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sencity · 9 months

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I’M PUNCHING MY MATTRESS no this is so good.

. . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ yandere cheerleader ] ˎˊ˗

.°୭̥ ˎˊ˗ a yandere cheerleader and her darling 💕 i sincerely hope she lived up to everyones hype despite her huge delay (sorry 😫). also a gentle reminder that i have pinterest boards for all my ocs, you can find maggie's here – 'the cheerleader.'

outcast gn!reader (w/ nondescript genitalia) x female yandere 💕 sfw in this one even tho i REALLY wanted to make it nsfw i just couldn't think of a good gn scenario 😔

tws/contents: general yandere behavior, obsession, mean girl behavior, suggestive content

💌 the yandere cheerleader, magnolia king, is the most popular girl on campus– ask anyone.

💌 anyone even remotely related to the sports circles know her. the faculty and staff know her. everyone knows that a party isn't a real party if magnolia isn't invited– or doesn't show up. she can make or break someone else's reputation with a snap of her fingers.

💌 maggie is a queen bee if ever there was one– and she's got the attitude to match. not always mean, per say, but she's no stranger to being an absolute bitch. sometimes its what you need to do to get by in life, after all– and she's more than willing to be mean to anyone who deserves it.

💌 (just ask the frat boy she outted for trying to spike a girls drink last summer; the mere mention of her name is enough to make him cry. not only did she blast him on social media, get him arrested, and get him kicked off campus and expelled, but his social presence is in shambles).

💌 she's hot, she's smart, she's athletic, she's confident, she's cunning, she's the head cheerleader, she's everything.

💌 specifically, she's everything you seem to lack. you aren't a total loser, but you're nowhere near maggie's level. you're unpopular, and you stick to yourself. you know her, but have no reason to think she even knows you exist.

💌 and that's where you'd be wrong. once, you nearly bumped into her in the library, and commented anxiously on how you liked her dress. a socially awkward moment for you, one you have all but forgotten... but for magnolia, it was so much more.

💌 it was a spark of some kind. you didn't fawn or gush over her, but were still so awkward and shy, hardly able to look her in the eye, despite how much she wanted you too. and then you scurried off so quickly, turning on your heel and practically running away. she was... intrigued.

💌 suddenly, it was like she was seeing you everywhere. you passed each other so often, went to the same coffee shop, had some of the same classes. how had she never noticed you before?

💌 you were an itch she couldn't quite scratch, a creeping obsession bubbling under the perfectly manicured facade that was magnolia king.

💌 and so you become her project. she's not quite sure where her obsession with you begins or ends, or why she feels such a pull to be around you, but... she's not one to deny herself of what she wants. and if she can cover up her true intentions by helping you along through a maggie-branded glow up, even better.

💌 and you make her feel things she's never felt before. it has to be something special. you say her name and she feels her heart thump in her chest, and her face go hot. she finds herself excusing herself to the bathroom to splash water in her face, leaning against the wall until the memory of your smile stops making her feel weak in the knees.

💌 if it didn't feel so nice, she would be so much more mad about it. don't you know she has a reputation to uphold, y/n?

💌 suddenly, she's everywhere you are. tracking you down and inviting you to sit with her at lunch, if you're in the same lunch hall. moving you to the desk or table next to hers in classes that you share. going out of her way to meet up and walk between classes or extra-curriculars.

💌 and heaven forbid she catches anyone being rude to you, let alone bullying you. if she catches you upset at all, she'll deal with you first, and them later. pulling you into the bathroom, muttering that she 'can't let you run around looking like that, with snot and tears all over yourself,' while she wipes away your tears and applies a concealer (in your shade, which she bought just for opportunities like this~) to your red, puffy eyes and smooths it so gently into your skin with her ring finger.

💌 it doesn't matter who it was that upset you. they could have been her closest friends or total strangers– she will have no mercy for them. it'll be like a mean girls x heathers crossover.!

💌 and thats only the beginning. before you know it, she's practically attached to your hip, always begging you to come to homework with her, to come get food with her, to come to a party with her.

💌 she invites you to everything she gets invited too, and suddenly, the fate of everyones parties rest on your shoulders instead of hers. if you don't feel like going? neither does she. she simply doesn't want to go without you.

💌 it ramps up a notch when she begins asking you for your opinion on her hair, her makeup, her clothing. you don't catch right away that it's flirty– at least, not until she begins insisting on putting on little fashion shows for you every time you accept an invite to her place.

💌 doesn't her filly new skirt match her hair bow so well? don't you like the charms in her new braids? doesn't her new, tight tank top look so pretty? don't you love this new shade of sparkly lip gloss? what about this sundress? do you want to see the matching set she's wearing underneath, too?

💌 you don't take the bait right away, too afraid to upset the balance of this new, delicate friendship– and it drives magnolia up the wall.

💌 can't you see how perfect you would be together? how powerful you could be together, the perfect couple? how much she has done for you, how much more she is willing to do? she loves you so much, but seriously, how can you be so dense? don't you want her? please say yes. she'll go insane if you say no.

💌 she begins inviting you to sleepovers at her place, without any of her other friends. before, she had been inviting you over with other people, ingratiating you into her circle, not wanting you to feel cornered. but now? she's over playing nice. if she has to ramp it up, she will. she needs you to notice her.

💌 if she has to strategically end up in your lap during a scary movie, or planting a lipstick kiss on your cheek when saying goodbye, or stroking her well manicured fingernails up and down your forearm when talking, or 'accidentally' flashing you when she bends over to pick something up, or even has to 'accidentally' cop a feel when she sneaks past you late at night in her kitchen....

💌 she'll do it. whatever she has to do to get you to notice her– and only her.

#woulda been folded ngl #yeah i’m enslaved #it’s too early to be rereading this rn #i need to write something #sencity #✧︎︎ sen’s submission

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sencity · 9 months

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hope he’s interested in a little gynecology cuz she is purring manically.

What about dr kry with a darling that's scared of needles?

Panic point

Doctor!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you have to have your blood tested. Only problem? You're afraid of needles.

Warnings: blood, panic attack(?)

Word count: 1.3k

He’s feared this day — and so have you.

You need to get your blood taken, just to make sure that you’re healthy … or at least as healthy as Dr Kry will allow you to be. You hate needles more than anything else on this pesky planet — maybe even more than being bedridden. Dr Kry hates to force you to do something you’re so afraid off and at the same time terrified of the results he’ll get from the test. But it has to be done, he needs to know where he has you.

“Y/N?” he asks as he enters the empty room. “Where did you go?”

He walks around, looks behind the curtains, under the bed and under his desk. You’re nowhere. That’s when he notices the bathroom. The red image under the handle is all he needs to know to understand where you are. He walks over and leans against the door.

“Y/N, don’t be like this”, he says slowly and tries the door handle.

“I’m not doing it!” you growl from inside the bathroom. “Not a chance!”

“Y/N …”

“I would rather die!”

Dr Kry sighs and rolls his eyes.

“The quicker you come out, the quicker it’s over”, he reminds you. “I have everything set up, it’ll only take five minutes … probably less. I just need to put a little band over your arm and hit a vein. I don’t need more.”

“Never.”

“Y/N, don’t make me take the door off the hinges.”

A second of silence follows before you blow off.

“Fucking leave me alone!” you scream angrily. “I fucking hate you! I told you that I don’t want to do it! Just leave me alone!”

Dr Kry clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. Anger rises through his chest, but he knows that he can’t let himself get mad. Not at you. Not at his sweetheart. It’s not your fault that you scream at him. You can never do anything wrong in his eyes. You’re just scared, you’re not meaning to do this.

“Y/N, come out in this instant”, he says firmly. “I’m not playing around. You have to do this, whether you like it or not. It’s for your health, to make sure you feel better!”

A few seconds of silence follows, and then a click from the door. Dr Kry wants to rip the door open to prevent you from changing your mind and locking it, but he doesn’t want to scare you even further. You open it carefully and meet his eyes. You’re glaring at him.

