#sappy

[aldoodles]

I felt like drawing Vash being clingy

[arminslovurrr]

denji, your favorite boy, a bright man despite all of his hardships, denji your favorite boy so willing to do anything to reach his goal not caring about having a goal based on avenging loss ones or making money to get out of a certain situation. a sense of belonging is all he strive for to live like a normal man, a man who can live a completely normal life where people want to steal his heart instead of the chainsaw devils.

And you did just that, it was like you showed him how to breathe again, showing him how to live a normal life though he still has the heart of a chainsaw. You didn’t see him for his powers or his perverted outbursts. You saw the achy soul that longed for happiness , the longing to be free from responsibilities, the soul that desperately needed to feel that indescribable feeling of vulnerability with another person.

denji, your favorite boy, a man who rapidly thrusts forward into your soddened hole, every few seconds pulling back to repeat the action. His toned pecs pressing against your chest,smushing you under him entirely. yellowish brown eyes now teary as they bore into yours, a pink tint covering his whole body, his pink lips parting to begin with and plead for you to never leave his side. gently as ever taking his face into your hands you’d whisper against his lips “i-i won’t leave you, ever. never wi-nghhll.. never more..” you dreamily sighed before pecking them multiple times. to which would cause his hips to stutter at your sweetened tone and even sweeter words. still energetically pushing his length into your confined gummy walls reaching a soft hand down to toy with the stiffened nub below.

staring in awe as you unravel underneath his toned body, the sweetest cries spewing from your mouth. “s-sososo pretty..” he’d whine “how the fuh-fuck did i get so lucky mmnghh..” he whimper feeling himself spill into your welcoming warmth. it slowly trickled out of your battered hole, soiling the fresh linen sheets below you. still panting from the intense orgasms as he lied atop of you. nuzzling his face into your hair, occasionally placing soft kisses on your head. gently grazing against his back,”i was serious about what i said denji.. never gonna leave you. promise.” you whispered into his shoulder before pressing a honeyed kiss against it.

he realized.. you were his sense of belonging, you were that person who made him feel normal, feel loved. You let him be vulnerable at times like this when he needed you to let him. Why did it take so long to realize what he’s been searching for all of his sorrowful life has been sent to him like a well earned blessing from the highest God of all. you parted your lips again, he was sure that you “i love you, denji.” were his raison d’être.

an: do yall want the angst version of this !?!? lmk but idek what possed me to write this sappy stuff but it’s cuteeee right? (say it’s cute now.) love yalllllll !!!

© arminslovurr 2024, do not copy, translate or alter my work in any way.

[tinyevilgremlin]

wbk 204

of course tsubaki's first instinct upon hearing sakura's story was to envelope him in the tightest, warmest hug possible. tears and snot and all. of course.

AND LOOK AT THE WAY SAKURA LEANS INTO THE HUG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[my-sisters-gf]

my sister and i lowkey normalized ourselves to the fact that we’re sisters, especially sexually

like when we have sex we’re not thinking about how our “sisterly bond makes it hot” or whatever bc we’re too busy doing pet play or MD/lg or smth

i honestly think it’s kinda nice (REALLY nice, actually ><) that we’re dating and sisters,, i have so much love for her, and our sapphic, sisterly bond comes out much more in how we interact w each other; how we talk to and tease each other

i love her more than anything 🥺 she’s my sister and my girlfriend and one day she’ll be my wife ><

[infamouzsky]

I love you <3

Yall get some sappy shit ✌️

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[claybooots]

Finding your horizon

[click4rainy]

Omg the Coupe x Author Reader was so amazing!!! I love reading those kind of stories, they build suspense and make me want to read more!! Will there ever be a part two?!! I’m dying for Coupe to realize the reader is the author 😔🤟🔥🔥🔥

Book Club of Two//Reveal

👽: First Part Here//🩶

🖇️: Coupé x Fem!reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: TOOTH ROTTING SAP/FLUFFY/CUTENESS OVERLOAD/you confess that you’re the author!!/enjoyyy :3

★ Week three was quick to come and go. Then week four. Then week five. The ‘book club’ becomes the center of your week, everything else orbiting around it.

★ Coupé gets bolder with her analysis. Starts asking questions like, “Do you think the author has experienced this?” and “What do you think inspired this dynamic?” You get better at deflecting. Mostly. (You also get worse at hiding the way you look at her.)

★ Week six, and she’s poured the wine and you’re both settled in your usual spots—close enough to share body heat, far enough to maintain plausible deniability—when she says,

★ “I wrote to the publisher.”

★ Your heart stops. “What?”

