fuck into you slowly.

“God, Dean,” you breathe. Your nails dig back into the mattress.

You feel his voice reverberate inside you when he says, “Relax…”

He's already hooked your thighs over his shoulders. The pillow under your raised hips just gives him even more leverage to work you over. His mouth is noisy and makes you blush down to your neck, but you can’t help fisting a hand into his hair and clenching tight as he brings you right to the edge…

And he tumbles you over. His fingers brush deliberately and firmly against that sensitive spot deep inside you, until your inner walls quiver and your legs shake around his head.

Then you’re coming all over his hand. Your whimpers turn into a moan of release as warmth travels from your center, throughout the rest of your body. His tongue doesn’t stop, and your skin tingles, causing a shiver to run up your spine and arch your back as you moan. 

He doesn’t pull away until your clit becomes oversensitive, and you start to squirm away from his hold. When he finally gives you reprieve, your body sags on the bed and your head rolls to the side as you try to catch your breath.

Dean’s panting hard too by the time he’s done. He has to wipe his mouth, nose, and hand, but he still strokes your thighs after he guides your legs off his shoulders and back to the bed.

Since you’re incapable of speech at the moment, you tug more gently on his hair to get his attention. He greets you with a grin as he takes in how wrecked you are.

You smile back and beckon him with a curling finger. “Come ‘ere.”

Dean obliges you, moving up your body to prop himself up on a forearm, next to your head. You grab his chin and bring him down to you for a searing kiss. You shudder a little, as you can taste yourself on his tongue. The press of his fingers along the small of your back brings more tingles across your skin.

You feel him hard and heavy against your thigh. You let your hands run down his back as well. Down the slope of his spine, and under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I need you,” you whisper, in the small space between your faces.

“Yeah?” he pants, though his tone is teasing. “Where?”

“Inside me,” you reply. Your thighs squeeze his hips, pressing his length against your center and earning a groan out of him. “Fuck me ‘til it hurts.”

Dean’s grip on your hip tightens. He drops a biting kiss to your throat and nods. He quickly gets the rest of his clothes off, then he directs you to move onto your side. You’re a bit confused at first, but you oblige him. He kneels between your thighs, straddling the bottom one, then hooking your top leg over his.

He pushes his cock into you slowly, making you both breathe harder as he stretches you and finds his way home.

This angle is different, but it’s good. You feel him bottom out deep and snug inside. Already your inner walls respond to the feeling of him, and you tighten on reflex.

Dean makes a sound of pleasure and presses his forehead against your shoulder for a moment. 

“What’s this, like doggy style?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he says, giving you a grin. “This way, I can still see your pretty face.”

You can’t help a giddy burst of laughter, even though your face warms. Yes, he still manages to make you blush when he talks like that.

Dean smirks in amusement. Once again, he swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a kiss to your lips. You hold him there and lick into his mouth. When he starts to move, rocking out, then back inside of you with ease, you shudder at the feeling of him. Your thigh curls tighter around his hip, and he squeezes your soft flesh there.

“I happen to like a little give,” he says, with a lusty gleam in his eyes. “You know why?”

You’re already panting for breath. His slow strokes make you feel every inch of him, but you lick your lips and meet his hot gaze. You start to smile as you humor him.

“Why?” you ask.

“Call it a ‘soft landing,’” he grins. “Makes it feel that much better when I fuck you good and deep.”

Your mouth falls open, this time more in shock as you blush further and shiver in arousal—not only at his words, but the sound of his voice, and his sincerity. You unintentionally clench on his cock, and he groans. He gives your ass a heavy smack. You jolt with a gasp.

“Keep that up,” his voice deepens, rough with pleasure. “’Bout to fuckin’ wreck you.”

All you can do is nod and hold on tight for the damn ride.

He builds up the pace, until he needs a hand on the headboard for balance. The old mattress creaks to the tempo of his pounding strokes, and he’s hitting your G-spot with every single one of them. Your toes curl and you grab onto his thigh to help keep both of you steady.

You feel that coil starting to tighten, but you’re not quite there. You reach down between your bodies and massage your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close on a gasp.

And the coil eventually snaps. Your inner walls spasm and flutter around him, making his hips stutter.   

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he grits out. He chases his own release as well as yours. “So fucking sexy like this, coming apart for me.”

He's spurred on by the way your voice echoes in his ears. A few more hard thrusts, and he’s spilling into you. He fills you up with his warmth and makes a shiver run through your body.

You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you’re probably giving him bruises, but it’s not unlike the fingerprints you often find on your ass and hips (and probably will find tomorrow).

You finally twist onto your back and relax. Dean catches himself against the bed before he crushes you with his weight. You welcome him anyway, with your hand soothing up and down his back.

“You okay?” he asks. Somehow, his gruff voice is still soothing to you. 

You smile, giving a teasing squeeze on his arm. “Much better.”

He chuckles at that. His skin is dewy and sticks to yours, but you don’t mind. In turn, he brushes your now frizzy hair away from your face and neck, so it fans out on the pillow instead.

After he untangles from you and rolls onto the bed at your side, he lays there on his back and tries to regain his breath. You turn toward him and press a kiss into his shoulder.

“Thank you…for reminding me,” you say.

For making me feel beautiful, wanted, loved…

You try to blink past the sting of tears, but you know your eyes are shining.

“I love you,” you remind him.

Dean’s face warms and softens. He reaches over and takes your hand. Again, he presses it to his lips. 

I love you too, that gesture says. Then he smiles. 

“Any time you need a little show and tell, I’m here.”

AN: 😮‍💨 Well then! lol I hope you liked this! For me it was equal parts fun and cathartic, being a plus-size girl myself. 💗💗

I was definitely thinking of that scene in 9.13:

Mala: "What can I say? Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."

Dean *has an epiphany*: "Oh. Yeah, I get that. A little extra cushion for the, uh..." *fist pounding motion* (lmfao)

🎙️ Again, if you want to listen to the whole story narrated in podfic form, check it out here!

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "Get Stuffed":

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

▶️ Next Story: Get Stuffed

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[ycmalholidayexchange]

❄️🎁❄️You Could Make a Life Holiday Fanwork Exchange 2024❄️🎁❄️

Hello!

Hockey is almost back which means it’s time for another You Could Make a Life Holiday Fanwork Exchange!

Mixing it up a bit this year and the event will be organized by your humble Luigrein. We hope to see you all participate!

The format will be the same as years prior:

❄️What is this?

Just a pretty normal and chill fandom exchange to celebrate the holidays. In short, you create something for another fan and get something in return!

Anyone in the You Could Make a Life fandom can participate. You can check the wrap-up posts for 2019, 2020, and 2022, or check this blog's latest posts in 2023 if you want to have an idea of what people have previously created.

