#yeah i need to practice backgrounds more...

[miajooz]

Branded Hearts ❦ Country!Ellie HCS*

Country!Ellie who is kind of a workaholic when it comes to taking care of the farm. she will be out there for hours—picking weeds, ensuring all the crops have water, feeding the livestock, brushing the horses, all of that. but when she eventually comes inside from working all day, she looks for your arms.

Country!Ellie who takes some of your chores to keep herself busy. you’re aware of the fact she does that when she gets stressed, it’s her way of trying to work to forget. you always help her or stand behind her with a cold glass of water.

“Babe, ‘innit too hot here for you out here? Go cool off sweetheart.” Ellie would try and coax you, cupping your cheek with her dirt covered hand to make sure you weren’t overheating from the blazing sun.

All you would do was smile and hand her the glass of water, a pulled weed in your other hand. “I’m fine, babe. Let’s just hurry up with it so we can go inside, okay?

Country!Ellie who would force you to wear gloves when you were pulling weeds with her or doing literally any work that wasn’t inside or with the livestock. Meanwhile, her hands were calloused and scarred because she didn’t like gloves.

“Hey, hun. Put these on for me, yeah?” Ellie would say, a pair of her ginormous gloves in her hands. She held them out to you like a piece of gold.

You’d turn around with a confused look, one brow more furrowed than the other, “I don’t need gloves, I’m just pulling crops.”

Of course Ellie was unsatisfied, she’d tut and grab your hands softly—her calloused, rough hands felt so perfect against the skin of your soft ones. “No, you’ gonna tear up those pretty hands of yours.” she’d say, carefully slipping your fingers into the gloves. “I like your soft hands, so..please jus’ cooperate”

Country!Ellie who tries to help you with tasks even if you’re capable of doing them yourself. she’ll be behind you, arms wrapped around you. Her hands would be on yours, helping you correctly pull a crop from the soil, her calloused hands around your gloved ones. Not to mention how much she’d praise you for it.

“Jus’ like that, that’s my girl.”

“No, baby. Lemme help you, yeah?”

“Are ya sure you can do it on your own?

Country!Ellie who practically always has her hands on you. If you’re making something in the kitchen, her hands are on your waist, on your hips, your stomach. She’s such a touchy person, always needing a hand on hers or at least a hand on her back. Small pecks on your neck are her favorite, it doesn’t matter where you are—she’s attached to you like a leech.

Country!Ellie who takes you to all the country bars in town to dance with you. She loves you dance, she just loves to show you off. If there’s one thing Ellie isn’t—it’s ashamed of you. How could she be ashamed of the light of her life?

“I reckon you want me to take the lead?” she’d ask, her hand tightly clasped in yours when the next song started—as if she already hadn’t taken the lead. You were dizzy from how many times she’d spun you, but the love you felt in your heart was much more distracting.

Everytime she’d spin you, you could feel her thick belt pressed against the front of your body when she’d hold you against her. Her arms would be holding you closely, like you were the most delicate thing on earth, the most delicate thing in that bar or maybe just in her life.

You’d just smile at her, “I don’t think you’d let me take control, sweetheart.” you’d say, already halfway through another spin.

“No, probably not. m’too busy spinning you, lemme see it, babe.”

Country!Ellie who doesn’t only take you to bars to dance, the kitchen is just as good. She would rest her hands firmly on your hips as you swayed against her front. The choppy radio would be playing in the background, the music setting the mood perfectly. She’d whisper affectionate words into your ear as she held you close, only letting go to spin you or dip you.

Country!Ellie who adores seeing you in her flannels. Seeing your body in something that belongs to her is a very enamoring sight—she loves it. When you go star gazing, you almost never bring a cover up. Ellie knows you’ll get cold—so she brings one of her flannels every single time. Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you in it.

“‘You cold, baby?” she’d ask, her calloused hands affectionately rubbing your shoulders to warm you up—as if she didn’t have a flannel packed for you.

You’d just frown a bit, feeling bad that you didn’t bring a cover up again. Unbeknown to her—you did it on purpose this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I forgot to bring a cover up again.”

Ellie would crawl out of the bed of the trunk and get her flannel from the backseat. She’d bring it back and drape it over your shoulders, hugging you from the side. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Y’know I’ve got somethin’ for you packed.”

Country!Ellie who draws you every single day. Not to mention how each drawing is different. Sometimes you’d be in the garden picking flowers for the kitchen peacefully, while Ellie sat on the porch chair and just drew you. She drew the flowers in your arms—even adding one to your hair. She drew the way your hair perfectly blew in the wind and the big smile you had on your face when you noticed what she was doing. You’re a work of art to her—you’re her work of art.

Country!Ellie who has a tattoo of your name on her neck. She’s been told it’s corny and unnecessary—but she couldn’t disagree more. Even when she does doubt it, the way you kiss the tattoo everytime you give some love her neck validates her.

Country!Ellie who absolutely loves having you on her lap. Even on your porch where there’s two chairs, she’ll have you in her lap. She’ll have you in her lap on her recliner too, any chance she can get. Sometimes you’ll bring her a beverage like water or beer or coffee and just sit with her—well—on her.

“M’so tired, baby—s’hot as hell outside.” she’d complain, a cold bottle of beer in one hand and the other one on your waist. “Such a sweetheart, thanks for bein’ here.”

You’d smile and kiss her forehead, brushing some of her messy hair out of her face. The smell of beer which usually sickened you in bars didn’t when the smell came from Ellie, nothing about her could even sicken you. The thought of something about her repulsing you is what made you nauseous. “Of course, hun. Finish that and let’s head to bed.”

Country!Ellie who liked to cook. Sometimes if you were doing things outside—she’d be inside making you something special, something she knew you liked. While you also liked cooking, baking was more of your thing. If she was working outside, you’d go out there and bring her things. Her favorite was that banana pudding you made or the peach cobbler.

Ellie had been outside gathering crops for a beef stew for dinner that night, her hands, clothes, practically everything was dirty. Her wife pleaser was covered in sweat around the neckline and under her armpits—but she looked so sexy like that.

You made her favorite banana pudding that day, acutely aware of how hard she’d been working. You brought a small square of it out to her, your attire was much cleaner than hers. With a gentle smile, you held the plate out to her, tapping her shoulder. “I made your favorite.”

Ellie would hum and turn her head, her eyes immediately distracted by the dessert in front of her and your contagious smile. Her lips immediately curled into one, a small laugh leaving her. She’d stand up and take the plate from you—her hand still covered in dirt. “Is that right? Thank you, angel.” she’d coo, her smile even wider than yours.

You’d laugh and look down at her dirty hands, shaking your head, “maybe you should wash your hands first, babe.” you’d suggest, knowing she probably wouldn’t listen anyways.

Ellie would raise an eyebrow, clicking her tongue and staring at her non-occupied hand. With that, she’d put it around your waits and hoist you up, slinging you over her shoulder as if you were a feather. Of course, she got dirt all over your white skirt. “Oh, I know, baby. I’m so dirty.”