★ “The author’s publisher. I sent a letter.” Shes blushing now, actually blushing, and it’s adorable. “I know it’s probably silly, but I wanted her to know how much these books mean to me. How the writing is—” She struggles for words. “How it’s changed the way I think about storytelling. About connection.”

★ You’re going to tell her. Right now. This moment.

★ “Coupé—“

★ “I probably won’t hear back,” she continues, not hearing the confession building in your throat. “But I had to try. I had to at least tell someone that this author is—” She looks at you, and her eyes are so soft it hurts. “That she’s brilliant. That her work matters.”

★ “I’m sure that—” Your voice cracks. “I’m sure that she would appreciate it.”

★ “I hope so.” She smiles, and it’s shy and hopeful and you are gone. “Because I meant every word.”

•••

★ The letter arrives at your publisher’s office three days later. Your editor forwards it to you with a string of heart emojis. You read it seven times, alone in your room, and try not to cry.

★ Coupé’s handwriting is neat and careful. Her words are thoughtful and specific. She quotes your own passages back to you like their poetry, analyzes your themes with the precision of a scholar and the passion of a devotee. At the bottom, she’s written,

★ “Please tell the author that her books have made me believe in magic again. The real kind. The kind that happens when someone sees you clearly and won’t look away.”

★ You hold the letter against your chest and let yourself feel it. Everything. Holy cow you’re in deep.

•••

★ Week seven.

★ Youve been writing her into your new book even more lately. The love interest has started quoting Coupé word for word. Has her laugh, her careful way of holding eye contact like it’s something precious. Your editor has noticed.

★ “This is your best work yet,” they’d written. “What changed?”

★ Everything, you thought. Everything changed. Now you’re standing outside Coupé’s door with wine and the letter—you brought the letter, folded in your pocket, evidence and confession both—and you think…

★ Fuck it.

★ She opens the door.

★“I need to tell you something.”

★ Her expression shifts. Careful. “Okay.”

★ “Can I—can I come in first?”

★ She steps aside.

★ You walk to the center of her room, and you turn to face her, and you pull the letter from your pocket.

★ “This is from you,”

★ Coupé’s eyes widen. “How did you—”

★ “Because I’m the author.” The words come out in a rush. “I wrote the book. And the other two. I’ve been writing under a pen name because I needed the money and also because I was processing some stuff, and I never thought—” You stop. Breathe. “I never thought someone like you would read them. Would love them. Would see—” Your voice breaks. “Would see me in them.”

★ Silence.

★ Coupé is staring at you like you’ve just rewritten reality.

★ “You,” she says finally. “You wrote—“

★ “Yeah.”

★ “The throne room scene. The knife scene. The—” She presses her hand to her mouth. “The rain scene?”

★ “All of it.”

★ “Oh my god.” She’s laughing now, breathless and disbelieving. “Oh my god. I’ve been sitting here telling you—analyzing your own work like some kind of—” She breaks off, and when she looks at you again, her eyes are shining. “You let me.”

★ “I liked hearing it,” you admit. “Hearing what you thought. What it meant to you.”

★ “It meant everything.” She crosses the space between you in three steps. “Do you know how rare it is? To find writing that feels like someone reached into your chest and pulled out all the things you’ve been too afraid to say?”

★ “I—”

★ “That’s what your books did.” Her hands find yours. “That’s what you did.” She leans in slightly, whispering now. “The rain scene, when you wrote that, were you—” She pauses, gathering a bit of courage. “Were you writing about someone real?”

★ “I was writing about what it felt like to want someone I thought I couldn’t have.”

★ “And now?”

★ “Now I’m standing in her room, holding her hands. Hoping I didn’t just ruin everything.”

★ “You didn’t ruin anything.” She squeezes your hands. “But you should know—I’m going to have so many questions about your writing process.” Her lips curl into something genuine and you laugh, shaky yet relieved. “Yeah?”

★ “Yes. Starting with,” She nearly closes the space between you, and her breath ghosts your lips. “Starting with whether you’d let me kiss the author of my favorite books.”

★ “I think that could be arranged.”

★ She kisses you, and it’s soft, certain and tastes like wine and possibility. When she pulls back, she’s grinning. “This book club just got a lot more interesting,” she says.

★ “Two person club,” you remind her.

★ “The best kind.” She kisses you again, quick and sweet. “Now come on. We have six more chapters to discuss, and I have notes.” You let her pull you to the couch, let her settle against your side, let yourself have this. Coupé, curled warm against you, talking about your words with that same awe.

★ And when she pauses her analysis to kiss your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, you think ‘This right here… is what I was writing about all along.’