❄️What can I make/get?

The idea is to:

write fic of at least 1000 words; or

make 1 piece of fanart; or

make 1 playlist of at least 11 songs with a cover; or

make 1 gifset; or

create a short video edit (minimum 30 seconds); or

one complete and edited podfic of a text that is originally at least 1000 words;

one complete and edited podfic of at least 10 minutes.

You can specify whether you prefer fic and/or art when you sign up!

❄️What am I allowed to create/request?

Any pairing, theme and rating are allowed. However, since this universe is huge, please be flexible and include as many things you like as possible in the request and the offer. If you are only willing to receive a Trigger/Crane Matchmaker AU, while we appreciate your dedication to goalies, we may not be able to find you a suitable match! We may contact you if, for any reason, it’s impossible for us to find a match for you and we need you to think of more options.

❄️I don't understand podfic, tell me more.

It means somebody will record an audio version of a fic. If you are interested in receiving a podfic, you will be able to add links to works you'd like to have in that format (please make sure the author allows for this type of transformative work), or you could request any of your own fics.

❄️Timeline

Sign-ups are open now and end on October 10th 3pm EST.

After that, we will start matching people and you will be notified as soon as possible of the person you have been assigned.

By November 30th, we will be emailing you to confirm that you are still participating. If for some reason you cannot participate any more, please notify us as soon as possible, so that we can make sure we find a pinch-hitter.

The works will be posted between December 15th and 31st, in whatever platform best suits your work. Please make sure you inform us (tagging this blog, for instance, or via ask box/email) and the recipient. Everything will be shared in this blog.

❄️Ok this sounds cool, how do I sign up?

Just fill in this form! Please read the sections carefully since we have changed some wording/formatting things. And don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions or comments :)

Thanks!

-Luigrein

[islandofsages]

darling heart.

summary: in which you are someone who participates in/identifies with jirai kei culture.

characters: heartslabyul boys x gn reader

tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of self-destructive tendencies

author's notes: hiiii this is very self-indulgent bc i am a jirai kei babe,, im specifically a jirai danshi <3 i might do for other dorms too, depending on my motivation lol you can find out more by searching up jirai kei tho dont just read the jfashion wiki for it, it's more than just a fashion style. also beware of potentially triggering stuff since it deals with mental health and all

Riddle Rosehearts

He’s intrigued by this subculture that you participate in and he’d ask you more about it, if you don't mind telling him - he’ll do his own research too anyway

When he finds out it's basically a subculture consisting of people with emotion dysregulation issues and is generally controversial, he checks up on you and asks you if you're okay or not

You laugh then – you’ve had your ups and downs but really, so has everyone. You hope reading about it hasn't scared him off

He’d feel like calling you a “landmine type” is too insensitive but you assure him that there's nothing to worry about and that people who participate in the subculture has reclaimed such stereotypes and fully embrace it

He’d really enjoy seeing you decked out in jirai kei fashion; he may want to try it himself but he’d insist that it's not in his place to participate, only support from the sidelines

You do get him to try out clothes that are similar to or inspired by the culture though – he seems to be comfortable in the style and you're happy that something that you enjoy can also bring the same joy to him

You’ll also recommend some songs to him, especially ones that you think would help him in studying despite the sometimes concerning lyrical content

If someone tries to bully you for identifying with the subculture, he’d step in immediately and defend your honor

“What right do you have in deciding what (Y/N) identifies with? That's what I thought. I’m always in the right.”

Through your downs and ups, Riddle will always be there for you.

Ace Trappola

He has heard of it before but he thought it was only a type of fashion, not a whole subculture with more substance to it than clothes

You’d infodump to him all about it and your journey with it, whether you just discovered it or have been identifying with it for a long time – he listens to you curiously all the while

He’s caught off guard for a moment by the more controversial and depressing part of it but he quickly recovers

He’s happy for you and glad that you’re comfortable having such a culture define a part of you

Though he implores not to do all the self-destructive stuff if you could and he’ll look out for you more just in case

He definitely thinks you rock while wearing your jirai kei outfits; it’s not his style but he wouldn’t mind trying it once, just to get a feel for the style

“Yeah, this is definitely not my thing… you, on the other hand, look pretty awesome.”

You’d give him a link for your playlist (or a playlist you’ve saved) and he’d listen to it when he’s bored – ends up adding a few songs to his personal playlist

If he finds anyone stereotyping you unnecessarily, he’ll call them out, saying as if they’re any better

Despite everything, you are still uniquely you in his eyes.

Deuce Spade

He apologizes for not knowing too much about it when you bring it up and you tell him it’s okay because it gives you an excuse to ramble about it

You tell him what it entails and how you’ve come to find out about it, sifting through your past experiences both good and bad

He tries very hard to be understanding, even if he doesn’t really get it. You’re just grateful to have his support

“I don’t really get it but it gives you a sense of community, right? I think that’s pretty cool!”

He’s also a little concerned about the mental illness part so he’d regularly check up on you to make sure you’re doing okay

He’d ask you to tell him more about your experiences with the subculture if you have any more and if anything exciting happens, you go to him first

Such as acquiring a brand new article of jirai kei clothing for example! He thinks the style is super pretty and fits you really, really well

He’d listen to the music together with you, sharing earphones and all – maybe he would even listen to them while he tries to do anything

He’ll be your guard dog and bite back whoever dares to make fun of you for being part of the subculture’s community you’ll have to calm him down sometimes

You couldn’t ask for a better cheerleader than him.

Cater Diamond

He’s always known about the subculture and although he doesn't participate in it, he thinks it's really neat

You tell him more about it and about the misconceptions people have about it so that he doesn't misunderstand

He’s super stoked that he knows someone in real life who actually participates in the subculture since he gets to see how it actually is in reality

He mostly knows about the fashion and when you come rocking up to him wearing the classic jirai kei look, he tries his best not to fanboy

He compliments you then proceeds to ask you where you got it – though cute styles like it aren’t his thing, he feels like he can give this style a try

He’d match with you on days he doesn’t feel too uncomfortable with more cutesy styles and snap pictures of you two to post on Magicam

He’d also go scouring for the music online to add more songs to his already rapidly growing playlist. He’d share some recommendations with you too!

Unintentionally got you more jirai kei friends since some people saw his posts about matching with you on Magicam; even people you already know commented on his post

“Look at us, (Y/N)! We’re totally Magicam-famous now~”

You laugh with him, head thrown back while the seeds of your relationship bloom behind where the two of you sit.