You’d squeal and laugh, kicking your legs a bit. The dirt on the white cloth made you sigh—but being angry with her was so difficult. “Ellie, seriously?! You’re washing this!” you’d yell, but giggles overwrote that tone quickly.

She’d tut and laugh, carrying you over to the porch steps and plopping you down, putting the plate aside so she could situate you on her lap. You grabbed the discarded plate and handed it back to her—to which she gratefully accepted. “I’ll wash it for you, baby. Ain’t no better thing to do than take a request from my beautiful girl.”

Country!Ellie who proposed to you on your birthday in the most romantic way possible. LET ME JUST DESCRIBE THIS. (this is kind of long for a headcannon, i’m so sorry.)

Ellie had been working on extending the porch for a few months, though she wouldn’t exactly tell you why. She’d often say “I jus’ want a bigger porch,” or “God forbid a woman wants to build.” so—you dismissed it in your mind as some project she had picked up. That was very much like her, after all; she enjoyed projects to keep herself busy.

The porch was done a few days before your birthday, and all you could see was excitement radiating off Ellie. She would sit by the window and stare out at the porch, smiling to herself and avoiding your questions. You tried to brush it off again—maybe she was just incredibly proud of her hard work!

On your birthday, you and Ellie spent the whole day together, she made you food, she gave you a ridiculous amount of love and affection, everything. When she told you she had a surprise planned, you were excited. She led you towards the front porch, one hand on your waist and the other covering your eyes.

When you walked out of that house and took in the scene—you thought it was an entirely different place. There were beautiful, bright fairy lights that strung from the wood pillars that stabilized the porch, also being held up by some of the surrounding trees. The radio was on, playing a mix of your favorite songs, the songs you danced to together in your kitchen. It was gorgeous, the illumination of lights lit up the whole porch in a way that made your eyes reflect an even prettier image, an image that made Ellie watch that view from those eyes she adored so much.

Yet that wasn’t all; folded neatly on the small wooden chair was a dress. It was absolutely stunning, the fabric being your favorite color and the texture a beautiful silk. It looked like something you’d find in your dreams, something you’d find in a royalty T.V show. But no, it was all for you.

You picked up the dress carefully, a smile brightening your face. You couldn’t believe she had done something so thoughtful for you. No doubt about it; that was the love of your life.

Ellie just watched you with a smirk, her hand drumming against your waist softly. “Y’like it, baby?” she asked, her face close to your ear. The way your face lit up made her now empty wallet worth it. The flies flying out of the leather from her brokenness no longer mattered. She didn’t need to be rich, having you made her rich.

You smiled and nodded feverishly, immediately turning your head to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek, “I love it, thank you so much. You wanna spin me in this one?”

“You know me so well, sweetheart.”

The two of you had been dancing on the porch for a while, the only light being the moon and the gorgeous ambiance the fairy lights provided. You were a bit dizzy from being spun so much, but you couldn’t complain.

“Hold on, hun, I’m gonna get a sip of water.” you informed your girlfriend softly, wiggling out of her grip and spinning to the table. Your back was turned to her, giving her an opportunity you were oblivious to. There was audible shuffling in the background, but the urge to quench your thirst was much more important.

“You’re so gorgeous, darlin.’ I love you.” she said tenderly, nothing unusual from Ellie. She was always affectionate, so affectionate your heart would grow in size whenever she spoke.

You giggled, setting your glass of water down and turning to her, “I love you t—“ that’s when you saw it—the sight before you cut off your words like a circuit in your brain being broken.

There was the love of your life, on one knee and holding a ring box before you. The freckles that adorned her face were accompanied by a softer look on her face, something more vulnerable. “Oh my god..”

“Sweetheart, you’re the light of my life. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’ve morphed my life into somethin’ I never even imagined it would be, in such a perfect, lovin’ way.” she started, pausing a moment to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I wanna grow old with you in this house, I wanna be able to dance with you every damn night on this porch. I knew from the moment you smiled at me that you were the love of my life, that I’m meant to be with you. So..”

It was coming, you knew it. Your breath was caught in your throat, tears already prickling your irises.

“Will you marry me?”

There it was, the sentence you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Somebody to tell you how much you meant to them in a way that meant something, in a way you could feel intertwined in your soul. And there it was, you had never felt so loved in your entire life—not once.

“Oh, Ellie. A thousand times yes!” you practically threw yourself into her arms, the tears falling as soon as you felt the familiar warmth of her body. She was in the same boat, she tried to look up to stop the tears but they wouldn’t stop.

Such intense love for somebody was an overwhelming feeling—but it was one she’d gotten used to.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ⋅ NSFW HC’s ꫂ ၴႅၴ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Country!Ellie who likes having you on her lap for other reasons as well. A lot of the time, you get off on riding the leather of her belt. You don’t put all your weight on the metal part for comfort reasons, just enough to give you that friction on the thick leather part. Ellie would hold your hips and guide them perfectly, watching the way you move against her.

“C’mon, baby. Put some weight into it, yeah?”

“Easy, easy. ‘Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Country!Ellie who has caught you getting off on her belt a few times in private. She’d walk in and you’d be rubbing it on your clit or grinding on it. Though—she’s just as guilty, you’ve seen her get off on your panties. She’d have them stuffed down her pants, biting her lip to silence herself as she rubbed them against her wet heat. It was an arousing sight, mainly because she’d pretend it was your cunt against hers

Country!Ellie who loves reverse cowgirl or just regular cowgirl. She loves seeing your face when you orgasm, or she loves watching your tits. Something about eye contact in that position holds so much more tension. As for reverse cowgirl—Ellie is an ass woman. Size doesn’t matter, she just wants it on her. Seeing your ass plopped down on her is almost just as good.

Country!Ellie who can’t control herself when you’re riding her strap. She will often try and guide your hips, being much rougher than necessary. She doesn’t intend to harm you, but watching the way your body moves when you’re slammed back onto her makes her moan. She’d feel up your ass the whole entire time, unable to control herself.

“Y’won’t feel anything if I’m that careful, baby. Feels good, don’t it?”

“Atta girl, look at you ridin’ me.”

“Shit..’never seen a more perfect woman. That’s my girl.”

Country!Ellie who, once again, is an ass woman. She often begs you to sit on her face, just so she can feel up your ass while getting you off. She doesn’t let you hover, she will grab your hips or thighs and yank you down. That woman wants your whole weight on her, her hands always hold onto the plush of your ass so tightly it’s bruising.

“I said sit, darlin’, y’ain’t gonna suffocate me.”

“Sweet fucking pussy..s’so sweet.”

“You can grind if you want, jus’ want you to feel good. Use my face, baby.”

Country!Ellie who is an absolute fiend for body shots. There’s been times when she’s literally poured alcohol on your body (usually around your tits) just so she can lick it off. She puts shot glasses between your tits and uses only her mouth to pick up the shot glass and gulp it down. She also enjoys taking a shot from the small of your back too. She won’t deny a bellybutton one, though she only does it so she can see your face.

