#softest drabble i ever did write

[raccoonfallsharder]

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Autopilot Systems Check ‧₊˚ ⋅☽ ࣪ ִֶָ♡.

fluff | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshot | word count: 1,406.

reader wakes up in the middle of the night and rocket is nowhere to be found. drabbly.

reader x rocket soft fluff & domestica. MCU-based, post-Endgame i guess. @rebel-21 said a thing and i thought about it all morning so now it is a little <1500 word ficlet (unbetaed & unbothered - be prepared for typos & messiness). it is pure soft fluff for your sunday afternoon. some romantic undertones.

When you wake in the middle of the sleep rotation, the Bowie is quiet. The flight engines murmur their little lullabies, and everything in your bunk is layered with soft ink-purple shadows, pinned at the floorboards by tiny gold security lights shivering like fireflies. The engines are purring, but there are no accompanying purrs from Rocket. You wait in the stillness, listening. You would know if he was here, even if - unlikely though it might be - he wasn’t pressed against you in some way. After all, you can pick him out of a crowd by the thrum of his heartbeat alone. Blindfolded, you think you can find him in a Praxius IX windstorm, just by the sound of his breathing. He had been working on something with the fuel injectors earlier. And a shifting mechanism for the shields. Dreaming up a more intuitive thruster steering system. Something with the atmospheric barrier, too, and the air re-filtration chambers. He’d been making repairs, all day, and you’ve missed him. The sarcastic cracks and slanted glances. The smirks and snickers. The lingering touches: sometimes when no-one is looking, and other times almost defiantly, as if to say to anyone in the room: yeah, I belong to ‘em. And they belong to me. And we touch each other all the time and we’re very frickin’ intimate an’ affectionate. You gotta problem with that?

read more on ao3. anthology masterlist | main masterlist

[prettydaisygirl]

hey! here i am again~

what about a bouquet of 🌼, with Royal AU and the prompt "kiss me harder"?

do i really need to tell you with who? if it's not pretty obvius, with James Potter

hi my love! thanks for your request <3 hope you enjoy :)

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

James Potter, royalty, and "Kiss me harder."

cw: King!James, Queen!reader, the morning after the wedding night, suggestive

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James looks different this morning. There’s a glow about him, not just the soft waves of morning sunlight reflecting off his skin, but James himself seems to be glowing. His dark curls rest against the silk sheets and you reach out to brush a hand through them, loving the softness of each one against your skin. Your fingers tangle between them, watching as they bounce back once your hand brushes past them.

You sigh contently, pressing closer to him. James snores softly, his face turned toward you as he lays on his back, sprawled out against the silk sheets. You curl into his side, brushing your nose against his own before pressing the softest kiss you can to his lips. You don’t want to wake him, you just can’t help it. You pull back to admire his face, the face of your new husband. 

“Kiss me harder.” James’ voice makes you jump, you thought he was still sleeping. But then you find yourself chuckling and obeying, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one much firmer. He pulls you into his arms, his hands sliding down your back. You pull away to look at him, and he smiles up at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Good morning, my Queen…” He greets you in a soft whisper, his hand finding yours to interlace your fingers together. You can feel the cold metal of your rings clink softly as he slots his fingers between your own. His words have your heart fluttering and you find yourself moving to hug him. He accepts you easily, the two of you fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Meant to be.

“Good morning, my King.” You whisper into his neck, then add softly, “My husband.”

James rolls so he’s above you, his eyes dark but a sweet smile on his face. “I love you so much.” He doesn’t give you a chance to say it back, his lips are on yours. You smile into the kiss, which only makes James kiss you harder. He lets out a light sound of frustration when you start to giggle. 

“I’m trying to make a move,” He nips at your bottom lip before narrowing his eyes at you, “Can you stop laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” You say even though you aren’t sorry at all. “I just… it doesn’t feel real.” 

James raises an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth. “Really? After all I did for you last night, you don’t feel like my wife?”

You can’t help but laugh brightly, shaking your head. “That’s not what I meant,” You can feel your face warm but he doesn’t let you get shy. “I meant… being Queen.”  

“It will,” He tells you, and his words are so certain they don’t leave you any space for insecurity. Especially not one he lowers his face to your neck and sucks on a spot that leaves your body tingling. 

Being Queen will come, you’re sure. For now though, you’re just going to focus on being his wife. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Sugar daddy Felix (drabble)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: smut

warnings: daddy kink, pet names, grinding, soft dom lix hehe (he would be the softest sugar daddy ever i just know that)

a/n: i love how these come to me randomly and i can't stop writing them🫠

~ check out my: Masterlist

~ drabble #2

The lock clicks, the sound of the door opening has you whipping your head towards it excitedly.

The electric excitement runs from your chest to your core, your daddy's finally home.

You've been sitting all pretty and dolled up for him, wearing the new lingerie you bought (well, with his money), it's lacy and baby blue, just how he likes it.

Your cunt is wet, juices seeping on the lace, making the underwear stick to you, but you never dared to defy any of your daddy's rules, like the rule of no touching yourself until he says so.

That's why you waited patiently, growing frustrated cause he came back later than expected and you practically run to him as soon as he closes and locks the door.

"Darling!"- Felix smiles when he sees your excited face, his arms opening up to take you in his embrace.

He's so excited to see you that he almost misses your outfit. Almost.

"Daddy!"- your voice is whiny as you cling onto him.

"What do you have on, princess? Let me see."- he says, his voice already dropping lower.

You step back to show him the set you're wearing, everything looks so soft and sweet just like you always are to him.

"I got it today, it's for you, daddy. Do you like it?"- you bat your eyelashes at him and his heart skips a beat, his pants already getting uncomfortable.

"I love it, princess."- he smirks, and sits down on the couch, subtly spreading his legs.

You stay put, excited for what's about to come, your eyes taking in the sight in front of you.

Felix in the white suit, looking like an ethereal angel, a bulge prominent on his expensive pants, and your mouth waters at the contradiction.

You're ready to do anything he asks of you, if he said so you'd drop on your knees in an instant and swallow him down.

"Come sit on daddy's lap, princess."- his smirk is devilish, a contrast to his angelic presence.

You run to him immediately and he chuckles at your eagerness as you quickly put your legs on either sides of his and sit down, your pussy rubbing against the hardness in his pants.

You whimper desperately, you feel how hard and hot he is under your pulsating wet core but you stay still, waiting for him to give you his command.

"What did you want daddy to do with you dressed like this, hm?"- he taunts you, his hands on your hips, gently rubbing you, his fingertips dipping to your ass.

"Whatever daddy wants."- you pout cutely, you want so bad for him to go crazy and just absolutely rail the life out of you.

"Tsk."- he clicks his tongue, squeezing your thighs a little and you whimper, almost grinding into him.

"I know you want something, darling. You have to tell me what it is or I won't be able to give it to you."- Felix smirks, observing your face and you feel small under the intense gaze that's set on you.

"I- I want daddy to fuck me hard."- you whimper, your face red in embarassment as you avoid to look at him.

He chuckles deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, bringing you closer to him and dragging your pussy along his throbbing length.

"You have to show me how much you want that and cum just like this. Can you do that for me?"- he asks, his hands steady on you as he starts slowly moving you against his cock.

You grab at his shoulders, nodding fast as you start grinding on him.

"Words, princess."- he smacks your ass lightly and you gasp.

"Yes, yes daddy!"- your nails dig into his shoulders as you drag your soaking cunt against his erection. Your juices are seeping through your panties onto his white pants as you move your hips, spreading your legs as much as you can and pressing your cunt hard on him as you grind faster.

"My sweet girl, dressing up for her daddy."- he grips your ass and you whine, almost bouncing on him.

"You want daddy's cock deep inside your sweet pussy, hm princess?"- he smirks, his low voice dropping a few more octaves down.