Trey Clover

He doesn’t know too much about it so he’ll ask you to explain to him what it is – to which you excitedly agree to

You tell him everything from the origins to how you’ve come to participate in the subculture – he nods patiently all the while

The mental health part of it has him questioning you a bit but he has no ill intention, he’s simply looking out for you and is worried about you

He’s supportive all the way and thinks it’s nice that you have something you’re passionate about. He’d even do his own research when he has the time

He’s pleasantly surprised when you show up wearing jirai kei fashion one day; he definitely thinks you look striking in the get-up

He wouldn’t mind going with you if you were to shop for more jirai kei-related things – he would joke you’ll have to repay by helping him out another time though

He’ll listen to your song recommendations and if he likes them enough, he’d listen to them while he’s in the kitchen. He likes that they remind him of you

“Oh, this one’s pretty catchy. …These lyrics though…”

Going places with you certainly catches attention sometimes but he doesn’t mind, as long as you’re happy and comfortable in your own skin

His name truly defines him – you sure feel lucky to have him in your life.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

why’d you only call me when you’re high

🤍 100 follower event 🤍

hey I’m bella!! if you’re new my intro post is here

I genuinely cannot believe I’m at 100 followers, it’s literally mental!! like sorry, how on earth did that happen?? anyways I want to thank each and every one of you for following me, for all the support and comments and likes, just basically for everything. so many people have just been so so sweet, making my days for a while now!! I didn’t even expect to have 10 followers when I started this blog, let alone 100 so THANK YOU 🤍🤍

if you have requested a fic, it will probably be put on hold or take longer due to this event!! sorry for the inconvenience but I will get around to writing them all I promise

followers:

potion approaching // oh, but if we're gonna escape though, we really ought to think it through

I’ll write a short one-shot of your request (nothing weird and be specific please)

teddy picker // let’s have a game on the teddy picker, not quick enough can I have it quicker, already thick and you're getting thicker

I’ll give you an arctic monkeys song based on your blog

do I wanna know? // do I wanna know, if this feeling flows both ways

ask me something and I’ll answer (nothing too invasive please)

I bet that you look good on the dance floor // I don't know if you're looking for romance or, I don't know what you're looking for

I’ll give you a fantasy-like ballgown based on your blog

fake tales of san francisco // yeah, but his bird said it's amazing though, so all that's left, is the proof that love's not only blind, but deaf

I will try, notice how I said try and give you a good book recommendation based on things you love (please be specific with genre or mention a title that you want to find something like)

fluorescent adolescent // like her gentleman not to be gentle, is it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil

I’ll ship you with a fictional character I think you’re most compatible with (please tell me your type, personality, sexuality and any other facts you want me to know, if you’re comfortable with that)

pretty visitors // all the pretty visitors came and waved their arms, and cast the shadow of a snake pit on the wall

I’ll write down the first word that comes to mind when looking at your blog aesthetic

do me a favour // and do me a favor, and ask, if you need some help she said, do me a favor, and stop flattering yourself

I’ll give you a sweet treat based on your blog

moots only:

this house is a circus // this house is a circus berserk as f*ck, we tend to see that as a perk

a moodboard and headcannons of what we’d do if we met up in real life

knee socks // well, you cured my January blues, yeah you made it all alright, I've got a feelin' I might have lit the very fuse, that you were tryin' not to light

I’ll tell you my favourite thing about you

old yellow bricks // she said, "I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up and revel in nostalgia"

I will write a one shot for you about whatever you want and specify with your name (if you want that)

D is for dangerous // you should know you're his favourite worst nightmare

I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me

R U mine? // I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be, and satisfaction feels like a distant memory, and I can't help myself, all I wanna ever say is, "are you mine?"

a paragraph describing you how much I love you

rules:

one request or ask per day

only followers and moots please

I might not be able to get loads and loads done in one day so please be patient with me

ends on 3rd of september

if you send an ask/request that is rude or weird or I feel uncomfortable with, it will be ignored

tagging:

@wish-i-were-heather

@heartwithsimplenotes

@never-enough-novels

@tornqdowarnings

@maybxlle

@inmyheaddd

@arias-archive

@nqds

@lxvebelle

@whatsamongus

@emelia07

@jkriordanverse

I know I don’t know some of my moots that well but hopefully I can’t get to know you more through this 🤭🤭

[kisseobie]

I have a hopefully quick question 😣. I’ve been a fan of yours for a very long time and i’m thinking of becoming a writer myself! (and finally give up my anon emoji) Do you have any tips? Also how do I get my post to show up on tags and not just on my blog 😭

— 🌷

omg please please write this is so exciting! all i can really say is just have a consistent layout for all your writing posts so that everything looks cohesive. try to step out of the ideas you have already seen being written and attempt to come up with your own unique prompts that show your own personality and can resonate with readers as well. adding warnings to your work if needed is also very important! and don’t be afraid to set boundaries on what or who you won’t write, don’t be afraid to delete asks if they disrespect that or disrespect your disclaimer that your requests are closed (when and if they will be). make your pinned post an introductory page with your rules, fun facts, and specify if you are an nsfw writer and don’t want minors interacting. the most important advice/tip however, is that you don’t owe anyone anything. sure you might take requests and publish writings to a public audience, but at the end of the day, your writing is for you. and also!! make sure to interact with your followers as much as you can! i hope to read your writings soon <3

also, for tags, i just click the “# add tags to help people find your posts” button that shows up when you type, and i usually only add member specific tags if i am writing for that member. it’s really annoying when i look up “jongseob x reader” and the results are flooded with non jongseob works, sometimes it’s people who are writing for an entirely different group too that do this. my go-to tags that i use for most if not all of my stuff is in the tags of this post! (i only added jongseob tags to this one because i’m lazy but put in tags for every member included in that work, or if it’s just one member, only put that member and p1harmony in general in the tags)

sorry i’m rambling..

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Happy Halloween / Friendsgiving!

going to spare the whole preamble also just copying this from 2023 lmao but it’s Halloween month and here in Canada it’s also thanksgiving (aka friendsgiving) month, so it seemed like the perfect excuse to combine them into one fun month-long giveaway! For a fun little spooky event, everything is going to be Halloween themed! Instead of choosing a specific type of edit, I’m offering four different edit themes and then will choose the edit style based on the vibes ( and, as always, crossovers are very very welcome! )

So the four themes that I’m offering will be: genre bending ( putting ocs into a different genre than usual; this doesn’t have to be horror but it absolutely can be ), halloween movie / music themes ( you can specify a movie / song and I’ll make an edit for your oc with that, or you can make it a wild card and I’ll choose a movie / song for you ), costumes ( you give me the oc & a costume, and I’ll make an edit for it ), or spooky ( I will come up with something spooky themed for your oc ) — there is also a option for adding a secondary character to any of these edits! I can’t guarantee that the secondary character will make it in, it will depend on what I end up doing, but I will do my best to include them. If you do want to request a crossover, just list my character as the secondary character and don’t worry about including their faceclaim!