Country!Ellie who loves tying you up. seeing your wrists bound for her is something she could never get sick of. She will usually try and use something soft and loose—but her belt works wonders too. Especially if she’s fucking you from behind, seeing your arms behind your back, bound by her belt—it makes her finish every time.

Country!Ellie who is embarrassed by her moans or orgasm face, so she will try and hide both. Often times she tries to just groan and bite her lip, but if you’re eating her out—being quiet is impossible. Even if she’s just fucking you with a strap, she can’t help but groan as she watches you take her

“Shit..look at you. Suckin’ me in so well, you can take it, babe.”

“Ugh..I jus’ can’t stop fuckin’ you..y’got such a pretty pussy.”

Country!Ellie who has let you get off on her boot. Your thighs were halfway off the ground, looking up at her with a pleading expression as you humped her boot. The way you looked at her made her lose her shit, resulting in her shoving her hands down her jeans.

Country!Ellie who’s actually a huge fan of tribbing. She usually would desperately rut her hips down, trying her best to get all the friction she could. The bed would be shaking from the sheer force, and you’d have to remind her to slow down so it could last longer. Her head would be tipped back, bottom lip caught in between her teeth. When she was close, she’d pant and try and go faster again, her whole face contorting.

“More..give it t’me..”

“Jus’ like that, shit. You’re so wet..gonna cum on you nd’ make it wetter.”

“M’so close. C’mon, babe, ‘need it faster.”

“You feel so good, y’hear how wet you are? Jus’ listen.”

“Good girl, I wanna feel it drool on me.”

Country!Ellie who enjoys slapping your ass for any and all reasons. You bent over to pick something up? She slaps your ass. You’re hugging her tightly and expecting to have a tender moment with your fiancé? Her hand is already speeding towards the flesh of your ass. Even if she’s not slapping it, she’d gently pat the plush of your rear and smile at you. But that wasn’t nearly as fun as slapping it.

“Mm, ‘afternoon, babe.” she’d say, walking through the front door with a leftover whistle caught in her throat. She’d make a b-line towards you immediately, her arms resting on the small of your back or waist. Her hands were covered in dirt, but it was something so usual it couldn’t possibly faze you.

“Hey, Els. I got some stuff at the market for you. Think I’m gonna plant some more tomatoes tomorrow.” you’d say, nodding towards the paper bags on the table.

Ellie would smile at you and hum, the groceries significantly more boring than the love of her life. She’d raise her hand and give your ass a playful swat, whistling and offering you a lopsided grin in response to your gasp.

“Yeah? Good girl, look how smart you are. We can plant em’ tomorrow.”

Country!Ellie who actually mocks your moans when she’s fucking you sometimes. She did love them, but seeing your face when she mocked you was very entertaining. Ellie would apologize afterwards, but she’d do it almost every time. Sometimes she’d speak to you in an overly breathy voice—just like you did.

“Ah, ah, ah—s’it that good, baby?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Fuckk..”

You would just look at her with a mortified expression as she forced more moans out of you. It was incredibly unfair.

Country!Ellie who is quick to tease you for moaning—but when you eat eye her out, she’s a complete disaster. Her hands would be tangled in your hair you were scared she’d tear your strands out. No intense lip bite can silence her when she’s getting head, she just tilts her head back and lets it all spill out. Praises, moans, pleads, all of it.

“F-fuck..jus’ like that.”

“Yeah..right there. That’s a real good spot, babe.”

“Please—don’t stop. M’so close!”

Country!Ellie who has an oral fixation, you could say. She loves being between your legs, lapping at your cunt tenderly. something about being able to hold your legs over her shoulders while she pleases you is addicting to her. A lot of the time, Ellie will spit on your pussy and watch her saliva travel down to your already wet hole.

Country!Ellie who has actually licked whipped cream off your nipples before. You made that banana pudding all the time, her favorite, of course. She always wanted to reward you for being so generous, so she’d take some off the top of her piece and dab it all over your nipples. Then she’d simply lick it off, watching you the entire time. You definitely made that dessert more often for other reasons despite the fact it was her favorite.

tagsss!! <3 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @usuck @haithone

[ninisdollie]

soaked - nakakita yuma ✧˚⋆ ˖

𓏲˚ ۪ ❤︎⊹ request !!

“In which reader can't control herself when her boyfriend looks so hot in family vacation.”

Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x yuma, stablished relationship, sex in a hot tub, rushed sex, dirty talk, creampie.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

"You're staring."

Yuma's voice was low, almost like a growl, and you blinked, snapping out of your trance. You’d been leaning back on the edge of the hot tub, your eyes fixed on him as he lounged in the bubbling water, the steam rising around his sculpted body. His abs gleamed in the dim light, muscles flexing with every movement, the water clinging to his skin.

He looked insanely good, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how the warm water made his slightly tanned skin — thanks to the sunny weather earlier that day— stand out more, how his dark hair clung to his forehead. He was everything you’d ever wanted, and yet, you were struggling to keep your composure.

Because, to be fair, you were in family vacation, with his family. And although you knew how respectful he was around his parents and younger brothers, the truth was, you’d barely had time to enjoy yourselves, you weren’t even sharing a bedroom. Summer house rules, her parents had said.

So yeah, considering that you and him both had a ver strong sex drive, spending hot days in a bikini around him looking so good was almost torture.

You blinked, looking away then, a little embarrassed. His family was inside the house, cooking something for dinner, but if they paid enough attention through the huge glass windows, they would notice anything.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice shaky. You should've been pretending to be casual, like this was just another normal family vacation. But how could you when he looked like that?

Yuma smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he caught the way your breath quickened.

"Are you sure you're sorry, baby?" he asked, his tone teasing but with a hint of something darker, something predatory.

You swallowed, trying to focus on anything else—the chatter of his family in the background, the sound of the water splashing—but it was impossible to ignore the way your body was reacting to his presence. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower stomach, your body aching with need.

"I can't help it," you confessed, voice breathless. "You look too good."

Yuma’s smile turned wicked. He moved closer in the water, until you could feel the tension shift, the space between you shrinking. The sound of the bubbles mixed with the low sigh that left your throat when he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him until your chests were touching, hot, wet skins against each others, your nipples hardened under your bikini top.

“I know," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "I’ve been watching you too, baby. Can’t keep my eyes off of you either."

Your breath caught as his hands slid onto your shoulders, tracing the line of your collarbone, so close to your breasts, but not touching yet.

"You're making it so hard for me to behave," he teased, voice dropping lower. "And I don’t plan on behaving much longer."

His fingers hooked around the strap of your bikini top, his touch burning, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went. You wanted him so badly, your body practically shaking with the desire to close the gap between you. Then his hand trailed down your side, touching your waist and gripping tight, you squirmed, and he lifted you until you were sitting on his lap.

