#pink shinies >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[ninisdollie]

sunghoon with a hyper-feminine gf 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

your boyfriend Sunghoon is the kind of guy who everyone calls the “Ice prince”. He’s not mean or dry, but he’s reserved, quiet and extremely graceful. Sometimes he avoids talks like he’s allergic to them, some people may even find him a bit intimidating.

But when he’s in your room, everything soft and pink with heart-shaped pillows and shiny-eyed plushies, laying on your bed covered in pink satin sheets, he’s a completely different person. He always rolls his eyes and tells you that you talk to much, but deep down loves how your voice fills the room, his life used to be a lonely silence before you came in with your pastel skirts and french manicure.

Sometimes, he already knows what you will ask for when you plop down besides him with a bottle of nail polish and a pout on your glossed lips. And of course, you know what his answer will be. “Hoon, can you do my right hand again, please? You know i suck at it.”

Sunghoon always sighs like he’s annoyed, but still reaches for your hand, his touch always gentle. Your wrist rests in his palm as he carefully paints each nail with a small furrow in his brows, super-focused. He’s very careful too, no streaks at all. He calls it his “Ice prince” precision.

And of course, meanwhile, you ramble about your day, school drama, your favorite designer dropping new clothes, and he just hums now and then, nodding quietly and always, always letting you talk. Sometimes, he lifts your hand and softly blows on your fingers between coats, and you always smile and kiss his forehead, which makes him click his tongue. “Don’t distract me or you’ll end up with ugly hands.”

And even if sometimes he doesn’t say anything at all, you can tell he’s listening, because of the way he smoothes your pinky and the little smile on his lips. Your friends never believe you when you say that your boyfriend paints your nails, but at the end of the day, your perfect manicure is always courtesy of your pretty Ice Prince.

Your quiet and gorgeous boyfriend Sunghoon always stays over whenever he can. You tell him he doesn’t need to, but he’s already dropping his bag by your door and jumping into your bed, resting his back against the giant teddy bear plushie with a pink bow around its neck — the one that, must clarify, he gave to you for your first year anniversary— “You know, i like it here.” he mumbles, playing something on his phone while you finish your skincare.

He waits until you crawl in beside him, into his arms, because despite all his disinterest in the world, he’s always warmest when it’s just you.

And when you’re curled up on his chest, twirling your finger around the chain on his neck, chattering about your day, he just strokes your hair lazily and tells you that he loves your room, because it’s your world, and it smells like you.

[lonerslug]

hihii would it be possible for you to do Sevika dating a bimbo reader?

sevika x bimbo!reader ;; slow burn fic ;; smut, men dni, read at your own discretion

You stood in the center of the Last Drop in heels too high for the floorboards and a top that barely clung to your chest. The smell of metal and whiskey didn’t quite match your lip gloss, but you didn’t mind. You were used to not fitting in.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” the bartender asked, already looking amused.

“Nope! I’m meeting someone,” you said brightly, tugging your miniskirt down a little. “Is this the place with the…um, illegal fighting?”

He stared. You blinked.

“Sevika,” you added, lowering your voice like that would help. “I’m here to see her.”

That made his eyebrows jump.

Moments later, the door to the back creaked open.

And then she appeared.

Broad-shouldered. Scowling. Arm glowing dim red, Sevika. She looked you over like she was being forced to participate in some sick joke, eyes dragging from your lashes to your shiny little purse.

“Who the fuck let Barbie into my bar?”

“Oh my God,” you gasped, “you do talk like that.”

Sevika turned back toward the door. “Nope.”

“Wait, wait hey!” You scrambled in those dangerous heels to follow her into the back room, dodging crates and that weird damp smell. “I’m here about the ad you posted.”

“There was no ad.”

“You know,” you chirped, flopping down into a metal chair like it was upholstered in velvet. “The one that said, ‘Need someone dumb enough to be bait for a gun deal? Willing to wear a wire and shut up when told?’ That one.”

Sevika looked at you. For a long time.

Then she snorted. “You’re serious.”

“Very! I even brought my own wire. I don’t really know how to use it, but it looks super cool on my hip.”

“You’re gonna die,” Sevika muttered, dragging out a cigar. “And I’m not babysitting a walking liability in six-inch heels.”

“Seven,” you corrected helpfully. “And I’m not that dumb. Just sparkly.”

She lit her cigar. Didn’t answer.

You watched her with wide eyes and soft lips parted slightly, attention rapt like she was the main event at a fashion show instead of an exhausted middle-aged woman with blood on her boots.

“You’re hot,” you said finally, like it had just occurred to you. “Do you get that a lot?”

Sevika coughed. Like physically coughed.

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

She waved a hand at you. “Out.”

“But I brought snacks,” you pouted, pulling a glittery little pouch out of your bag. “And I’m good at pretending to be a dumb girlfriend. You don’t even have to teach me. I am one.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” you smiled.

Three Weeks Later

You were still around.

Still trailing behind her in your short skirts and perfume that didn’t belong in a place like Zaun. Sevika told everyone you were temporary. “A phase.” A joke she was barely tolerating.

But she hadn’t kicked you out yet.

And you had this way of saying “Vikaaa,” all whiny and syrupy, that made her jaw clench so hard it popped.

You offered her pink drinks at the bar with little straws in them. You swung your legs when you sat, leaned into her arm when you laughed, blinked those long lashes like your brain was made of cotton candy and slow, hot honey.

And Sevika kept lighting her cigar.

Lighting it.

Lighting it again.

Never smoking it.

Because every time she looked at you, her hand drifted low under the table and had to grip the edge so hard she left marks in the wood.

_

It started with the lollipop.

Pink. Sticky. Loud.

You were curled in her office chair, legs spread lazily in that tiny skirt that had no business surviving this long in Zaun, sucking on the candy like it owed you money.

Pop. Slurp.

“Sevikaaa,” you sang. “I’m borrrred. Can’t I do something useful? You’re always reading those scary crime books and brooding —”

“I’m working.”

“You look like you’re brooding. Brooding and sexy.”

You winked.

Her eye twitched.

The second time the lollipop popped out of your mouth and you ran your tongue around the tip, slow, like you were practicing something, she stood up.

You froze, still mid-lick.

“Babe?” you said innocently, blinking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The chair scraped loudly as she dragged it back from the desk. You squeaked when she grabbed you by the hips and spun it around to face her, your knees falling open wide between her legs.

“You really like playing games, huh?”

You smiled, all pink and glittery and sweet. “You’re fun when you’re mad yknow.”

Her hand closed tight around your throat, not choking then your lollipop hit the floor.

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up for once in your life,” Sevika growled, leaning in until her lips brushed your cheek. “Or I’ll make you.”

“Ohmygod,” you whispered, breath catching. “Please.” you giggled

That was all it took.

She yanked you up and slammed you against the wall hard enough to make the frames rattle. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth and tongue and smoke. You moaned, high-pitched, whimpering, and rutted against her like you needed her to take you apart.

“You have no fuckin’ idea what you’re asking for, princess,” she growled against your mouth.

“I want it,” you gasped. “I want you to use me.”

Her grip on your waist tightened. “Yeah? You want me to bend you over the desk like a dumb little toy? Shove my cock in that sweet, needy cunt and make you cry?”

You moaned like a slut. Full-body, shameless.

“God, yes yes, Sev, Miss Sevika!”

That made her snarl.

She spun you around, pushed you over the desk, and yanked your panties down. Your skirt bunched at your hips, and you heard the click of the strap harness before anything else.

You whined, legs trembling.

“You ever even had anything this big inside you, baby?” she asked, grinding the fat silicone head against your dripping folds. “Bet they were all scared of you. Too pretty. Too fuckin’ dumb.”

“I…I tried,” you babbled, back arching as the tip slid in just a little. “But no one ever, no one ever fit —”

“Course they didn’t,” she grunted. “This pussy needs someone who knows how to break it in.”

She shoved forward, and you screamed.

It burned in the best way, stretching you, filling you so deep your hands scrabbled at the desk, nails catching on the edge.

“Shh,” Sevika murmured, suddenly slower, gentler. “That’s it, baby. You’re okay. Fuck, you’re takin it like a good girl.”

Your mascara ran. Your mouth dropped open. You could barely even moan anymore, just little squeaky breaths between sobs of pleasure.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can,” Sevika said, fucking you harder, one hand wrapped in your hair now, pulling your head back. “You wanted this, remember? Walkin’ around all soft and slutty like a dumb little bimbo, beggin’ for attention.”