( tagging some of the besties but this is by no means exclusive! @the-witching-ash @ocmerunaway @ginevrastilinski-ocs @manyfandomocs @cecexwrites @darknightfrombeyond @megdonnellys @negative-speedforce-ocs )

Rules

Must be following me

Must reblog this post

Submit the form

You can submit as many requests as you want but pleaseeee submit them each separately

Deadline to submit is October 31st

Specify what gift type you want

I don’t need all of the optional info but the more details that you give me, the more accurate my project can be!

If there’s anything you’d like that isn’t an option here, shoot me an ask/message – I don’t want to guarantee anything but I’m also sure that there are things that I’d be totally happy to do and just forgot to include

Genre Bending

Your OC:

Faceclaim:

Secondary character (optional):

Secondary character’s faceclaim:

Dynamic:

Fandom:

Genre:

Blog to tag (if different from what you’re submitting from):

Halloween Movies / Music

Your OC:

Faceclaim:

Secondary character (optional):

Secondary character’s faceclaim:

Dynamic:

Fandom:

What movie / song do you want?:

Blog to tag (if different from what you’re submitting from):

Costumes

Oc’s name:

Faceclaim:

Secondary character (optional):

Secondary character’s faceclaim:

Dynamic:

Fandom:

Costume:

Blog to tag (if different from what you’re submitting from):

Spooky

Oc’s name:

Faceclaim:

Secondary character (optional):

Secondary character’s faceclaim:

Dynamic:

Fandom:

Blog to tag (if different from what you’re submitting from):

[winxanity-ii]

Tbh, those last two people are right. Content warnings are extremely common and tagging them allows readers to know whether the content is for them or not. Specifying physical characteristics without tagging just makes it feel like a waste of time tbh bc it takes the reader out of the experience. I however will commend you for publishing your work at all. It’s hard work that you’re doing for free and is a vulnerable thing to do bc of potential criticism. I feel that the first person only asked for you to tag your writing bc they realized that this content wasn’t for them. Most people aren’t going to look at your blog before they read. They likely came across your writing based off of tags they follow/look up. As a result, I doubt they checked your blog before reading. The first person isn’t trying to be offensive they’re just saying that they want to know if content isn’t for them.

Okay, since you’re not gonna give up and continue to spam my page I’ll bite and give a full answer instead of blowing you off:

The red hair the reader has is because Makima has red hair…

The yellow eyes the reader has is because Makima has yellow eyes…

So out of 87,000+ words you’re stuck on the 4 times the word “brown” (an ambiguous term because it comes in MANY SHADES) and 2 mini-mentions of a different hair types outside of the ‘pin straight’ that the majority of the world don’t have??? That needs a content warning?????

And to be honest this isn’t even a POC book and I take offense that because if I were to do so I would change A LOT more to showcase the reality of what a POC!Reader would face (things like having the characters be “shocked” or questioning about the reader’s skin/hair/ethnicity or even having to deal with uncomfortable situations that pertain just because of the racial difference)

So the truth as to why I’m so nonchalant, uncaring about the ANONYMOUS posts is because you are literally spamming me because you’re upset about something that’s out of your control.

And for the last time, my pinned post covers all I have to say, so it’s not up to me whether or not people click my profile to see if they’re confused by a passing, ambiguous word in a sea of sentences.

Hope this answers everything because this will be my last time responding to any thing pertaining to this. And this is not to be mean or anything, but there's millions of other works out there waiting to be noticed, I promise you'll make that writer's day if you go there and read if mine isn't up to your standards, but I'm okay with the direction of my writing and need no help...

[mors-pulchritudo]

{OOC ~ Rules + General info!}

Please read before interacting! (like or reblog to let me know that you read all of this please)

14+ / semi. selective / OCs and crossover muses welcome / HSR OC <3

Also — follows come from @pangirlpanic !

18+ sideblog -> @plumae-cupiditas

1 ~ No NSFW asks, please (I have another blog for that) - but suggestive (to a point) is fine! I can do violence and things of that nature, but it will be tagged accordingly.

2 ~ This blog is for my HSR OC, please be respectful :)

3 ~ Owner of this blog (Hi, name's Lottie :3) will pop in sometimes, so please be nice! Also, mod is 22 and married! (basically no flirting outside of RP context)

4 ~ Please be nice to me OOC. Sometimes my replies are slow, because I do have a life outside of RP. Being mean in RP is cool, as long as it goes with the thread/the character.

5 ~ Communication is key!! If an RP thread isn't working for you/you want to drop it (given you provide me a reason) DM me and let me know! I'm actually nice I swear ( T . T )

6 ~ If you have a rules/an about, please put it somewhere where I can see it! I would like to be aware of what you will and will not do if we end up role playing together. If you don’t have one, just take the time to make a basic post until you have something more substantial, or you can just let me know in DMs if you prefer.

7 ~ Just be respectful/nice in general on here. No hate of any kind will be tolerated.

8 ~ I can basically do any type of RP, but I do tend to use a more formally formatted type of RP, though.

9 ~ Minors can interact with this blog, as there will be no NSFW present. Suggestive humor at most, but even then, it will be mild. But, I do ask that if you are under the age of 17, you shy away from my main. (Or block the #burning petals tag/be mindful of what you interact with or consume) Please and thank you :)

10 ~ Also, this is a multi-ship blog. Meaning - my OC has no set S/O, and it can change depending upon who she's being shipped with. But, she is an adult! No child/underage ships are allowed. Platonic relationships are just fine.

11 ~ This blog isn't just for RP!! Feel free to ask my OC literally anything, she'll answer! (or, if you want to ask me something, DM me or just specify if it's for the mod to answer the ask aka me)

12 ~ Not a rule, just background stuff/info about my OC to read here (more in depth lore will be in a separate place)

13 ~ You can feel free to send me any RP starters for Calli that you want, even if we haven’t interacted before! Don’t be shy, I’m nice I promise :)

“Purple text” is Calliope speaking!

Default text is me/the mod speaking!

Some generic warnings + more info

This blog will contain some sensitive and potentially triggering topics regarding my OC’s lore. Examples are:

~ Trauma (more than one type)

~ Mental health issues

~ Injury in various degrees

~ Darker themes of mythology (the whole nine yards, basically)

~ Death (in the past/being mentioned)

~ (more may be added!)

Also, I will ask if you don’t vibe with any of these topics before they may come up in an interaction!

