lynzi˖𓍢ִ໋❀

she/her ˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ 18!

[lynziya]

𐔌 lynzi’s intro⋆🐾°

/•᷅‎‎•᷄\੭ ⸝⸝ s.her 𓂃🪶 ᯓ /•᷅‎‎•᷄\੭ 18 ⸝⸝ 𓂃🪶 ᯓ /•᷅‎‎•᷄\੭ nanami hopper ⸝⸝ 𓂃🪶 ᯓ /•᷅‎‎•᷄\੭ ⸝⸝ lurker 𓂃🪶 ᯓ

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! ⌞ sketches .ᐟ ⌝ ๋࣭ ⭑

જ⁀➴ fandoms: ♯ mha ♯ kny ♯ haikyuu ♯ jjk ♯ gachiakuta ⟡ ݁₊ . °˖➴ more to come

જ⁀➴ in for drabbles ೀ

── ⟡ ˙🌱 ̟ ༯ ꩜ masterlist

⧽ current status: busy with schoolworks ꨄ

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @huraxy-dividers @designlikenonsense @strangergraphics @andromeda-graphics ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ

[lynziya]

Synopsis: You’re an NSFW writer and your husband, Nanami, has no clue about it. But when he do finds out about it — will he be fucking you twice as hard?

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, reverse cowgirl, edging, he knows how to play w you, did not proofread

Nanami rarely has time for you anymore — not that he purposefully ignores you. His work often requires him to stay at the office. He’d been present during the first stages of your period — but what about your ovulation phase?

You’re home alone, like usual. The clock hits 9 P.M. and then again, No Nanami to be seen. You would wait in the living room while binge watching your favorite show, but you’d be dead asleep when he arrives. You’d even touch yourself to pictures of him on his phone.

This evening, you decided to do something different — to continue your abandoned hobby. It’s been almost two weeks since your period, and you were undoubtedly touch deprived. The thought of having to resort to toys was terrifying.

You set up your foldable table, and opened your laptop to a blank document. You wrote NSFW. Nanami was not aware of this, but he knew you wrote stories. No big deal!

He reached into your pants — carefully circling his large fingers around your cunt, drenched from the idea of your husband fucking you haphazardly after a whole day’s work.

Your juvenile fantasies made you wet. To think that your husband could do all the things you wanted right now, but he wasn’t home. Nanami would always feel exhausted. You slowly took your underwear off and tossed them somewhere on the ground.

“Agh… Kento…”

“Yes dear?”

You immediately withdrew your hand from your pussy, legs still spread wide open as he stared at you from the door.

“You’re home rather early…” Way too fucking early. The last time you checked the clock, it was nowhere near whatever time he usually arrives.

“Do you not want that?” Nanami placed his bag on the nearby desk. Your face turned red — heating up from the embarrassment of being seen naked by your husband.

“I didn’t know you wrote such things…” He peeked at the laptop screen.

“Stop!” You hurriedly slammed your laptop shut. Even with Nanami, you weren’t ready to reveal what you enjoyed writing… or reading.

“I won’t judge, hon.”

“Just take a break, Kento…”

“I know that’s not what you want.” With a light chuckle, Nanami slowly crept into the bed — his hands slowly made their way around your waist as he forcefully placed you on his lap.

“Continue writing.”

“What?”

You could feel him getting harder beneath you, but his sense of control was unmatched. You could be foaming at your mouth and Nanami would remain unbothered. And at his request, you obediently followed. His hands slowly caressed your waist before they went straight to your crotch.

“Kento!”

“Mhm?”

You assumed that Nanami would merely let things slide and act like he saw nothing. But in his eyes, he felt like dinner was just on you this time. Would he waste such an open opportunity right now? No way. You were already begging for this.

The opposite happened, who knew that you’d be sitting on his lap writing fanfics as he fingers you to death. One finger, Nanami could end your roster of fantasies.

“K— Kento…”

Pleasure was stopping you from writing — hands were trembling from the unstoppable lust and desire emanating from both you and Nanami

“Continue or I’ll stop.”

“Wha—“

He thrusts his fingers deeper inside you — hitting the spot every now and then, basically edging you till you get on your knees and beg for more. At least that was one of your delusions.

“Go on.”

You rest both hands on your keyboard. After a whole day of doing nothing but work — Nanami was oddly spirited… in a way. Filthy thoughts flooded your mind, nothing out of the ordinary could fill the blank page.

“Seems like my fingers aren’t enough for you?” He stared at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your whole body jerked as Nanami shoved his cock into you — slow, mind-fucking thrusts that just hits the spot. You took him so well. Like the fiction you wrote, Nanami sloppily fucked you.

“…Ken?”

The motherfucker fell asleep.

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @andromeda-graphics @pixopix @chateaubarnes ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ

[lynziya]

boyfriend!nerdjo who would ask you to ride him until his glasses could no longer stay on his face.

boyfriend!nerdjo who would cradle you in his arms until you fall fast asleep.

boyfriend!nerdjo who pretends to read a book so you would get closer to him and read along.

boyfriend!nerdjo who likes blabbering trivial facts that you couldn’t care less about.

boyfriend!nerdjo who you would find in between your legs early in the morning.

boyfriend!nerdjo who would nonchalantly wipe away your cum on his glasses.

boyfriend!nerdjo who would unapologetically talk you through it in a certain way to turn you on in a weird way, “you spread wider than an open book with a broken spine.”

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @andromeda-graphics @pixopix @chateaubarnes ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ art ; credits to: @ggyoyowza on tt

[lynziya]

You wanna be fucked in public?

Tags: fingerfucking, edging, dom!Ame x bratty!Reader, dirty talk, he’s sour af

“What? You’d rather be fucked in public than in the bedroom?” Alfred let out a big sigh. A sour expression was plastered across his face.

You were hanging out in this small living room of his. It hasn’t been long since you claimed him as yours — leaving some of his personality to your imagination. But this was it, finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“It’s cold.” You curled up on the couch, your head resting on Alfred’s thighs. He had rather thick ones — what you would expect from someone who you’d only seen eat hamburgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Alfred tossed a blanket over you. You glanced at his face, you could only see a huge smug expression. Like “I’ve got you” type shit.

“Stop with the face…” You struggled in your position.

“Don’t wanna.” He replied. You could basically hear that fuckass smile on his face.

“Fine.” You changed your position — placing your head on the other armrest of the couch while still covered in the blanket Alfred gave you.

You gave in to the moment of silence, letting the show on TV take over the whole situation. Neither of you wanted to make a sound. However, the noisome dialogue from the screen was making Alfred’s ears hurt.

Alfred took the remote to turn the AC off, which obviously caught your attention.

“Why’d you turn it off?”

“You said you were freezin’.” He replied in a provocative manner.

“I did not say that.” At least not verbatim.

You tossed the blanket to the side, exposing yourself to Alfred. As you continued to watch the show, Alfred sat there — distracted. Without hesitation he repositioned you closer to him, hovering his hand over your shorts.

“The fuck?!” You jolted, both hands now on the armrest of where you were resting your head.

“Behave for me.” Alfred released a long sigh before snatching your shorts and throwing them on the ground.

“Those shorts were worth half of your hamburger supply!”

“Only half?” He snorted. “Keep quiet now, will ya…” He spreads your legs apart, forcing you to look down at him, only showing perplexity.

“Mm…” He hums as he slowly pulls your underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re wet?”

“It’s the heat.”

“Don’t lie.” He buried his face in your cunt, devouring it like he was preying on you. His tongue could reach the depths of your insides. The smell of sex emanated and filled the room. The squelching noises from your cunt overcame the sound from the TV — you could no longer hear what the hell they were saying.

You pulled on his hair — as tight as you could to hurt the poor man, but Alfred couldn’t possibly be bothered by such a small gesture. He looked up at you with a grin as he continued to eat you out like the hamburgers waiting on his countertop.

“Sh— shit!” You cried out. “Stop—“

“Ah.” Alfred stopped. He pulled away.

“The fuck, Ame?”

“You said stop?”

You could slap the fuck out of him, but you couldn’t — it would ruin your mood even more.

“Fine—“ Alfred inserted two fingers into your pussy. Even with the anger building up inside you, you were letting Alfred pulverize your insides with every thrust — making you elicit louder moans. You rolled your eyes up, feeling every inch of his fingers go in and out of you.

“You wanna go public but can’t even hold it in? Who are you kiddin’?” He curled his fingers inside, hitting every spot you wish your sex toys could reach. He picks up the pace — letting his fingers dig deeper into your wet cunt — you could feel his nails scratch your inner thighs.

“Yeah? You still wanna be fucked in public?” Alfred pushed himself harder onto you. You could feel yourself getting more and more overstimulated just from his fingers.

“What? You comin’ from just these?” He pulled his fingers out, not letting you finish your business. You stared at him with half-lidded eyes — you failed to process what was currently happening.

Alfred brought his hand to his face and sloppily licked your fluids off. “You want more?”

“…obviously.”

“Next time.”

“Fuck you.”

“I love you more.”

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @andromeda-graphics @pixopix @chateaubarnes ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ art ; credits to: _cluck_gugu on x

[lynziya]

Synopsis: You developed an awkward relationship with Satoru. All conversations were about you needing assistance with homework — but all of that had given him more of a chance to build a connection with you.

A/N: This is a continuation of a JJK AU that was supposed to be exclusively for my friend, but I was too lazy to screenshot conversations and twitter posts. By the way, ‘Misaki’ is NOT a character from JJK. Also, I did NOT proofread :)

You stepped into the classroom. Papers filled with drawings of clothing designs covered the entire board as garments hung on the mannequins. The place that before looked like an empty classroom for Plato had turned quintessentially aesthetic.

“What took you so long? It’s difficult to guess your size.” Nobara commented, knees covered with colored chalk as glitter had seemingly become an accessory of hers.

“If you’d become the model, you wouldn’t be complaining.” You rebutted — displaying a glimpse of remorse for being a tad bit rude and insensitive. Albeit, it wasn’t your fault that you were forced into giving up your dignity for a role you weren’t comfortable playing.

“Sorry.” Despite her apology, Nobara showed not an ounce of guilt.

“Come here, I’ll take your measurements.” Satoru stepped closer — only a few inches left and you could feel his breath brush against your skin.

“Wait, I thought Misaki was going to… do this?”

“She’s preoccupied.” You glanced at Misaki. With a cellphone in hand and directing the others on what to do with the fabric — you had nothing to say. But Nobara was there, on her phone.

“Can’t Nobara do it?”

“She might be well-fashioned, but Nobara is not fit to do the job.” He pulled out the measuring tape from his pocket. At first, you were unsure if giving a man consent to measure you was forgiving — but the gentler he was, the more you entrusted Satoru. began to measure your body from the bottom, to the hips, and your chest.

You finally escaped from the moment of awkwardness. The silence of Nobara — obviously trying to concentrate — gave you more time to process what Satoru was doing to you than you needed.

From what you’ve observed, Misaki was more inclined to lead the rest of the class, while Nobara continued to make additional changes to the costume designs. What was left for you to discern was Satoru’s unconditional discipline and passion for the project — which was probably not even worth half your grade.

“What couldn’t you tell me you were already working with them?” You suddenly spoke.

Nobara looked up at you with a rather exasperated expression. “It’s a group project, idiot. Be thankful that all you have to do is advertise our work and speak your mind.”

“Speak my mind? What?”

“You’re going onstage and will be speaking for Plato and Confucius. Exciting!” She beamed, but you were feeling the exact opposite. Yes, Satoru, Misaki, and Nobara could turn into the most prolific amateur designers but you knew that you could not bring yourself to walk down a red path and speak for the rest.

“No, that can’t be right.”

“You signed up for this. Forced, maybe.” Nobara shrugged. You thought that maybe you would merely pose and take a few pictures to submit via email. Perhaps you really didn’t think this through — but modeling in front of a huge crowd scared you… a little?

“You can’t be serious. You thought that we would make these costumes just for you to pose for a little while and take it off?” She scoffed, a little too hard. She thought you were naive — but not that naive.

“Just exude confidence, you’ll be fine.” Nobara added.

“Fuck no…”

“Fuck yes!” Yuuji walked in the classroom with a bright, wide smile plastered all over his smug face. He leaned towards your shoulder to witness one of Nobara’s works.

“What are you doing here?” You lightly pushed Yuuji’s face away from you. Instead of letting go of the close proximity between the two of you — he sat close next to you.

“I’m here to contribute.” Yuuji replied and took a piece of chalk from the box. “You’re just here to model, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it. You had less contribution — only needing to put on the clothes, while the rest worked on the clothes. Including Satoru, insisting that he work on the script as well.

“I admit that I’m a little useless, but I am needed! And that’s all I need to know.” You shoved Yuuji and sat a little closer to Nobara instead.

You felt something brush against your back. The heavy tension between you and the air intensified when Nobara and Yuuji looked at each other at the same time. You looked behind and slowly averted your gaze upwards as you witnessed Satoru’s serious gaze.

“Let’s see if the clothes fit you.” He said shortly before he went to Misaki that stood with the mannequins. Most of them already had half-finished costumes. You could’ve sworn that they’ve only begun this project a few weeks ago.

“How are you already…” You stood from your position and began to analyze every costume created. Each had their own personality — meaning that you had to at least match the energy that the costumes exude to embody a character that you knew would have no correlation to your own.

“We work fast.” Satoru replied. You glanced at him, his eyes showed a glint of proudness. But then you noticed that Misaki showed the same expression — both having a sense of passion and pride for their works, making them a great match.

You put on a petticoat with the help of Nobara. Satoru detached the gown from the mannequin and gently helped you get in it. The gown made you glow in a way that Satoru couldn’t discern. Misaki gestured for you to spin. And so you did. The dress helped you display a glamorous yet serene demeanor. And there goes Satoru, from a creative mind to simply a defunct artist.

“This is just the first gown and yet… you’ve captured my heart.” Misaki commented as she stepped closer to rectify your hair.

“Haha… you’re glazing me.” You release an awkward small laugh.

“You’re too humble.” Nobara hopped in as she fixated on your hair and stared at your face for as long as she could.

“What kind of makeup should we do?”

“Bold?”

“Classy.” Satoru’s focused expression faded into a relaxed smile.

“What? Is she going to Prom?” Yuuji laughed. Satoru merely shook his head and lifted his glasses.

“Even with eyes as blurry as mine, you can clearly see how gorgeous she would look with a classy makeup style.” Satoru added.

The whole classroom faded into silence — leaving Satoru with nothing but a lightly flushed face. The awkwardness of each person led him to process more of the situation and how he could’ve worded it differently, less cheesy even.

“Thanks.” You showed a thumbs up. You tried to maintain your composure, but the compliment caught you slightly off-guard.

“Enough of this tomfoolery, I’m starving…” Yuuji spoke, to end the hopeless exchange of silence and awkward laughter.

“You’d just arrived! What do you mean you’re starving?” Nobara was near to crashing out. Compared to her, Yuuji looked so much cleaner and unscathed. As for Nobara, she needed a break.

“OK! Let’s all grab a snack?” Misaki and the rest of the class left only you and Satoru in the classroom. As you tried not to make a sound, you basically looked around the whole classroom and had forgotten that you were still in the dress.

“Are you not itching?” Satoru spoke out of the blue — cancelling your inner peace.

“No…”

“Good.”

Satoru closed the distance between the two of you and carefully took both sides of the dress to cinch around your waist. “You were almost Misaki’s size.”

He marked the adjustments with pins and slowly took the gown off for you. “You’re not uncomfortable with me doing this, are you?”

“No… why would I be?”

“I was worried that you might feel awkward with me being close to you.”

“I understand the need to measure and to try on the gown— but that doesn’t cancel out the awkwardness.”

Satoru hummed softly like he was satisfied with your answer. Maybe working with him isn’t that bad. If he hadn’t reached out first, you wouldn’t be talking this much.

“Wait, why did you have to insist that I should model? We have Kirara and Yuki.”

“If you had to compare yourself to them — I would just have to say that beauty is subjective.” Satoru left you with a vague response. Simple, he decided to merely change the topic and move on with his day.

“About what you’re going to say, I have a few suggestions.”

You spent a few minutes — maybe even half an hour — with Satoru. You were sitting next to each other in the corner of the room, parallel to the door. Both of you were glued to a piece of paper. You glanced at Satoru’s paper — already filled to the brim. He had a roster of potential dialogue for the script, while you had a blank sheet in front of you.

“You’re confining your creativity.”

“What?” You turned to your side. Satoru had a mix of concern and frustration on his face. You get that he had a cordial personality, but he didn’t have to be so philosophical all the time.

“It’s fine, I can work on this alone.”

“And have Misaki help you again? No.” You immediately replied. He paused in his tracks — eyebrows slightly raised as his eyes hinted at a perplexed expression. You were stuck in a perpetual state, every time you tried to normally converse with Satoru, he always had a way to make things so gauche.

“I don’t need her for this.”

“And I’m perfectly capable of helping you.”

Again, he faced you. His eyes exhibited a genuine sense of concern. Satoru became someone who could easily elicit sympathy — just from the look on his face.

“I don’t want you to know me as someone who’s always asking for help.” You recalled previous events and how you interacted with Satoru before. Your online conversations would always be you asking for help, and yet, you’d done nothing in return so far.

Satoru beckoned — both of you went utterly silent as most of the class returned to the classroom. The room was no longer quiet. He flipped the sheet of paper to write on the back side. With nothing but a simple nod as a response, you decided to write anything on yours to compensate for your lack of contribution.

“I didn’t mean to demoralize your confidence. I just wish you knew how to value yourself.” Satoru stood from his seat and looked back at you. A small smile formed on his face as he walked away and towards Misaki.

You realized that ever since Satoru came in contact with Misaki, you’ve been so hung up on yourself — demoralizing your own well-being and having a tenuous soul in general. You haven’t reached the acme of your capabilities.

I’m going to work on the script.

Without a minute passing by, you’ve already received a reply.

Ok. Send it to me after.

The fashion week began today, Monday at noon. You had the morning to yourself — you mentally prepared yourself for the stage. The objective wasn’t to compete against the other classes, but to display and express your class’s creativity and capabilities. Plato and Confucius relied on you to exhibit the beauty of each dress as much as you can.

You already had your makeup on and all you had to do was put on the first gown. Being backstage was nerve wracking — you could assume that all eyes would be on you, and the dress. As soon as you put on the first costume, you feel a different version of yourself arise — one with more layers of confidence, meticulously crafted.

“Let’s just wait for Toru.” Misaki said while she carefully adjusted the gown.

You had completely forgotten about Satoru — you were a bit intimidated by him, especially since the last conversation you had with him was learning about how to compose yourself.

While busy staring at yourself in the mirror, Satoru arrived backstage — flowers in hand. You watched his reflection as he walked towards you before slowly turning around to take a better look at him.

“What the hell are these for?”

“For you, obviously.”

Satoru handed you the flowers, you took a whiff. Personally, you didn’t like the smell of flowers that much but you couldn’t complain.

“Good luck.”

“I like these. Thanks.”

“…I like you too.”

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @andromeda-graphics @pixopix @chateaubarnes ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ

౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ art ; credits to: su2kuna on x