You cried out as she slammed into you again, and again, the sound of wet slaps echoing off the office walls.

“God, you’re so tight,” she hissed, rutting harder. “This dumb cunt’s never gonna forget me, huh?”

Your legs gave out, but she held you up with a bruising hand on your hip, pounding you until you were gasping nonsense.

“M’gonna come,” you sobbed, gripping the desk like your life depended on it.

“Yeah? Go on then,” she grunted. “Soak my cock, sweetheart. Show me how bad you needed it.”

You screamed.

Climax slammed into you like a truck, hot and dizzy and wet. Sevika groaned low in your ear, her thrusts slowing as you shook against the desk.

She didn’t pull out.

Instead, she leaned down, bit your shoulder, and whispered, “I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

taglist: @sapphicstrawcore @sevikaswinkinghole @riotstemple29 @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sevikas-whore @mistershotz @barelykiramman

[kkuras-gamer-gf]

New shade | Daniela Avanzini

Smut

G!pPhotographer!dani, model!reader, lip gloss photoshoot and dani is distracted by your lips, blowjob

A simple photoshoot, that's what you wanted for your new line. A small makeup business with a new line of glittery, shiny lip gloss.

Finding a photographer is easy: Daniela Avanzini, a household name in the city you live in. The go-to for children's birthdays and weddings, and apparently marketing.

The hard part is being stuck in a room with her, curly hair over her shoulders with a backwards hat. A tank top that shows off her arms as well as her abs as it rides up. A glaringly sweet smile as she begins setting up, showing off all of her props. Cherries, lollipops, and various other edible decorations.

Light eyes follow you, and you question if you're going crazy when she blatantly checks you out. You both seem to be sneaking glances at the other, looking away when your eyes meet.

"Should we get started?" She breaks the silent tension.

You nod, finishing putting on your lip gloss, and sit down on the ground next to some props.

First you bring a cherry to your lips, holding it by the stem.

"Tilt your head that way." She gestured up, "Perfect." The shutter of her camera echoed.

You begin to notice a bulge in her pants, growing by the minute. Her bottom lip permanently pulled between her teeth, a smirk on your own lips.

Bringing a cherry red lollipop to your mouth, resting it on your tongue to wrap your lips around it, eyes looking through your lashes up to the now pink-faced photographer as your poses get increasingly flirtatious. You don't miss how her once almost baggy jeans are now tighter around the middle, a now prominent bulge out the front.

She quickly takes a few pictures, the tension in the room thick as you make a show of sucking on the candy, teasing the girl.

"You know, I think I have one more prop idea." A thought comes into your mind, a mischievous smile now as Dani lowers the camera from her eyes.

"Uh, y-yeah. Sure." She stutters, feeling caught as she stares down.

Crawling a bit over to her, a confused look on her face, settling right in front of her on your knees. Hand reaching for the belt around her waist.

"O-oh."

"Is this okay?" Your fingers are already pulling at the silver buckle.

No words, just quick nods and shaky hands raising her camera to capture your face as you unbuckle her belt, reaching a hand under her boxers.

A near pathetic sigh as your fingers wrap around her length to pull it from underneath her pants. Teeth sharply biting at her lip as she tries to carefully snap pictures of the scene in front of her, determined to be able to see this moment later.

"Does this look good?" Placing her tip ever so slightly between your lips, gloss sparkling around it.

"Fuck…" Her hips buckle as she's barely able to speak, "Perfect."

Her camera shutters as she clicks the button, taking a flurry of photos. Wrapping her free hand in your hair, pulling slightly.

"Stick your tongue out." She asks, almost demands, casually, like a photographer directs.

Your eyebrow quirks at her sudden boldness, but you do so, letting her rest the first few inches of her cock on your tongue. The way your tongue barely even reached halfway made the both of you shiver.

"Just like that." She makes sure to move the camera, getting more angles.

Dani can't help herself as she makes a shallow thrust into your mouth, the tip of her cock nearly hitting the back of your throat.

"Hm." You can't help but only make choked whimpers as she keeps herself inside your mouth, once again snapping pictures.

Soon the camera is mostly forgotten, Daniela's head lolling back in pleasure as she thrusts her hips. The camera shutters were replaced by choked gags and muttered swears coming from the Latina.

"Fuck. You look so pretty like this." Lidded eyes looked down at you, "Can i cum in your mouth, baby?"

You nod as best as you can, which only forces you to take her deeper. Dani now remembers her camera, now filled with pictures of you with her cock down your throat, tears down your face, and a mix of lip gloss and saliva dripping from your chin.

Before she fully empties herself out, she pulls out, making sure to get some on your lips and rubbing it with her tip as if it were lipstick and making sure to capture it.

"Made a new shade for you." She smirks, staring at the pictures of your lips painted with her cum.

It's not shocking that you go home and start working on an exact shade replica.

[heartnosekid]

mintplanetdessert on ig

[craftclass]

Have a little 900 word minific while I'm working through some writer's block on my WIP. Written in the spirit of @sawdustandstardust's daddy kink summer event and in opposition to twitter puritanism.

be forewarned: infidelity and daddy kink ahead. frank has been aged up and mel has been aged down. 🤷‍♀️

She’s twenty, maybe. Maybe twenty-one. Abby never asked, didn’t want to seem rude. 

She’s sweet and earnest, and takes excellent care of the kids. She says “yes ma’am” like she’s straight out of a Tennessee Williams play, and not a cute little twenty-something working her way through night school. Abby likes her. She really does.

She also kind of pities her.

Mel lives in a studio with a special needs sister and a broken heater and carries all of her things around in a reusable Trader Joe’s bag. She drinks instant coffee. She always takes her dirty, beat up sneakers off at the door. Abby asked once, teasing, “Are you always this polite?” Mel just looked at her, blinking, like the question didn’t make sense.

Frank had been the one to hire her. He said one of the hospital volunteers needed some paying work. Said he felt bad. Said as the senior attending, he wanted to support his volunteers, said the ER couldn’t function without them. Said Mel was “kind” and “good with kids” and “a little odd, but in a sweet way.” Abby didn’t argue. She could use the help.

It starts small.

Just a hair tie on the bathroom counter, not one of Abby’s. Pale purple and stretched out, not something Abby would ever own. 

Next, lip balm. The little flavorless Chapstick tubes that they keep by the register at the dollar store, nestled into the corner of her nightstand drawer. Abby finds it one morning when she’s digging for charger cords and frowns, but shrugs. Frank’s, maybe. Not worth mentioning.

Then: perfume in her medicine cabinet. Or - not perfume, really. Body spray. Something bright pink that smells sugary and stupid. 

She brings it up over dinner.

Frank doesn’t even look up from his plate. “Oh, that’s Mel’s, probably. The baby threw up on her and she needed to use the shower before she left yesterday.”

Abby nods. It just doesn’t sit right.

She feels, sometimes, that Frank is sleeping with someone. Someone younger. Some shiny little ingénue. 

The babysitter, Abby tells herself, is not shiny. She’s smart and weird and doesn’t wear makeup. She wears threadbare hoodies and doesn’t eat dinner when they offer. She’s not the kind of girl who can threaten a marriage. She’s the kind of girl who gets forgotten.

Abby finds it three months later.

They’ve just flipped the mattress - she’d read something about allergies and dust mites - and she notices a groove in the headboard, right where it meets the frame. You wouldn’t see it unless you were looking, unless the mattress was pulled all the way off.

It says daddy’s girl. 

All lowercase and jagged, like someone carved it with a key.

She runs her finger across the letters.

When she shows Frank, he winces, but he doesn’t look surprised.

“I think it’s from before we bought the bed,” he says too quickly. “Maybe - used furniture, remember?”

“We bought this new.”

He makes a vague sound. Shrugs. “Kids playing, maybe?”

That lands like a slap in the face. The kids don’t know how to spell. 

Abby drops it. The fight they’ll have about it won’t end anything, and she doesn’t have the energy to lose gracefully.

She catches Mel staring once. They’re in the kitchen. Abby’s tying her hair up. And Mel just stares. Not at her face - at her neck, somewhere below her ear.

It only lasts a second, but it’s weird. Something about it feels like a violation.

Abby pretends not to notice. Smiles, asks her how school is going.

Mel says “fine” in that quiet, tight voice of hers. 

It’s late. They’ve been out. A hospital fundraiser thing. Black tie, valet, wine Abby didn’t like.

They walk in together, tired and buzzed, and Frank goes still just inside the bedroom door. Abby nearly bumps into him.

Then she sees it: Mel is curled up asleep in their bed.

Not on it - in it. Curled up under the duvet like it’s hers. One hand curled near her mouth like a child.

Frank mutters, “Jesus.”

Abby is already walking into the room. She doesn’t shout. Doesn’t wake her.

“She must’ve been tired,” Frank says, softly, from behind her. “Long day, I guess.”

“In our bed?”

“I mean, she was watching the kids, Abby. Probably just-”

“Frank.”

He lifts both hands like he’s giving up. “Okay, okay. It’s weird. I’ll drive her home.”

Abby sighs. She looks down at the girl, asleep in the lacy camisole she had been wearing under a modest flannel shirt. There are freckles on her shoulder.

“No,” Abby snaps. “I’m calling someone to come get her.”

“Who would you even call?” Frank whispers, sounding strangely upset. Whatever.

She picks up Mel’s phone from the nightstand. Swipes up. It’s not locked - how stupid of her. 

Abby checks under recent calls. Surely, someone will come get her. Right there, taking up almost the entire list - Daddy.

It’s strange because Mel never talks about her parents. For some reason, Abby had thought they were both dead and gone. 

She calls. 

Behind her, Frank’s phone buzzes in his coat pocket.

Mel stirs in the bed, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey,” she says, her voice hoarse. “You’re home.”

Frank moves first. Says softly, without a care in the world, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Abby’s blood runs cold.

[calcifiedunderland]

I would like to request a oneshot using 3 + 6 + 14 promts. You decide how Giant!Mer!Leona and Yuu interactions goes, if this is their first meeting or if they know each other already, if it's angsty or comfort/fluff or both.

💌 Request received! Thank you for your message~

Leona Kingscholar, ft. Bauble, Blood, & Deep Sea Gigantism

Warnings: blood, wounds, mention of venom

Deciding to deep-dive off the Sunset Savanna coasts was not one of your smartest decisions, but you were intrigued.

Apparently, there was an area where no ship could sail through, without disintegrating into dust. The sailors would be clinging to the sails as they floated into the harbors, and it was something of a local legend to avoid the area. Strange stories of a creature with spikes lurked there, leaving everyone in shivers.

“The light never touches there,” the locals would whisper as you purchased your diving gear, “you best stay away.” You pursed your lips now as you sailed out on your cheap boat. The water was pitch black as far as you could see. Like you were sailing over a black hole.

You gulped down your long-lasting breathing potion, and took a deep breath before launching off the boat. You’d be lucky to find it intact, if you managed to survive. You swam down to the sea floor, taking it all in. The ocean floor here was a graveyard of fallen ships along the coral reefs. The sun was blocked by thick wefts of kelp, with light filtering through onto the sand. You swam cautiously, unaware of green eyes following you as you unknowingly came closer.

Something shiny had caught your eye, glinting an odd gold in the filtered sunlight. A shiny bauble? Maybe it fell off a capsized ship. Upon inspection, you saw they were golden beads in the shape of claws, strung on a necklace with other red and green beads. Your eyes filled with curiosity. It looked like the necklace was looped around the stalk of coral, but the top was too wide for it to have fallen naturally. Then how did it get caught on it?

You tried not to touch the soft pink and yellow spines poking out from the coral. You gingerly reached out to touch the beads when the sand shifted. You gasped when the base of the coral jerked, and two thick pieces lunged towards you. You lurched back, making out a torso, and the two pieces as arms. The spines shifted backwards, and your eyes widened. That wasn’t a coral. That was a merman.

You felt paralyzed when you locked eyes with him, noting his sharp fangs baring a scowl at you. The necklace looped around his neck along with a string of beads, and he had braids on either side of his head. His eyes were green, with a scar over one eye and brown hair previously covered up by the spines floating behind him. His eyes narrowed at you and he lunged over you. You scrambled back as his claws shredded a nearby column of kelp into ribbons like nothing.

Leona let out a tch, watching you flail on the sand. Damn human kicking up a ruckus. His tail flicked in annoyance as he studied you. He thought little human herbivores were smart enough to not come here. He glanced up, looking around carefully.

By now, predators would be out and he did not want to deal with them right now. They knew better than to venture into his territory, but with you stirring up the currents, they may become adventurous. You kicked off the sand floor just as he tried to pin you down, when one of his spines snagged your upper arm.

You yelped, bubbles escaping you. You clutched your arm as a ribbon of blood wriggled in the water. The lionfish mer groaned, green eyes flashing as he grabbed your arm and yanked you downward into the cavern. “No!” You shrieked, trying to pull back. “I ain’t gonna eat ya, but the sharks will if you don’t be quiet,” he hissed, clapping a hand over your mouth while the other held your wound shut.

He managed to wrestle you into a small cave on the side of the cliff. The inside was lit by bioluminescent plants, and decorated with a few skulls and ship sails that served as tapestries. He gave you a sharp look, “wait here. And keep that cut closed..” As he went to the entrance to make sure nothing followed, muttering “human causin’ trouble, now I gotta deal with it,” you took this time to properly observe the mer.

His figure was giant. His spines made him seem twice as large, and his tailfins swayed in the water. You looked curiously at the pair of animal-like ears on the top of his head, when he turned to face you. You stiffened as he stalked closer to you, frowning.

Leona took special care to keep his spines away from you. He grabbed one of the sail tapestries on a rock and tore it easily in his claws. You flinched as he grabbed your arm and began wrapping it. “Thanks,” you said quietly. “I’m (Name).” He grunted, “The name’s Leona, and this isn’t a favor. If you bleed everywhere, you’ll attract more sharks, then I gotta deal with the fallout. Not that they’d be much of a fight,” he shook his spines with almost pride.

“You’re a lionfish?” You asked, fascinated, “I didn’t know merfolk lived in these areas.” Leona rolled his eyes, “they don’t. You see any more of me around here?”

You kept quiet as you studied him, and then the cave. It was small, and there weren’t many personal possessions here. Did he live alone?

“Are humans stupid enough to come into predator infested waters now?” He mumbled, tightening the strip. Your face flushed, “I didn’t know there were predators.” You stiffened when he looked up to study you with disbelief. He really was pretty.

“Well, you ain’t dead from my spikes, so you’ll probably be okay until the sharks leave.” You nodded. Lionfish weren’t typically deadly to humans, you remembered. At most, you may feel some discomfort, but right now, all you felt was some soreness from the cut, which was to be expected.

You cleared your throat, sitting up. “When can I leave?” You asked. Leona sighed raggedly, already tired. “It’ll take at least a day for those sharks to clear out.” He eyed your figure, “unless you wanna be shark bait, you’re better off waiting it out here.” You flinched as Leona curled behind you, reminding you of a cat curling up. He glanced at you, “you mind?” He grunted.

You frowned, “there’s no more space,” you crossed your arms. Between the size of Leona’s spikes and the rocks of the cave, you’d basically be at the front entrance waving down the sharks with your open wound like a flag. Leona seemed to realize this, and begrudgingly opened up, “fine.”

He waited a moment, and you seemed to understand. You crawled into the space, and he sighed. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, exhausted from what just happened. You had a good few hours left on the breathing potion. You’d be fine if you took a nap.

Leona opened one eye, watching you relax. Humans couldn’t all be so naive around predators, he thought as you breathed deeply, already asleep. Still, his tail curled around you, and he pointed his spikes toward the entrance in case anything decided to show up. You may have unwittingly messed with him, but he wasn’t about to let anything else mess with this human.

Thanks for reading!!! Mer! Leona kinda grew on my for this fic ngl, until next time~ xoxo Calci

[fawn7ng]

imagine a yandere fae.

warnings: obsession, idk if this counts as mind control but yk

➣ yandere!fae who you first notice in your garden: a short fae with eyes like glistening emeralds and a slightly crooked smile.

➣ yandere!fae who pesters you relentlessly, fluttering around your flowers, speaking in riddles, dropping strange gifts, and always asking for your name.

➣ yandere!fae who won’t stop asking for your name. his tone shifts from being playful and light to being full of pure desperation very quickly. he himself doesn’t know what caused the shift, all he knows is that he needs your name. he needs you to be tethered to him.

➣ yandere!fae who knows that knowing your true name will bind you to him, and he’s willing to wait (or manipulate you) until you finally give in.