Masterlists

Paradisus-Aeternus

The people

The culture (coming soon)

??? (More to be added soon!!)

Calliope

Generic background

Gineva

more info coming soon!

Ezekiel

more info coming soon!

Tags ✰ :

# calliope ~ space bird (any and everything that has to do with my OC. i.e., reblogging memes, dash/ic commentary, answering asks as her, rp threads, etc.)

# chirp ‘o clock! ~ chime in (just for ic/dash commentary :3)

# a message from beyond ~ intergalactic inbox (this is for when Calliope answers asks!)

# rp time ~ galactic melodies (any rp thread/ic or dash commentary)

# ooc ~ dimmed down starlight (me, the mod speaking! :3 Or just anything out of character lol)

# unopened letter ~ the ask box (for when I, the mod, answers asks)

# the avifauna and the [____] (<- would refer to something w/ a character/OC) (the ship tag!! when any sort of shipping happens, this tag will be used!)

# rp memes ~ surfing the sky (just for reblogging RP prompts/memes)

# siren's serenade ~ take a dive... (this will be the lore tag! when more in depth lore about Calli is posted, check this tag!)

# juniper bug ~ light of the dawn (anything regarding Calliope’s daughter! Whether it be memes, RP, asks, you name it!)

# oh sweet child of mine ~ the setting moon (anything to do with Calliope’s son! Same as the tag for her daughter ^^)

# laughin’ and stargazin’ ~ meme o’ clock! (The meme tag! These are usually memes I make myself lol)

# sing to the bird ~ stuff to ask calli!! (usually range from RP memes to prompts, stuff like that :3)

# the bird and the [_____] (<- refers to an OC/character) (this is the non ship tag! Basically one of Calli’s friends/acquaintances or someone she knows — but there’s no romance yet hehe)

# melodic winds ~ rp promo (<- for when I, the mod, reblog stuff from other RP blogs! It’s in the name lol)

# paradisus-aeternus ~ a world of imagination (any post about Calli's home planet!)

# lights - camera - action! (for any videos I make with my OCs or other characters :3)

# lay back ~ the water’s fine (for little headcanons/short blurbs I post about Calli and/or her kids!)

# the gallery ~ precious paintings (for when I post art! WIPs, full pieces, etc.)

# the sea’s call (calliope musings) (for when I reblog stuff that reminds me of Calli! Could be images, quotes, anything!

More tags may be added in the future! These are all of the ones I have set up currently. :)

Like for a starter!

Discord : char_dahlia (in case you would like to contact me by another means instead of tumblr)

Anddd…that’s everything! So, we all cool? Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s get this show started!

[comkin]

THIS IS A PRO/COMSHIP/KIN SAFE SPACE. DISCRETION IS ADVISED AT INTERACTION.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Everything is under the cut! (There's a lot to scroll past)

This is a source calling blog! It is directed for kins, fictives and IRLs alike who may have problematic memories or sources.

This blog provides:

Source calling ; Searching for source mates. - Template will be added at the end of this post. This MUST be followed.

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[cafeinthemoon]

Thorns - Part II

Chapter 2/3

Wordcount 3,9k

Title Part II

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Hades x reader

Previous chapter

1

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: light angst; argument at the throne room

Tagging @mikkies (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So... I stated that this story will only have 2 chapters, but the text for the second part ended up too long and I had to divide it in two, and now we'll have 3 chapters (hope you don't mind).

So, a few thoughts about this story:

- The three generals that follow Hades were first intended to be the three Judges of Hell, but since I didn't make previous references to them, I thought it'd sound weird to introduce them like this now.

- When I had the idea for the poison ivy, I didn't really think of how reader would make it disappear, so Beelzebub's participation in this was a sort of a plan b (even when plan a didn't exist lol).

- When reader and Hades argue at the throne room, my first idea was that he would sound even more angry and just leave without a word for her, so she would have to solve everything by herself and appeal to the dangerous technique with the ivy, but I thought it wouldn't fit the dynamics I've been creating for them in my other story "Ruins", so I decided to write a "softer" argument.

- It's never specified how long Hades has been ruling over Hellheim, but we can suppose that it might have been for billion years if we consider what's said about his age on the SNV wiki: "He is very ancient, being older than the Big Bang, making him over 13.8 billion years old".

- I absolutely love the dynamics between Adamas and Beel in the manga's extra chapter! It's the type of humor I enjoy writing, simple and effective, since it's not the strongest trait of my writing :)

You refused to believe in your ears. Hades was telling you that he intended to go to the battlefield and stop the beasts all by himself?

– What…? You… – your hand loosened the grip upon his arm, the same in which hand he had the bident, but didn’t release it.

Hades ignored your shock and gave you a clear explanation:

– You know that the messenger came from our nearest detachment. If he was their last man, then the enemies are probably going to trespass the gates and reach the castle’s bridge soon. They will be at our doors before the night falls.

You immediately remembered what Adamas told you, how he went alone to Hellheim and fought the Titans without help, just to save his brothers and his people, and realized that now he intended to do the same.

However, I’m here with him this time. He doesn’t need to do this alone.

And you wanted to show that to him.

– Hades, if your intention is to go and face them by yourself…

Your husband put his hand upon yours on his arm and looked into your eyes, where he guessed what you were trying to say.

– Y/n, if you’re going to ask to go with me, then, please, don’t. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here to grant the castle’s safeness, and your own. This is why I asked Adamas to come and stay here despite his willing to fight – he glanced over you, probably to his brother – He will help you in anything you need.

You swallowed. You were already expecting this, but you weren’t finished yet.

– I’m not asking for permission – you approached him as you spoke – We all understand that the situation is worse than we first suspected and might become out of hand if we don’t do anything! The last member of our remaining detachment just died in my arms! How can I stay behind when I know you’ll be in the eye of the hurricane? I can’t…

Hades laid his free hand on the knob, irreducible.

– But you must. You've never been in the battlefield before, and that’s not the best way to start. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.

Here, your patience was gone.

– And how do you think I’m going to feel if anything happens to you? Especially when you know you don’t have to do everything by yourself? – you gasped – Did you forget that I’m no longer human? I've been here for five hundred years now! Frailty doesn’t define me anymore! If someone will have to die in battle, it won’t be the Queen of the Dead!

Apparently, Hades’ patience had the same destiny as yours, because his posture – and the entire energy around him – changed. Leaning the bident on the fold of his arm and holding you by your shoulders, he made you forget everything and everyone in that room while you looked at him.

– And she won’t die in battle because the King of the Dead, who has been here for billion years longer than her, will keep her safe inside her home and in the company of the people he trusts – and, before you could think of any response, he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead – And, being the reliable wife she is, she won’t do anything to disappoint him.