The soaked fabric of his shorts made it much easier to notice, you felt it, right between your legs, he was hard, and you moaned softly at the feeling, your core aching, needy.

You couldn't fight it any longer. You pushed yourself forward, your lips crashing into his as you both gave in to the simmering tension that had been building all day. He responded instantly, his hands pulling you closer, his kiss deep and hungry, as though he were claiming you right there in front of everyone. His hand grabbed the back of your neck, and you tilted your head as he slid his tongue inside of your mouth, a mess of hot breaths and whimpers, you rocked your hips against him, rubbing yourself with his clothed length, trying to ease some of the pain between your legs, and he groaned low, water splashing when he jerked his hips to meet with your movements.

“Fuck.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw and you moaned again, moving your hips faster, needier. He took a quick look back to the house, nobody was around, thank god.

Yuma’s hand slid down your back, gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises, guiding your hips to grind down on him with slow, filthy rolls. The heat of the water and the friction of your bodies made your head spin, your fingers tangling into the damp strands of his hair as you kissed him again, deeper, rougher, teeth clashing in your desperation.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he growled against your mouth, voice raw with need. His other hand dipped below the surface, fingers tracing the waistband of your soaked swimsuit before slipping underneath, bold and hungry. You gasped into his mouth, hips stuttering against him, and he smirked, low and dangerous. “You want this?” he murmured, fingers teasing but not giving you what you needed, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes dark and blown wide. “You want it right here, baby? In the fucking hot tub?”

You whimpered, nodding frantically, too far gone to care about anything else. Yuma chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against your chest as he finally slid his fingers through your slick folds, finding your clit and circling it mercilessly. Your entire body jerked, a strangled moan escaping your throat as you clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“That’s it,” he whispered, biting down gently on your neck. “Let me hear you. No one’s gonna come out here. It’s just you and me now.”

The way he touched you, rough and possessive, had you falling apart in his hands, rocking your hips helplessly against his fingers as he worked you closer to the edge. The hot water lapped around you, splashing over the sides with every desperate grind of your bodies, and the stars above blurred in your vision.

He cursed under his breath, eyes wild as he slid one hand between you, tugging the crotch of your swimsuit aside with a rough, impatient move. He freed himself from his trunks just enough to let his cock slap hot and heavy against his stomach. You could barely see anything with how close your bodies were, but you felt him — thick, throbbing, dripping against your soaked skin.

“Need you,” he groaned, almost like it hurt to wait even a second longer. “Need to feel you — now.”

Without warning, he lined himself up and pushed inside you in one desperate, messy thrust, both of you crying out, the water churning violently around you. The stretch burned so good you saw stars, your nails digging into his shoulders for dear life as he filled you completely.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, gripping your ass and hauling you down harder onto him. “Been wanting this — been losing my fucking mind —”

You whimpered brokenly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he began to move, shallow thrusts that grew rougher and deeper with every snap of his hips. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoed in the humid night air, masked only slightly by the splashing water.

Every movement, every ragged breath, every filthy moan that fell from his lips sent you spiraling faster, and Yuma was just as gone as you were — muttering curses and praises against your skin, telling you how good you felt, how he couldn’t hold back even if he tried.

“You were made for me,” he panted, thrusting up harder, angling just right to have you gasping, seeing white. “You hear me, baby? Fucking made for me.”

You could only nod frantically, clinging to him, riding the overwhelming pleasure as he fucked you right there in the hot tub like nothing else in the world mattered.

And when you broke apart, screaming his name into the steamy night, Yuma followed seconds after, hips jerking up hard as he spilled inside you with a deep, guttural moan, holding you so tight it almost hurt.

The world seemed to tilt and blur around you both, only the feeling of Yuma’s arms wrapped fiercely around you keeping you grounded, the water sloshing lazily now as you both trembled and gasped in each other’s arms.

[baigepueckers]

Paige Bueckers X Olympic Skateboard Reader

Drop In

The sun in Dallas didn’t just shine…it pressed. Heavy and relentless, it clung to your skin like static electricity, forcing sweat to gather beneath your Team USA cap as you surveyed the edges of the temporary street course carved into a parking lot downtown.

You were here for the X Games Summer Showcase, technically. It wasn’t a competition…more of a media circus, with energy drink tents and influencer drones buzzing overhead. You’d done your interviews. Your demo run. Smiled for photos even when you were sore and didn’t feel like talking.

You should’ve left by now. Your manager had already texted twice. But something about the golden light, the smell of tacos from the truck across the lot, and the hum of conversation in the background kept you still. That and the lingering buzz of adrenaline under your skin. Skating…even on a non competition day…never left your system right away.

You pulled your board into your lap and sat on the edge of the cement bowl, wiping sweat from your brow with your sleeve, letting your heartbeat slow. That’s when you felt it a gaze. Not creepy. Not desperate. Just… focused.

You turned your head and spotted her leaning quietly against the chain link fence, arms folded, sunglasses half down her nose. She looked so casually unbothered it took you a second to clock the fact that she wasn’t just another fan.

Tall. Athletic. Blonde. The kind of face that had been everywhere on sports media last year.

“Paige Bueckers” you muttered under your breath, piecing it together slowly.

UConn’s golden girl. The highlight reel darling. And if the rumors were right, the Wings’ latest rookie.

What was she doing here?

You stood, brushing off your shorts, and casually pushed your board under one arm before walking toward her. You weren’t sure if she’d notice…but of course she did. Her gaze flicked up as you approached, and a slow, easy smile curved across her face. Calm. Unreadable.

“You a scout or just here to vibe?” you asked with a lopsided grin.

Her smile widened, amused. “Neither. Just watching.”

Her voice was smooth and slightly raspy. It had weight. Like she wasn’t used to saying more than she needed to. She slipped her sunglasses off completely then and you finally got a proper look at her. Blue eyes, sharp and soft all at once. Her skin glowed from the sun, freckles just barely visible across her nose.

You swallowed before answering. “You a fan?”

“Maybe,” she said, and there was a teasing lilt in her voice. “I’ve seen your Olympic runs. My cousin’s obsessed with you.”

You blinked. “Your cousin?”

“She skates. Sort of. Well, she tries,” Paige added with a slight laugh. “She sent me your entire street final from Tokyo and said, and I quote, ‘This is the most powerful woman alive.’”

You laughed. “High praise. I should hire her as my agent.”

Paige smiled again, this time smaller, more personal. “I thought I’d come see you in person. Didn’t expect to run into you after your run, though.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“You looked… in the zone. Like your own universe.” Her eyes flicked to your board, then back to you. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

No one ever said that to you. People interrupted all the time…managers, brands, fans, influencers desperate for a collab. But not her. She waited.

You leaned a little against the fence, letting the silence stretch. “Well, now that you’ve made contact,” you said playfully, “what’s the plan? You gonna ask me to sign your basketball?”

