dimi˚⁎⁺˳✧

18 enjoyer of all things

[dimicul]

wine red

simon riley x chubby!female reader

just something quick i wrote after i saw this ghost headcanon on tt :,)

“Nothin’, just don’t like how my stomach sticks out.”

Simon pauses, his expression neutral. He glances towards you, drinking in the sight of your features drawing into a small frown as you studied your reflection, hands supporting the small pudge around your belly. He notes how bloody beautiful you look in red, but looks back to his own shoes, urging back a grunt of frustration.

You never complained about your belly.

He’s been around you long enough to be aware of your insecurities, watching you pad towards the bathroom mirror and prod at your pimples, grumbling at the bump on your nose bridge, sometimes sat beside him in bed with a sparkly face mask on - it was second nature to know you, and although it pissed him off to no end, he also understood insecurities were normal.

But this - this was different. You embraced your body, curves, blemishes and all, the crooks and crevices denting your flesh - you didn’t care for the sly looks or judgemental comments, you wore whatever the hell you wanted. And if anyone had a problem, Simon would have fixed it in a heartbeat. This wasn’t your insecurity, this wasn’t a flaw, it was a part of you you loved.

Simon couldn’t handle your expression.

A sigh, a clacking of heels - you had torn your gaze away from the mirror, face scrunched up into one of those mopey frowns Simon adored, and grabbed the leather coat from the rack. It’s almost suffocating, the silence, and he does realise he needs to say something, but talking wasn’t always his strong suit. So his jaw clicks into place, shoulders broad and unmoving, gloved hands resting on his thighs.

Suddenly Simon is sixteen again and sat in front of his headteacher.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, whiskey irises boring into the back of your head before you turn with a half assed smile. Ha. He’s glad he can understand your little moods now, or else this night would’ve turned for the worse.

“Come.” The baritone of his voice draws you out of your darting thoughts. You sigh, stepping forward.

You’re not prepared for when his large hands latch onto your hips gently, pushing you forward so his head could rest on your stomach.

“Si-”

And again. You’re doing things you’ve never done before - you always let him rest on your stomach, it was never something you panicked about. A beat passes and your boyfriend lifts his head, penetrating eyes contrasting starkly against the red of your dress.

“What’s up with you?”

You purse your lips, mulling over his tone. “Nothing, just - this dress wasn’t always so… fitting.”

Simon hums roughly, and you inhale sharply at his hands stroking against your hip tenderly.

“Look’s fine to me.”

Neither of you say anything. Not a lot of words needed to be said around him, but then again, not a lot of men were like Simon. Your eyes soften, and you let your palm rest on the back of his neck, your touch making him hum again, the vibrations against your belly causing you to shudder.

“Ev’ry big boy needs his big girl.”

You laugh sweetly, and finally, he exhales quietly, welcoming the feel of your nails against his neck. He supposed it didn’t matter what the hell you thought about yourself.

Because he’d always want you.

[milf--adjacent]

[xanaxfarts]

National Geographic: ‘When the Frost Lies White’ (Japan, 2003) photography: Tim Laman

[keistriction]

(18+) hiromi higuruma has a thing for seeing you cry

he tries to pretend he doesn't. he knows it’s fucked up. 

after a day of lost cases, spilled coffee, and interns who couldn’t follow basic instructions to save their life, he craves control more than he could ever admit. 

when he walks into the apartment, you were already waiting – draped in his t-shirt, giggly, needy, and looking up at him from where you were sprawled on the couch. 

he tells himself he’ll be gentle.

but when his thumbs dig into your lower tummy, right where he's buried inside you – you can’t help but shed a tear. his name comes out in some desperate wail as you cream for him. 

and there it is. 

a small, wrecked sound. 

for a minute, he panics. slows down to an unbearable motion.  until that sound turns into a full whimper. 

“no– don’t stop!” you beg, still teary. your nails dig into his forearms. 