Now, there was nothing you could do or say to change his mind. You took his hands off your shoulders and held them between you for a moment.

– Then she asks him to take at least a few strong, capable men with him, so her heart can be still.

There was a moment of silence from his part, where you just stared at each other, and you even thought he was going to turn his back on you and leave without a word, but he sighed, recovering his calmness, and agreed with your request.

– If this will soothe her anxiety, then, he can do it.

Moving his hands away from yours, the King of the Underworld looked ahead of you and called three of the present generals, the ones nearest Adamas. When the men approached, you took a step back as they knelt before their King, ready to obey.

– Grab your strongest weapons and save your energy for the primary battle. If we hurry, we will reach the enemy in one hour or two. Then, we will close the passage they’ve been using – Hades isntructed them.

The men immediately went to their own lodges to make the preparations. Only after they were gone, you noticed the stain of blood that your hand left on Hades’ white sleeve. You hid your hands behind your back.

He turned to you one last time, with a softer tone:

– We'll be right back.

You nodded, trying to control your shaking body.

– Yes, my Lord.

Nothing more was said between you two. Your husband opened the door and left. It closed slowly at his back and its noise echoed through the throne room, then disappeared.

You raised your head and returned to the company of your brother-in-law and the other officers, who were staring at you in expectation.

You were the first to speak.

– Our King expects me to grant the castle’s security while he’s away, and I will do anything to fulfill this task – you passed your eyes on each one’s face – But I cannot do this alone.

There was a murmur of agreement among the officers.

– We will give you all the necessary support, my Lady – said one of the men.

– You just need to tell us what we have to do, y/n-sama – a second one, beside him, corroborated.

– Thank you – you turned to your brother-in-law – Adamas-sama, I need your help too.

The god of Conquest, aware of things that went unnoticed by the others, didn’t take long to offer his own support.

– Of course, y/n-chan. What do you need?

You took a moment to consider your first measures.

– First, I need you to take the lead of the guards and the others who are directly involved in the security. All the doors, from the main to the smallest ones, need to be checked from time to time, and every suspicious movement must be informed to you.

You turned to the two men who just offered their help.

– The servants and the nursery staff must be prepared to receive the common folks who might come here seeking for shelter. I want you to communicate this to these two groups and give them instructions to take care of the newcomers. They must be led through the main door only. You must not use the secondary entries under any circumstance.

They nodded in compliance.

– Yes, my Lady.

You took a deep breath, then gave your last order.

– Finally, this instruction is for all of you – you glanced at Adamas – With no exception. Do not approach any of the windows, the balconies or the secondary entries, and do not let anyone do it. This will mean the difference between your life and your death. Now, go and send this message to everybody in the castle, then return to this room and stay under Adamas-sama’s command. I’m counting on you.

A wave of worried whispers spread among the presents, but no one dared question you. All the men left your presence, so that there was only you and Adamas now.

You asked him if you were forgetting anything. He had a growing smile on his face at first, as if enjoying how you were putting effort in playing your role as Queen in your first time facing a crisis, but your last words caught him by surprise as much as the others, making him frown.

– Not for now, but I’ll warn you if necessary – and, asking what everyone wanted to know, – But what is it that we can’t approach the castle’s open spaces? Can you tell me what you have in mind?

You stared at him for a moment.

– There’s a defense technique that I’ve been developing for years with the help of Beelzebub-sama. We happened to find a way to potentialize the effects of a poison ivy I created… using a fraction of Hades’ blood.

Adamas didn’t interrupt your explanation, but it was clear that he wasn’t expecting something of this sort.

– I was hoping I’d never have to use it because, despite reaching total efficacy, I couldn’t find a way to balance its energy consumption and because of the obvious danger – you lowered your voice – But in the current situation, I have no choice.

Adamas crossed his arms.

– So… you’re telling me that your technique will work for sure, but it will drain your energy? And it’s so strong that it might kill the people inside the castle if they get too close? – he sighed – Does my brother know about this?

You hesitated.

– Of course, he does. He witnessed most of the developing process. The technique will only reach its full strength precisely because of his collaboration… But I didn’t discuss the exhaustion part with him.

He clicked his tongue in impatience, probably wondering why you always had to plot such disastrous things.

– I see – he shrugged – Well, you do as you want, but at the first sign that something is wrong, call me immediately, uh?

– Of course, but, please, do the same. I’ll be in the castle’s highest tower if you need me.

You left the throne room without waiting for a reply.

***

The more you walked up the stairs, leaving the crowded rooms of the castle below you, the more you sensed you were entering a different world. The walls were colder, and the echo of your steps lasted longer inside them; the distance between the rooms was larger as well, and judging by how long you’ve been walking, you started to think it’d be impossible to call Adamas or anyone else if you needed help, so you prayed that nothing went wrong.

When you reached the entry of the highest tower at last, your hand trembled before you touched the knob.

I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing... But what choice do I have?

You breathed deep and opened the door.

The room was almost empty, except for the high curtains that separated the room from the balcony and a modest furniture, including a large couch in the middle of it. You closed the door behind you and went to the candle holders in each corner to light them up. That room was rarely used, so that scent of dust and old things around was no surprise.

The last time I’ve been here was when I brought the final product with Hades and Beelzebub-sama. I didn’t even want to leave the curtains open.

You then walked to the curtains and opened them on each side, wrapping them up on the supports by their golden stripes. You unlocked the balcony’s sliding doors and looked at the reddish skies on the outside; you had the impression that they were darker, as if a storm was about to start. You swallowed and went back inside.

There was a small desk on a corner, upon which there was a vase full of flowers of various shapes and sizes – all of them attempts of spontaneous materialization of yours from your first years in Hellheim. It has been centuries since you were established as a goddess of nature and creation, and your private garden – a gift from your husband and where you created those flowers – has been transformed into a researching and experimenting center. From time to time, you would receive Beelzebub, an old acquaintance of Hades and an experienced scientist himself, for orientation, and what you came after in that room was among your first works together, which took countless decades to reach perfection and have been there for two hundred years now. Fortunately for you and for the rest of your people, you've grown in ability and power, and that experiment was a superior product in all senses.

You took a small key from your pocket and opened the first drawer, grabbing a crystal bottle from it. You held it at your eyes’ height, observing the precious content inside it: a fraction of Hades’ blood.

Pluto Ichor.

You would never use it if you had your way; you would leave the castle under Adamas’ administration and go with your husband to face the intruders instead. However, Hades decided for a different strategy, one where he would take all the risk to himself while the others would be safe. You hated this, but now it was too late to argue or to complain.