“Thank you”, he says and takes a hold of the door. “Shall we start?”

You don’t answer. You push past him and sit down on your bed with your arms crossed. Dr Kry follows and sinks down on his rolling stool.

“Would you like me to explain everything I’m going to do?” he asks. “So you’ll feel a bit more comfortable?”

You nod shortly.

“I will tie a rubber band around your arm until a vein is exposed”, he starts calmly and takes out the needle. “Then I will use this one to take a few drops of blood. Afterwards it’s done.”

“That thing is fucking huge!” you raise your voice.

“It’s not huge, Y/N.” He puts the syringe back. “Let’s start. Give me your left arm.”

You don’t comply. Dr Kry sighs and takes your arm in his hand. He pulls the rubber band over your arm and waits until a vein is prominent. Carefully, he wipes the skin with a disinfected wet wipe. You flinch as he picks up the syringe.

“No, no, no, no-”, you babble while shaking your head and trying to pull your arm back.

“Y/N, stop”, Dr Kry says and holds your arm still in a firm, strong grip. “If you move around I might hurt you.”

You start to sob and Dr Kry puts down the syringe. He puts his now free hand on your cheek to wipe your tears while holding your left arm firmly with the other.

“It’s going to be okay”, he says softly. “It’s going to be quick and it won’t hurt.”

“Yes, it will!” you sniffle.

“Maybe just a little sting, but you’ve been through worse.”

“Please don’t do it, doctor … please.”

“I’m sorry, I have to.”

“I can take a urine sample, a-anything else! Just not a needle.”

“I need to check your blood, not your urine. Believe me, Y/N, if I thought that a urine sample was good enough, I’d let you take one. But it’s not as accurate. I have to know exactly how you’re feeling.”

You hide your face into his arm. Dr Kry caresses your hair.

“Let’s get it over with, okay?” he encourages. “You’re strong, you’re amazing. How about we get something yummy to eat later as a prize for you being so so brave, hm? How about a muffin?”

You nod into his arm. The coming seconds are either too fast or too slow, none of you can recall how much time passes. The needle breaks through the skin and you look away with a whimper. Dr Kry watches the blood enter the syringe and pulls it out of your arm. He places a cotton pad over the small hole in your skin.

“Hold that”, he says.

You take the cotton pad in a shaking hand and hold it over the small hole. Dr Kry closes the tube and puts a band aid over the hole, pressing down on it for a few seconds.

“And we’re done!” he says, cupping your cheeks. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you, Y/N!”

You sob in relief. Dr Kry wants to hug you, but he has to be professional.

“You did so, so well”, he says proudly. “See? It wasn’t too bad.”

“Can I get a muffin now?” you ask quietly.

Dr Kry chuckles and nods. He leaves and comes back ten minutes later with a blueberry muffin from the cafeteria.

“Here you go”, he says and puts it in your hand.

You split it in two and hold out one of the halves to him.

“For me?” he asks, shocked.

You nod shyly.

“Thank you, Y/N”, he says and takes the split half.

“I’m sorry for swearing at you … and saying that i hate you”, you say shamefully. “I didn’t mean any of it …”

“It’s okay, Y/N, I didn’t take it to heart.”

Yes, he did.

“I understand that you were scared”, he says and takes a small bite of the muffin. “It’s behind us now, don’t be embarrassed. You can’t do anything wrong in my eyes. I should have prepared you better.”

After you’ve eaten the muffin, he puts you to bed and reads out of the book you’re currently reading. You drift off to sleep in no time. Dr Kry closes the book and looks at you with a fond smile. You have the teddy bear he gave you last christmas under your arm, snuggling with it. You have it every time you’re napping and it makes Dr Kry want to melt into a puddle. He tucks you in and places the book back in the book shelf. Before walking out, he regulates the toxic air purifier. Every time he has to leave you, his heart shrinks.

Dr Kry tests your blood down in the lab. He’s careful with every action. Your blood is precious, he doesn’t want to spill any of it. It will have put you through misery for nothing. He will come back in a week and see if there’s any haunting results. Dr Kry takes a deep breath. He’s positive that you’re okay. You have to. He can’t imagine what he’s going to do if you’re not … he doesn’t dare to imagine it.

He walks back to your room and decides to do some paper work while you sleep soundly behind him. It’s these types of moments he wishes could last forever.

#PLEASE HELP #lemme not do too much #nvm i’m not doing enough #✧︎︎ sen’s submission #sencity #doctor help i fell into a bed of KNIVES and i can’t get up

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sencity · 9 months

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i love ships when there’s two powerful men that does a terrible job hating the other then just kiss sometimes.

"You almost died, again!"

#like naruto and sasuke #or cherry and joe #or sanemi and giyuu #like i can go on and on rn #ok bye

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sencity · 9 months

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heyyyy!! im frantically infatuated with your ocs and your writing style, so i’ve been thinking ab which idea would be best to request of you for a MINUTE

anyways, what about co-dependent! fem plus sized y/n (rlly specific ik 😭) with amunet. so y/n is always fishing for compliments and comments from amunet, memorizing her poems to surprise her and gain extra attention, asking her to help her with writing assignments or how to properly sharpen her kitchen knives (even when she doesn’t need help with these things). and on the more angsty side she would go without eating or bathing or leaving her room for a concerning amount of time just so amunet would be invasive and take care of her. that could be specifically when y/n fucks up and feels bad, like trying to repent or something. y/n could even blame it on someone she knows amunet doesn’t like, just to reassure herself that amunet still cares enough to write her a sonnet out of that persons blood.

i just wanna see a yandere be with someone who’s as needy, obsessive, impulsive and unstable as them. i’ll leave the thoughts to you if you have any smut ideas for this concept, ik you can figure that out all on your own… *eyes your smut*

OK THATS IT FOR NOW, PLEASE EXCUSE THE RAMBLE I JUST WANTED TO GIVE A GOOD DESCRIPTION. WRITE WHICHEVER GENRE, I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE THE THOUGHT..

and i did not word check this so rlly, dm if you’re confused ☠️

ykw, this would be interesting, seeing is y/n is practically all yandere for our wind goddess… it may get a little angsty, however, so brace yourself, cariño <3.

nightmare fuel: emotional manipulation (guilt-tripping, threats, + god complex if you squint hard enough), self-harm, murder, + suggestive themes.

ironically, yandere!poet wouldn’t be too interested in dependent!darling at first. as a possessive woman, it would be a turn off for you to be so dependent on everyone you come across. not only you seem easy, but it made her ponder about how many people you allowed to take advantage in your vulnerability. and yet, even after taking your needy nature into account, she still couldn’t make this fixation towards you dissipate. it’s difficult telling those pretty eyes and cherubic face no…

yandere!poet will always be there for you, whether if it’s sticking random motivational or flirtatious haikus around your house to uplift your spirits and insecurities or bestowing eternal wounds upon someone who dares give you a hard time without proper reason (even if the reason is valid they’ll still end up on a stretcher) she’ll be there! especially when you’re ill.

“usually it’s like i’m in my honeymoon with you every time you’re sick…” she would point out fondly, her tone resembling sweet, raw sugar canes that were watching the tides reside on a vacant beach. somehow, she knew that you were purposely getting sick just for her hands to scout your body meticulously, which she wanted to berate you for, but not in this state. not when you’re so vulnerable like putty in her palms.

she’s always inclined to cater to you however since she adores you so, so, so so much, especially when you beg her to finish mere tasks such as needing something on top of the fridge or cook simple dishes. there’s has been times where your requests turned out to be rather intimate hints. take the time when you politely begged asked her to zip your dress for you since the zipper was “too far.” how coy…

“mm, it’s broken, but you knew that already, didn’t you? are you truly in dire need of what i always have?” she would taunt you in a cheeky manner as her acrylic nail traveled down your pudgy rolls which was buttered with aloe vera gel. you’d of course give her a coy, breathless titter in return as frissons of pleasure scampered along your spine.

though, she knew that you will have to be trained soon, since dependent!darling tends to get a little manipulative when it comes to yandere!poet’s simple demands. she doesn’t see any cons to your neediness, but tampering with your physical health is where she draws the line. away for too long? you’ll find more ways to get sick knowing she would take care of you. too busy? hm, a minor injury should do the trick…

or you caught chasing attention elsewhere due to your impatience? on your knees beneath the blood-stained tiles, tear-kissed cheeks, and a livid lover glowering down at you with a disdainful look as if she wasn’t the one to demand you to drop down and apologize until her ears bled.

“you approach anyone with a pulse when i’m away. i’m your savior, damn it, my heartbeats should be memorized by now, prayers should be ringing…”

despite her tone being awfully calm and her touch being extremely careful as if she was handling fine china, her words didn’t compliment her actions in the slightest, which only induced your conflicted and worrisome state. your mind is raided with thoughts of her finally ridding you, even though you’re in a crab’s clutches.

you would think that the inanimate corpse nearby would have you bawling like this, but no…

"i need you to make only me essential, beloved.” she repeated herself, her tone a bit more strained as she listened to your slurred apologies that you were order to keep alive. “i need you to depend on only me like i'm your primary resource. do you understand? i'II have my soul engraved so deep in your memory. you'll forget how to even crawl without me. do i make myself clear?”

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sencity · 9 months

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FUUUUUUUCK ok minute maid i’m sorry it’s law yk damn well ima glorify it.

if these lights could cry.

who yandere! trafalgar law x fem black! y/n. length 606 words! warnings i promise i really tried to make him in character okay.. i'm not even in the timeskip *sobbing*. angst/gore. and don't be horny about the boob contact, this is not glorification. unprofessional & dangerous surgery description. organs and blood and poetry and blaaaaah. no consent. unconscious reader. and insinuations of the reader dying that's you ;).

leman's letter! a little pre-description would be: yandere! law touching y/n in places "only they know", and turns out it's a surgery just so he can feel her organs, knowing he's the only one capable of caring for her inside and out. and the only one she must trust to do so at that, since she sleeps so soundly in his bed, with them being lovers and all. surely that's more than trust? surely it's consent? really, regardless, who is she to refuse a check-up if it's doctor's orders?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ★

Loosen your will, lose your drive; drift like lost wood and sink like an angel's feathered spine. Spiders thrive where memories spin forlorn, pearlescent webs of regret, and in that case, el hospital de tu corazon is a cave for bats and daddy long legs.

Spread your arms. Some sedation would do you well, wouldn't it?

Spread your legs. Some fucks to give would last this doctor the rest of the night.

Spread your belly button. Your guts, splice them. Your eyes- no, sorry, we won't dice them..

You're a prepossessing little patient with a particularly possessive, perfectionist lover. But you, you're so perfect, what is there for the doctor to heal or mend or replace? Not a single discrepancy in your spleen, your pancreas is in as little pain as preferred, your thoracic cavity is as hollow as a lost soul. And your heart.

"There's the fun part."

His hands, riddled with letters of death and intentions of.. something akin, softly palm the naked elegance of your breasts. Although consumed by anesthesia, your nipples naturally harden beneath the newfound company, slowly tightening and tickling against his palm creases. Yet he presses deeper- harder- urging your chest into the density of your thoracic cavity until he's sure you should fall apart from the pressure.

Yellow lamps see it all. Hanging from the ceiling, adding to the ambiance of your impending quietus. No amount of flickering or buzzing from the dust-worn bulbs could warn the lingering spirits of those who came before you. Are you to be an exception?

An incision-- no.. three slabs. Just skin, it's just skin, just cells, just tissue. Just an organ- an organ or two. Or five.

He's a doctor, isn't he? He must be sure you're pumping blood where it's due, not swelling or oozing where you shouldn't. Checking off his list: no tumors or cell degeneration, no irritable cysts or parasites. If this means sliding that annoying latex over his hands to ensure you're safe and sound inside and out, he's more than acquiescent to oblige. Hell, to volunteer.

"Just lucky to have me, I guess."

..Debatable. Since one kidney is currently being toyed, twisted, poked, prodded, and pulled out of it's cubby behind your trampoline of a digestion bag. Oh, I mean stomach.

However, stomachs don't usually get sliced open with silver scalpels just for the fact of doing so. Do they? Perhaps "digestion bag" is more appropriate, since you open up quite widely.

Biopsy's vary. Could be fifteen minutes, could be thirty.

For you, more hours fly past than fingers on your limp hands. Spiders crawl into the winter sunrise, abandoning you and your yellow lights of worry to run silent on misery and immobility. Resting points in between the achingly intimate hours hold no weight; they're only for letting your sensitive body lay and recuperate, with your limbs spread apart and numb like you're ready for the slaughter house. You're too perfect to take so much time out of Doctor Trafalgar's day and night. Or perhaps it's because you're so unprecedented in faultlessness that you must amount to such a duration of focus.

He's had to redistribute anesthesia more times than he's enjoyed; you're such a handful. Surely you realize everyone has their reason to lose control.. Which cakey clump of you is pushing his limits this time?

"Jeez, Y/n, don't get so worked up. Going into cardiac arrest again just wastes more time. I can re-attach your heart to the left atrium in a second." A slowed stutter coruscates in his hand like a newborn baby's first and last breath, and he chuckles, comparing your blood hungry heart to such with lidded, heavy, restless eyes. "You're about to turn this into an exhumation."

#bro everyday i wake up horny #i cant keep doing ts #i can HEAR him #why cant i just die this way #god don’t want me happy #the universe hates me #but law doesn’t….:::

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sencity · 9 months

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acqua profumata 𝄀︎ nymph!fem reader.

✧︎︎ nightmare fuel | scented waters consists of: ooooo french words, fem!reader, fluff/smut, m!oral receiving, didn’t proof read (wrote this in the middle of the night), + aphrodisiacal scents.

✧︎︎ word count | 1410.

✧︎︎ sen’s statements | ngl this was based off this gucci cologne called “a chant for the nymph.” also, a nereid is essentially a water nymph (specifically sea).

Dewy-eyed spectators honored the memorable setting of the undercover water nymph disguised as a gifted woman who was capable of enticing the carnivorous aquatic creatures that were confined in the tanks they’re forced to call home. White-tip reef sharks and other miscellaneous fish that helped adorn the exhibit nuzzled the glass when the pads of her fingers pressed against the barrier. The potential empress in question, the one that the little girls point, squeal, then compare in disney-based books, muttered little praises for the sharks to swoon over that also earned the attention of the fortunate male who accompanied her this evening.

“Darling, look! They’re giving my fingers smooches! How adorable.. Aww, I adore all of you… Yes! Yes, you!” You practically deified what’s generally depicted as soulless monsters which caused them to get more riled up like needy puppies. Re-evoking their guileless curiosity like sunburst in the murky sky on a shivering afternoon. You were even questioned by some who were intrigued by your ability, and of course laughed and cloaked your “I’m a nymph” response as a joke. But what other explanation is there to make a shark do underwater tricks like bottlenose dolphins or orcas?

The lucky mortal who was too entranced to interrupt your giggly state watched you from afar with incessant heart flutters. Though some are paid pounds of berries to lecture, he could prose about her beauty free of charge if that’s what it takes to get communities to comprehend.

The base of your dress is tan with terrestrial-toned shrubs and blossoms to prosper, and as guessed, you will never leave the ship without precious stones to emblazon your neck, wrists, fingers, and ears, tourmaline specifically. The pleochroic gemstone was volatile, quick to swap between greens and yellows and occasionally reds, so indecisive. Although your gentle curves that desired to thrive were picked from their roots with the covering of Sanji’s blazer that rested comfortably on your shoulders. What a jealous man…

“Even carnivores are awestruck by the mysterious smile of a woman they yearn to learn,” Charm tumbled from his oiled rose-kissed lips and was caught by you who was still bent over slightly, smiling warmly at his lovely comment that contained a playful rhyme at the end. His fragrance alone brought richness and curiosity that sparked your desires, so his treacly phrases were enough to make a woman drive insane. He was an expression of everlasting femininity in more ways than just his poetics, a song for the roses to bloom during the harsh winter colds. Then his malachite-embedded rings hooked under your chin so your focus could deplete from the dusky sharks after telling you, “Your aura is made from pearls, mon précieux lys, you know that?”

At first, you were about to inure the “collywobbles” that accumulated in your abdomen and his sweet words replayed in your heart like a record, but his treasured claim was followed by a sugar powdery peck on the tip of your twinkling nose after bending over slightly to revere it. As your nose scrunched up due to its sensitivity, a puckish smirk embellished the curious “hmm?” he sounded knowing that a reasonable response wasn’t coming from you anytime soon. A verbal one at that. If it wasn’t for the oceanic lighting and the lack of people who want to see a couple mingle carelessly in public, shrieks from the crowd would be prominent enough to summon any lingering marines.

While he wondered if he struck a nerve, which nourished his ego quite a bit, luscious gardenias chanted for you to tend to the stimulating sillage lingering from the man whose heels clicked against the luminescent grounds. His intense scent blends with soft vanilla, intoxicating plumerias, and a plethora of warm nights waiting to be explored with a handful of pearls to guide the way. Your authentic earlets twinkled under the billows of translucent glimmers that were caused by the lights illuminating the tanks as you stood up straight for your eyes to greet the enchanter once again.

With an exhale of the lavender-scented smoke he was warned to fan away by some workers that caught him, his ringed hand offered to provide warmth to yours. How could you decline an aura that was a feast for the soul or an enticing grin acting as the amuse-bouche? Furthermore, his velvety suggestion was enough to make a woman starve for more — “Shall we?”

While avoiding eye contact in any form possible, you squeezed your thighs together after feeling a nostalgic pulse arousing between them. A perfect man with an arousing scent, you wondered if he concocted something so titillating on purpose. Perhaps he picked up something sketchy from a silly little dealer who was merely trying to make a quick cherry. After regaining some lost composure, your empyreal eyes targeted the beaded pearls that twinkled greatly on his collarbone before hooking your fingers underneath them, potentially pulling him close enough to cause a flushed face and a broken ego.

“Only if you plan on escorting me to the ship, of course.”

The mystic water’s exterior undulated because of the violent disturbance arising beneath the billows of rosy waves that were also embellished with sacred calla lilies to embrace the decor. The scented suds weakened, deflated, and popped due to the uprising caused by disfavored (yet desired) forces practically disrupting the magnificence and time that was enforced in order to create the perfect bath for the opposite loved one. In this case, the opposition desired to one up the one who chose to find another method that ensured his lily’s contentment since he vowed to make her feel loved no matter what. In response, she repaid him the favor almost immediately judging by his jittery responses and snafued state.

Clumsily grasping onto the slick rim of the bathtub in order to find emotional stability, mewling winsomely without a thought or consideration behind, stammering apologetic moans when a candle or two tips over in the water, and unwillingly parting his thighs after acknowledging that forgiveness will be served if you obey and abide for the evening.

Sanji’s head was obscured with the overbearing scent of golden marguerites and frequent images that corresponded to the unprovoked pleasure he has absolutely no issue with. His chest rose unlike his stomach, which concaves with each irregular breath he expired. His auric lashes dampened since he was too blissed-out to decipher the miracle he deserved for the night, and his native lilt began to come to play, all specific factors that reveal when he’s close to reaching his climax.

Warningly, yet incautiously, since it was absolutely difficult to not only understand what someone is declaring unless they were underwater with you, but also because whimpered French phrases were enough for someone to advance, Sanji pressed his palm against the drenched surface of your somewhat submerged head as he repeatedly alerted you. As predicted, you instead sealed your chamomile oil drenched lips around the tip of his sopping dick and brought all of your attention to that instead so he could finish properly.

Apologetically, he attempted to massage your scalp after tugging on it suddenly since you brought him to his orgasm quicker than he anticipated. Also mentally promising to apologize for trembling in the bath causing water to spill over the edge of the bath, roughly pushing your head away as if he hasn’t been imploring for his release, and for destroying at least half of the decorations available for him to misplace. Surely with his blurred vision and somewhat dazed state, he wasn’t able to do such off the bat, which allows you to finally rise from the water with a satisfied smile growing on your face.

Leftover bubbles coated your melanin-imbued skin, plucked petals from water lilies glued to your figure as well due to the slippery exterior of your body, and an abundant amount of water splashed back inside the tub when you squeezed the access from your hair in order to examine Sanji’s flustered expression correctly. After you did, you began straddling his sensitive lap earning an instant, sultry moan from the loving chef, cuffed his face, and peppered his gentle lips with gentle, slightly salty, kisses to finish it off.

“I’m not sure what has gotten into me, my pretty prince, but you just smell a bit more… enticing tonight. Forgive me and a nymph’s hormones, for I’m going to please you for the rest of the nightly hours…”

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sencity · 10 months

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be so FUCKING fr…

I NEVER REALISED ZORO WAS WEARING KIMONO LIKE FOR WHEN MODERN JAPANESE MEN GET MARRIED?????!!?!??!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

#i knew they were canon #oda is grinding my goddamn GEARS with this shit #zosan #is #canon #fuck #you #sencity #☪︎︎ sen’s submission

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sencity · 10 months

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IMA THROW UP EVERYWHEREEEEE

it’s a real nigga’s birthday today… i should be somewhere in the caribbean rn!

#it’s not even a club anymore it’s a duo #neuro duo #get it cuz we’re both autistic #anyways AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

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sencity · 10 months

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it’s a real nigga’s birthday today… i should be somewhere in the caribbean rn!

#sencity #☪︎︎ sen’s submission #somewhere in the bahamas or in puerto rico #god playing with me #ok anyways wish me a happy birthday #or i’ll kms

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sencity · 10 months

Note

i will gobble you up minute maid stop supporting me.

yan! botanist content? i am eating this up, we are so well-fed. but dare i present, yan! botanist x entomologist darling?

hear me out… as a botanist, he does happen to dabble in fieldwork from time to time. prior to meeting you, he’s always gone out alone, but that won’t be necessary anymore, not with you around of course. and, oh, how perfect it is that you too, partake in nature research.

conducting fieldwork with him is so wonderful! he’s so knowledgeable, and surprisingly even a bit in entomology; plants and insects are crucial for their environment and one another, you know. he’s showing you all the beautiful flora, even informing you about their histories and roles in the ecosystem. while you’re studying the insects, he offers to help catch them in jars for you! no matter how many bug bites he gets, it’s all worth it for you. and how his heart swells with absolute love and adoration when you patch him up with bandaids and kisses afterwards.

nothing beats bonding over two people’s passions that co-exist perfectly–– especially when you’re in a grand field, of tall grass and little visibility, miles and miles away from any type of civilization; no one to bother the both of you, no one to take you away from him, just you two.

RAHH this man has awakened something in me…

you don’t understand how i’m tittering in my covers reading ts. my mind FLOODED with ideas bro. just… let me add onto this thought. your mind is WONDROUS.

nightmare fuel: none, unfortunately. except me not proofreading.

sen’s statement(s): link to the rest of my yandere!stinkers, let alone the yandere!botanist because why not?

it was a given that mother nature had finally answered his prayers; of course his love interest has an adoration towards insects! could life get any better!? insects are essential to plant life and vice versa. it’s the universe telling you that he needs you, and you need him! the two of you will soon flourish under each other’s love, why wouldn’t you become the butterfly to his pistil?

although you’ve forgotten about the times when he’d try to act cool for you or a little uncharacteristically, he surely goes out of his way to assist you on your projects. whether it’s collecting blister beetles in jars for your research despite the seething pain emerging in his palms or leading you into secluded fields to chase butterflies with wings that match the colors of your guys’ eyes, he’ll be there! still, you do tend to question his motives when he asks what a certain flower reminds you of and comes up with some poetic, philosophical answer to impress you. jeez, save it for the yandere!poet…

“is that right? hm, i’d assume that wisteria reminds you of your dreams… or that little starfish you’re so fond of—”

“the ochre sea star! yes, they’re nowhere near as perfect as you, but they’re lovely—oh! or plums and grapes! i love purple!”

there’s the sencha you love, the one who rambles about his simplistic passions and dislikes since he’s easily (dis)pleased. you’re here to listen to them all, even if they’re a little irrational and aimless like stick bugs…

goddamn, he can’t stand stick bugs.

even though he alters his personality to your liking sometimes (and fails horrifically, of course) he sometimes manages to appeal to your interest… by being himself. there was a time when you fixated on fireflies, wanting to study the patterns and language of their little light bulbs or what genetics causes some lightning bugs to not glow. sencha of course ran with this information and wanted to help to his best ability by insisting on you to sit your pretty self on the porch while he fetches a few for your research. you weren’t too fond of the idea of him doing the job for you, also potentially taking the fun out of it, but you allowed it this once…

you were going to go retrieve him since it seemed that he disappeared, but it just took him so long to collect so many. you would think he used the jar method again but decided that that’s not enough to truly get you to believe that he loves you, therefore he attracted fireflies with his bare hands…

…by coating his hands and forearms with sugar water in order to please the ravenous lightning bugs. primary his sticky hands were coated with tiny gleaming lights since he started off catching them with his palms, and it’s only natural for the rest of them to follow in pursuit.

“i uh, made a few friends along the way…?” he would titter unsurely as his arms expressed ethereality. he was referring to the random moths or flies that were also interested in the treacly treat, but that was the last thing you were fixated on since you were ordering him to not move so you could take pictures…

the two of you were truly an inseparable duo, a nature fusion much like leaf bugs or orchid mantises…

while we’re on the subject of orchids, the flower is one the both of you are very fond of, even though the both of you are suffering from a silly case of synesthesia.

when y/n hears the word orchid she sees a fuzzy yellow that resembles a bumble bee ever so faultlessly. she could never forget how he managed to get his hands on a bee orchid just to prove that his field of study compliments yours greatly. his point has only been proven even more when you giddily bring up that “orchid mantises” exist somewhere in the wild…

when sencha reads the word orchid, your honey-imbued lips drip onto his taste buds which awakens his sweet tooth and sends him into a sugar rush. you were a gift from mother nature, handcrafted by the goddess psyche herself. he even grew different species of orchids just because he cares for the flower so much!

normally you would adulate the bed of vibrant orchids and laborious pollinators that sprawled across the fields while pondering about those simple facts, whereas he would adulate you like how the tides adore the sand. it’s very hard to wrap around that the two of you were a match-made in heaven; he was sure to make you his once the fireflies began to coruscate …

#goddamn i love my moots #making me wanna eat y’all and swallow y’all whole #jeez louise

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sencity · 10 months

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zoro and sanji learning another language for you . .

˚₊ ꒰ nightmare fuel 𝄁︎ suggestive themes and implied talking stage (specifically w/ sanji) so partially nsfw. zoro’s a little longer because he’s just… a stubborn mess.

˚₊ ꒰ word count 𝄁︎ 1061.

˚₊ ꒰ key 𝄁︎ y/n is the white texts and zoro + sanji are the blue texts.

˚₊ ꒰ sen’s statement(s) 𝄁︎ baby i used translators and a few sites for this shit so don’t word me on anything. if it ain’t spanish i can’t manage.

˚₊ ꒰ translations 𝄁︎ angioletto, little angel. grazie, signore, thank you, sir. mio caro, my dear. amore mio, my love.

☪︎︎ just imagine the same situation going on with sanji but with a language such as italian. most likely he's learning another to impress you since you're oso interested in different languages and is pretty thrilled with the idea of him speaking french. although learning another language isn't easy, anyone could've told him that, but it is a bit frustrating while speaking or pronouncing everything with a french lilt.

☪︎︎ shortening his vowels naturally, adding more stress to the last syllable, silencing any h words, you name it. still, it was worth the praise coming from you, seeing as each time he presents to you a new word, you cheer him on and let him know that the french accent he possesses makes it more interesting. intense emphasis on the word interesting, resulting in him becoming a blushing, stuttering, and an absolute thanking mess.

☪︎︎ as he got the hang of it, he'd use it more daily, whether it was reviewing former words, impressing others, or referring to simple objects in that specific language. he even saw it as an advantageous situation to tease you a bit since of course, you adored the way the man sounded regardless.

"ah, here. please, let me get that for you, angioletto," with a deceptive smile contrasting his devious actions, which was brushing away leftover sauce on the corner of your mouth with a napkin, an obvious reason just to also gradually brush against your plumped, fairly glossed lips, he leaned in closer to "examine" the minor mess you've created while eating. surely it was nothing a small lick could've saved, but this was also a chance to take your beauty into account personally while somewhat flustering you during the process at the sudden act of courtesy and italian to adorn.

☪︎︎ regardless, this is still you we're speaking of, so there's absolutely no way you've condoned this behavior without any mental strain or compensation. if he wants to tease, you will find a way to hit him twice as hard. so, instead of allowing his actions to proceed, you gave him a generous "grazie, signore" with a slight grin slowly appearing on your face. needless to say, he had no idea you were familiar with the language, but what he did know is that he had five seconds to find his handkerchief before he suffered from another unwanted nose blee-oh dear, seems to be too late ...

"reminds me, you should enlighten me. tell me how much you've learned, mio caro, so i can praise you for all your hard work…”

“oh-why of course, mon amour-erm, excuse me, amore mio. j-just give me one second to get ready, alright?!" quickly, still suffering from the severe nose bleed that managed to get worse after your puckish message, he jumped up from his seat, practically tripping over the legs of the chair as he pressed the cloth against his leaking nose.

˚₊ ꒰ translations 𝄁︎ neoneun gachang jeongerokui saramiya, you are the most passionate person. saranghaeyo dangsin, i love you, dear. geu saranghae haeseoga bichihaeyo, my love for you will never lessen.

☪︎︎ frankly, zoro wouldn't be interested in learning another language seeing as it wouldn't be beneficial for him personally. he's already bilingual as it is, knowing fluent japanese and all, so there's no point in learning another. so, the only reason why he's taking it, as assumed, out of pure malice. not only sanji rubbed it in that he now has the upper hand claiming that there's another thing he surpasses him in out of million, but you also egged it on simply because you know zoro will be motivated spiteful enough to learn another language as well. you have such a way with words, really ...

☪︎︎ zoro's not interested enough to learn another language that's nowhere near as similar to japanese, therefore he took the time to learn korean. it's like a spanish speaker moving on to french or italian seeing as there's some similarities involved. similar to sanji, his pronunciations are inaccurate due to his accent. the main thing that kept him going is that the korean alphabet is shorter than the japanese, for the reason that it only consists of 14 consonants and 10 vowels. it was a piece a cake. besides, who would zoro be if he were to turn down a little challenge, let alone admitting that it was too hard for him?

☪︎︎ he'd definitely wasn't wooing you with words at first since you indeed prayed on his downfall so he insulted you in the language just to prove that he's capable. full on sentences as you were pouring yourself a midnight drink with a snack to embellish tuning out the swordsman's arrogance that refused to stop pouring from his stupid mouth. it's a bit amusing at the end of the day, considering that he was the one that went this far just to prove a point. then you would just call him tractable or predictable because of his behavior.

"neoneun gachang jeongerokui saramiya.” sarcastically and annoyingly, you quickly interrupted his antics before his behavior actually took a toll on your patience. really, it's hard to inure someone as conceited as him, but you love humbling people so that's why the two of you work so terrible well together. he was… oddly smug-looking at your words, finally satisfied with his listening prowess and your bombastic side eye. he even folded his herculean arms over his pillowy chest, unintentionally squishing them against them causing them to perk up a bit. he seemed to understand more than you thought…

“awh, how sweet of you. thanks for—”

“saranghaeyo dangsin.” you cut him off arrogantly, both seeing if he could understand and wanting his reaction, which was priceless. his brows were now furrowed with an incredulous, let alone judgmental stare. he was going to respond, but you, once again, interrupted him while walking up to him with a puckish titter. “geu saranghae haeseoga bichi-”

☪︎︎ then he would stop you before you go on a sudden rant, palming your face with his robust hand before pushing you away with a peeved groan and flushed look. it was a miracle that he actually took his time to comprehend so much, which you also plan on taunting him about later. right after he gets his big ass hand from off your face…

“jeez, the hell’s gotten into you? gotten all soft on me like that lovesick (sanji) dumbass…”

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sencity · 10 months

Note

yan! botanist content? i am eating this up, we are so well-fed. but dare i present, yan! botanist x entomologist darling?

RAHH this man has awakened something in me…

you don’t understand how i’m tittering in my covers reading ts. my mind FLOODED with ideas bro. just… let me add onto this thought. your mind is WONDROUS.

nightmare fuel: none, unfortunately. except me not proofreading.

sen’s statement(s): link to the rest of my yandere!stinkers, let alone the yandere!botanist because why not?

“is that right? hm, i’d assume that wisteria reminds you of your dreams… or that little starfish you’re so fond of—”

“the ochre sea star! yes, they’re nowhere near as perfect as you, but they’re lovely—oh! or plums and grapes! i love purple!”

goddamn, he can’t stand stick bugs.

the two of you were truly an inseparable duo, a nature fusion much like leaf bugs or orchid mantises…

while we’re on the subject of orchids, the flower is one the both of you are very fond of, even though the both of you are suffering from a silly case of synesthesia.

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sencity · 10 months

Text

HEJSOSDJDKDPDMDLD

i’m creaming EVERYWHERE.

le dépôt de l'amour

who yandere! artist sanji x darling! fem muse y/n. length 364 words. byr nsfw/angst!, death, gore descriptions, unhealthily obsessive sanji, yes he's a murderer here- i craved violence, some french, written in third person, around the time of the renaissance if you want some setting. just brief madness.

leman's letter! p.s, the title should translate to "depository of love", more or less. i know i said zoro was coming.. he'll be here by the 12th.. okay? and at some point law will be making an appearance; expect more angst cus this was too entertaining to write. also, a reader of color is always intended when i write, i just didn't actually describe y/n as any shades here, so it's safe to imagine what you will. bitch can be yellow if you're a simpsons kinda fellow who cares??

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★

Slowed pulses and spilled stomach links are the inspiration of artists, and the horror of muse's. His dainty hands caress mercy like a newborn, feeding it innocent nothingness and a warm embrace; he's not rich with milk. Her hair is the wind and the wind is white with grief, tinged orange with sour, citrus truths; her lips have churned and curdled into this.. pulpy blue with molding splotches of the forest. He fawns over her smile, certain that her heart's everlasting love has sewn itself into her greying cheeks. He sways and wiggles and shudders and giggles on his resplendent throne with adoration and absent-mindedness.

"Mon amour! Goodness.. even when your art has been perfected, I can't help but..." And the familiar tickle of blood outlines his cupids bow, once again. His most notorious representation of sincerity. "I can't help but bleed for you... as you do I.. ..Mmmph.. Thank you."

The windows have been locked since they were installed.

Oil paint, add just enough thinner to cremate her precious ashes in the field's decaying stubble, half a cap of linseed oil for lumpiness, and the most sacred rapier. Those brushes are for lazy lovers; blades are for the dedicated. Sanji would know. White streaks, dribbling red ribbons, rancid ridges over severed tendons in numb limbs; this is her. This is you.

And he's your monumental mason.

Digging through another pile of keys, another box of cold chalk and sandpaper strips; we're going to the gallery again. She's waltzing to the pearly gates-- and oh how she loved pearls and tall, elegant, locked, forbidden doors. She watches with a glacier's smile, it's the silver key with the square finger hold. Wind it up and wait for jack's jump scare, or burn the knob off when it doesn't open. If Eros would take one of the five hundred bows out of the poor artist's back, he'd know there's no key for this hell.

He'd know the difference between a morgue and a museum.

"Now, now, ma cherie, I'm sure you're feeling rather possessive with all of my darlings here so suddenly, but I promise, our love is like a Viola in January. You, Y/n, will always be my precious, precious, precious muse.."

#I HAVE NO FUCKING SHAME.#oh wait lemme put my tags #☪︎︎ sen’s submission #sencity #ok anyways #BRO HOW YOU GON DO YANDERE CONTENT AND SANJIIIII #god i love my moots #y’all are so delicious #sanji x reader #anime x black!reader #sanji #black leg sanji

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sencity · 10 months

Text

i’m such a… HARLOT for this man. i’m on the ground twitching for mercy.

elysian rain

who itachi uchiha x black! male y/n. length 3.7k words. byr mature/smut!, black male! reader, he/they pronouns, gay relationship obvi, fluff and smut, rainy date, pottery ouu, body kisses, some y/n praise, implied love making, and third person.

leman's letter! this shit was fun to write, it's just mad oldddd. this's a re-post and i’m still proud of it *wipes tears*; male reader representation!!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★

The weather was rudely unpredictable, choosing this lovely day to perform an obnoxious tantrum against Y/n and Itachi’s wide window panes. The sky was a clear shade of blue just this morning, the only feature to align with its welcoming color being the white smears of clouds and specs of flocking birds towards north. Though now those clouds were much less white than grey, and the once clear blue sky was nothing but a murky dark shade to reciprocate the dreary weather. So much for that cute picnic date the couple had planned. It was undoubtedly a dispiriting fact that they were forcibly stuck in this fuck ass apartment; disclosed from the damp air and muddy puddles encroaching the rest of the city.

“Mtch, Itachi?” Y/n called, rolling over on the couch with aggravation as he stretched. He faced his boyfriend, Itachi, from across the living room with a sigh of boredom. The dark haired man glanced up at him from where he was sitting, strings of hair escaping his respective ponytail and tickling the divine frame of his feminine features. In that peaceful spot by the window with his cozy rocking chair, a new novel he recently picked up laying idly on his covered lap

“What is it, Y/n?” Itachi’s voice was similar to a mumble, being so far away, but Y/n could hear the usual gentle tone of his deep voice. His eyes were as attentive as always, analyzing Y/n’s annoyed expression and dramatic position laid out on the couch. From the way his limbs flopped over the arm and back of the furniture, it was clear that the cancellation of today’s romantic plans was wearing him down. He couldn’t even fish out the energy to shift across the coffee table and grab the remote. Instead, he laid there with nothing to stimulate him but the clashing of rain against the glass and the low rumbling of the dryer in the distant laundry room.

“What type of date is this, bro?” Y/n complained, dull disinterest teeming from his plain tone. It was painfully obvious that on such a dreary day there wasn’t much the couple could do, but damn was this nigga bored beyond recognition. He pondered on what happened to their neatly packed basket and folded polka dot blanket. The strawberries sprinkled in sugar and packed away in the fridge, and the expensive cheesecake he went to the trouble of buying. Was it all for nothing? No, they could reschedule for another day, without a doubt- but Y/n was still a bit vexed about the situation. “Man, at this point I’m boutta k-,”

“Y/n.” With a glare slimly present, he spoke- but Itachi did more than simply call out his lover’s name. As a follow up, he sighed and stood from his seat, stretching his arms out and placing his book neatly on the coffee table. The glittery feeling of responsibility to lighten your bitter mood seemed to have a hold on his actions. “I told you to stop kidding like that."

The knitted blanket once draped over his lap was in a bundled heap at his feet, and he held a relaxed demeanor as he stepped over it’s mountain-like appearance. Itachi then walked past the living room to the narrow hallway without another word, disappearing into the other side of the lavishly sized apartment. Though Y/n was too uninterested to get up and follow his boyfriends figure as he usually did, finding it unfavorable to act like a lost puppy on such an irritating day. All he wanted was to pamper Itachi for once, the man was always being the gentleman of the relationship. For once, Y/n wanted to be the one to hold open the door, or to make his plate for him. Of all days for a downpour to devour this glistening city of buildings and street lights, it just had to be today.

A few minutes later, Itachi’s presence had returned to Y/n’s active acknowledgment. His thin, well built figure had re-entered the room with an armful of familiar looking supplies. If Y/n couldn’t see the small Pottery wheel under Itachi’s arm, they would’ve still known what his boyfriend was planning to entertain him with. Simply because the nostalgic smell of clay was now prominently befalling against the once cream vanilla scented living room.

Rather than let Y/n ask any questions, Itachi proceeded to make his way back down the hall, returning a few more times with more pottery supplies. Y/n sat up on the couch, finding amusement in watching everything be prepared so neatly. The sheet beneath the table to prevent any messes, the needles and wooden modeling tools, they were all aligned in their respective places on the coffee table.

It wasn’t until everything was in order that Itachi finally decided to speak again, standing before Y/n with his thin hand stretched out to greet his lover. A hand that, of course, Y/n found no resistance in accepting; idiotic giggles escaping his tittering smile as he moved to the spot on the floor. "Today we can do pottery.” Itachi decided calmly, finding a comfortable seat beside you on the floor. “Then, tomorrow we can pick flowers to fill our vases. Alright?”

To say Y/n was congested with a sense of contentment and benevolent affection was a bit more than an understatement, though he did his best to remain composed. Other than the gratified smile protruding across his brown lips, they appeared to be primarily unfazed by their boyfriends kind actions. “That sounds nice, Itachi.” He agreed softly through their upturned lips, placing a hand over Itachi’s on the floor and leaning upwards with an obvious intent. Y/n pressed a feebly gentle kiss to Itachi’s cheek to express his appreciation, resisting the urge to tackle the man and instead shower him in butterfly kisses. Oh what an urge that was, but they did well to hold their composure as he added a genuine, “Thank you.” before leaning back into his respective spot.

Itachi closed his eyes in sweet acceptance, letting out a soft “Hm..” as he held no resistance against the gentle smile greeting his lonesome lips. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped his boyfriend would take this opportunity to douse every inch of his face with peppered kisses, as he usually would. He expected the orange sulfur and monarchs in the center of his slim stomach to expand and throw a fit, azalea and daffodil’s blossoming in his chest as they’d done when the men first met. In fact, he might’ve even been looking forward to it. But of course with little hesitation, he deemed this as being a bit needy, pushing his subconscious desires elsewhere. Itachi instead directed his attention to the navy blue pottery wheel in front of him, deciding it was paramount to not keep his beloved waiting.

Y/n watched in wait of some form of directions as Itachi took a grey piece of clay from the supplies, handing a palm sized chunk to Y/n and began forming his own into the necessary shape. Not knowing much about pottery himself, Y/n cleared his throat awkwardly and followed their boyfriends actions- taking it as a nonverbal instruction. Once both pieces of clay were in a gumdrop shape and the couple’s hands were besmeared with grey, Itachi plopped his on the wheel and began patting it down in order for it to stick to the center board. A necessary first step it seemed to be since he was sure to really hit the poor clay before he began modeling it into what would soon be a pot.

“Once I’m finished with mine, we can do yours.” He assured, taking notice of Y/n glancing at him and the wheel with clear uncertainty. Between his own lump of clay, Itachi’s, and the wheel, there was an ambivalent question mark stapled across his expression, and it didn’t take a genius to notice- although Itachi sure was one. Therefore, Itachi calmly reassured him with, “It won’t take long."

Though Y/n didn’t swallow this response as he intended him to. "No, no! You’re good, I just don’t want mine to dry before I start.” Y/n admitted genuinely. He figured if he didn’t make the block into something soon, it would dry and be harder to use- not to mention it would be wasteful. Regardless of his theories, he had no reason to fear. Itachi was experienced, this being his hobby and all, and knew well that it wouldn’t harden as long as some water was kept in contact. Therefore, he sped up the pottery wheel and dipped his hand in the nearby bucket of water before beginning the messy process of his masterpiece.

“If you keep your hands wet as you hold it, it won’t dry.” Itachi informed, holding his focus on the spiraling grey piece as it pulled its length up similarly to the extensive frame of a building. Y/n couldn’t even form a response as his attention found more interest in watching the satisfying build up of the smooth material, coating Itachi’s slender fingers with every change of shape. It transformed from a sphere to a tower, then it was flattened midway and given a hole in its center. It resembled an odd cup, or a stubby volcano, but somehow Y/n still found it more impressive than he let his unfazed facial expression let on.

Itachi found tranquility in his pottery, it could be referred to as something like his desired, irenic haven. Which would have to be why he found himself paying no mind to the compliments Y/n couldn’t help but adorn him in. It wasn’t until he heard the sweet adjective “pretty” that he tuned in, hoping he hadn’t missed anything vitally blush inducing while he was drowning in those imaginative thoughts of ceramics and porcelain.

“I mean, you look pretty too, but I’m talkin’ about the clay right now.” Y/n corrected himself, leaning in closer to get a better look at the details enveloping itachi’s fingers. The thick, viscid pieces of clay sticking and smearing across his fingers as he dug the two pointers into the middle of the block; spreading the spinning walls apart to make a wide opening as you’d see in a pot. Then, with one of the nearby sponges he’d brought out, Itachi began smoothing down the inside of the unfinished creation as well as the outside, pressing a bit harder on the petal so the wheel would spin at a temporarily accelerated pace. It was truly a satisfying process that made Y/n consider taking more interest in his boyfriends artistic hobby- though it was messy. This would have to be an activity solely for when his nails were bare and ready to be temporarily filthy, because goodness was it clinging to Itachi’s under nail like a star fish on glass.

Not long after he smoothed the sides and evened out the length, Itachi slowed the wheel down to an immediate halt. “Is.. Oh, that’s it?” Y/n asked with fascination, quickly tugging himself away from the dedicated entrance he found himself in.

Itachi told him that that indeed was it, it wasn’t too difficult a process; it simply takes practice to make a good piece. So with that, he quickly cleaned off the wheel with the sponge and peeked over at Y/n, awaiting some form of response. Maybe a “Ight, so it’s my turn now”, like he’d usually say, brimming with self confidence and natural optimism. Alas, there was nothing of the sort to greet Itachi’s sanguine expression, Y/n was as quiet as a mouse… It was apparent that his attention was held entirely too well during the process. So much that he didn’t hear the minor instructions Itachi had mumbled to him as he fixed the undeveloped pot. Hence the confusion on the man’s face as Itachi slid the pottery wheel towards him, expecting him to slap on his clay and get started.

“Itachi, you know I don’t know much about pottery…” Y/n began, pursing his lips and glancing between the wheel and their boyfriend’s deadpanned expression. Itachi didn’t even bother forming a response, he refused to repeat himself simply because Y/n wasn’t as attentive as he should’ve been. When the awkward silence became entirely too much to bare, Y/n simply said “fuck it” and slapped the clay on the center of the wheel. “Now don’t be mad if mine looks better than yours, shit just comes naturally."

Such confidence was almost comedic, the man clearly didn’t have a thorough understanding of what he was doing. Slightly pushing on the petal before lifting back off when the quick acceleration caught him off guard. Had they forgotten how they attentively observed Itachi follow each step within the past six minutes? Surely that must’ve been the case, because by now Itachi was sighing as a way to cope with the horridly taunting chuckle threatening to befall his pretty lips.