Paige rolled her eyes, just barely. “Only if you teach me how to stay on a board longer than ten seconds.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You skate?”

“I tried once,” she admitted. “Fell harder than I’ve ever hit the court.”

Your lips twitched. “Okay, now I have to see that.”

Her eyes sparkled just a little. “Maybe later. If I survive practice tomorrow.”

“You’re in town already?”

She nodded. “Just moved last week. Figuring it out as I go.”

That tugged something in your chest. The vulnerability in that sentence. You knew what it felt like to be in a new city, chasing a dream, unsure of whether the ground beneath you would hold. You’d lived that feeling…skating through Tokyo half on adrenaline, half on fear. You’d never had time to stop and look around.

“Adjustment’s weird,” you offered quietly.

Paige tilted her head. “You get used to it?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it just becomes part of you.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. There was no pressure to. You watched a little kid roll past on a plastic scooter, one foot dragging behind him. Paige kicked a loose pebble with the toe of her sneaker.

Then suddenly, she looked up. “You free tonight?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Depends.”

“There’s a taco truck a few blocks from here. I haven’t eaten real food since I got off the plane.” She offered a small, almost shy smile. “You want to come with me?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to but because it felt… delicate. Like the beginning of something you didn’t quite understand yet.

“I like tacos,” you said eventually. “But only if you let me buy you a drink after, too. For surviving the first week.”

Paige grinned, her cheeks tinged with sun and something warmer. “Deal.”

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

Hiii! Can you do something with epilogue and the reader watches his little girl (Pete and reader already knew each other from the club), it’s so obvious that he likes her but the reader wants to play hard to get until finally….THANK YOU

(Lol i don't see why not.

Title: "Maybe"

Pete DiNunzio wasn’t exactly the guy you pictured calling you up for a favor. Especially not this favor.

"You’re not busy or anything, right?" he muttered into the phone, scratching the back of his neck, sounding like he regretted even dialing your number. "I just...I need someone to watch Gabriella for a couple hours. Ma flaked."

You leaned back on your couch, smirking to yourself. "Oh, so I’m second choice?"

Pete huffed. "Don’t start."

You’d known him for years, back when the Eltingville Club was still a thing — when he was just Pete, the loudmouth with a short fuse and too much horror trivia crammed into his skull. Now he was Pete, the single dad who still swore too much and wore the same dumb backwards cap...but something about him had gotten warmer. Even if he’d rather die than admit it.

You agreed, of course. Playing hard to get didn’t mean being cruel. It just meant teasing him a little.

When he dropped her off, he stood in your doorway a little too long. Gabriella clutched his pant leg, peeking out at you with big brown eyes and a stubborn little frown that was so Pete it was almost funny. Pete bent down to her level, ruffling her hair — and you noticed the way he kept glancing up at you, like he was making sure you were really okay with this.

"You got my number, you got my address, you got my emergency contacts," he said gruffly, ticking each item off on his fingers. "You screw this up, I will kick your ass."

You raised an eyebrow. "Relax, Pete. It’s not like I’m gonna sell her to the circus."

He pointed a finger at you, trying not to grin. "You would."

"I mean...depending on the price," you teased.

He rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might pop out of his head. But his ears were definitely turning pink.

Before he could embarrass himself any more, he mumbled something about being back soon and practically bolted.

---

Hours later, after an easy afternoon of Disney movies, drawing pictures, and Gabriella proudly showing you her monster figurines ("Daddy says this one's called The Gill-Man!!"), Pete showed back up — and just stood in your living room doorway, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, watching.

He didn’t say it — of course he didn’t — but the look on his face was so obvious:

You're good with her. You’re good, period.

You decided to twist the knife a little.

"You miss me already?" you teased, tilting your head.

Pete scoffed. "Pfft. In your dreams."

You just smiled sweetly and handed Gabriella her jacket. "Maybe."

And Pete — tough, grumpy, can’t-admit-a-thing Pete — didn’t say anything. He just looked away, scratching the back of his neck again, trying and failing to hide the dopey little smile tugging at his mouth.

You could definitely keep playing hard to get.

It was gonna be way too much fun.

---

Later that night, after Gabriella had knocked out on your couch mid-cartoon marathon, Pete didn’t leave right away.

Instead, he hovered near your kitchen counter, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was holdin’ himself together by sheer force of will. His jacket was tossed over a chair, his backwards cap pulled low, like he didn’t really wanna meet your eyes.

You leaned against the fridge, holding up a bottle of red wine you cracked open once Gabby fell asleep.

"You want a glass?"

Pete hesitated a beat too long. Then he shrugged, real casual. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

You poured two glasses and handed him one. His fingers brushed yours, warm and rough. Neither of you said anything about it.

For a while, it was easy — the two of you leanin’ there, sippin’ wine, the TV buzzin’ low in the background. You cracked a joke about how Gabriella could probably school you on monster movies at this point.

Pete actually laughed. A real laugh. Not forced, not bitter.

It was nice. Too nice.

Eventually, he shifted his weight, settin’ his glass down with a clink and mutterin’, "Listen...about her mom."

You blinked. Pete never brought up his personal shit.

"She left," he said flat, like he was rippin’ off a band-aid. "Couple years back. Said she couldn’t 'do it' no more. Said I was..." He stopped, jaw clenchin’. "Difficult."

You stayed quiet. Let him get it out.

Pete ran a hand down his face. "Said it was like livin’ with a fuckin' teenager. Like I never grew up." He gave a hollow little laugh. "Ain’t exactly wrong."

"Pete..." you started.

He waved you off, snappin’, "Nah, it’s fine. Whatever. I’m better off."

His voice cracked just a little, almost like he didn’t notice.

He stared down into his wine, scowlin’ at it like it personally offended him. His ears were red. His whole face was, actually.

"You ain’t difficult," you said, voice soft. "You’re just you."

He snorted, but it didn’t have any bite.

"You’re the only fuckin' lunatic who thinks that."

You smiled a little. You couldn’t help it.

He could be an asshole sometimes, sure. He could say shit without thinkin’. But at the end of the day, Pete was real. And there weren’t a lotta real people left.

You reached out, real gentle, and touched his arm.

Pete stiffened like you’d smacked him — but then...he stayed. Didn't move. Just stood there, breathin' a little heavier.

"Y'know," he muttered, glancin’ sideways at you, "you always were a little nuts hangin’ around us idiots back then."

You smirked. "Maybe I like difficult."

He huffed a short, almost nervous laugh through his nose. Shook his head, lookin’ down.

"Yeah, well. You must be a fuckin' masochist."

You sipped your wine, slow, starin’ at him over the rim.

Daring him.

Pete set his glass down hard.

And then — with all the grace of a guy throwin’ himself off a cliff — he kissed you.

It wasn’t smooth. His nose bumped yours. Your teeth clicked. He cursed under his breath halfway through.

But none of that mattered.

It was real. All that bottled-up want, all that stubborn, gruff, loud love he didn’t know how to show — it all poured out at once, rough and messy and perfect.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, Pete kept his forehead pressed to yours.