You took a second bottle from the same drawer and turned its content on your palm: some of the seeds you created under the instructions of Beelzebub, which would grow into an extremely toxic species of ivy that would take over the castle’s surroundings and keep the invaders at bay. The ivy, with which you communicate through energetic signature, would respond only to you, and through their thorns you’d track anything – and anyone – who approached the area.

In all the experiences you’ve made in your garden, you’ve managed to grow some specimen that would never reach more than a few meters, but that would never be enough to protect the entire building. That was the reason why you reached for your husband’s blood.

I know it’s going to work… The only problem is that I have no idea of how much.

You went to the balcony with the seeds in one hand and the bottle in the other. You opened it, poured some drops of the dark fluid over the seeds and threw them to the air. Seconds passed until the seeds reached the soil, where they drowned.

It was when you commanded them to germinate.

Immediately, a sequence of vibrations raised from underground, and monstrous, green plants grew out of it to all directions, surrounding the castle, the abyss under the bridge and the empty fields around, creating a forest of vines and thorns.

You were afraid that, because of the blood’s power, the technique would soon get out of control, and when you saw how fast the forest appeared, the possibility of having done a terrible mistake got you scared. Thankfully, it wasn’t the case: when you tried to redirect some of the plants around, they obeyed you, and you sighed in relief.

The task was harder than you anticipated. The size and weight of the plants, as well as their strength increased by the blood’s influence, demanded an abnormal amount of energy from you, and sensing the entire surroundings through their thorns was as disorienting as having a lamp turned on right at your face, but you did your best to get over the discomfort and manipulate the ivy to cover the necessary spots and to leave others free. You also moved them away from the bridge and the castle’s main entry to open the way to the people who might come for help.

Hades said that he and the generals could reach the enemies in a few hours, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they met the monsters before this: by the instabilities you noticed in the sky – and in the horizon, spreading through the air – you knew that the battle just began.

And you would be able to accompany everything from your spot.

Well... now I just have to hold on until they come back. For the people who are counting on us, for Adamas-sama... and for him. Hades, my dear... please, don’t do anything absurd and stay safe…

***

The battle and the subsequent events didn’t last long if you’d only count the chronological time, but it felt like eternity while you stood in that balcony, controlling the poisonous forest from there.

Just like you predicted, some common folks came to Hades’ door for help, and you freed the bridge’s passage for them. The main door was used to receive them as you instructed, and it was immediately closed after they entered.

The ivy that grew from the abyss was kept away from the passage, only returning to the surface when invaders were spotted, and the same happened with the plants that covered the tors that surrounded the building: with the invasion of Hellheim and the resulting battle for its defense, many evil creatures that wandered through those lands were expelled from their usual hideouts and ended up crawling toward the castle, but you were there to protect its inhabitants from them.

Meanwhile, you sensed the progress of the battle through the ivy that grew in the edges of the castle’s territory. Those foreign creatures were strong, and you could tell that only by the vibrations of their strikes spreading across the space and the soil, but they were no match for your husband and his men. The main problem was really the number of invaders: if they could reach the spot through which they were entering the Underworld and close the passage, everything could be solved, but they would take a while to pass through them.

If only Hades wasn’t so stubborn, he could have taken more people with him.

Your stomach burned when you thought of the man you loved facing all those monsters with little to no help. Despite what Adamas told you, your heart could never rest knowing what was happening out there. However, thinking too much about this now could interfere in your balance.

Arguing on this is useless now. What I have to do is to show faith in him while I do my part.

Some say that speaking is always easier, and you had proof of this in the next minutes, hours or any other possible unit of time during which you’ve maintained the control over the ivy. You were aware that, due to Pluto Ichor, it would take more energy to manipulate them, but you were worried about how fast they were consuming your strength.

Fortunately, everyone inside the building obeyed your instructions and didn’t approach the windows and exits while you worked: even if they didn’t understand how it worked, they at least realized the power contained in the ivy, and acted accordingly. That made things a bit easier for you, because you only had to worry about managing your powers.

You never saw how it ended, however.

There was a moment when you sensed the strength abandoning your legs, and you fell on your knees; that didn’t make you give up, for you still had the connection with the forest, but it wasn’t the same anymore. Little by little, your arms started trembling and you couldn’t keep them raised or move them in any way. Even sitting on the ground was difficult, and the air burned your lungs with every breath.

You looked ahead and knew that the battle wasn’t as fierce as before, but it hasn’t come to its end yet.

I can’t stop now. I need to finish this...

You made one last effort to keep the bridge free from the ivy and prayed for the poison to keep the monsters away. You had the sensation of someone entering the room and approaching you from behind, but your sight darkened before you looked at them.

***

You opened your eyes and found yourself lying on the couch of the tower’s room.

The candles were still burning, or so thought, judging by the light you sensed around you, and thanks to it you saw Adamas standing a few meters from your spot, his back turned on the balcony and the twilight out there, staring at you with a frown. You inclined your head forward and saw a young man in black clothing, sitting on the couch’s edge, holding a tiny bottle that he was about to open. You recognized him immediately.

– Beelzebub-sama!... – you tried to stand up, but your body didn’t respond to you.

– Easy, y/n-san – the Lord of the Flies replied with a soft smile, without taking his eyes from the bottle – You’re not in the best conditions after everything you’ve done out there.

You sighed and stood still.

It wasn’t a surprise to you that he managed to cross your forest and enter the castle without difficulties: if there was someone who couldn’t be killed in any circumstance, it was Beelzebub, and being involved in the creating process of your technique, avoiding its effects was the easiest thing for him. Besides, once he appeared before the main door, no one would dare deny his entry or ask what he was doing there.

However, he saw no problem in explaining his arrival to you.

– I was passing by and found Hades-san and his men fighting against some invaders. Of course, I stopped to help them, even though it wasn’t necessary because the King of Hellheim had already solved most of the problem when I arrived. So, he sent me here to see how you were doing – his smile widened – And, as expected, you were giving him reasons to be worried.

Adamas, who has been quiet all this time, laughed. You asked him how the people in the castle were doing now.

– Better than you, y/n-chan – it was the reply – Everyone in the castle is tense because of the forest, of course, but their compliance was total. No accidents concerning the poison.

Your sighed in relief. So, everything was alright. That was all you needed to hear.

You turned to Beelzebub.

– Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry for not being able to give you a better reception – you mumbled – What is it in this bottle?

– A medicine for you to regain your strength – he offered it to you – Judging by your current state, you will need hours to recover. Please, take this and stay where you are.

You thanked him for the medicine and emptied the bottle’s content.

– How long I’ve been sleeping? – you asked while giving the bottle back to him.

– Half an hour, I’d say – he replied – We’ve been here since then.