“i’m okay, i promise.” 

the grip on your waist tightens, jaw flexing. “d-don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, clearing his throat. “i need you to tell me.”

“please...” you nod profusely, lip caught in your teeth.

“i want this.”

his eyes search yours, mindlessly pressing against your womb. your lower body jolts as you attempt to avoid the warm, tingly feeling building in your core. 

“romi..” you whimper, back arching against the cool tile of the kitchen counter. 

his gaze flicks to your swollen clit, eyes glazed over as he takes in just how puffy your cunt looks with the lace of your panties pushed to the sides. and he can’t help but thrust deeper into you. 

“a-ah! wait– wait, feels s’good,” you babble, tears welling in your eyes. his lips twitch slightly, a breathy chuckle leaving him as you sob. 

“too much, princess?” he finishes calmly. you nod frantically as your walls flutter around him. his thumb swipes under your eye, catching the tear before it falls against your cheek. 

she said it feels good.

another tear slips down.

i shouldn’t like this.

this is inappropriate. 

your voice cracks around his name again. 

control yourself. 

he breathes slowly. 

and then you make the mistake of bringing his thumb to your lips, and sucking softly. 

his breath catches in his throat, lips parting slightly. your lips close around his thumb – warm and deliberate – as you swirl your tongue around the tip. 

don’t. 

your tongue brushes again, the vibration of a whine taunting him. 

don’t react. 

and with a pop, he pulls his hand back from your mouth. 

not roughly. 

just enough. 

his thumb drags along your bottom lip before he presses it there, smearing the wetness back against you. “you’re testing me,” he murmurs, hand roaming lower before pressing his palm to your throat. 

“don’t...” he rasps, slamming into you. filthy wet sounds fill the room as his thrusts deepen. your vision blurs when he readjusts, bullying your cervix with the tip. you can’t help but clamp down around him – so hard he groans. 

“fuck, romi… inside p-please..” you gasp, grinding against his hips. 

and for a moment, he freezes – trying to comprehend your demand. his breath stalls, debating whether or not you were serious. 

he could stop. 

he gets one look of your face – glistening from spit and drool – and doesn’t.

“fuck–,” he hisses, eyes glued to the way he twitches inside you. warmth spreads inside you, cream coating the base of his cock as he pulls out slowly. your hole puckers at the unbearable emptiness. 

your vision takes a second to clear. 

he doesn’t move immediately. 

his chest rises slowly. once.  twice. 

the dazed look in your eyes makes his chest tighten.

“hey.”

your eyes focus again, darting between the wetness gathered under you and him. 

“look at me,”

he exhales slowly. 

“i haven’t decided we’re finished.”

🏷️: @chososbbygrl : @katemira : @chaoticcrashofkk : @ist4rr : @gyusheadphones

© keistriction 2026 ─ do not plagiarize, translate, or feed to ai

[yujisdreamgirl]

𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓪! a megumi x reader smau series

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: what happens when you fall in love with a man who’s so enclosed you’d need to go through the trenches to get him to let his guard down? that’s exactly what it feels like having feelings for megumi fushiguro. but with a little bit of help from your mutual friends, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

a/n: sorry yall i went the cliche route😔 also apologies for the hana stray i just need a plot yo

series masterlist , ch. 1 , ch. 2 , ch. 3

taglist (ask to be added!) @carsonigiri @megssleepygirl @braindump-ster-fire @chxxsx @onlyfanfictasies @shadyprincessstranger @flowerformeguru @br66klynbaby @in-aa @estella-novella @jnnifrsbdy @jiaennie @astionoooo @pepitesingulare @belchyra @prettydivinegirl @toesucker59 @pawwwginaaa @honeynanamin @albascardigan @detectiveviridian @st31le @satorugojo-is-hot @dreamydaredevil @tengensbigtiddies @fushifushii @clamousera

[arimari81-70]

How it feels logging onto Tumblr to read fics after joining a new fandom

[knotfrotter]

i wasnt properly socialized as a puppy and it shows sometimes

[thememedaddy]

[lostsprite1985]

It's also a reason to keep listening to the same music for years.

And therefore, a reason why it can be difficult to just watch a new show/movie, listen to new music, or even play a new kind of game...

[peterokii]

ok i think this represents it better

[cow-inthe-closet]

i think one of the worst parts of having an anxiety disorder is you can know your anxiety is fundamentally unreasonable and does not make any sense. but it doesn't help

[bekahlouise-]

[arianaaagrandeee]

Me during the day: I'm so fucking tired oh my God I can't wait to go to bed tonight

Me during the night: Let's download the top 100 songs from the 90s and listen to them all while writing a novel and watching an entire season of Supernatural and maybe rearrange my room

[milicajocic-blog]

[heartbreaaakeer]

[thatsmoderatelyraven]

November was only like four days long

[dimicul]

I MISS WRITING SOOOO MUCH

[dimicul]

°☆.。. | unedited sorry yall D:|

nanami with reader whose had to be her own supporter, parent, sibling and best friend all in one.

you don’t even question it, it’s a second nature at this point; driving your little brothers to their practices when your parent couldn’t, carrying the quiet burden of trying to help your mom, sitting through an argument with your sister who you know should be handling it herself but you can’t help it; there’s a part of you that needs to be there for them.

nanami doesn’t think you even understand the word boundaries when it comes to yourself- always giving, even in friendships where you know they clearly don’t value your time the same way as you. it always ticked the man off, being someone of orderly fashion and who analysed people the same way he would the broad spreadsheets on his screen everyday, it was a blessing and a curse to be able to read people so clearly. he just didn’t understand why you couldn’t do the same - if the edges blurred when you saw it from a different perspective, or if you were choosing to be ignorant.

it’s not until you move in with nanami you realise.

“Yeah, I can try and squeeze in time to pick him up, but are you sure you can’t— No, no I get you’re busy but I’ve also got to pick up my package halfway across town-” you’re speaking into the phone with your mother, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, blowing a strand of your hair out your face as you scrub the dish in front of you, frowning as she explains how she can’t pick up your brother again for the third time this week. You’re slightly irritated, the clothes on your body feeling too tight, soap suds on your forearms, and the deadline for your work is creeping slowly and you hadn’t even started it yet—

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” A quick, swift shut of the door brings your attention to the tall blond by the doorframe and you’re about to apologise for leaving the room a little messy, but your gaze falls on the pink package tucked in his arms.

Your package.

He doesn’t say anything, effortlessly hanging his grey coat up and sliding his shoes off, cool honey eyes studying you. You’re still blinking in surprise when he’s managed to get you sat on the couch, knees scooted up as your mother’s voice droned on through the line.

You didn’t even tell him you had a package, you think, staring at the broad expanse of Kento’s back, the muscles shifting under the blue material of his work shirt as he washed the dishes.

And it didn’t even stop at that. You’ll catch yourself attempting to complain but there it is - the keys you needed on the desk he settles down with a curt nod, a sweet kiss to your cheek before he leaves for work. The laundry pile growing in the corner of the room? Done and folded by the next day. Your friend group were acting strange? It’s fine, he’ll draft up a message for you to send. One night you’re sighing over the deadline and there’s a mug of tea in your hand, large hands massaging your shoulders. You ease into it so comfortably. It’s like you’ve forgotten how it feels to be taken care of.

“Shoot— Sorry, Ken, I was gonna make dinner for us— Oh.” Your shoulders slump, the weariness and fatigue from work leaving a little when he enters the door again with a bouquet of roses in his hand, and a takeaway bag in the other.

How? How the hell does he just know?

“It’s alright, honey. Here you go, I bought these from the new florist in town. Thought you’d like them.” The sweet, deep tone of his voice fills the room, and you feel it sink and sweep into your veins, a weight lifted off. A light pink dusts your cheeks when you take the bouquet in your hands, and when you’re looking up at him, studying the subtle quirk of his lips, it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time.

For the first time in months you feel shy around your boyfriend.

“How the hell do you even have time for a relationship nowadays? I swear I come off my shift and I get annoyed if my man breathes near me,” Your friend is scoffing with an eye roll and she sips from the matcha on the table. You usually agree, reply with a quick quip of ‘Yeah, men suck’, but you’re just smiling a little to yourself, shrugging, a newfound glow to your face that she catches. It only amplifies when you stare at the text message he sends you.

Kento 🩷 : Hope you’re having fun, sweetheart. Just letting you know I’m picking up Ethan for his game, don’t stress about it. I love you.

“Oh, you’re so whipped,” she laughs at you, leaning back in the sun chair and you don’t even care, a grin growing over your face as you hunch over the screen, typing away with the manicured nails he paid for.

With his efforts and the small kisses he drops everyday, you manage to multitask working and your deadline in time. You find it in yourself to cook him a dinner, wear something pretty and wait patiently till he comes home but the next thing you know you’re having a screaming match with your mom on the other end of your iPhone.

Nanami’s day at work goes by smoothly. Being a salesman had honestly become the worst part of his day but it was manageable. It got a bit easier as he sipped his cup of coffee at his desk, every now and then glancing to the lock screen of you both. It gets easier when he hears your voice through the panicked, rush voice note you send throughout the day. He imagines your smile and eyes during certain parts and works just a little harder.

It gets a lot easier when he steps out his car and unlocks the apartment door. Except you’re not standing by the fridge, or laid out on the couch. There’s two plates of smoked salmon and hors d’œuvres surrounding the ceramic plates, a bottle of wine unopened.

It didn’t feel easy though when he pushes the bedroom door open, a frown bracing his features as you, his dear sweet girlfriend, perched on the end of the bed, hastily wiping your tears. His heart lurches, eyes dropping from the iPhone to the little milkmaid dress on your hunched over form.

“Oh, Ken — ‘m so sorry, I just—“

“Enough.”

Your wide eyes peer up at the blond man who shifts down beside you, kneeling, dark brows lowered over sharp honey, holding a deep affection. You sniffle, cheek hot under his cool fingertips that wipe away the tears. You can’t help but wonder why he was so insistent on being with you, someone so easily distracted by everyone else around her, someone who couldn’t even do something nice back—

“I’m sick of seeing you being pushed around. Do you understand what I mean, my love?”

You shake your head but he raises a brow and you shuffle before nodding. The subtle hints of his cologne intrude your space and you melt when he sighs, his large hand framing your face.

“What happened? Did you argue again?”

“Yeah— I just, I’m so sick of it, Ken. It’s like I’ve got to do everything, and I know I can do it but they— they don’t care. They don’t care.”

“I care. I see what you do. For everyone.”

You don’t realise you’re still crying until he presses a kiss to one of your tears.

“And that is more than enough. You can’t push yourself too much. You have a limit. And honestly, Im getting a little tired myself watching you do everything.”

“You don’t have to.. You’re just saying that because you have to.” You mumble, lashes dark and slick with tears. Nanami hums.

“Have to what? Support you? Love you? Please, sweetheart. It’s my job.”

“Ken—“

“Take a few days off work. We’ll just relax together, yes? What do you call it — bedrotting? You need to put this all behind.” The warmth of his voice bleeds into your veins again and you nod slowly, subconsciously leaning into his touch when he strokes his thumb against your cheek.

“I love you. Im sorry I’m a mess.”

Nanami chuckles, and there’s no malice behind it, light and warm, encasing you in its briefness.

“I just want you to understand I’m here. Okay?”

Teary eyes meet oak brown, resilient and deep. And you got it. It hits you. You understand you didn’t have to do it all on your own.