Without a word to announce his next course of action, Itachi adjusted from his respective seat at Y/n’s left; instead, moving to the back of the man’s struggling figure. "Come on, Y/n. Were you not watching?” Itachi inquired calmly and knowingly against Y/n’s neck, leaning his chest against his back and innocently pressing his covered crotch to his boyfriends ass. Of course, this was genuine innocence, he was only placing his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s calves in order to help him make this pot. He was in no way trying to provoke anything sexual. If anything, he was promoting a moment of intimate romance in replacement of today’s scheduled picnic, the weather being so intrusive and all. Though regardless of his motives, the position was clearly a bit… less than decent, or at least less than “innocent”. And Y/n wasn’t a dense dumbass, he knew quite well what this looked like- or rather what this felt like.

He managed to clear his throat and re-dip his hands in the bucket of water along with Itachi, swearing that he was paying attention. He was just a bit forgetful that was all. The exact details seemed to slip his mind, replacing his vital memories with the pale details of Itachi’s clay covered finger tips and palms. Though he’d be too awkward and embarrassed to openly confess this to Itachi, the reason as to why he knew not a thing about how to start this shit. Therefore, he decided to simply move on and let Itachi show him the ropes.

It was a gentle, warm feeling- almost ticklish, and surely sensually memorable, as Itachi maneuvered his arms to comfortably guide Y/n’s fingers around the thick clay. Both hands drenched in water, the droplets landing on the surface below as it began to accelerate and rotate in place. The low whirl it vibrating through the air wasn’t as relevant or noticeable as a fly when Y/n had this fluttering feeling contorting through his abdomen. Delicate panzica and rare begonia building up in the pit of his stomach before blossoming politely in his amiable chest. Itachi’s fingers were soft and slender as they linked with Y/n’s, and both of them- or more Y/n than Itachi- were doing their utmost best to remain composed regardless of the warmly heart rate surging contact. The constant shifting in place, Y/n squeezing his thighs together with an awkward sense of sexual anticipation and intimacy draping itself naturally around his fuzzed head space.

“Am I- Uh, we doin’ it right?” Y/n inquired, mentally cussing at himself for stumbling so doltishly over his simple question. He was just too focused on the gliding of Itachi’s fingers between his, so much that he struggled to piece together audibly literate words. The delicate interlacing of their skin with the wet clay, only interrupting the messy labyrinth to dip their hands in more room temp water. It was impossibly euphoric and held no effort in encasing Y/n’s rib cage with silky cirrus and suffocating cumulus.

Itachi was extremely talented, it was obvious that he knew what he was doing, especially when it came to art. Nevertheless, he responded to his boyfriends query, simply because it was considered rude not to. Not to mention that he too was beginning to sense the desperate shared heat for sexual pleasure, but was striving with every morally correct thought to deny such impulses. Today was meant to be purely peaceful and virtuously winsome; containing nothing as inappropriate as what his intricate subconscious was concocting.

“Yes, you’re doing just fine, Y/n. Shape it with my hands, like this.” Itachi replied in what felt like a butterfly’s hushed tone. His lips unintentionally tickled Y/n’s shoulder as he spoke, the bare brown skin slipping desperately from the white tee all on its own. Tempting and taunting Itachi like a pretty Rosary Pea, one he knew he shouldn’t touch for it was doused in sweet beguiling poison. The bottom line of reality is that no man is perfect, and this naturally charming person sitting before Itachi was indeed, if nothing else, his. Who was he to deny himself such gestures for someone he desperately adored and, in fact, was his? Thus, when he suddenly lost interest in maintaining pressure on the acceleration pedal, and when he finally grew bored of this growing tension between the two warm bodies, no one could blame him for how his hands ventured bluntly up Y/n’s shirt. The smears of cold clay on the other male’s torso and chest surprising them, a soft gasp escaping their lips brimming with staggering pleasure and satisfaction.

Itachi discarded all of his care and consideration for his boyfriend’s clean tee shirt. He found no time to go wash his hands first, surely Y/n would understand that he held more value than a simple tee shirt. That he, unlike the cotton material, held needs and wants and elysian desires. Especially since this was out of complete adoration and affection for his beloved boyfriend, the one he loved with every piece of him.

Without a word, Itachi gently placed his lips onto Y/n’s naturally warm shoulder, fluttering sensitive kisses across the soft brown skin before him. His eyelashes tickling just at their blade, sending teasing butterflies through their chest and stomach, the parts of him that had already blossomed with fondness for Itachi’s sudden change in action.

“Itachi?.. You alright?” He asked, in a silky tone of honey dewed benevolence. He was informed that Itachi was more than alright from the way he exhaled through his nose in response, light breaths warming Y/n’s goosebump traced skin. Though still, he expected a response even as Itachi found it imperative to gently dig his finger tips into the skin of Y/n’s abdomen; gliding the slender digits across the skin with a scintilla of tranquility gifted by clouds. His kisses only became more sensual and- dare one be honest- messy as Y/n moved their neck to the side in amusement. Both sets of eye lids flutter in acceptance to these emotions, impure and all, as the poisonous flowers of Rosary Pea and Oleander dominate their united and scandalously intimate actions.

“I don’t mean to act so intrusively..” Itachi noted in an apologetic voice, though he still failed to reduce the actions of his clay drenched fingers across Y/n’s skin. The impulsive suggestions his head- or maybe his crotch, were tempting him to continue couldn’t be explained well with words. Which gives reason to why he didn’t bother, he simply did; and Y/n found no urge to stop befalling his current state. His only responses were the gasps of breath he fell into, and agape lips he licked between those inhales and exhales.

Two warm bodies, delicate fingers tracing Y/n’s skin with care, Itachi’s lips suctioning lightly despite being heavily drenched with addictive inhales and delicate saliva. Before Y/n knew it, he was spewing noises he didn’t know could escape his chest so facilely. Noises that even Itachi, as attentive and intuitive as he was, didn’t expect to greet him so tactlessly. Mere milliseconds later, those same muffled sounds were persuading Y/n’s hands to find Itachi’s, reenacting the intertwining of their messy fingers as they’d recently connected between the forgotten lump of clay. Without shame or caution, he guides Itachi’s palm further past his torso. Pressing it towards the growing distraction in his pajama pants, which clung to his milk chocolate brown hips with little to no responsibility; exposing his v line more with every pitiful air hump he commits.

Y/n mumbles in an affable, sultry tone beyond the suppressed moans and exhales of his built up arousal. “Whatever’s gotten into you today..” Before moving his unoccupied hand to Itachi’s sweatpant covered thigh, holding a firm grip on it as he hears his lover’s lips unclasp from his abused and drenched shoulder. Neither of them release his hands, nor their positions, as Y/n skews his line of vision to Itachi’s expression; light spurs of rose petal pink prickling and glistening across the man’s light cheeks and the tip of his nose. Y/n dares to speak while analyzing, in awe, such a gloriously handsome- no, divine front, and his lips curl into what one would call a grin as he leans in impossibly closer. “Don’t stop.”

And at that moment, as the never ending downpour imprisoning the glistening city in murky puddles finally came to a close, Y/n and Itachi found themselves in an artistically divine portrait of doves and pearly whites. Clinging to one another desperately as they passionately shared their pure adoration and seraphic, intimate reverence for one another. Smears of clay and forgotten boredom confining the two men to sloppy kisses and unfeigned compliments. A sweet “Handsome” and an irrepressible “I love you” lugging the acts of intimacy to a solar level of buoyant roses and vanilla extract. Even Aphrodite herself found it imperative to simper and fan herself, for these two were so terribly enveloped in one another’s features of perfection, it was adorably laughable. It seems one could presume that sometimes the convivial things in life aren’t derived from the long-winded, tedious plans we construct. Maybe it’s stupidly less arduous to find pleasure in creating a pot- preferably with Itachi Uchiha on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

#☪︎︎ sen’s submission #sencity #itachi smut #itachi x black!reader #anime x black!reader #y’all i’m on the fucking floor #one day ima fall out and just die #why is itachi so fine #every nigga i like is just DEAD #WHO’S NEXT? ACE?#you’ve gotta be kidding me…

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