You passed your hand over your forehead, but said nothing in response. Adamas, with all his rationality, soon led the conversation to the practical matters.

– Everything is all well, but the forest will have to disappear now that our safeness is granted – he approached the couch – How will you do it now?

You swallowed.

– I...

Before you could think of something, Beelzebub intervened:

– I’ll take care of this. I know how to do it.

You stared at him in silent gratitude, and for a moment none of you spoke...

Until a sudden change in the energy at the castle’s entry was detected by the thorns, making you stand up and look around in anxiety.

– Ah! Oh, my…!

– What is it?! – the two gods asked at the same time.

– Guys, they're back! – you yelled, sitting on the couch – Hades is back! I need to go!

Beelzebub tried to reason with you, stating that you couldn’t make any effort right now, but you didn’t hear anything. You just stood up and left the room, rushing across the stairs.

You never knew about the conversation that followed between the two men you just left behind, but if you did, it’d make you giggle in embarrassment.

– So – Adamas stood by the side of a wide-eyed, speechless Beelzebub on the couch, with a raised eyebrow – Hours until she recovers, you say?

The Lord of the Flies sighed, smiling as he put his hand on his forehead.

– Eh, these young gods are always surprising us. Especially when they’re former humans.

Chapter 3

[ycmalholidayexchange]

❄️🎁❄️You Could Make a Life Holiday Fanwork Exchange 2023❄️🎁❄️

Hello!

Tell your friends, your family, your coworkers: Hockey is coming back (soon-ish), and so is the greatest of fandom traditions. Whether you're old or new here, welcome to You Could Make a Life Holiday Fanwork Exchange.

Once again, Ana and Pyry are working together to organise the event. We hope to see you all participate!

The format will be the same as years prior:

❄️What is this?

Just a pretty normal and chill fandom exchange to celebrate the holidays. In short, you create something for another fan and get something in return!

Anyone in the You Could Make a Life fandom can participate. You can check the wrap-up posts for 2019, 2020, and 2022, or check this blog's latest posts in 2021 if you want to have an idea of what people have previously created.

❄️What can I make/get?

The idea is to:

write fic of at least 1000 words; or

make 1 piece of fanart; or

make 1 playlist of at least 11 songs with a cover; or

make 1 gifset; or

create a short video edit (minimum 30 seconds); or

one complete and edited podfic of a text that is originally at least 1000 words;

one complete and edited podfic of at least 10 minutes.

You can specify whether you prefer fic and/or art when you sign up!

❄️ Why did you add videos and podfic as fanworks?

We have noticed a resurgence of the fanvid as a form of fanwork in recent years (due to fandom's shift to platforms such as Twitter, Instagram or Tiktok). We want this event to be open to as many people as possible, so we thought maybe there are some ycmal fans who are also great video editors! We still haven't received any video submissions, but this may be the year!

Podfic was a request last year and we think it worked pretty well, so it's coming back.

❄️What am I allowed to create/request?

Any pairing, theme and rating are allowed. However, since this universe is huge, please be flexible and include as many things you like as possible in the request and the offer. If you are only willing to receive an Owen/Jake time-travelling farmers AU, we may not be able to find you a suitable match! We may contact you if, for any reason, it’s impossible for us to find a match for you and we need you to think of more options.

❄️I don't understand podfic, tell me more.

It means somebody will record an audio version of a fic. If you are interested in receiving a podfic, you will be able to add links to works you'd like to have in that format (please make sure the author allows for this type of transformative work), or you could request any of your own fics.

❄️Timeline

Sign-ups are open now and end on October 4th 3pm EST.

After that, we will start matching people and you will be notified as soon as possible of the person you have been assigned.

By November 30th, we will be emailing you to confirm that you are still participating. If for some reason you cannot participate any more, please notify us as soon as possible, so that we can make sure we find a pinch-hitter.

The works will be posted between December 15th and 31st, in whatever platform best suits your work. Please make sure you inform us (tagging this blog, for instance, or via ask box/email) and the recipient. Everything will be shared in this blog.

❄️Ok this sounds cool, how do I sign up?

Just fill in this form! Please read the sections carefully since we have changed some wording/formatting things. And don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions or comments :)

Thanks!

-Pyry & Ana

[daily-rui-kamishiro]

hello and welcome to daily rui kamishiro!!! i’m not explaining this concept you read the url. daily rui. what more do you want from us.

tags:

daily rui ☆

not daily rui ☆

doodle posting ☆

official stuff posting ☆

plushie posting ☆

other posting ☆

here are our mods!!

mod rui 🎈

~ hi hello!! (hiding all my rui merch and all my posts on my main) i’m very normal about rui kamishiro!! i prommy!!!

~ i use he/it pronouns mainly

~ i’m a very very big aroace rui (and aroace wxs fan)

~ i’ll be signing off with the tag mod 🎈 for my posts, and just 🎈 in the posts themselves

~ i don’t know what else i add here. this loser friend loving purple idiot is my everything

Mod Nene

Hi hi hello technically multiple mods in a trenchcoat (plural) but let's not talk about that :3

They/them pronouns since we don't feel comfortable specifying which alter is which here and we all have different genders

There's a decent chance you'll recognize us if you know us from main but thats fine :3

Gonna sign off with mod 🎮 in tags and 🎮 in the posts themselves. Yes we're copying Rui here dw about it

Uhhh we like the silly clown man who makes robots. Intro done 👍

Mod Tsukasa 🌟

- I very much enjoy the silly purple fella

- she/her pronouns :3

- Very self-indulgent hcs about the silly around these parts, he's incredible and I love him

- I'll sign off with mod 🌟 in the tags and 🌟 on posts because consistency

- Hehe Rui

mod saki :3

• hihi!! how do you do an intro please help

• they/them, if you feel a little silly u can use star neos but no pressure :D

• will be signing off as mod 🎹 in the tags and just 🎹 in the posts

• Normal™️ about the he. other favs include the Tenma siblings and the rest of wxs!

• everyone else has a 5th dot but idk what to put here uhhh i've been told i act like the mizuki to my friends ruis so take that as u will >:3

☄ i already draw ruikasa daily so im basically prepared for this

mod honami 🥁

☄ i use he/him, will sign off with 🥁

☄ very self indulgent rui design i hope yall dont mind

☄ thats it really im just an aroace honaruikasa oshi (not ship) (except for ruikasa therye a qpr in my heart) ok bye bye

mod Emu 🍬

★ I use they/them and sign off with 🍬 or mod 🍬

★ I have no idea what I'm doing half the time but I'm trying my best nonetheless. Please be considered of this.

★ absolutely hate the purple lad. I have no idea why I'm here. /j

★ I will actively showcase this behaviour by creating many different types of posts about him.