"Yes daddy, deep so deep!"- you whimper, you're already close and you wrap your arms around him and grind on him as hard and fast as you can, your pretty tits bouncing in his face.

Felix thinks he's blessed as he holds your hips down and helps you move against him.

"You're doing so good for me. You wanna cum princess?"- Felix can see you're close, your eyes watering and your moans high pitched.

"P-please wanna cum for daddy!"- you whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"It's okay baby, you can cum for me."- he says in his deep voice, sending a jolt through your navel as you explode, your juices soaking and covering the front of his pants.

"T-thank you, daddy."- you sniffle quietly as Felix cups your face in his hands, wiping your tears away.

"No, thank you, princess. For always being such a good girl for me."- he says, pressing his lips into yours softly.

You kiss back desperately as you cling onto him, you missed him so much the whole day that having him here feels like a dream.

You crave for more, still feeling his hard cock under your and you squeeze your thighs around his, dragging your cunt against him.

"My baby feels empty, don't you?"- he smirks, his hands stopping your movement and you whine in protest.

"Need your cock, daddy. Please."- you beg sweetly and who is he to deny you?

"Shh princess, daddy'll take care of you now."- he promises as he lays you down.

You couldn't be more happier that he's finally home.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

[yesimwriting]

Felix would wear best friend!readers shirts as crop tops

a/n the more i think about this, the realer it is,, here's a little shirt borrowing drabble to tide you all over as i finish a longer request

also pls excuse any typos,, currently have to write with a wrist brace 😭

----

"Oh my god."

Felix is leaning against the doorframe with an ease that implies nothing but innocence. His eyebrows pull together. "What?"

Despite his easy going demeanor, the last syllable of his question has his voice pitching upwards. The smile tugging at the edge of his lips confirms your suspicions. He knows. "You know what."

"I'm just waiting to be invited in."

You glare, crossing your arms in front of your chest. He leans closer, eyes begging you to believe that he has no idea what you're implying. With a sigh, you step back.

Felix accepts the space you provide, entering your room. You move to sit at the foot of your bed. "You're unbelievable."

He grins fully, sitting next to you. "What?" Felix sets a hand against your knee. "My shirt?"

"My shirt," you correct, "My favorite shirt, that I've been looking for."

Felix's thumb brushes against the start of your thigh. He already knew that this was one of your favorites, which was part of its appeal, but you have to be exaggerating. He's only had this shirt for a few days, and you hadn't mentioned anything.

He leans back, the too short fabric stretching with the motion, exposing more of his lower torso. It's not a scandalous amount of skin, but it's suggestive enough to have you keeping your focus on your lap. "No you haven't."

You scoff, ignoring the warmth attempting to crawl up your neck, "What do you mean 'no I haven't'?"

Felix fully relaxes, his back flat against your bed. "I've had it for days, and you haven't--"

"Days?" You turn your head, giving yourself a moment to just glare at him before laying down."So not only did you steal it, you remember when you took it?"

He tilts his head, looking at you through his lashes. "Stealing? Is that what we're calling it?"

You sigh. "Next time, just tell me before you take something."

Felix shifts onto his side, moving his hand to pinch the excess fabric of your shirt between his fingers. "Like you told me before taking this?"

Oh. You blink, lighthearted annoyance morphing into something more concrete. He's not wrong, technically. You are wearing one of his shirts, but it's not like it was intentional. Today, your priority had been being comfortable. It's not your fault he owns some of the softest shirts to ever exist and...it happened to smell nice. Comforting. Like Felix.

His fingers are still playing with the hem of your shirt. "You gave it to me awhile ago. It's different."

He twists the fabric, the material shifting enough to reveal the start of your hip. Felix hums in pretend contemplation. "Really? I gave it to you?"

"Yes."

Felix's fingertips brush against the newly expose skin. The contact is light, a barely there thing that makes it hard to keep breathing evenly. You turn your head, taking in Felix's appearance. The shirt's smaller on him than on you, more form fitting around his chest and arms than yours, and shorter. It doesn't look bad, though, if anything...

You straighten your neck, focusing your gaze on the ceiling. "It does look good on you."

"Yeah?" His grin is audible. "How good?"

You roll your eyes. "You already know you're hot, you don't need me to say it."

Oh. No. You feel your mistake instantly.

Felix's hand settles against your hip. "You think I'm hot?"

Despite the heat making its way up your chest, you continue to stare ahead. "I think that we're not in middle school and that this doesn't have to be a thing."

"No, not a thing, just two hot people--talking, stealing each other's clothes."

You groan. Felix laughs, his thumb dragging across your skin. He's insufferable. "I'm never being nice to you again."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

[libraloves-writing]

Another tiktok inspired post, who would have thought! This one I’m going to try to write as a general 141 husband cause I wanted some variety. This one is inspired by this tiktok where a pregnant woman is crying over her baby showers gifts cause they’re so small and her baby’s almost here and she’s so happy.

ALSO: WHAT THE FREAK thank you for 100+ notes on my last Drabble????? Huhhh??? Where do yall come from and I got a few new followers like thank you holy freak. I was working on another draft but got stuck and got some new inspiration with this hope yall like it love you 😘😘

Implied female reader, pregnancy, crying but like happy crying, choose your own 141 husband, 141 member x reader

Your baby shower was wonderful. Your friends and family all came to celebrate the new addition to your family and everyone came laden with gifts. Of course there were diapers, baby wipes, basic necessities for the newborn and infant stages. But there were also plenty of clothes, shoes, and other little, emphasis on little, things for your baby!

You had told yourself that you would be calm and collected for the entire baby shower, and you were doing so well! Until it came time to open presents.

You got teary at the tiniest pair of booties you had ever seen. Crocheted by your friend, they were immediately a very sentimental gift. It was no surprise to your husband when your lip wobbled and he saw tears collecting in your eyes.

Tears fell when you opened a little towel wrap meant for your baby’s first bath times. Complete with a little hood that looked like a lamb and mittens, you handed the gift to your husband as you started to cry.

“They’re so little!” You blubbered. “And the baby’s going to be so little, and they’re going to wear little clothes!”

Your husband, trying to conceal his chuckles, rubbed your back and kissed your temple to try and soothe you. He handed you a tissue so you could continue to open presents. Although he definitely got a bit choked up imagining your little one being in your arms soon.

The next gift took you out of the game completely. It was the sweetest blanket you had ever seen, the softest material with your baby’s name embroidered on the corner. You immediately thought about wrapping your baby to nap or cuddle in it, the thought of such sweet moments so close in your future, you immediately broke down sobbing.

Your husband, unsurprised but sympathetic, momentarily paused to make sure you were fine to continue. He thought you being emotional was adorable but he wanted to make sure you weren’t seriously upset. He had you take a breather before continuing.

Despite this, you were a mess of tears and snot as your husband opened the rest of the presents, having taken over opening and unwrapping since you were a bit preoccupied. From tiny socks, onesies, and mittens, you bawled through each and every one. You just couldn’t believe that you baby was almost here already! These presents were just making it so real! Your guests laughed lightheartedly, understanding you were just happy but the sight of you weeping over onesies was too good to not chuckle from. You almost made your husband stop opening gifts because you didn’t think you could take anymore.

You did manage to choke out a heartfelt thank you once every gift was opened. Was it difficult to understand you through blowing your nose into a tissue? Maybe, but your family was just glad to see you so happy. Your husband was more than happy to help you over to a comfy chair and to calm you down, fetching you some treats and a tasty drink to recover from the gift opening ordeal.

[lookingfts]

If you're in the mood to write a sexy drabble, may we hear some of this "Fife is an idiot for having this and not wanting it" dirty talk?

Damn, I made myself sweat writing this lol. (Sexy snippet below!)

“Fuck.” His voice was filthy, raw, dripping with an impossible lust as he eased a finger into her tight cunt. She had been wet all day, eagerly anticipating his visit, attempting to manage her household duties as her body readied itself for the pleasure she knew Anthony would bring to her. “I can hear you, Kathani. Sopping for me. So sweet.”

Kate moaned, biting her lip as she writhed against his hand. It was not enough; it was never enough. Anthony was greedy, insatiable for her in every second they spent together, and yet somehow she was greedier still. “I had to choose new napkins,” she said with a breathy laugh, grinding her hips as he opened her up on a second finger. “Pretending to care deeply for the particular shade of ivory when all I could think of was you bending me over the table and taking me until I begged you to stop.”

Anthony growled, capturing her lips fiercely. She whimpered into his mouth, her first orgasm never hard won after days or weeks apart. It took nothing but a firm circle around her clit for her to tip over, his name falling from her throat as she clung to him for stability.

“I must have you,” he said, his movements uncoordinated as he freed her from her dress, her underclothes half on while he hiked up her leg and slid into her hotly. Kate muffled a cry into his shoulder, brimming with relief over her emptiness finally filled. “It is all I think about. It drives me insane, thinking of you, craving to feel this wet heat again.”

He did not move slowly, and Kate did not need him to. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he fucked her, burying his nose in her neck and inhaling deeply. Kate let her head fall back against the pillows, opening herself up to his obsessive exploration of her skin. Already slicked with sweat and heady with the scent of sex. “Anthony.”

Gripping her thigh, he rewarded her with a sharp thrust, embedding himself so deep that Kate gasped for breath. This was paradise; she was sure of it. To be in his arms, filled with him, his voice low and indecent in her ear. “You take me so beautifully,” Anthony murmured, grinding his hips to stimulate every sensitive spot within her. “Has he ever fucked you like this?”

Kate shuddered at the possession that tinged his words. He knew full well that Fife did not touch her with passion. They had done their duty to make an heir, and Kate had long since resigned herself to not being an object of desire. Until Anthony had slipped into her bed and ruined her thoroughly. “He has no hunger for me.”

“He knows nothing,” Anthony hissed, his thrusts growing ever more demanding. “He has the finest woman in England in his house and he chooses to waste his time with mistresses. As if any of them could hold a candle to you.”

Pulling back, he met her eyes, and her heart skittered at the fury he saw there. They were not merely debauched words, meant to seduce her. He was furious at Fife’s neglect.

His nose skimmed her bare shoulder. “The softest skin. The most alluring scent.” Dropping his hand between them, Anthony toyed with her nerves and Kate cried out weakly. “This perfect cunt. Tight and clinging to me. Any man who would not yearn to spend his days buried inside you is a fool.”

“Meri jaan,” she breathed, tension coiling in her limbs. “Please.”

She did not know what she was begging for, but Anthony kissed her tenderly, and bliss flooded her veins. Her arousal gushed between them, her quim pulsing harshly, and he groaned against her lips as he stilled, his thick release coating her walls.

They slumped together, entwined despite the intense heat of their bodies. One soul, as she and her husband had sworn to be.

[luvfy0dor]

“We Still Worship This Love...♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Suggestive, maybe a little toxic, wine but it's not prominent

Description; A very short drabble about Fyodor and Reader's way of fixing problems and arguments HEAVILY based n False God. I think on the citrus scale this might be lime. (Edit like 2 months later- this is not lime I was just nervous to post anything suggestive at all 😭)

A/n; Okay, so basically the rundown on this is this was the first idea I had that I was supposed to write and post here all the way back in August omg. Obviously I haven't until now so here you guys go! I know it's not the best but I also wrote this at 5 in the morning lol. Also might rebrand to pink idk how I feel

ೃ⁀➷

Though you and Fyodor had your differences through arguments here and there, you made sure to make it up to each other at one point or another. They were things you both tried pushing past, feeling as though arguing with him was comparable to an eternity in hell; he's both stubborn and you hated the feeling of guilt that would build up in the pit of your stomach if the ordeal wasn't resolved. You thought that you could patch it up pretty well with the soft kisses and caresses that were shared after the fact, the temporarily forgotten about wine glasses shimmering on the table under the dim light while the two of you got caught up in yourselves. Every encounter of this sort gave you some sort hope, although it was proven to be blind everytime the cycle repeated. You had put so much faith into your love for him that you started not caring that it was comparable to worshipping a false god. You believed that your relationship was true love, and that was all that mattered.

Fyodor loved that you felt that way, returning to him even after exchanging harsh words with eachother. Most nights the both of you would take time to calm down on your own first, gathering your thoughts and sipping on a glass of something, anything that would act as support. Sometimes it was water, sometimes it was wine. You'd try talking it out with eachother, and everytime it worked you ended up entangled in his arms within a matter of minutes; his hands on your waist and back as he softly kissed on your neck while whispering and murmuring quiet apologies to completely win you back over. As did you the second you saw an opportunity, your hands were placed on his shoulder and chest while you straddled him. Your trail of bite marks always made their way down his body throughout nights like these when you showed each other the softest love possible.

→ Fyodors hand rested on the small of your back as you stood between his knees, tilting his head up in order to plant gentle kisses to his lips, only ever pulling away in order to get air but occasionally mumbling against them. "I'm sorry, I get a little dramatic sometimes, but you know that, don't you?" You ask quietly, your eyes flickering from his pretty violet ones to his pink lips that contrasted his pale skin well. That porcelain color was now tainted with hints of pinks on his cheeks and purples on his lower neck and chest. He hummed, a small but visible smirk plastered on his face as his thumb rubbed up and down against the skin of your back underneath your top. "You're forgiven, moya lyubov." He quietly accepts your apology, his hands snaking further up your shirt, pulling you further towards him. You laugh a bit and lean further into him. "Lay with me, my dear." He asks, to which you comply with a smile. Wherever that night takes you would most likely only add to your will to stay with him, but that wasn't your biggest concern in this moment ♡⁠˖

A/n; This isn't to glorify toxic relationships at all if this could count as one. I've just wanted to write this for a couple months now and I'm finally getting to it.

[shadesoflsk]

NO ARTIST

pairing: arthur morgan x gn reader

warnings: none

word count: 400 ish something hehe.

author's note: hello! this is the first time I have ever written something for Arthur and since I've been sooo disconnected from writing I could only come up with this short attempt of drabble.

Arthur believed he was no artist. Hell, he wouldn’t even classify himself as a good painter or poet, the only art he ever knew was painting the ground red from all the blood from those who have met their end under his gaze.

From a young age he has been an observer, even when he was put into action. He saw himself grabbing the gun and shot whoever crossed his path all from a third person point of view. Judging his own actions, judging his own humanity.

No longer deserving of good, no longer deserving of life and definitely no longer deserving of love. A strange word in his vocabulary not because he hasn't learned it but rather he couldn’t even use it. Practice makes perfect and he was definitely a rookie.

Nonetheless, in his own sea of loneliness and self hatred a rescuing hand came to his aid without asking. No matter how hard he ignored it, this gentle hand would always stretch itself. 

Past would always haunt him, not knowing anything but raw violence he mistook kindness with pity. He wouldn’t bite but he would bark, a mechanism of self protection when the shadows of his own despair would wrap around him, clinging like a vice, dragging him towards hell.

—or rather reality.

Between the demon that would grip onto his soul and the darkness that blinded his blue eyes, he let the softest of sun rays hit his face. Finally, allowing that kindness to make a home in his heart which he thought had stopped working ages ago.

Sadly, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and Arthur wasn't the best student. Not when the thought of changing was on the line, he would run away from the path of recovery as if the mere thought of peacefulness meant weakness.

However, patience was a virtue and you were about to teach him the art of forgiveness and a new chance in life. The idyll between Arthur and his disgust with self betterment and love vanished pathetically quick once he let you in.

He mixed his soul with yours, creating the most unique color ever. Your hand took the role of a brush, softly caressing each scar on his body as if strokes of painting were made. And his new life became the canvas of a beautiful drawing that only meant a new beginning.

He wasn't an artist, he was an apprentice.

“Too bright.” He mumbled.

“Not bright enough.” You responded.

The most radiant shade ever. A drastic contrast from the previous shadows which clouded his sight and judgment. A light that didn't blind him but showed him the correct direction to follow. A light that illuminated his life like no other did.

A sun just for himself to admire.

He wasn't an artist. But in his world, he was learning from the best.

[simpingforstardew]

Hi!! I love your writing!! Especially on SDV and Emily!! If you are open to requests, cloud you do one were the reader divorced Haley bc she realized she ended up in love and connection more with Emily? How would she react? Happy ending pliz 🫰🏻

nature abhors a vacuum

pairing: sdv emily x reader (sdv haley & reader)

synopsis: after a failed marriage, you realise your heart always belonged to emily ♡ i did change the req ever-so-slightly but i hope you still enjoy this drabble, anon !!

warnings: slight angst, mention of divorce / heartbreak. happy ending !!

word count: 0.7k

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Haley’s voice is honeyed and sombre, yet still wrapped in the effervescent charm of her Valley girl accent, “Thanks for the memories, just go… live your own life.”

Her smile is bittersweet as she tucks a strand of displaced golden hair behind her ear; quietly, she leaves.

Time always seems to stand still during moments like this, during endings; during heartbreak. The rain that pours from the dark clouds above seems pathetically appropriate. It feels as though barbed wire is tugging at your throat as you push the tears back— it was silly really, this was a mutual divorce.

For weeks now, you and Haley had been at odds: at first, silly arguments about movies and music. Then, inevitably, disagreements about taste became fights about chores; fights became nights alone on the living room sofa. Turns out there is a difference between loving someone and liking them; living with you, being by your side 24/7, made Haley realise that— although she cares about you immensely— she doesn’t particularly like you.

But then there was Emily.

Vibrant, passionate, she breaths life into the shadows of your existence. With Emily, conversations are more than just words; they're connections. Her laughter is a melody that fills the air with warmth. Her presence lifts the weight of the world, replacing it with a sense of peace you haven't known in years.

You didn’t realise how much you needed somebody like that until you met her. The dejected look she would wear when watching you flirt with her sister was lost on you completely; the gifts Emily painstakingly made for you were received platonically.

You pick up one of Emily’s handmade gifts that lay neglected on your sofa: a cardigan knitted from the softest wool, dyed in your favourite colour. Running your fingers over the soft fabric, you discovered a small detail: a custom label on the hem of the cardigan, embroidered with a heart.

A blush warms your cheeks before the realization hits.

You’re in love with Emily.

Slipping into the cardigan, you sprint out of your farmhouse. You feel the unrelenting rain soak your skin as your dog barks out in the distance; your boots splash in the puddles along the dirt path to town.

As you enter the town square, you see Emily rush towards the Stardrop Saloon with her coat pulled over her head, protecting herself from the rain you’re soaking in.

“Em’! There’s something I need to tell you,” you shout, voice barely louder than the rain as you approach the saloon, “Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Emily’s eyes widen as she looks towards you, “Oh Yoba, you’re soaked! W-What is it?”

“I… I love you, Emily. I think I’ve loved you for a very long time, but I was too scared to admit it. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I just… I can’t imagine my life without you.” You exhale softly as you tuck a strand of azure hair behind her ear, “Everything you used to tell me about soulmates and fate… I just wanted to tell you that whatever happens now, my soul belongs to you. It always has.”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushed with surprise and disbelief. “You… you love me?”

With a surge of emotion, you closed the distance— your soft lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes more than your words ever could. Your hand nestles in her soft hair, and you feel her pull you closer with a tug of your cardigan.

As you finally pull away, breathless and dizzy, Emily looks up at you with a beaming smile, “I love you too, of course... Cute cardigan by the way.”

[shiftthemoon]

HIII!!!

I was wondering what your favorite DR Memory??

HAIIII :p

so i love you for this!! every time i channel my dr, i like to write little drabbles from all the memories i recollect, so here you go!

i couldn’t choose between these three, ahh 😵‍💫

1. marauders era dr

it was late—so late it was technically early—and we’d snuck out of the common room because james swore he needed to stretch his legs. the castle was quiet in the way it only ever gets at night, and the grounds were still, with just the faintest breeze coming off the black lake. i remember pulling my robes tighter around me and telling him he was mad for dragging me out there, and he laughed—soft but real, like he didn’t care if the world heard him.

“you don’t regret it, though,” he said, grinning as he skipped a rock across the water.

“maybe not,” i admitted, watching the ripples spread out under the moonlight.

we didn’t talk much after that. james kept skipping rocks, his aim getting worse with each throw, while i leaned against a tree, half-watching him, half-lost in my own thoughts. i don’t know when it happened, but at some point, he stopped and just looked at me.

“what?” i asked, trying to sound annoyed, but my voice came out too soft.

“nothing,” he said, smiling in that way he always does, like he knows something you don’t. “just—you’re quiet tonight.”

“you dragged me out here at one in the morning,” i said, rolling my eyes. “what did you expect?”

he laughed again, and for some reason, it made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t explain. we walked back to the castle in silence, his hand brushing against mine every so often but never quite holding on.

2. fantastic beasts dr

it’s funny how some memories don’t feel like a single moment but like a series of little ones strung together. in this one, i kept seeing flashes of newt and i taking care of creatures in his case.

i remember the way he smiled when i helped him guide a bowtruckle back to its tree, the gentle touch of his hands as we bandaged an occamy’s injured wing together, and the way we both laughed when a niffler stole my necklace right off my neck.

but the part that stayed with me was when we were tending to a mooncalf—this sweet, shy thing with the softest eyes. i was crouched down, murmuring something to calm it, and when i glanced up, newt wasn’t looking at the mooncalf at all. he was looking at me. his gaze was warm, and full of something i couldn’t quite name, like he saw me the same way he saw his creatures: with this quiet, endless appreciation.

“what?” i’d asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he said softly, mirroring the mooncalf’s shy tilt of the head. “just… thank you for being here.”

3. marauders era dr (again)

“no, no, no, you’re thinking too small,” sirius said, throwing his quill across the table in frustration. “we need fireworks. literal fireworks. something big and dramatic, like me.”

“fireworks in the great hall?” remus asked, raising an eyebrow. “how very sane, pads.”

“we’ll set the tablecloths on fire too!” james said, grinning.

“absolutely not,” remus and i said at the same time.

we were crowded in a corner of the common room, parchment spread out before us covered in scribbles and half-baked ideas for pranking the slytherins. peter was perched on the armrest of a chair, eating chocolate and throwing out random suggestions (“what if we turn all their robes pink?”).

“what about—wait, hang on,” james interrupted, leaning over my shoulder to look at my notes. his hand brushed against mine, just for a second, but it was enough to make my breath catch.

“what if we charm the goblets?” he asked, his voice closer than it needed to be. “make them fill with vinegar instead of pumpkin juice?”

i glanced at him, trying to ignore how close he was, and nodded. “better than setting things on fire,” i said, my voice steadier than i felt.

remus, sitting across from us, frowned slightly, his quill tapping against the table. “we can’t do anything too obvious,” he said, though his gaze lingered on james and me for a second too long. “it has to be subtle. clever.”

“subtle is boring,” sirius declared, throwing himself onto the couch dramatically. “but fine. we’ll do it moony’s way.”

we worked late into the night, laughing, arguing, and tossing ideas around until the parchment was full of plans. james stayed close the whole time, his shoulder brushing against mine, his hand occasionally steadying my quill when i scribbled too quickly. it felt… natural, like we’d always been this way.

sorry for the length, but these memories just mean so much to me. i think we can get memories from our drs because our minds are constantly connected to those realities, whether we realize it or not. they’re like echoes—little reminders of the lives we’re living elsewhere. they ground me, inspire me, and remind me why i’m on this journey in the first place. <3 memories like these aren’t just fun to remember—they’re fuel for your belief and trust in shifting. i think they’re so important, and i hope you find ones that light you up too!

[sunlightandsuffering]

Padawan Mikasa subtly sending girls flying when they get too close to her Master Eren. She does it at stuff like crowded bars so noone can tell who even did it. But she's so smug when she sends a girl flying into a table of drinks because they were acting too flirty around her master. Eren ofc always knows it's her doing it, at first he didn't know why and thought she just had some violent habits.

But once she got older and Eren realised it was jealously fueling her actions, he'd manhandle her out of the area and find somewhere he can fuck the brattiness out of her until she's dazed and obedient. Maybe use the force to bounce her on his dick faster 🤭

omg okay anon i actually love this so much! imma write it! I saw it earlier before i went back to sleep and I was like damn this is cute!! TBH does starwars count for halloween?? Like should I do a bunch of star wars drabbles for halloween?? would that be cute?? But im imagining when obi wan and anakin are in the club in attack of the clones, looking for Padme's attempted assassin, that's the vibes.

They turn heads, wherever they go in the galaxy they turn heads, and why wouldn't they? Mikasa is beautiful, stunning, one of the most attractive women he's ever seen, and she's in the prime of their youth.

He's not surprised when people look at them, it's just unfortunate that they are also Jedi and well, sometimes stealth is required.

He turns back to his padawan before he enters the club, giving her a stern look, "Would you be willing to perhaps wait outside?" She gives him a wan look that tells him everything he needs to know, and the answer is a firm resounding no. Eren sighs, reaching over to yank at the hood on her head, fingers brushing over the soft apples of her cheeks in the process, tucking raven locks behind her ears. He looks at her face for a moment, heather grey eyes, cheeks flushed the softest shade of blush and full pink lips. She's stunned for a moment, looking up at him so earnestly and with so much affection it's hard not to kiss her.

She is temptation itself so without further delay he yanks her hood rather brutally over her head.

"Eren!" She protests and he grumbles to himself, "Pain in the ass padawan." "Hey!" "Keep the hood on Mikasa or we're gonna have words, you're too distracting."

He paces towards the club entrance, nodding at the bouncers, and just as he's about to step over the threshold he stops, and he hears a little 'oof' just as Mikasa bumps into him, her hands darting out to clutch his waist to steady herself, breasts pressed up against his back. He's quick to turn in her grip, unhooking her arms because the force knows he doesn't have the willpower to withstand her touching him for that long.

He looks at her sternly, his hand reaching out to snatch her lightsaber from her belt and Mikasa pouts at him, "And hide this will you, nothing says Jedi more than a lightsaber Mikasa, oh and don't lose it, that'll be the next thing." "Yes Master," she murmurs, her cheeks colouring pink as she takes the instrument back, eyes darting away at her earlier blunder of losing said lightsaber, but she can't resist a sassy little quip, "But I only learn my habits from you." Brat.

Eren huffs, but says nothing on the matter, but she just might be correct, he's lost his lightsaber more times than he'd care to admit.

He ignores her quip, stepping into the club, his own lightsaber tucked away and immediately he can feel Mikasa at his back, as close as she can get, always pushing her luck. The universe had laughed when she'd been chosen as his padawan, sweet divine intervention, payback for him being a hellion of an apprentice himself. Except Eren thinks Mikasa is much worse, because his master had never had to deal with sexual temptation, he only has so much self control and Mikasa tempts it at every turn.

"We're looking for information," Eren murmurs gruffly as they approach the bar, Mikasas taking his arm in her own, cuddling up to his bicep, an act she'll later claim is simply to keep up the ruse. Mikasa leans into him, waving down the bartender, the perky mounds of her breasts pressing up against his arm, and he knows without looking that she's allowed her robes to slip, just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. And of course, she's not wearing the requisite undergarments, no she's a young padawan learner, likes to flagrantly flout the rules, thinks the jedi robes she's been issued are a bit too stuffy. And she knows he'd never admonish her about it, had heard tales of his own adventures before she'd even met him, had known how rebellious he'd been, so who is he to tell her what to do. God, had his rebellious phases been a mistake.

Especially when Mikasa leans over to take her drink and pay the bartender and the beige robes she's wearing slips more, revealing a delicate collarbone and just the hint of her shoulder, stretched taut around her left breast now, the beige edge of her robe just barely concealing dusky pink, just a hint. Fuck.

Everything he can't see he can feel though, pressed tightly against his side as she orders a drink to make the ruse seem believable, make them blend in.

She takes a sip of her drink, her robe slipping just a little more and Eren can't function, reaching over with his other arm to yank the robe back up into place irritably.

"We should split up," he tells her gruffly, pulling his arm from her grasp, he can't be in this scenario with her for much longer, she takes advantage and he's too weak to say no sometimes, lets things go on for much longer than they should. "I guess," she sighs, "but I'd feel much comfortable with you master." God that name, that fucking title, it does things to him, dirty things that are making his dick stand hard at attention, and he's thankful for the dark tunic he's wearing, covering up his arousal. It's so wrong, so, so very wrong, but the way she says it, the absolute adoration and devotion in those gray eyes, how he knows she'd look exactly the fucking same on her knees, his cock in her mouth, would probably whisper it, 'Master', pretty and breathless as she sucked him off, as he fucked her into the bed.

No!

Bad Eren!

"Master?" Mikasa questions again, the title lingering on her lips curiously, her hand reaching up to touch his arm, and he resists the urge to yank his arm away. "We're splitting up Miki." She pouts, and Eren feels bad for a moment, it's not her fault really, she's just so damn tempting. He reaches up, tucking a stray lock of hair thats fallen back behind her ear, making sure her hood is secured tightly. A silent ask of forgiveness for her percieved slight. He can't resist the intimate gesture, his finger trailing along her cheek affectionately, and Mikasa leans into him, her eyes fluttering shut.

Force she's so beautiful, so ripe, prime for the taking, it's a wonder he hasn't had her yet, especially with how obviously she'd be into it. In the last year of her apprenticeship she's changed. Where she used to be the perfect padawan, loyal and obedient, almost to a fault, now she was a brat. Like adulthood had changed her.

Freshly eighteen, she'd woken up on her birthday a different girl, the undergarments of her Jedi uniform gone, her new lightsaber, an alarming red almost pink colour that he'd chastised her for. But she'd pouted asking what was so wrong with the colour pink?

It wasn't red!

And tempting him beyond belief, it was like it was her mission in life to fuck with him now.

She'd always driven him nuts of course, just in different ways, it was irritating to have an apprentice that was so much better than him at things. What was he supposed to teach her if she was already good at everything?

She was almost a better sword master than him, and her attunement to the force was amazing, maybe better than his too, it had maddened him those first few months that she could so easily do things he had struggled with for years. And then, during a mission there'd been a close call and he'd realized that Mikasa wasn't perfect, she had things to learn just like everyone else, they were just different things. And now, he'd like to think he'd taught her pretty well, because what Mikasa had to learn wasn't battle techniques or how to use the force, it was how to think outside the rules of the Jedi temple, how sometimes not everything was cut and dry and made sense so easily. So of course, who better to teach her than the most rebellious Eren Yeager who even within the Jedi order was frowned upon for constantly breaking the rules.

People had been outraged, but here they are, with more successful missions than anyone else. "Eren," Mikasa whispers, pulling him out of his haze, her voice breathy, eyes still shut tight as she basks in his touch and he immediately rips his hand away. A frown mars her delicate features, silver eyes peering up at him with displeasure at the removal of his touch. "We're splitting up," he repeats, no remorse this time, physically removing himself from the situation with a step back. "See what you can find out." "Yes Master," she tells them, but this time there's a distinct note of sarcasm to her tone, and she marches off with a huff. Eren groans as he leans back into the bar, the force knows he doesn't deserve this. Well, maybe he does. A little. "Aye, she looks like a right pain in the ass," the bartender speaks from behind and Eren nods in agreement, "She is, can I get a beer?" The bartender chuckles, "She's pretty though." "That she also is," Eren agrees, dropping a few credits onto the bar top for his drink, "Now do you mind if I ask you a few questions about a patron of yours?"

An hour later Eren has gotten some information on their target, but not enough to be satisfied. And Mikasa, well he hasn't seen much of her since she left the bar, just brief moments out of the corner of his eye, her robe falling too low again, chatting up a bar patron a little too flirtatiously, tormenting him in any way she can find.

But he refuses to acknowledge it, can't give her the upper hand, he is the master here, he has to exhibit confidence, self control.

He's becoming a little suspicious about why all the women he talks too suddenly decide to get up and leave halfway through their conversations. If he didn't know any better he'd say someone was using the force to make them leave, but of course Mikasa would never do that. Right? But his suspicions are growing, especially when the third woman in a row suddenly up and leaves their conversation with barely a word.

And then he sees her, she's at the bar, talking to some guy but her gaze is focused on the woman he's with, her fingers moving marginally and of course, with Mikasa's command over the force, it doesn't surprise him when the pretty blonde girl he'd been talking to suddenly sets down her drink. "Sorry I have to go." And then she's gone and Eren doesn't even bother to be subtle as he figures her out, turning his his seat to glare at her. Their eyes lock and she knows she's been caught. Jealous brat, but he can't deny it pleases him just a little, even more so when she obeys his unspoken demand, leaving her conversation entirely to walk over to him. Her drink is clutched tightly in her hand as she awaits her punishment, her head dropped dutifully, "I'm sorry Master." Eren is feeling chaotic today, a little bit of his old rebellious spark fuelling his next actions. Instead of lecturing her about her use of the force he gives her a taste of her own medicine, grabbing her by the waist and bringing her to his lap, tucking her into his body. She makes the sweetest little noise of surprise as she's abruptly forced to straddle him, her face tucked into his neck and Eren chuckles darkly. "Isn't this what you wanted Miki? To pretend to be mine for a night." She squeaks, as he grabs her thighs, settling her how he likes, playing at being the couple that everyone envies, the most beautiful people in the bar that everyone wants to be or wants to fuck, but they have each other. He tucks her close against him, letting her have just a hint of what she does to him, his turn to flagrantly break the rules as he grinds her against his dick, lets her feel the full length her teasing has caused all night.

Because for all Mikasa's talk and bratty behaviour lately, she's still only eighteen, young and inexperienced, she talks a big talk but she can't follow through, too sweet, too shy.

"Master," she whimpers, her head buried in his neck, her hair covered by her robe, "I-I'm sorry." "Don't apologize Mikasa," his hands rove over her curves, cupping the plush of her ass under her robes, "You displayed excellent control over the force, even if you were being kind of a brat while you did it. Did you find out any information." She nods into his neck, her lips tracing along his clavicle and he shivers, "I did." "Good girl." He knows if he could see her face she'd be preening, it's a wonder what praise does to his young padawan, the way her eyes sparkle, and even now she relaxes into his hold, a soft sigh overtaking her. "I'm sorry though Master, I just I couldn't stand it, watching you with them when it should be me." There it is. Eren hums, massaging the plush of her ass gently, resisting the urge to dip down towards the warmth of her heat where he knows she's probably soaked. One hand slips up to her chin, forcing her gaze up to his, he tells her the truth,"You couldn't handle it."

"Master please," she looks up so earnestly, "If you'll let me, I'd like to try."

He says nothing for a moment and Mikasa moves against him, grinding the soft warmth of her cunt down against him where he lays hard and wanting in his robes, "Please Master, please?" He groans, shaking his head, "Pain in my ass." She bats her eyelashes, and Eren lets out a long suffering sigh, "Yeah, go get the ship." AN ATTEMPT AT JEDI EREMIKA !

[goayda]

After the Party

This was supposed to be a short Stizzy drabble, a sequel to my already short fic about Izzy's birthday (link here), but it got a bit out of hand. Anyway, I just wanted to prove everybody that the fic was Stizzy, as I said. Because it was. It was just too subtle, it's not as if it was all in my head and I forgot to actually write it into the story *coughs*

So Stizzy fic, set right after 'Happy Birthday, Izzy'. As usual, no warnings needed.

----

When the party was finally over Stede helped Izzy to carry all his presents to his room.

Just as they reached the door, Stede smiled and leaned down to kiss him thoroughly and Izzy, who had been waiting the whole party to do just that, returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm.

Izzy was grateful to Stede for understanding he wasn’t ready to show affection in front of the crew, even though he was mostly sure they all already knew about them. Still, whenever he spent the night in the captain’s cabin Izzy kept going back to his room before dawn, but he wasn’t completely sure why he did it. To keep appearances in front of the crew? Or to keep pretending this was still a casual arrangement between two lonely men?

They eventually broke apart for air and then finally walked into Izzy’s room. Once inside Izzy truly noticed for the first time that the place was quite small, something that Stede had complained about many times before, but until then Izzy had always disregarded his comments without giving them much thought.

He had never needed much space since he had never owned many things that were important enough to be kept around. Actually, having his own room was a privilege that he had only earned after many years of fighting and surviving at the sea by Edward’s side and it was a luxury that not many had so it shouldn’t matter if it wasn’t too big, he thought.

Now, after taking a look around he felt the place was a bit… crowded. The problem was not only the presents he had got that day, it was the many things that had somehow made their way into his room in the last months.

There was a shaving kit on the table beside the basin, with a razor and brush that were ridiculously ornate, but the blade was good and it was something that Stede had proudly chosen for him from the spoils of their first successful raid so he had kept it. They were useful things after all.

Above these, on the wall there was a mirror, bigger than Izzy would need, but Wee John had given it to him with a wink and well, his mirror had already a crack on it so Izzy guessed there was no point in waiting until it would break completely and then rush to find a new one so he had accepted it with a nod.

On the shelf, aside from his usual tools for sharpening the blades and the ointments Roach had given him to help when his stump hurt, now there were a few books he had borrowed from Stede’s new and slowly growing library. He had said Izzy could pick any of them to read, even though he had insisted the lighting in Izzy’s room couldn’t be very good and that he was more than welcome to do some reading in the captain’s quarters any time he wanted. Izzy had eventually borrowed one or two, or well, maybe three or four, and somehow he had forgotten to give back some of them.

Pete had added some wooden hooks to the wall by the door where he could hang his clothes instead of dropping them on the only chair in the room every night, but the chair wasn’t empty either since there was a big spare blanket neatly folded on it because Stede had complained that Izzy only having a thin, old rag in his room was ridiculous and had given the first mate the softest blanket he had ever seen. It was usually there on the chair, because really Izzy was doing just fine with his old blanket, but occasionally, when Stede decided to stay the night, they would wrap themselves in it, mostly so neither of them would fall off the tiny bed during the night.

There were other things around, Izzy noticed, and there weren’t many places where he could put the presents so he simply let them drop unceremoniously on the bed, but Stede, who was carrying the sword still wrapped in the silk ribbon, stood in the middle of the room looking around with a frown.

“I thought you could hang the sword on your wall, but I don’t see where exactly,” he said. “This place is really cramped.”

So Stede had realized it was a decorative sword, Izzy thought with relief. The man was doing much better lately, but sometimes he still showed a shocking lack of skills for a pirate that Izzy thought was quite dangerous.

“Maybe-maybe you could, I don’t know, move to a bigger room,” Stede added.

That was said in a nonchalant tone that was almost convincing, but Izzy’s eyes had immediately noticed the tightness on his jaw and the way Stede was clearly avoiding making eye-contact with him at any cost.

“Actually, there’s plenty of room on the walls of my cabin to hang your present,” Stede said then. “And the bed is much bigger anyway…”

Stede finally turned to look straight at him and Izzy could notice the blush slowly turning his cheeks a light shade of pink.

Stede simply looked at him and waited, but Izzy could only stare back at him, still trying to wrap his head around those words. Stede was asking him to live in the captain’s quarters, that much was clear, but Izzy’s shocked mind apparently couldn’t move past that thought.

Stede started fidgeting with the ribbon under Izzy’s blank stare. He bit his lower lip nervously, still waiting, but eventually he cleared his throat and averted his gaze again.

“But this place is nice too, of course. You don’t have to move if you don’t want to,” Stede said, deflating. “It was just an idea.”

He hesitated for a moment and then left the sword carefully on the table and when he turned around to look at Izzy again he was clearly struggling to keep a smile on his face. He didn’t look angry, though, he looked just sad, and that, Izzy realized, was much worse.

“I’ll think about it,” Izzy heard himself saying.

And he meant it. He was too old and too stubborn to jump blindly into new things and they both knew it, but he wasn’t as scared of showing his feelings as he once was. Or so he hoped.

Stede’s smile broadened and Izzy let out a sigh of relief.

“Of course, dear, take the time you need,” Stede said softly. “There’s no rush.”

Stede’s expression was caring and honest and Izzy started thinking that it was probably going to be the easiest decision of his life. But that wasn’t going to happen that night, because it was still his birthday and he was going to allow himself to be greedy.

Izzy smiled at Stede, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. And then another one. And then another one…

[bowandcurtsey]

BC boys when y/n is drunk

Well.. In case you guys didn't know, it's gonna be Yami's birthday in a few days time! hehe last year I did a Mafia AU on his birthday but this year has been so hectic so I'll do all sorts of Yami fics.. Drabbles, one shots, headcanons.. At the same time I'll be clearing my drafts of whack ideas hehe! I'll indulge in this man before Tabata finally writes him off with another beautiful lady..

I might do a part 2 of when the boys are drunk hehe.

Characters: Yami, Nozel, Nacht x f! reader TW: alchohol, drunk, slight NSFW, just mentions of sex, unchecked works

Yami Sukehiro

If you're out with your friends and you or your friends gets him to pick you, This man grumbles a whole lot, but still comes to pick you up ALL THE TIME. Cues poor Finral having to figure out where you're at because his captain is tired and grumpy.

Sometimes he reaches and you're still not done, he's pick up your mug, and down it in one go. He'll then pick you up bridal style and tell your friends thank you and leave.

Some days he'll join your friends for a few rounds while you sleep on his shoulder before he carries you back home. If your friends are playing card games? You both wake up at your friend's place in the morning the next day. Because this man has no self control when it comes to gambling + alcohol at the same time.

Well on the days where you both make it back home, he'll clean you up. You're pretty surprised he doesn't try anything funny while you're drunk, but he'll always joke and tell you that he wants to.

He'll also hold your hair for you if you need to puke. Having his huge and warm palm stroke your back? Best shit ever.

Has no idea how to remove your make up so he pours a huge amount of your remover on a handkerchief and just wipes your face like it's a window.

Throws on an old tshirt of his over you and cuddles you back to sleep.

Bonus for the birthday boy:

If you're both drinking together, he's probably the one that's drunk. Because this man will down all liquor for you. Because "a true man never lets his girl get drunk."

Always down for drunk sex. As far as he's not knocked out, he'll be happy to go a few rounds so long as you want to.

Nozel Silva

Sighs and doesn't say a word. He then comes over on his mercury eagle to pick you up.

He's face looks like someone just murdered his pet and he comes over to you and go, "let's go." in the softest tone ever. He's just a softie for you.

If you don't want to go home yet, he'll just wait patiently for you as you drink your fill but He'll stare at anyone that continues to pressure you to drink if he's there. He wants to help you to drink but he knows he can't hold his liquor THAT well so..

He just holds you quietly when you rest on him till you get home. If you're really drunk, he'll gently chide you a little. "How did you get so drunk?" or "don't drink that much next time."

say a few sweet words to him and he's wrapped around your finger again.

When you get home the servants already prepared a warm bath for you. Someone washes and dries your hair for you as well. He sits and read while you get ready and then dismisses the servants.

He cuddles you and presses kisses to your temples and foreheads, telling you that he missed you while you were gone.

If you were together while you got drunk, he holds you close to him all the time and tries to stop you from drinking further. He'll find any excuse to leave the place ASAP.

Nacht Faust

Is silent and hangs the line when you / your friends tell him you're drunk and to come get you. But he appears in a flash. He's low key worried whenever you're drunk because he doesn't like anyone to be close to you or to touch you or any other men ogling at you.

Without a word he carries you in his arms and disappears into the shadows. Nobody stops him because he and his devils show them the look of death.

He looks at you with soft eyes when you're both alone and he all gentle with you.

Surprisingly he knows your facial routine and he does it pretty well (except he might get some steps jumbled up) before tucking you into bed in your pjs.

If you puke, he also washes and dries your hair for you with the help of his devils of course. He blackmails them to hold your hair and fetch a towel and stuff.

When you say all those sweet and lovey-dovey stuff to him while you're drunk, he turns all red but he low key loves it.

Pulls you close to sleep and the next day he'll chide you a little, telling you not to get that drunk again or he'll kick whoever's ass that makes you drunk.

If you're both drinking together, he'll never let you get drunk. periodT. the drinks are either drank by him or it disappears into the shadows.

[katnissmellarkkk]

morning in bed snuggles I just want TENDERNESS

Sorry this is way different from what I originally planned to write when you sent me this request like 6 months ago but uh???? I’m like 99.9 percent sure you’ll like it??? Idk I’m feeling sentimental today so here’s what we got 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Sorry it’s such a short drabble but I think the sweetness of the content makes up for the lack of length 😏😘.

“I should get up,” I whisper, squinting up at my husband as rays of sunlight, beaming in from the window, obstruct my view of his face.

“No,” he says without opening his eyes, burying his face deeper into where my shoulder and neck meet. He presses a kiss right where his mouth resides, over the top of my heart. “Stay here with me,” he urges. His voice, thick with sleep, makes the plea near impossible to refuse.

“I haven’t hunted in days,” I remind him though.

“I don’t care. We’ll make biscuits and cheesebuns later for dinner. I just want the morning with my girls.” As if to reinforce his words, his hand moves to my slightly swollen, naked stomach, rubbing it back and forth in slow circles. Slow circles that could be either sensual or soothing.

“It might not be a girl,” I say, in a voice that could be mistaken for a complain. By anyone else. Anyone who doesn’t know me the way Peeta does. Anyone who hasn’t seen me through almost every majorly phase of my life, through every major high or low I’ve ever had.

But he does know me and he recognizes my tone for what it is. Not irritation but fear. Nerves. Anxiety.

“It’s definitely a girl,” he says, moving his head upwards and planting an open mouth kiss on my cheek. “Me and you are going to have a little girl in just a few months,” he promises, causing me to smile. Just a little, just a small upturn of my mouth, but it’s something. It’s something that only Peeta can bring out of me.

And then I voice the concern that’s truly on my mind. “Do you really believe everything’s going to be okay?” I ask quietly, my eyes staring deeply into his cornflower gaze, reveling in their beauty.

In the back of my mind, I find myself silently hoping my child, boy or girl, inherits the pretty color of their father’s irises.

“Katniss.” He says my name in the softest sigh, like a prayer or a vow. “I know everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

He is more than aware of every hidden meaning, buzzing in the undercurrent of my question. I’m not just asking if the baby’s deliver will go as planned, I’m not just asking if the rest of my pregnancy will go smoothly. I’m asking if my baby — our baby — will be alright in this world. If they’ll be happy and healthy and safe.

And there’s no way he could possibly know for sure, there’s no way anyone could ever promise me the joy and safety of my child, but when he tells me that everything will be okay, that our child will have all the happiness and love in the world, all the protection and security we never did, for a moment I actually believe him.

For a split second I actually believe what he says. And that means more than I could ever say. More than I could ever thank him for.

I lean up and kiss his chin, forgetting about the woods and hunting and trading altogether. Forgetting about everything that’s not me and him and our little baby growing inside my belly as we speak.

“I love you, Katniss,” he whispers softly, leaning down and capturing my lips with his.

“Love you,” I mumble into his kiss, getting lost in the sensation as it grows and builds lower and lower throughout me.

“And I love our baby,” he adds, his hand coming to rest on my lower stomach as my mouth travels the circuit to his neck, my legs twisting around his waist.

His hands move then, exploring places of my body so familiar to him after all these years. And just as the feeling begins to take over, just as I feel the fire coursing beneath my skin grow to it’s fullest height, I have one last coherent thought.

I love this life we’ve created together.

[phoebe-delia]

hello am i too late for an eight drarry nights drabble prompt??? hmmmmmm... what about............................... gift-giving as a love language???

Night 4: Sincerely, Your Hanukkah Helper

@oknowkiss Elaine, it would be my pleasure! What a lovely prompt. Thank you for submitting it. I hope you like this! Auror partners, fluff, and mutual pining! Read the other Hanukkah fics so far here.

On the first night of Hanukkah, Harry nearly didn't see the small box on his desk. Usually, whenever he arrives back at his desk from a case call, he has a habit of dumping his coat on top of whatever paperwork he'd left behind, and that night was no exception. Luckily, when he put his coat back on to leave for the night, he saw the shiny box with a large red bow.

He looked left, and right, and blushed when he remembered he was the only one in the small office since his partner had left for break the day before. His stomach twisted as it always did at thoughts of Draco. Harry was glad for him to get some well-deserved rest, but part of him burned with jealousy at not getting to see Draco, relaxed and flushed with laughter and wine, completely at ease. At not getting to bury his face in the softest looking spot on Draco's neck and—

Harry stopped himself before his thoughts veered into Images Reserved for Late at Night in Bed Only. Putting daydreams of his partner out of his mind, Harry picked up the box and unwrapped it, curiosity burning. He got the paper off and tore the lid from the flimsy box to reveal the most beautiful glasses case he'd ever seen, a small booklet, and a folded piece of parchment.

Harry unfolded the parchment and read the message written inside: I know using Accio to find your glasses can break them, so this ought to make things easier. The instructions will be more detailed, but all you need to do is recite the spell in the booklet. From then on, if you ever take your glasses off your person, they'll automatically be in this case. I hope you enjoy. Sincerely, your Hanukkah Helper.

Harry frowned and read the note twice more, processing the message. His stomach flipped as he followed the instructions in the booklet and then tested the spell, which worked as described. He left the office that evening with more questions than answers.

On the second night of Hanukkah, Harry was in the office, as he had been most of the day. He startled when the corner of his desk glowed and something appeared out of nowhere. It was a larger box this time in the same shiny wrapping paper and red bow on top.

Harry reached for it immediately and opened it to find a scarf in the softest fabric he'd ever touched. This time, the note read: This is made of cashmere. There are already protective spells in place to make it impervious to water and stains, so all you've got to do is keep it from getting destroyed and it should last you a lifetime. I wish I were able to keep you warm, but this will have to do. Sincerely, your Hanukkah Helper.

On the third night, it was a magical mug that could refill with the same beverage with the press of a button. The fourth night, a box containing new cufflinks appeared on his coffee table; they were green, to match your eyes, according to the note. The fifth night, he got a leather-bound journal and Muggle pens. I know you've not got the best history with journals, the note read, but I promise this has no dark spells; just one for privacy. I hope you find comfort in writing your thoughts. Sincerely, HH .

The sixth night, Harry ate the most decadent treacle tart he'd ever tasted. The seventh, he got a snitch in the shape of a heart; this time, the note read, Tomorrow, I offer you the real thing.

On the eighth and final night, Harry waited in the office with bated breath. The presents never seemed to come at the same time every evening, but they always popped up when Harry was alone after hours, regardless of if he was at work. He kept glancing at the clock, as if it would offer answers, but it ticked away tauntingly.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Harry startled, his eyes snapping immediately to the entrance. But Draco walked in, and Harry relaxed.

"Oh, hey!" Harry said. "What are you doing here? Aren't you still off for the holidays?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, but I've got something to do."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What is it? I've been taking care of things while you've been gone. Nothing major just..." he trailed off as Draco walked toward Harry's desk with a determined look in his eyes.

He stopped in front of Harry's chair, and Harry's heart raced. Then, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a red bow, attaching it to his jumper on his chest—over his heart.

"For your final present—the real thing," Draco said, nearly whispering. "It's—I'm yours, if you want."

Harry let out a shaky breath. "I do," he said, standing from his desk chair and claiming Draco's lips in a fierce kiss. They broke apart just long enough for Harry to whisper, "Best present I've ever gotten."

[2af-afterdark]

Kinktober '21 - Day 4: Take it Slow

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Monster Girl Club Bifrost

Relationships: Kraken/OC

Characters: Kraken, OC

Additional Tags: afab!OC (she/her), tentacles, prostitution, monster girl

Summary: The Kraken gets a female client; something rare indeed.

A/N: Monster Girl Club Bifrost is an 18+ game with inherent dubious consent, but I writing this as though the Kraken is consenting. Just for me. Also, staying roughly drabble length is hard. lol

Word Count: 525

"I so rarely get female visitors," the Kraken chirped in a voice that sounded far too enthusiastic. Her eyes roamed over the human woman's bare form, taking in every little roll and curve that made her up, "You're much prettier than my normal clients."

The Kraken's smooth hands came up to cradle the full volume of her guest's massive breasts, seemingly fascinated with the size of them and how they spilled out of her awaiting hands, "I don't think I've ever gotten to touch anyone else's but mine. Yours are so lovely." It wasn't like she saw the other women being kept often. Even if she did, she doubted she would have the time or desire to lay with them.

She experimented with the weight in her hands a little longer, completely distracted from the nervous eyes and red face that watched her with equal curiosity. A curiosity that was piqued in both of them as the soft pads of her thumbs brushed against her slowly pebbling nipples and her client let out the softest of moans in response.

“Oh! You’re sensitive?” It was cute. She had never realized before how cute other women were and, unlike men, their bodies were familiar and pleasant to the touch, “It’s okay. I’ll be gentle with you.”

Her hands continued to massage the other woman’s full chest, drawing out more lewd mewls as her fingers suck into the delicate flesh. Down below, one of her cool, muscled tentacles found a spot against the woman’s thighs and latched on with the many tiny suckers that ran along the underside. Another did the same to her other leg, pushing the two wider apart so a third could brush ever so lightly against her core. The woman twitched at the contact.

“I’ve never… with someone not human...” She blushed as her eyes turned away, unsure what to do as she was fondled. She knew everyone had to have their first experience at some point, but she was still embarrassed by the fact.

“Yes, yes.” She was known for being the monster first-timers would come to, so she wasn’t surprised by the information. Her boss really liked to hand her the fresh meat it seemed, “We’ll go nice and slow then, okay?”

Her tentacle continued to rub against the other woman’s heat, finding relief in the wetness that dripped between her legs and encouraged by the sounds of enrapture she made with such little contact. The Kraken laughed softly, dipping her head between the woman’s breasts and kissing the valley in between before moving to take a nipple into her mouth while tweaking the other between her fingers. Her tentacle, fulling coated in slick, began to prod against her folds, teasing them apart and she slowly suck the tapered end in and wriggled it inside.

Female clients were so rare for her, but the Kraken was known for making anyone that came to her chambers fall in love. This woman would be no different. The only thing that changed was that, this time, she was interested in seeing how she could reduce a human woman to a shaking, orgasmic mess around her.