"...You gonna bust my fuckin' balls about this now or later?" he muttered, voice low and wrecked.

You smiled against his mouth.

"Maybe."

[laolafi]

Yeah, the lack of car safety back then ... damn! But babies are pretty much rubber, there's a good chance he didn't get injured that badly. And it makes for extra drama ... with Matthew at hospital for such a long time, the grandmothers will have completely taken over everything regarding George (and they're constantly bickering or full out fighting over any issue regarding him, Hospital Wars reloaded). And then, instead of letting Matthew be a dad, they decide the child needs a new mummy, because that was the attitude of the day. And Matthew's just completely devastatingly lost. He tries to convince himself to stay alive for George, because George needs him, but day after day Cora and Isobel basically demonstrate that he's very much not needed. And that leads to what it leads to.

(Sybil, I think, would be the one to find him and save him. And then go on to read Cora and Isobel the riot act.)

I adore the idea of Tom and Sybil speaking Irish at home to practise, even if they suck at it. I’m from a minoritised language background myself and that makes 100% sense to me. Like my grandfather who’d insist on writing us kids letters in his native language, albeit horribly spelled as he wasn’t ever alphabetised in that language because fascism and wrote “by ear” only when it's very much not a phonetic language.

So she’d definitely join the Gaelic League in York or some other Irish Expat Club once she's back at Downton. And at first everyone there is super skeptical until she explains, look my daughter’s Irish and we just moved here and I want her to maintain that connection and know her culture now her father isn't around anymore … and when people learn she’s a freedom fighter’s widow, they finally understand and she maybe even becomes something of a prominent figure in their circles (I’m not sure if killed freedom fighters were considered “martyrs”, but it would make sense to me that it doesn’t leave people indifferent). And she makes a circle of Irish friends, some of whom understand what she went through.

I think she’d try to make it at Downton at first, as she said after their escape it’s her safe haven, or maybe Robert insists and she feels indebted somehow (guilt, scandal, maybe him having covered Tom's legal fees). But it’s working out less and less and I’d like to think once an independent Ireland is established in August 1922, she’d go home to Dublin for good.

As for Edith, I'm so glad your gut says Blake because that's my blorbo. No backstory with Mary is indeed a bonus. When he comes to Downton for his survey thing, he totally expects her to be snobbish and more importantly ignorant (so basically like Mary was in canon), but Edith would already have been working on estate matters for a while and she'd impress him quite a bit. She's not an expert or a visionary in any way, but she's hands-on and willing to put in the work, and over time he sees she'd be even more competent if Robert would trust her and let her do more. Edith loves to be admired, doesn't she, and she loves to kiss practical farmers. So three guesses what happens in that pigsty that night ... ;)

As for Rose, I'm not sure if she'd be there due to the family's notoriety. It was a bit implausible even in canon, but with Tom executed for treason? They'd never even consider it, realistically, not when their goal is to preserve Rose's reputation. But it's Downton, and it's a wacky AU, so why not?

I liked Rose and Matthew's dynamics too, and I think she'd be the type to try and pull him out of his rut, only she massively misjudges or oversteps on occasion because she's just so young and naive and ditzy. Like, I see her being chief among those who insist Matthew must fall in love again because that would cheer him up, right, until he explodes in her face at some point and Sybil takes her aside to explain. And when she apologises, because of course she would, I see her being the first person to go "What do you need, Matthew?" and actually listen.

This is getting more and more interesting :)

AU where instead of Sybill and Matthew, it's Tom and Mary that die.

[discendia]

So, I did the thing... I mean, can you imagine the power it holds... How could I not do it?

[REF]

[humming-fly]

Wonder what it's like to feel grass under your feet for the first time in your life. Wonder how it feels knowing you'll be the one to destroy it.

[peanutseagle]

damianya promposal? 👀

We all knew she‘d have to take the promposal (and probably even future proposal, lmao) upon herself. Damian‘s too much of a scaredy cat.

Bonus:

( outfit inspo from this ol art)

[hummingjay]

Had to draw a Skua and one of @schwarzgeier's Geiers together

[onetwothree-moved]

my art summary of 2023 :3 this year was the year i started digital art (which is why the first three drawings are traditional) and im really proud of how far ive come!

please ignore the fucking pokefic blog drawing i genuinely couldn't find anything else for february

the last two drawings aren't that interesting because ive just been doing reference drawings of my ocs lately but that's OK :3

ive learned so much and while i still have a LOT to learn i think im pretty happy with how my art currently looks.. i hope i will keep improving in 2024!!

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[prettyngeto]

historical hoe || ryomen sukuna x f! reader

summary: 10/10 cuddle sesh ruined when you remember your man was basically for the streets in his past life. ugh, what a whore.

content: fluff, established relationship, my boy sukuna is just confused, crackfic?? idk i might make this my brand atp 😭 word count: 1k

main masterlist || jjk masterlist

It started off as a nice lil cosy night. You were nestled in between Sukuna’s legs, the low hum of a movie playing in the background - neither of you were really paying attention. His fingers lazily traced circles into your hip, his chest rising and falling against your back. Realistically, you should’ve taken advantage of this rare occasion, you should’ve been basking in this softness. Because everything was fine. Perfect, even.

Until it wasn’t. 

The sudden thought hits you like a truck. How dare he? 

You stiffen instantly, expression souring as your brows knit together, lips pushing into a pout. A loud, frustrated sigh escapes you, making your displeasure very clear. Sukuna notices the dramatic shift in your mood - because, although he won’t admit it, he pays very close attention to you. His fingers still, eyes flicking down to you. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

“Oi.”

More silence.

His crimson eyes narrow, patience slowly wearing thin. “You were fine not even 5 seconds ago. The fuck is your problem, brat?” The question is punctuated with a squeeze on your waist.

Eyes still fixed onto the TV screen, you mutter something under your breath, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“Hah? Stop mumbling, use your words.”

You finally look up, glaring at him with all the fury you can muster, and repeat yourself, this time loud and clear. “Whore.”

Sukuna blinks. “Excuse me.” 

“Whore.” You scoff, arms crossing.

Sukuna stares at you, clearly trying to process what the hell just came out of your mouth, brows twitching. “The fuck did you just call me?”

“You heard me, whore,” you repeat, voice dripping with betrayal as you scoot away from him like his whorish tendencies were contagious. His expression shifts from confusion to one of mild amusement. “And what exactly did I do to earn that title?”

You whipped around, eyes blazing, “OH I DON’T KNOW?? Maybe the fact that you had like 300 concubines in your past life??” 

He does nothing for a few seconds, brain still buffering before he bursts out laughing. 

Yeah, you just made Sukuna, King of Curses laugh. Truly, you would have been admiring your exceptional feat if you weren’t currently so disgusted by him. 

“Woman, there’s no way you’re mad about some shit that happened centuries ago.”