➣ yandere!fae who watches you closely, learning all your habits, your favorite plants, what you do in your free time, learning everything but your name.

➣ yandere!fae who drops by occasionally with a gift or two. no, he didn’t know that pink laurustinus were specifically your favorite flowers!!! what are you talking about!!! no that pebble didn’t remind him of you!!! he just liked how shiny it looked and decided to give it to you!!!

➣ yandere!fae who won’t shut up about wanting your name. it’s been months! you two are practically living together! he should at least know your name! he definitely doesn’t want it for any ulterior motives!

➣ yandere!fae who’s giddy when your patience snaps one afternoon. the sun feels too hot and heavy and your mind too tired. you finally blurt out your name, hoping he’ll leave you be and just shut up.

➣ yandere!fae who hopes you don’t notice how the moment your name leaves your lips, the air shifts. his grin widens into something darker,  eyes sparkling with newfound power.

➣ yandere!fae who makes sure that from now on  you’ll always feel the invisible thread of his influence around you. your thoughts seem less your own, subtle urges always pulling you outside into your garden, toward him.

➣ yandere!fae who makes sure that when you try to resist or push him away, you‘ll find your will faltering.

➣ yandere!fae who makes it that in social situations, your confidence wavers; you’re suddenly filled with anxiety talking to people. the only one you actually feel comfortable talking to is him.

➣ yandere!fae who visits more and more often. you find yourself glad that he does. sometimes you catch yourself smiling at him when you don’t mean to, or speaking kindly when you don’t mean to.

➣ yandere!fae who watches as the line between your will and his own begin to blur in your mind, and you realize that he’s the only one you actually need.

[poppiesandpromises]

& perhaps one day

That stitch will cease its bleeding

I'll gleam pink and new

That shiny pink scar will prove

That I know how to survive

Like rain on windows

I will soak into the soil

& oh, how I'll bloom

[brotherwtf]

💋 and 🤨, both sound really interesting XD

yess anon both of these ideas came to me in the shower if you can believe it

🤨 - Buck meets Buck

"You looking for someone there?"

There's a man standing on the steps to the sheriff's building when Gale walks out. Dirty blonde hair, clothes dirty from work, eyes the color of the sky before a storm. Gale pauses and sets his bag down.

"Yessir, looking for John Egan, said he was from around here," Gale mutters.

The man sighs heavily, shaking his head before reaching inside his shirt for a cigarette. Lights it, brings it to his lips before he speaks again.

"And why would you be looking for him?" The man asks, pointed.

Gale bristles slightly. The man feels accusatory. Gale can't quite tell why.

"We flew together in the war. Is he around? I don't want to keep you all day," Gale says.

The man rolls his eyes back to Gale, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"I didn't go to the war. Had these... seizures and they wouldn't let me join up. But Bucky went. Bucky went and became a war hero. We went to a bar when he came back. Didn't talk about anything, wouldn't tell me any stories. All he talked about was 'Buck'. Told me this Buck got him through the war, and that's all he would tell me," The man says, sucking his lip while his eyes drag across Gale's body. Gale has half a mind to punch him.

"Looks like I've been replaced," The man says and Gale breathes in deeply.

"You must be Buck from Manitowoc, then?" Gale asks, a cold dislike running down his spine.

"Yep," Buck says, smacking his lips around the word.

💋 - Lady

"Gale are you sure you're being safe?" Alex asks, brushing his forehead with glue.

Gale rolls his eyes as he puts a pair of earrings on, pink and shiny, to match the skirt he's wearing. He has another date with John today. Said he wanted to surprise Gale, and when he told Alex he had spun up and thought that John was going to kill him.

"Yes I'm being safe, he has no idea what I am," Gale says, pulling on a pair of stockings.

Alex rolls his eyes as he sets his wig on his glued hairline.

"This is so dangerous, girl, I don't want you getting hurt, or worse! Just... have some sense!" Alex shouts, but Gale waves him off as he puts on his shoes and walks out the door.

Gale had told John to pick him up about a block away from his house, and he sees John's posh black Cadillac parked on the side of the road and can't help the smile that creeps onto his lips. He leans over and waves at him. John smiles back, something dashing.

"Well, don't you look gorgeous," John says, suave like a man from the movies.

[adobe-outdesign]

Could you review the shinies of the Clamperl line?

Clamperl: Clamperl's shiny has one thing going for it: the pink pearl being swapped for yellow, as yellow is indeed a real pearl color. However, the rest of it doesn't really work. The shell is a hyper-saturated magenta color that really distracts from the pearl; a darker purple would've worked much better.

Also, Clamperl normally only uses two colors (pink + two shades of blue), but here the inside has only been lightened instead of being changed to lavender to match the shell, thus adding another color to the palette that only helps to further distract from the pearl. Here's an edit:

(Also also, the inside of the shell has been changed to a dark gray. This is fine, but it makes it look a bit washed out and I don't think it was necessary.)

Huntail: Huntail's shiny is much, much better than Clamperl's. The green color is nice, distinct, and still retains an ocean-y feeling, while the yellow fins have the same color balance as the original orange and blue palette. The only thing I could see arguing is that the blue swap isn't consistent with Clamperl, but honestly the whole line is so inconsistent that I'm not even sure if they intentionally shared a color to begin with.

Gorebyss: Gorebyss' shiny matches Clamperl's shell (intentionally or not) by changing pink to yellow, which looks nice and striking. My only nitpick would be that the purple and pink were lower contrast on the original so making the purple here orange might've balanced it a bit more, but it's not like the purple and yellow here don't go together so I'm not going to complain.

Overall: Clamperl's shiny is pretty bad due to adding colors to the palette and screwing with the balance. However, Huntail and Gorebyss both have very good shinies, with Huntail's being the best of the line.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎFormalities ౨ৎ꣑ৎ

fem reader x haymitch abernathy

thank you my darling @francixoxoxo for proofing!!

Nervous was an understatement. Haymitch was practically quivering where he stood at the end of what felt like the longest aisle in the world. He’d wanted something simpler but those who knew both you and him had other ideas. He supposed a part of him was grateful they wanted it to be special, but that part was silenced in the wake of his fear.

If only his mother was here. Her presence may have offered something resembling comfort, at least familiarity. Or even Sid; goofy, lovable, with that unseriousness that resided in young boys. With a pang he began to miss them, not bothering to shoo the feeling away. It distracted him from the eyes prying into him from the rows of seats he was facing.

Burdock was at his side, but he was moon-eyed staring at Asterid sitting in the front row. No help at all. Maybe it didn’t occur to his friend that he would be nervous. At Burdock’s wedding he’d not shown the slightest hint of it. Haymitch remembered the event fondly, a night spent tipsy and swaying under the stars with you between his arms.

Shifting, he stared down at his tight shoes, a loose curl falling onto his forehead. His clothes were new and he felt like a stranger in them. That didn’t help the tightness in his chest. Taking in a breath, he turned his head to look at the wildflowers carefully twined over the arch he was standing under. Pink. Your favorite. Thinking of you helped him calm, and so he shut his eyes, imagining what you might be doing at this very moment.

Maybe you were hugging your sister or smacking your brother’s arm because he’d made a snarky comment about your choice of groom. Haymitch’s lips twitched up. He couldn’t blame him, really. Had he a younger sister he’d have likely done the same.

He hadn’t seen your dress yet due to your insistence. He also hadn’t seen you since yesterday even though he’d protested the tradition. What, a man couldn’t wake up on the day of his own wedding with his girl in his arms? A flawed practice in his opinion.

There was a long day ahead of him, what with the toast and the reception, but at least you’d be with him for that part. This would be the worst of it, waiting and trying not to think about everyone staring at him. It was a sunny day, thankfully perfect. Birds twittered nearby, and he relaxed his shoulders. They reminded him of you, the way you’d hum moving around his house.

If it weren’t for you he didn’t know how he’d stand living in the shiny lodgings provided by the Capitol. It was too new, too much of a reminder of all he’d been through. This was the prize. If his old house was still standing he’d have opted to live there.

For the first few days after everything he’d been slumped over a table dead to the world. You’d arrived swiftly and pried the glass of white liquor from his hand, forcing him into the shower and setting up the beginnings of a meal at his brand new stove.

He’d been toweling off when you entered the bathroom quietly, brushing off the fact that he was naked and wrapping your arms around his middle, face pressed to his chest. With the scent of you filling his nose, he began to sober up.

“Baby,” he breathed, mouth sinking into your hair.

You shook your head, fingers spread wide across his back. “I’m sorry.”

Haymitch shook his head back. The thought poked its head from the inner parts of his mind. Marrying you. But he didn’t dare utter it aloud until years later.

You’d seen him like this and you still wanted him. Still loved him. You were a miracle, and he didn’t believe in miracles anymore.

Every nightmare, every bad day and you’d stuck around. He found comfort in spoiling you with the Capitol-stamped checks that came for you every month, making sure you had all the pretty things you could want. You decorated his house and made it feel more like a home than a lifeless shell. The smell of your cooking filled the kitchen every night and he lingered in your shadow to ‘help’ (clumsily chopping vegetables, pressing kisses to the back of your neck, cleaning dishes, threading his arms around your waist from behind while you stirred).

Haymitch didn’t know why he’d been shocked when you said yes. In his head you were practically married already but still he had found himself trembling pulling out the pretty ring he’d acquired for you.

Now here he was at the end of the aisle, folding his hands in front of him and hoping he wouldn’t faint before you appeared. Was it a common ailment for grooms? Maybe the new Mrs. Everdeen had a tonic on her. He’d been sober since yesterday but maybe a drink this morning would have calmed his nerves.

Burdock finally tore his eyes away from his wife and faced him, giving him a not-subtle-at-all thumbs up. Haymitch found the energy to lean over and shoulder him lightly, earning a grin in return.

The man who’d be marrying the two of you arrived (Haymitch could never quite remember his title) and took his place in the center of the arch. They were getting closer. He wondered where you were, if you were as nervous as him.

Burdock elbowed him, nodding toward the back of the aisle. When Haymitch looked, his breath was stolen. He could only see a glimpse, but what a sight. You, hair loose, wildflowers threaded through it, holding more bunched in your hands and tied with a pink ribbon. Your mother’s necklace sat at your collarbone- he could see the familiar pendent he’d twisted between his fingers on so many late nights from here. Your white dress was simple- half of its beauty came from the wearer. It was all of this that overwhelmed him: your ethereal glow, the context, you. You looked so happy. It was hard to believe he was the cause.

When you began to walk closer, his breath fled him again. All of this just for him. His wife. You clung to your brother’s arm as you made your way down the aisle, smiling at the guests on both sides. Your bare feet occasionally peeked from under your hem- you loved the feel of warm grass on your heels.

When you finally looked at him he realized he was smiling, so much that it might hurt later. Your brother caught his eye, giving him a knowing look that he nodded ever so slightly at. It was clear: take care of her or else. There was nothing else in the world he’d rather do.

Your brother was supposed to put your hand into Haymitch’s and then he was supposed to lead you under the arch to stand in front of him. When your brother gave him your hand, Haymitch instead pulled you forward, crushing you to his chest. He heard a sigh from somewhere in the audience, likely your sister who’d been up since dawn primping you for today. You didn’t seem to care one bit, wrapping your arms around his middle and tilting your bouquet against his back. Surely you could feel his rapidly beating heart but you didn’t let on. He kissed your hair, your flowery scent filling him. When he pulled back, he noticed a loose flower and fixed it back where it had been tucked behind your ear.

“Hi,” you whispered, and his face split into a grin again.

“Hi, angel,” he breathed, watching your eyes light up. Stepping back, he adjusted your dress as you stared at him adoringly, not bothering to straighten his own clothes.

Standing up straight, he held out his hand, melting when you placed your soft one in his palm. Your sister stepped forward to take your bouquet, giving Haymitch a pointed look, but he didn’t care.

His girl was here, about to be his wife.

For once, the drink wasn’t the reason he didn’t remember something. Haymitch’s eyes were glued to you all through the ceremony, his lips moving when they needed to. He’d already pledged everything he was to you. This was just a formality.

When the man declared you husband and wife, he seized you around the waist, lifting you up so you were level with him. He waited until you leaned forward to kiss you back. Your first kiss married. One out of infinity.

Sweeping you up, he secured an arm under your legs to carry you down the aisle much to the crowd’s delight. You wrapped your arms around his neck happily and leaned your head on his shoulder.

He went through the motions of the toast, the reception all while keeping his eyes on you, a hand on your waist. Maybe it was possessive but he had rights. You were his wife. It felt so good on his tongue. You were just as clingy, hand practically glued to his chest.

Haymitch held you as it grew dark, the stars the only light. The music was slow and smooth, and he swayed back and forth with you, brushing a strand of hair from your face every now and then.

You pressed a kiss over his heart. “Did I tell you yet how handsome you look?”

“Couple times.” He watched you fondly straighten the handkerchief around his neck. “Did I-?”

“Yes,” you laughed, and he grinned, picking you up to spin around once.

“Didn’t let me finish,” he teased, reaching his thumb up to brush your cheek. “Did I tell you there’s a bug in your hair?”

“Funny.”

“No, really.” He used his hand to lift it from one of your flowers. A ladybug. Maybe it’d been there the whole time. “Make a wish.” It was something you’d taught him, that they were good luck. He used the little sentiment to drown out what they’d come to mean in the arena.

“I wish…” you trailed off, meeting his eyes. Standing on tiptoes, you whispered in his ear as he clasped your hand with his other. “…that we’ll be this happy forever.” Both of you turned to watch just in time to see the ladybug unsheath its wings and fly away.

His eyes inevitably turned back to you as you watched the bug take flight with wonder in your face. Special things like you weren’t meant to happen to people like him. But here you were, glowing under the gaze of the moon and stars, choosing to be with him. He’d choose you right back every single time.

Lifting your hands to his lips, he planted a kiss on your knuckles, right by your ring. “Your wish is my command.”

[riddled-with-fear]

How do you feel about Coyle X Murkoff Nurse! Reader? Reader is a new and skilled nurse but had the terrible misfortune of having to patch up Coyle after a nasty run in with some reagents. He was being grumpy and bitchy the whole time she was patching him up and she is just so over it. She responds to him with sarcasm and some attitude and Coyle's kinda digging it. Afterwards, He goes on his way and she thinks that's the end of it right? Wrong. Seemingly out of no where, she finds out she's been reassigned. She is now Coyle's personal nurse and has to patch him up in between trials and overall be in his close proximity 24/7. There's no escaping him now.

How do I feel about this? Anon, this is SO good. I love the idea of Nurse!Reader tending to this bastard. Also, this got really long, really quick, I just couldn't help myself lol. Honestly? When it comes to Coyle I fear I can't help myself in general haha. Enjoy!

WC: 2,495

CW: Suggestive, sexist, and derogatory terms used by Coyle (obviously). depictions of gore and violence. Fem implied reader.

Coyle's Nightingale

You pulled the blue and white pin striped dress over your head. It was stiff, but Nurse Barlow told you it would soften up in a few washes. You smoothed the stiff dress out before fastening a white shift to the front of the dress with safety pins. You did up your hair, affixing the white Flossie–with a muted blue ‘Murkoff’ logo embroidered dead center–to your head with Bobby pins. 

You pulled on your sheer stockings and slipped your feet into shiny, patent leather, black Mary Jane style shoes. You turned to the small mirror in your room, looking at your warped reflection. 

“Ok.” You took in a deep breath, “this is it!” You smiled at yourself. 

You had been in between jobs, looking for something steady, looking for something that could keep a roof over your head. Nursing jobs had been far and few in between. You got lucky by happening upon a flyer stating a facility nurse was needed while a medical research program was being conducted. You practically jumped at the chance. Onboarding had been quick, and now you were to shadow under Nurse Barlow for the time being. 

You walked down the halls of the Sinyala facility, and took a mental note of how run-down it looked. The walls were grimy, the tile floors were scuffed and had oddly colored stains. It almost seemed like poorly mopped dried blood. For a medical facility specializing in ‘research’ you’d have thought the upkeep would have been better. You thought it would have been in pristine condition, or at least clean. You pushed the thought out of your mind as you entered the pharmacy and laid eyes on Nurse Barlow reading at the counter.

Her blonde hair was perfectly curled in the front, her face done up with a soft blue eyeshadow, a soft pink rouge, and deep red lipstick. Her nails are perfectly manicured with red nail lacquer. You became a bit self conscious at your own appearance, she exuded the perfect, traditional, American nurse image. She was an exact copy of the nurses on the flyers you had seen years ago for the last war, enticing young women to join the nurses on the front lines. Propaganda you admittedly fell for yourself.

Without looking up from her book, she greeted you. “Oh, hi Honey, why don’t you take a seat?” 

You silently nodded. You took note of just how tired she sounded. You seriously hoped this wasn’t what your job was going to entail. A pill pusher? You had much more qualifying skills than just working a pharmacy counter. You had been stationed overseas for God sakes tending to the soldiers in the last war. 

You looked up to the glass window, seeing a few men in bio-hazard suits that covered them head to toe. They donned surgical masks, and goggles. Both items obscured their faces. They wore long knee length aprons, and elbow length gloves over their suits. You couldn’t quite see what or who they were working on. Whatever they were doing must have been intense as they wore so much PPE. 

“Erm, Nurse Barlow?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What uh, what am I going to be doing here? I just… no offense, I just don’t think working the pharmacy counter is really putting my skills to use…”

Nurse Barlow sighed before shutting her book. “Look, whatever Doctor Easterman has assigned you to do, you do. He knows what's good for you.” She opened her book and resumed reading. 

You sighed, resting your elbows on the counter, and propping your head up in your hands. You looked around for anything to do rather than just sitting here. Yet everything seemed to already be meticulously organized. At least Nurse Barlow seemed to keep her station clean. 

“Nurse, one of the Prime Assets had a nasty trial with one of the reagents. He needs a good examine and potentially could use some patching up.”

You nearly jumped at the sudden voice, turning around to see a guard.

Nurse Barlow let out a heavy sigh, and slammed her book closed before turning to the guard. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Sergeant Coyle, ma’am.” 

“That bastard? Oh, pardon my french dear.” She looked at you. You waved her off.

“Yes, ma’am. Can you follow me please? We’ll take you down to the Thin Blue Line.”

You followed close behind as the two left the pharmacy.

During on-boarding, you had been given a quick rundown of what to expect, and not to be too frightened. This was rigorous therapy designed to help the most demented of people. Everything you were about to see or come across, you had been assured, was perfectly fine. You were then taken to a dark room, and made to watch a video filmed by Doctor Easterman elaborating further on what this was. 

Yet despite all that, you were not prepared to see what you did. The room you, Nurse Barlow, and the guard entered was in horrendous condition. There was gore and  viscera staining the walls and covering the floor. Dismembered bodies littered the room. The sight was nothing compared to the smell. Rancid meat, and decay filled your nose. The scent was mixed with something else, it smelled almost… burnt. You pressed your lips into a thin line as you tried to not let the sight or smell get to you. 

What was this place? What exactly was going on here? And what the fuck did you get yourself into?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a different guard wheeling in a gurney. Strapped to it by leather restraints was a cop. Or at least, he looked like a cop.

The man was dressed in a very basic cop uniform; a leather jacket concealed a white button down adorned with a red tie. His pants were black–standard issued slacks– and he wore knee high leather boots. He only had one glove on his right hand. You looked at his face, half of it was scarred to hell and back. His beard was black and beginning to gray in some spots. His eyes were obscured by black aviator glasses. The black cap on his head was decorated with a badge that read ‘Special Killer.’

The strangest part about his outfit was the yellow and blue wires that were wrapped around his torso and coiling down his right arm. You were too focused on taking in his incredibly strange appearance to hear what he was ranting and raving about.

“-THOSE PINKO FUCKS!” 

You jumped at how loud he got. Nurse Barlow scoffed at him, “I can’t be worrying about Prime Assets. My Reagents need me. Let the new nurse take care of him.” 

You were about to protest, when Coyle’s southern drawl filled your ears once more, “Easterman hired another whore to clean up his mess?” 

You glared at the cop, taken aback at how quick he was to degrade you. He didn’t even know your name. 

“I’ve done my time patching up Prime Assets. It’s her turn.” Nurse Barlow left with the guard. 

You were left alone with Coyle. Albeit him being strapped down, you were still uneasy. You looked around the room, noticing another viewing window with identically dressed doctors you saw in the pharmacy. Seeing them put you at ease.

You walked over to the gurney, “OK… Um, Mr. Coyle, Sir? I’m going to examine you now. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t need no patchin’ up. I need to teach those Fuck-O’s a lesson! There’s fuckin’ laws ‘round here and I was just enforcin’ ‘em.” 

“Well, you’re bleeding. I have to examine you.”

You walked closer to him, doing your best to shove the cords out of the way, and began to unzip his leather jacket. His white button down and red tie came into view. You knew his face was bloodied, what you couldn't see is what worried you. You didn't know what was hiding under his garb, and you didn't have the tools readily available if it was more than a scratch.

“I need a fuckin’ cigarette.” Coyle barked.

“No smoking. Those things kill you, ya know.” You began unbuttoning his shirt, gently moving the fabric away from him.

Coyle scoffed, “You can’t keep me from smokin’. Can’t tell me what to do, neither.”

Your delicate movements surprised him enough to shut him up. You slid your hands over his stomach, pressing down lightly to see if anything was tender. When he made no sound you moved on to his ribs, gently pressing your fingers against the bones to feel for any abnormalities.

Coyle, though he’d never admit it to you, reveled in the feeling of your hands working on him. Your warm, soft, and feminine touches elicited a spark of arousal within him. A very primal feeling overtook him.

“Hrrm, honey, I think my groin is injured too, might wanna take a look.” Coyle groaned.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head continuing to palpate for any unseen internal injuries. “Ok, looks good.” You re-buttoned his shirt, zipping his jacket back up.

“Officer Coyle? I need to examine your obvious facial injuries. I need to remove your cap and glasses.”

“First you deny me my cigarettes, ‘n now you wanna expose me further? I don’t think so, Honey.”

You softly sighed, a sound Coyle surprisingly enjoyed. His cock twitched in his pants. He took another look at you, clear disdain was plastered on your face.

You stood next to his face, hands on your hips, “You’re gonna have to cooperate.” You broke the silence.

Coyle grumbled under his breath, beyond agitated that one; he hadn’t had a smoke in a good hour. And two, he couldn’t get any reaction out of you. Which only tempted him further.

Coyle wondered just how much you could take before you broke. How much would it take to get that pretty head of yours to snap? He was dead set on trying.

“Ya gonna make me, Honey? Ya gonna try ‘n tell me, an officer of the law, what to do?”

You glared at Coyle. Your gaze cold and dark. There was something behind your eyes Coyle couldn’t quite place. Something dangerous hidden behind a pretty facade. Something Coyle found himself wanting.

“As a matter of fact, yes. You’re in my care now. For the time being you will listen to me.”

Coyle scoffed, “well how ‘bout that. A woman thinkin’ she can tell a man what to do.”

You rolled your eyes, but bit your tongue. You were still a nurse, and you needed to behave as such. Coyle was a right asshole, now you see why Nurse Barlow wanted nothing to do with him. You took a deep breath, and retrieved supplies left for you on a nearby table.

You looked over the gauze, the thin wire, and the needle. Not appropriate supplies for patching someone up, and definitely not sterile either. You really started doubting this was a proper medical facility.

You turned back to Coyle who was shifting uncomfortably on the Gurney. “You’re gonna want to stop moving while I stitch the gash under your eye.”

Coyle stopped moving, not because you told him to of course, but because the sooner this was over, the sooner he could get back to cooking the pink out of those sorry ass reagents, and the sooner he could get a smoke.

You cautiously approached him, still wary even though he was restrained. You gently wiped away the caked up blood with a square of gauze, opening the already healing wound as you removed the scabs, causing a fresh trickle of bright crimson blood to leak out. You frowned at the sight. Coyle didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. You pressed the square of gauze to the gash and held firm pressure, slightly moving Coyle's head to the side as you did so.

Coyle looked up at you, seeing you so focused intrigued him. Seeing you so focused on him caused his already aroused cock to leak. He was desperate to see just how far you'd let him go, see how much of him you could take before you broke. Mentally and physically.

He watched as you removed the gauze, checking the wound before tossing the piece of cotton aside. He watched as you skillfully threaded the needle, and returned to the gash on his face.

"Hold still, I don't have lidocaine so you're going to feel this unfortunately.

"Hrmm, that ain't nothin' Honey."

You gently pinched the sides of the gash together and pierced the skin. You quickly began suturing his wound close. You winced every time your needle stabbed into his skin, pulling the thin wire through with a faint squelch. Your finger tips now stained a deep red. You pulled the needle through his skin for a final time, and tied off the wire.

"Ok, all done." You tossed the needle and wire down on the nearest surface. "I'll call the guards in to bring you back to wherever it is you came from."

Coyle sneered, grumbling under his breath once more. You couldn't quite tell what he was saying due to his already low voice and southern drawl.

"You're welcome." You wiped your bloodied hands on the white shift pinned to you.

"I ain't thankin' you fer doing yer job." Coyle glared at you.

"I wouldn't of had to do 'my job' if you weren't cruisin' for a bruisin'." You taunted him.

Coyle didn't know what to say. No one had the balls to stand up to him, much less someone the opposite gender. "If those Jay-walkin' Shitbags didn't gang up on me... Lord. I'd have killed every last one of 'em Commie shitbirds."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure."

Coyle glared daggers at you, not that you could see his eyes behind the dark aviator glasses he wore. He swore to himself if he'd ever get the chance, he'd fucking kill you. Or fuck you. Or kill you. He'd be doing one of the two. "Just wait Sweetness, when I get my hands on you... I'm gonna fry yer ass."

The guards finally came and wheeled Coyle off. You let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't wait to get back to your room, change, and resume your pharmacy duties. You were starting to think being a pill pusher wouldn't be all that bad.

You turned to leave, when another guard stopped you.

"Um, nurse? We just got word from Doctor Easterman. You're being reassigned."

"Reassigned? But I just started. I haven't even been here for a full twelve hours!"

"Sorry. He's moving you down to the Thin Blue Line. You'll be the nurse down there."

"For what? The Reagents come back to the sleep room and the pharmacy there!" You argued.

"Not for the Reagents Ma'am."

Your heart dropped. You knew what the guard was about to say, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't say it.

"It's for Coyle."

[pikasigh]

Could we get how the bakusquad boys would react to you putting on flavoured lipgloss that makes your lips all shiny and delicious?? You can choose the flavours, but I'd love to see watermelon for denki's section if you don't mind!! 🍉💛

YESSS tysm for this!! sorry its out a little late ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) ~

── .✦ "i taste just like candy"

BAKUSQUAD BOYS

- now heres the thing, he really does secretly love kissing you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ KATSUKI BAKUGOU

- he might not show it in public at all, but he yearn for you. he hates seeing you talk to your friends in public or anywhere else he can’t physically bring himself to kiss you and swallow your words. shutting you up, essentially. 

- when he saw you today, smiling and laughing with your girlfriends, he was seething.

- because why did your lips look extra good? why did you have to torture him all the time? it wasn’t fair. you didn’t even know you were doing it, which pissed him off even more because he couldn’t yell at you for it.

- when the two of you returned home he got a closer look at you. rough hands grabbing your cheeks and squeezing them together a little as he held your face up to look. 

- “what’s that?” he grumbles, eyes narrowing.

- “on my lips? its just—”

- he kisses you once. slow. deliberate. 

- he pulls away and looks at you with a confused expression before he dives back down and kisses you again. hungrier.

- “cherry.” he finishes, all while pushing you onto the large bed in your little apartment.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ EJROU KIRISHIMA

- the two of you were actually out shopping together.

- it was a win win situation, he worked out whilst you walked around the little strip mall nearby, shopping around and when he was done he would come join you.

- he trusted you alone, and he loved sitting down with you and letting you do a little haul for him.

- your first stop had been the makeup store. your eyes met with something that made your inner child smile. DrPepper lip balm! gosh, you hadn’t seen those wacky flavored lip smackers in forever.

- ofcourse, you bought it and slapped it on just to remember what they tasted like.

- as you were walking back, ejirou jogged up to you, empty water bottle in hand and his forehead a little sweaty right where the band of his headband ended.

- “hey bab– oh woah!” he bends down to your level and looks at you before chuckling.

- he already loved when you would put on chapstick. he loved kissing it off. hell, he loved kissing you in general.

- he immediately kisses you, his eyes widen into the kiss and he hums delightfully against your mouth. 

- “oh wow..” he whispers before kissing you again.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ DENKI KAMINARI

- you were doing his makeup late in the wee hours of the morning. one of those nights where the both of you just couldn’t sleep

- it was always between going at it like rabbits (sorry not sorry), playing scary roblox games, or doing his makeup!

- he had one of your headbands on, the both of you haven’t even started yet, he was toying with the brushes you left on the bed. occasionally they rolled off as you shifted on the bed, the mattress dipping.

- “oh, hey, what’s that?” he chirps, pointing at a pink and green cylinder in your makeup bag.

- “hm? oh wow! I haven’t seen that thing in forever.” you pull out a small tube of watermelon lip balm, putting it all over your lips before smiling at him.

- “kiss me!” you giggle, tackling him and toppling over his body. sending him back on the bed and the brushes flying off the bed. he laughs, pulling you closer by the waist and kissing your lips.

- “ooh! thats yummy, babe.” he praises, leaning in to kiss you again.

- the two of you get a little more into it, your hands slide up his chest, tossing the stupid headband off his head. he whimpers inevitably against you, his hips refusing to stay stationary on the bed.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ HANTA SERO

- play fighting. play arguing. sending each other mean, snarky tiktoks.

- that was his love language. he knew it made you laugh, it made him laugh, too. you both loved each other enough to know it was all in good fun.

- he’s sitting across from you on the floor as the two of you argue playfully over a game the two of you had been playing for so long, your eyes felt permanently widened from staring at the screen.

- he rolls his eyes at you (sassy man apocalypse)

- “kay, babe, I love you and all, but i definitely carried you that whole round. just sayin.” he shrugs, smirk plastered on his handsome face.

- “what? seriously? no you did not. let me take over this next round then.”

- “yeeeah… hard pass, babe.” he chuckles, jamming his finger in your cheek.

- you really dont feel like putting up with his crap, you turn around, capture his finger in yours and dart your tongue out to lick his fingertip, before sucking on it slowly. pulling away.

- the moan this man lets out is wild. he sure is quick to shut up at a little attention.

- ‘ woah, your lips are sticky.” he moves towards you and feels over your plump lips. its gloss, clearly.

- he lets out another delicious moan when he kisses you.

- “blueberry’s the best flavor..” he murmurs.

[heartnosekid]

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[sbaren]

GojoSatoru x Blackfem!reader

CW: nsfw,blowjob,oral kink,dirty talk,praise kink

You were gone for maybe ten minutes — probably fixing your edges or searching for your damn bonnet you swore you left on the nightstand. But apparently, ten minutes was all it took for Gojo to unlock chaos.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, shirtless, his bare chest glowing under the soft light from your bedside lamp. Legs spread wide, your iPad in hand and unlocked, because you never bothered to change the passcode from his birthday. And, unfortunately for you, the last tab you had open was Twitter.

He didn’t look up when you entered. Just tapped the screen slowly with one finger and said, almost casually, "So… you’ve been busy online, huh?"

Your heart dropped.

"…What?"

Then you saw it.

The Twitter tab was still open.

Your private account glowing bright in the dim room.

@sluttyprincess.

And the bio?

"My man’s dick needs an award. I fear I’m unwell"

Gojo lifted his brows, eyes finally meeting yours over the top of his lenses. He looked way too calm.

He scrolled slowly, reading aloud like he was at a damn poetry slam.

"He’s laying on my lap asking me dumb questions with that pretty little voice. I should not be getting wet for this."

"Mouth on tip only, slow circles, until he grabs my head. Then? War."

"He sat down with his legs wide open and had the nerve to say ‘what?’ like I wasn’t staring dead at his dick print. You’re EVIL."

He glanced up at you.

"I gotta ask," he said, tone deceptively mild, "is this like… a running diary? A fantasy log? A threat?"

You stared at him, completely unbothered now that the shock had worn off.

"I was just..feeling needy."

That made him pause. Really look at you.

"…That’s your excuse?"

"Yeah." You took a slow step forward, lips curving just slightly. "I was needy."

You came closer, toeing off your slides. Your eyes dragged across the sharp line of his collarbone, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the spread of his thighs, and the shape of him under those boxers — already semi-hard, already thick.

You let your gaze settle there. Then back to his eyes.

And you smirked.

"If you hadn’t found that account," you murmured, stepping between his legs, "I would’ve been sucking your soul out by now anyway."

Gojo blinked once. Then twice.

His cock twitched.

You reached down, dragging your nails lightly up his thigh — and his whole body reacted. Tense. Alert. Watching you like he wasn’t sure if he was being seduced or challenged.

You leaned over, voice a whisper near his ear. "So really, I don’t see a problem."

Then you kissed the corner of his mouth.

You knelt between his legs and tugged his waistband.

His cock sprang free — heavy and hard, the head swollen, deep pink, curved upward, veins prominent. Just the sight made you clench around nothing. A thick drop of precum welled at the tip, and you swiped it with your thumb, then sucked it clean off. That made Gojo groan through gritted teeth, head tilting back just slightly.

"Fuck—" he growled, hips lifting lightly.

He was so ready for you.

Your lashes fluttered as you looked up at him.

"Now…" you breathed, pumping him slowly, deliberately, "do you wanna be mad about it…".

You lowered your mouth until your lips hovered just over the tip, wet and slow. Your tongue flicked softly over the drop of precum like it was dessert.

"…or do you wanna give me something else to tweet about?"

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His hips jerked forward, hand tangled in your bonnet, voice low and ragged.

"Be a good girl,” he rasped. “And back that tweet up."

You lifted your eyes to him through your lashes, arching your back, ass in the air, your lips shiny and teasing the tip of his cock with kitten-like flicks of your tongue.

His hands gripped the sheets and you took him in your mouth. Slow. Deep.

Your throat tightened, eyes watering, saliva pooling on your tongue as you swallowed him inch by inch until your nose brushed against his lower stomach. You moaned around him, and he let out a loud, raw groan.

"Shit—I didn’t think you were serious—throat’s so warm, so fucking wet—fuck."

You pulled back with a wet pop, lips glistening, chin dripping with a mix of precum and the lip gloss you’d applied earlier. Then you plunged back down.

Throat noises, steady rhythm, your tongue swirling around him, saliva dripping down your chin onto your breasts. You made it messy, loud, deliberate — exactly like you’d tweeted.

And the way your ass arched when you swallowed him whole?

Gojo looked fucked out. His chest heaved fast, thighs trembling.

His head fell back with a desperate moan.

"Mghh—fuuckk k-keep that filthy mouth working, baby, ‘m sooo close."

And you got even nastier.

Both hands squeezing his thighs, your mouth soaked, filthy sounds spilling out. You let strands of saliva drip from your tongue onto his cock, then sucked them back up again. Your back arched harder, panties pulling tight over your dripping cunt, the cotton sticking wet to your skin, almost leaking through the fabric.

Gojo moaned,not little noises. Full, guttural, desperate moans.

"I—I—fuck—baby," he choked, "I’m—I’m not gonna last" he panted, gripping the pillow behind him.

"Mmm, don’t," you said, tongue sliding over the head again. "I want all of it. In my mouth. Down my throat."

He lost it.

"Fuckfuckfuckk—Don’t pull back—swallow it—yeah, fuck, that’s it—"

© 2025 sbaren - All rights reserved. Please do not copy or repost this work without permission. Feel free to share the link and credit me @sbaren!

[taelepathii]

𝝑𝝔 For My Eyes Only 𝝑𝝔

synopsis: your green eyed monster gets the best of you after seeing some woman fawning over your man, leading to you punishing Mack in the bedroom <3

warnings: MINORS DNI! smut, sub!mack (guys it’s me), feelings of jealousy, one mention of unaliving (more of like a joking matter), just Mack getting edged for like 650+ words :)) and as always bad writing.

a/n: heyy..how’s it going *insert that one tiktok sound*. full transparency my brain was empty & I didn’t feel like writing/had no ideas && my cat died sooo this girl was not doing well :)) but hey i’m doing better. so hopefully I delivered (pun intended) & yall enjoy! Ty loves <3 I appreciate every single one of you. Likes and reblogs are appreciated<33 also i don’t own any of the pics :))

“Fu-uck” “Please don’t stop.” All different variants of pleadings filled the bedroom, Mack's voice high in pitch. One of your favorite looks of Mack's is when he’s rosey cheeked, lips reddened from rough kisses and bites, sweat beading around his hairline and eyes glassy with unshed tears and pleasure, just like right now. His breathing coming in, in quick, shallow bursts, stomach clenching from the suckling sensations covering his dick. His deep tip is deep in color, dick twitching every once in a while with the need to cum. But of course you’re not going to because your green-eyed monster is coming out to play tonight. Nothing like being coerced into attending an event you didn’t want to go to, only agreeing after Mack was non-stop pleading on his knees. and then having to witness some snake flirt with your boyfriend, batting her clumpy eyelashes at him, not accepting his no for answer, touching him. You practically dragged him out of that event, seething with rage. Leading you to where you are now.

Red lines run across his chest down to his pelvis, your hands now busy pumping him at a tantalizing pace, placing random kisses around the surrounding area—stopping to lay an open-mouthed kiss on his tip. ”please let me cum!” Mack begs, voice breathless and whiny. You slap his thigh, “no.” You drag your fuming eyes up to meet his shiny ones. “bad boys don’t get rewards..” Your pink tongue peeks out of your lips to kitten lick at the flushed head, a pearl of pre-cum resting at the top. you moan at his salty taste. It’s so addicting feeling his legs spasm around you in reaction to your sound. Mack doesn’t like your answer, a whine escaping his throat, his hands white-knuckling the sheets. You don’t know how long you’ve been edging him for but not once has he touched you, your threat to leave him with blue-balls still running through his stuffy brain.

You stop your ministrations, resting your hands on his shaking thighs. “Tell me…who do you belong to?” You mockingly tilt your head, anger pooling hot in your chest, eyes piercing—settling on the unruly boys’ face who shudders from your sharp gaze. “W-what?” Mack’s face twists with confusion. A low chuckle escapes your throat. “Tsk tsk tsk,” You dig your blunt nails into his thighs, leaving deep grooves. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Each word is dounced in venom, jealousy lacing your tongue. One of your hands trails up his thighs, wrapping a tight fist around his sensitive length—slowly working up to a teasing pace. Mack’s eyes glaze over from the pleasure, threatening to close—only to snap open to the loud click of your fingers in his face. “I asked you a question, Mack…it’d be smart to answer it before I stop for good this time.” Mack wets his dry lips, the red muscle swiping over his bottom tongue. Clearing his throat doesn’t do much for him, his words cracking and whiny. “You d-do.Uh-“ A moan rips from his mouth as you squeeze his very sensitive tip.

“Hm..so it isn't that blonde girl that was hanging on your arm like a desperate bitch?” Jealously settles deep in your stomach, filling your mouth—your words unfiltered. Mack’s eyes meet yours, glistening with want and adoration. His dark brows furrow at your words, his face illustrating an expression that resembles one of disgust, not you but at the mention of the other girl. His next words are clearer, more sure. “Fuck no. Only you.” The fury marked heat that was grounding in your stomach turned into one that burns with need, your heart fluttering at his assurance. Your eye contact is cut short when Mack’s sweaty head flopping back on his pillow—as you pump his length faster, twisting once you get to the top—leaving a squeeze and then going back down. A series of broken moans and whimpers fly from his bitten lips, “Fuck please let me come. Please, please, please-“ You shush him, a shadow of smile gracing your lips at his pathetic state. “As long as you remember that you’re mine.”

Chants of blurring ‘yes ""Only yours” and other mutters trail from Mack. “Then come.” And that’s all MAck needed to hear before hot and sharp spurts of cum spray out of his jumping cock—mostly landing on your hand and his stomach, a few drops getting on his thighs. His body locks up, his back curving off the bed—white-knuckled hands gripping the sheets for dear life. A series of your praises stream into his ears—your sultry voice prolonging his release. Once he's settled down he all but flops on to your bed, quicken breaths exiting his mouth, face full of exhaustion but his smile showing one of deep satisfaction. “You did so well. Thank you for being such a good boy for me.” You leave light pecks across his body, trailing up so your face is above his. His cheeks flush even deeper, eyes slightly squinting in embarrassment. Been together for a few years now and he still turns bashful after sex. It’s cute. “I love you.” You whisper, meaning every word—a soft smile curling the corners of your lips, bringing up a hand to brush away a few of Mack’s stray hairs that stuck to his damp forehead. He leans into the touch, “I love you too.” And that’s all that matters.

After a few more hushed words of endearment you leave the bed to clean him up, settling into Mack’s side once you’re done. Even though you’re calm, there's still a very small part of you that wants to go back and gut that girl but you can’t do that so you cuddle with Mack instead—the feeling diminishing into nothing but contentment from laying with your boy.