You gasp loudly, hand flying to your chest like he had just admitted to killing a room full of puppies (which, knowing him, isn’t entirely impossible - but still.) “So you’re not denying it??” 

This man(whore) just stares at you, still baffled at your outburst. “...huh?”

You, on the other hand, were on the brink of losing it. “So, you cheated on me.”

His eye twitched, “You weren’t even fucking alive at the time.” 

You just scoff, shaking your head in utter regret and disappointment, “For the streets before my birth is crazyyy.”

A deep, exhausted sigh makes your head snap up to him, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to try and speak. He would later wish he hadn’t, but alas - he did. 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? ME? I’M the one being ridiculous?? Sorry, remind me which one of us was out there entertaining an entire fucking harem?” You rolled your eyes, the scorn in your voice evident now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly tired of your antics - which, in your mind, were completely valid. 

“Babe, it was a thousand years ago.” This man really needs to learn how to shut his mouth. 

“Oh, so that makes it okay then?” You counter, eyebrows raising accusingly. 

“That’s not what I-”

“You really expect me to be out here cuddling you, knowing you were practically a historical hoe?”

His mouth drops open, at a complete loss for words - look at that, your second feat of the night that you could have been celebrating but noooo your boyfriend just had to be a bop before society even invented the word. 

“What the fuck…” 

And then it hits you. The real tragedy. Yet another scandalised gasp leaves you, your face one of pure horror.

“Oh my god,” you immediately scrambled to the opposite side of the bed, practically pressing yourself against the wall, voice dropping to a whisper. “I was laying on whore thighs.” 

He could only groan, dragging a hand down his face in absolute despair. “I swear to every god out there, I will throw you out of this fucking room.” 

“You probably used that exact line on all your concubines. You didn’t even have one. No, you had MULTIPLE. I can’t believe this. How greedy can one get.”

“Oh my fucking god.” 

You decide you've officially had enough of staring at his stupidly handsome face, so you turn your back to him, facing the wall like a petulant child. Your eyes immediately land on the pictures of you both scattered around, and you barely manage to muffle a scream. “Don’t talk to me.”

This time, his groan was accompanied by both hands dragging down his face. “You cannot be serious right now.” 

You didn’t move. You didn’t even acknowledge him. 

You were determined to see this silent treatment through. 

Sukuna exhales through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment to try and fathom exactly what the fuck had just happened. Before you know it, a strong arm snakes around your waist, effortlessly yanking you back into his chest. “Enough.” He murmurs. 

“No,” you grumble, still pouting. “Go back to your little harem.”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh, so now I’m just a replacement.”

He rolls his eyes, tucking your head under his chin as his thumb draws small comforting circles on your hip. “Woman, I swear-” He mumbled. “You know damn well you’re the only one I give a shit about now. Behave.” 

You mumbled something incoherent into his chest, still sulking (although the way you immediately melted in his embrace said otherwise). But when you felt his lips press against the top of your head, soft and lingering, you supposed you maybe could let this slide… for now.

“...still a whore.”

“For fuck’s sake, I should have just stayed single.”

ᯓ★ notes from star: this idea came to me during a lecture. i was fighting demons to not start writing then but i didnt want anyone seeing 😭 as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!!

also happy mauritius independence day!! 🇲🇺 prettyngeto © 2025. all rights reserved - please do not plagiarise, translate, steal and repost any of my works on any social platforms for whatever reason.

[lxnarphase]

g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

[pseudowho]

"So, you go against the hairs...that's right...and then with the hairs..."

"...is-- is this right?"

"Mmm. Now, clean your blade..."

You pretended to tidy the bedroom, sneaking glances up to Kento, and Yuuji, stood shirtless at the bathroom sink. Both had thickly lathered faces, and sharp razors, examining their faces in the mirror with absolute precision.

Sshhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Peach fuzz.

"...and so anyway, I said to Fushiguro, shadows are great but sometimes you gotta just hit a guy..."

Kento listened, quiet, his mind always calculating several threads while mentoring Yuuji; yet, he was distracted. The old school corridor bathed in orange evening light, setting Yuuji's hair aflame, to coral in rocks. With Yuuji's nattering profile illuminated, the edges of his cheeks blurred from their usual sharp relief.

Fuzzy.

"...like, Kugisaki gets it, but she's like, just a bit feral and..."

Kento wondered if Yuuji had noticed. Kento recalled he only noticed, when his grandfather brushed his jaw with one clawed-over old hand, softly mocking Kento's furry scowl in lilting Danish. Kento's eyes lowered to the floor, counting his own steps and thinking in one, two, three and thoughtful on four, five, six.

"...Gojo's great but it's hard to learn from a guy who's that far out of my league, y'know? So--"

"Itadori-kun."

Kento had stopped, straightening his glasses, looking out onto suburban skyline. Yuuji stopped with him, inquisitive. A train rattled through, distant, splitting through the sunset. Kento looked back to Yuuji.

"It's important to look tidy, at work. Professional."

Yuuji raised his eyebrows, elbows rounded as he held his arms out, looking down at himself. He shot Kento a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Fuzzy peach.

"...ah-- yeah...guess I've always been a bit scruffy, huh? My grandad used to tell me I'd never get a job with hair like this."

Kento hummed. He stepped forwards, and raised one long-fingered, broad hand to gently grasp Yuuji's jaw, tilting it back and forth in the amber glow. Yuuji's bottom lip drew up, his eyes wide in surprise.

"...Nanamin?"

"Has anyone taught you how to shave, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blushed, his eyes flicking away from Kento in a mortified little scowl, his jaw still clasped. Kento released him, clearing his throat and checking his watch.

"I think we're finished up, here. Do you have any evening plans, Itadori-kun?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you need to go over an area again, get more shaving foam-- not that much-- and repeat the steps..."

"...this is...tricky..."

"With regular practice, you can improve any skill, Itadori-kun. Unless you'd like a beard, which still needs management, you'll be shaving every few days, or more."

"...you always...look so tidy..." swshswshswsh.

"It takes effort." Shhhick. Swsh.

"Yeah right. I bet you wake up like that. Tie and all."

A deep, rumbling laugh. Yuuji's foamy, surprised face, looking so boyish.

You slid past the bathroom. You pulled your phone out, surreptitiously clicking a photo. Kento and Yuuji, leaning over the sink while Kento steadfastly instructed him, became your new phone background, and stayed as such for a full year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Took a lot of portions to send him to bed with a full tummy."

Kento chuckled at you, his hair mussed and soft. Legs crossed in bed, with a book on his lap, he read to the sound of soft snores in the guest bedroom next door. The lamplight, low and warm, illuminated Kento's face in the gloom.

Stubbly.

You reached a hand out, brushing across his jaw, feeling its sandpaper rasp across your fingers.

"I think you were so busy teaching Yuuji," you whispered, scratching Kento's chin as he crumpled his lower lip up, "that you missed some patches yourself. C'mere."

You stood, walking to the bathroom and sitting on the counter, grabbing a razor and shaving foam. Kento's eyes twinkled at you, feigning annoyance. He walked to you at the sink, looking straight into the bones of you. He grasped your thighs, pushing them apart before settling between them, chuckling again as you lathered his face.

Shhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

You felt a growing pressure between your legs as you focused on shaving Kento's jaw. Kento fidgeted, pyjamas tight and tenting. You bit your lip, smirking.

"...Mr.Nanami. I am trying to concentrate."

"Mmm, so am I, but it's...hard."

"Yes. I can feel that."

Another deep rumble of a laugh. Kento grasped your thighs tighter, pressing forwards into you. You gasped, taking the razor from his face as Kento nuzzled shaving foam into your giggling neck.

"Don't stop." He whispered, a crooked smile on his lathered face. "Concentrate, please, Mrs.Nanami."

[bvrnesher]

۶ৎ — A Welcome Gift !

tap here for chb masterlists ! here for reqs info

warnings: heavy making out (percy is starved, okay?) pda, percy getting handsy & kinda dry humping, public beach so espect sand getting everywhere!

ㅤ୨ৎ — ˳ percy jackson ! fem. reader

summary: after months apart, percy is finally back at camp—and the moment he sees reader, he's all over them. Greetings can wait. Right now, all he wants is reader, and a whole lot of making up for lost time.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗗𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 with Percy.

There was no other explanation. He'd been saving Olympus ever since he found out he was a demigod, and what did he get in return? More quests. Nonstop.

The gods were a bunch of idiots. Seriously, they were pros at it. After everything he'd done for them, they still had the audacity to send him on more quest.

Wasn't that some kind of child labor? Sure seemed like it. Well, maybe not child labor anymore, but there was definitely some exploitation going on here.

They had to be joking. You'd think that after saving their godly asses time and time again, they'd at least give him a break. But nope. Overestimating the gods was always a mistake.

And now, finally, Percy was back at camp after yet another quest. Sadly, you hadn't been there to join him—lucky you, right? You weren't even around when he had to pick his team.

Now he was back.

You had just finished unpacking in your cabin and were heading to the beach for some much-needed relaxation. That was the plan... until you saw your boyfriend emerging from the water.

Clasic Percy. Coming back from a quest and just appearing out of nowhere, soaking wet. What else did you expect?

As soon as he spotted you, he sprinted toward you faster than Apollo reciting one of his cringey haikus.

Could you blame him? It had been months since you'd last seen each other. Ignoring his exhaustion, he practically knocked you down into the sand, trapping you beneath him.

You barely had time to process it before his lips took over yours.

A proper greeting? For what? His version of a "hello" was his salty mouth crashing into yours, his wet hair dripping down his jaw and chin, splashing onto your cheeks... and basically your entire face.

"Hey..." Kiss.

"Not now. Talking can wait," he muttered, just before capturing your lips again.

Percy didn’t care about being seen or the lecture that would come afterward. Right now, the only thing on his mind was you. It had been months. MONTHS.

“Mph…m'trying to speak here...” you murmured, trying to talk, but your voice came out weak and breathless.

"Yeah? Well, I’m trying to kiss you here," he responded, nibbling softly on your lower lip in that playful and sexy way that always left you breathless.

You rolled your eyes and shifted positions, now on top of him, pinning him to the sand with one leg on either side of his body.

"Now that’s better," he grinned. The feel of your body molding to his like two puzzle pieces was enough to leave him with a goofy smile, looking at you like you were everything he needed.

And, honestly, you were.

"Much better."

His hands slid under your shirt with a mix of tenderness and desperation, like he was trying to reconnect with you after all the months of separation. Percy's thumb began to trace slow circles on your hips, while his other hand explored a territory he knew by heart.

He looked up at you from beneath, his sea-green eyes locking with yours. Even the sound of the waves crashing against the camp’s beach seemed to fade into the background as you both got lost in the moment. Leaning in, he kissed you languidly.

"I love you..." he whispered.

Percy held your jaw, trying to pull you closer to him, to get as much of you as he could. The hand under your shirt slid to your back, tracing up and down your spine. Playing with the clasp of your bra.

Then—his tongue slipped into your mouth, finding yours. A low breathy moan escaped him and you melted. A soft hum vibrating in your throat.

Percy kissed you just the way Percy was supposed to kiss.

A small whimper slipped from your lips. And that’s when it hit you.

Public.

"Percy,” you tried to protest, but his name came out more like a plea than a complaint.

He smirked against your lips. His fingers toying with the clasp of your bra, teasing. That sound you just made? It should be illegal.

“Yeah, babe?” he murmured. Lips brushing against yours. His breath mixing with yours.

The beach was empty. Just you, him, and the waves. It would’ve been the perfect moment—if you weren’t ruining it.

But your boyfriend knew exactly how to fix that.

“What’s the problem?” he asked softly. His voice dropped an octave, low and smooth, like a secret.

"Percy, we’re in the open—”

“And why should that matter?”

A hand on your hip. A pull. He rolled his hips up, it was subtle. Intentional.

Your breath hitched.

He was hard.

His body was warm. His muscles tense with anticipation as he pressed you down against him. Seeking more of you. A deep, shaky breath left him as his hands roamed your body, slow and purposeful.

“Mhm...” He let his head fall back against the sand, eyes shut, lips parted.

Then, he looked at you. And that look? That look made you shiver.

His voice dropped again. Rougher now. “You... are wearing... way too many clothes.” His hand slipped under your shirt. Tracing the edge of your bra with his fingers. One swift motion and he flipped you over.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, your neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, he sucked gently, right where he knew you liked it.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, voice husky. His eyes roamed over you, taking you in. “Make some room for me.”

He pulled back just enough. His hands found your knees, and he guided them apart, spreading your legs for him. As soon as he had room, he settled between your legs, gently pulling you to him.

A searing heat coursed through your body as Percy caught your wrists and held them above your head, his fingers tangling in the sand around them. His body pressed against yours, his weight enveloping you in the best possible way.

He leaned into you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. His eyes were fixed on your face, devouring your every feature as he drew closer. His gaze slid between your eyes and lips, taking in every detail.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this..." Percy murmured and he began to roll his hips against yours diligently as his lips sucked hickeys on your neck. His body molded perfectly against yours, and a single movement of his hips was enough to leave you dumb.

"Clothes get in the way..." He murmured, tugging at the waistband of your shorts, and you could do nothing but nod before grabbing his chin to kiss him desperately.

By the time the kiss broke, a trickle of saliva connected your swollen lips with his. A lopsided smile splits over his lips that makes your tummy flutter, and he's already thrusting against your clothed pussy.

Your own hips buck against his, and Percy can only let out grunts and curses in your ear at the sensations.

Percy would be ashamed of how he was leaking under his clothes if he wasn't too busy taking your welcome gift to really dwell on it.

NOTE;; I wrote this half-sleep, lol.

[zillychu]

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw: