#[Drabbles]

[hurlingdown]

tags. dom top! reader, sub amab character. feminization (afab terms used), pet names (housewife, good girl), riding, creampie, slight breeding kink.

thinking about a big, beefy man who absolutely loves it when you refer to his asshole as a cunt. you have no idea how long he’s dreamt of this, owning a fat, creamy pussy that gets aroused so easily, dripping wet around your girthy length. 

call him your “pretty housewife”, or tease him about his huge tits while he bounces on your cock, and watch him shudder, eyes rolling to the back of his head. the first one always gets him. he’s always loved the idea of putting together a hot meal for you after you come home from work, soaked underneath his apron just from watching you enjoy your meal, ready to bend over the dinner table so you can enjoy a sweet, fulfilling dessert. 

“i-it’s soo big,” he’d whine, stuttering and panting while he continues to bounce hard and fast, “it’s p-poundin’ my pussy so- so good.” what a paradox, when his own useless, leaking cock is slapping against his tummy with every thrust, messily squirting pre every time you play along with his little fantasy. 

and don’t you just love it when he clamps up tight around you, desperate sobs spilling from his lips, begging, “puh-please, you’ve g-got to cum inside. want you to fill my- my cunt up. d-don’t you?” and who are you to deny your lover of his needs? 

stuff him up and pump him full of your cum while muttering praises of “what a good pussy” while stroking his cock or “my messy good girl”, and he’s hard again and ready to go. spoil him a few more times, and it won’t be long before he gets greedy and asks you to put a baby inside him. 

FUSHIGURO TOJI, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna, RORONOA ZORO, SHANKS, eustass kidd, CROCODILE, joseph joestar, LEON KENNEDY, USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, hajime iwaizumi, TENGEN UZUI, your absolute faves. 

[ierofrnkk]

the sum of his parts - steven grant

Summary: You love Steven Grant, and there are some parts of him that stick out in your mind a little more than others. (~1.2k)

Content: 18+, gn!reader but reader has a vagina (no fem pronouns used), very brief & vague oral (f receiving), fingering, egregious use of italics.

a/n: This is the first thing I’ve really ever fully written AND posted!! Forgive me for it being vague and unpolished—I will get better!! I’ve just been so captivated by these boys after watching Moon Knight that I had to write something!

—

You love Steven as a whole, the culmination of all things that make him him, but it doesn’t mean that you don’t notice the little things.

The details.

—

The first thing you loved about Steven was his hair; the way that the curls were always pushed to one side, sitting atop his head like his brush had broken and he’d neglected to buy a new one.

It was one of the first things you touched when you finally had the opportunity to, making up some story about how he’d had a shred of paper stuck to one of his curls—he hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

You couldn’t get enough of the soft texture, even after months of getting to experience it. You had your hands in his hair every chance that you got.

When the two of you lay on the couch together, him cuddled against your chest as you watched the next documentary about the evolution of earth’s marine life, or something, you would drag your fingers through his hair idly. He would sigh in appreciation of the gentle touch.

When he’d be in a flurry early in the morning, racing to get ready on time before he missed the bus, you caught him for the briefest moments to smooth your palm across his unruly curls, taming the locks as best you could before he raced out the door.

When he’d settle himself between your thighs, mouth on your cunt like he’d die if you pulled him away, you’d tangle your fingers in those same dark curls, tightening your grip just enough to keep him in place. He always sighed appreciatively then, too.

—

The next thing you’d found yourself loving about Steven were his eyes, always wide like saucers and taking in every ounce of information that they can. The color of them always reminded you of coffee, but specifically the cups that he’d make for you in the early hours of the morning, perfect like no one else could.

You’re stupidly fond of the way he looks at you when you talk—it could be the most mundane thing, like laundry or dinner, and he’d be watching you so intently it’d feel like you’re giving a presentation on newly-unearthed artifacts in Cairo.

You remember the first time he cried in front of you. It was over something that seems so simple now; the two of you had made plans for dinner at your apartment, and he’d shown up late—through no fault of his own, the train wasn’t on schedule—but he’d felt so guilty about it that it brought him to tears. You can still see the way he looked in your mind: brows knit together, those beautifully dark eyes rimmed red and filled with tears.

He’d apologized profusely, and you silenced him with a kiss.

You like the way he looks when he’s half asleep, doing his best to fight his drowsiness to spend as much time with you as physically possible. His gaze is softer, somehow, his eyes half-lidded even with the way he fights to keep them wide open. That’s when you know he’s not going to last much longer before he’s out for the night.

When you’re kissing him, and you pull back for that brief, glorious moment, his eyes are dark, pupils blown with desire in a way that sends a wave of heat to your core.

You don’t miss the way those pretty eyes of his flutter shut whenever you touch him, even if it’s something simple; he’s touch-starved—not that he’ll ever admit that to you—so any physical show of affection is nearly enough to put him over the edge.

You’ve become familiar with the way he drifts, his eyes seeming to haze over and go unfocused—when he goes away for a moment—caught in his own reflection and watching as if there’s something else there with him.

—

You’ve quickly grown to become fond of his hands, in many more ways than just one.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to hold his hand all the time, to feel the warmth of his palm against your own, fingers interlaced with yours in the way that makes you feel like nothing could separate you two. He made sure to hold your hand at every opportunity.

You’re very grateful for that.

When he takes one of his hundreds of books off of his bookshelf, flipping through page after page as he looks for a specific section, you can’t help but watch his hands. He moves with ease and precision, stark from the way he’s usually fumbling or unsure of where to go. He’s in his element, and you recognize that.

When he joins you on your monthly grocery trip, he insists on bringing all of the bags up in one go—he’s trying to be helpful, even if it means making things more difficult for him; that’s just how Steven is. Selfless. You can’t get enough of the sight of him like that, though, with multiple grocery bags held in each hand, all while he does his best to navigate your apartment complex.

You remember the first time he truly, properly held your hand; he’d done it in such a Steven way that you couldn’t deny him. He’d gone off on some spiel about human evolution and something about how in ancient civilizations, the size of your hands denoted status—you can see where this is going—and he insisted the two of you compared the size of your hands. For the sake of anthropology, of course.

Knowing what he was getting at, you obliged, pressing your palm to his, and without a beat of hesitation, he laced his fingers with your own, a sheepish grin on his face as a result of his boldness. You couldn’t even be mad about it.

Of course, those hands of his are good for more than just holding yours or carrying your groceries.

—

The first time he made you come was with his hands; he was too impatient to even wait to fuck you properly—he just had to touch you—so, he did.

You remember the feeling of his hands on your thighs, shifting and adjusting you until you were in a good position for him. He had made sure to not be too rough with you, even in his desperation. Sweet, considerate Steven.

His hands, as fidgety and hesitant as they usually are, were precise and sure when he touched you. He moved deftly when he found your slit, dragging his fingers through the wetness that’d already gathered there.

It wasn’t long after until one of those same thick fingers pushed into your heat, then another. It’s practiced—efficient— like he’s done this for you a thousand times, even though you both know he hasn’t.

When his thumb had brushed your clit, with just enough pressure to send another wave of heat up your spine, you knew you were done for. He had looked at you with those eyes, pupils blown and eyes half-lidded, and you could tell right then that he was more focused on your pleasure than his own.

When you finish, you card your fingers through his raven curls, holding just enough to bring him close enough that you can kiss him.

He goes willingly, all sweet and pliant as you maneuver him closer, and you’ve never been more grateful to have someone like him.

—

Steven is much, much more than just the sum of his parts, but you sometimes have to put him under a microscope and appreciate everything that makes him him.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Beck Drabble

Or, Beck wakes up next to MC for the first time.

Beck wakes up to the feeling of a warm body tucked snugly in the curve of his arms. Consciousness creeps, slow as frost on a window, as he tries to make sense of this. Shouldn't he be alone?

No–wait. 

A memory comes, springing to the front of his mind. Last night. It was late, and he hadn't wanted it to end, and he…he asked you to stay. 

He asked you to stay and you said yes. That one simple word–yes–dripping from your lips like honey. It terrified him. Excited him. He likes you, but this is a whole new level. You're in his bed. Your body fits against his like a puzzle piece, and his lungs are so tight they feel like they're going to pop. 

Air. Beck needs air. This is too much, too fast.

He untangles himself, attempting to gently pry his lithe form away from yours. He doesn’t want to wake you, regardless of the way panic stampedes through his chest. You look so serene. Beck slips his arm out from under you, tries to replace it with a pillow. Slowly pulls away, rolling over and dropping off the bed onto his feet.

The noise of his soles hitting the hardwood makes him flinch. Dark eyes shoot up and settle on where you lay, curled up with your back to him. No reaction. He exhales, relief not quite making up for the instant pang of loss in his chest. The AC unit in the window blows hard enough to leave a chill in the air, even though it’s October.

Usually, he likes it cold when he sleeps…but now the chill reminds him of how good you felt in his arms, warm and snug.

Beck turns his back on you. Closes his eyes. What was he thinking, asking you to stay? Had he lost his mind? He doesn’t know what to do with you here, in his bed, in his apartment. Sleeping the morning away, sure to wake up soon enough.

For a second he imagines himself in bed beside you when you do. Feeling you stir in his arms, turn around and look at him with sleepy eyes. Maybe you’d reach up, catch his lips with your own. Start the day with a kiss, bodies pressed flush together. 

He swallows hard, shaking his head. He can’t fall into that trap. He bounces in place, nervous energy coursing through him. He refuses to turn back and look at you–instead he pitches forward, taking a few stumbling steps towards his bedroom door.

The problem is, he thinks as he flees, that he likes you. Too much. More than he’s maybe liked anyone before. And he has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s supposed to do about it. He’s not...not the type. He never has been. Relationships are tricky. Hard to pin down.

Beck isn’t really the type to be pinned down.

He reaches the doorframe, his heart in his ears. He grabs the knob, palms slick with sweat, and pulls it open. The creak sounds like a gunshot. He pauses, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. Hardly daring to breathe. Does he look back? 

What the hell is he supposed to do if he does and you’ve woken? How could he even begin to face you, if you looked up and saw him running away?

“I’m sorry,” he envisions himself saying. Hands shaking as he looks away, “I’m scared.”

Yeah, right. Like he’d ever.

Anyway, he isn’t scared. Beck doesn’t get scared. He’s just…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have the words. All he knows is that he has to get out, to get some air. To think this over. 

You haven’t spoken, so he assumes he’s good. He finishes opening the door, stepping out into the hallway. Each step is tiny. Like his body is manifesting the hesitation he’s pretending doesn’t exist. His thoughts race, doubt chewing away at him.

Isn’t it silly, running away from his own bed? Especially considering he wanted you with him? And the way he felt with you in his arms, like everything in the world was right? 

Beck comes to a stop, excruciatingly slow. The fear still rages inside–fear of commitment, fear of letting you down, fear of fucking this up–but fear’s an old friend. One he’s used to ignoring. He looks over his shoulder at his door, propped half-open. 

It’s freezing in the hallway. You’re warm.

That’s what sells it. He’s cold, and you’re warm, and he misses you, besides. Slotting himself beside you in bed for a little bit longer isn’t a lifelong commitment. It’s just giving you the morning. Giving himself the morning. And what’s wrong with that?

Beck shoves down the fear and the doubt. He decisively turns heel, marches back into the room. Climbs back into bed quickly, not even trying to avoid waking you. He leans over you, long black hair framing your face.

Your eyelids flutter open, and you’re none the wiser. Beck smiles, bends down. He kisses you, hard and fast, cupping your cheek in one hand. You’re barely awake but you kiss back, and the feeling of it sparks something hot and smoldering deep in his chest. He lets the fire burn for a long moment before pulling away.

“Good morning?” you ask, voice heavy with sleep

Beck grins. He kisses you again, just a peck.

“Morning,” he says, before rolling to the side and flopping onto his back.

He wraps an arm around you, drawing you in close. The warmth of you is addictive, compared to the cold of the room, and he wants to lose himself in it. You burrow yourself deeper into his side. He thinks you’re still mostly asleep.

All the better. This is how the day started. Beck lets go of his hesitation, overwrites it with this moment. No need to dwell on uncertainty. He’s certain of you now, in this moment, and that’s all that matters.

[sammybeann]

Obsessed with the idea of Dean baby birding little Sammy. He came up with the idea when toddler Sam was refusing to drink anything, so Dean told him that drinking 'Dean water' would help him grow big and strong, just like his big brother. 

And so he told Sam to open his mouth, taking a sip of water, holding it in his mouth before leaning down to gently spit it into Sam's little mouth, who swallowed it down without any fuss. 

It became a regular thing after that even as they grew, transferring mouthfuls of water, juice, soda, whatever they had on hand at the time.

They only stopped when John caught them when Sam was 13 and Dean was 17, and they never spoke of it again, buried it down once they realized how weird it actually was. 

That was until they were laying in a motel room shortly after Dean had picked Sammy up from Stanford, who had just watched Jess burn up on the ceiling. In his state of depression, Sam hadn't been eating, hadn't been drinking, hell, he had barely been sleeping. 

It came to a head when Dean begged Sam to at least have a sip of water, and to his surprise Sam had turned to look at him from where he was laying on the lumpy motel bed, eyes puffy and red from crying. 

"Can I have some Dean water?" He asked, voice sounding so small, so pleading. 

Of course Dean obliged, and since that day they continued to make it a regular thing again, Dean feeding Sam mouthfuls of beer, transfering shots of whiskey into his baby brother's mouth and if their lips happened to brush after the fact, well, nobody needed to know.

[vrtvyg]

John Soap Mactavish who gives the SLOPPIEST head.

He fucking loves sucking you off, settling between your legs anywhere anytime.

it's almost disrespectful, the way his spits on your cock, two hands stoking it.

he'll turn it into a damn challenge, seeing if he can take ya all the way down without gagging. He wants you to grip his hair and push his head all the way down. doesn't care if he gags, wants to keep going. wants you to cum either in his mouth or on his face. he'll groan and talk you through it, jerking you off quickly as you get closer, opening his mouth, sticking his tongue out.

"Cmon lad, give it to me. f'ockin give it to me want ya to cover me in yer com."

Might ask you to take a pic of him, drool dripping down his chin, cum across his face, on his tongue. Will use the picture to get him off on deployment, along with a pair of your boxers stuffed in his mouth.

[clairewritesandrambles]

Hello, it’s my birthday today, and I was wondering if you would be willing to write a Scott blurb for me about anything at all really 😅 I’m going to be asking Ivy the same question, as I want to see what you both have to say 💕 thank you (smut? 👀)

Oh my god, happy birthday!!!

I feel like this is the perfect excuse to talk about Scott eating pussy, because he definitely makes birthday sex completely about you. That man eats pussy for one reason, and one reason only: To have his ego stroked when he sees you being a complete mess for him.

WARNING: Not beta'd, sorry for any mistakes

NSFW below cut, 18+ only:

You tugged on Scott's hair as he pinched a nipple, the sensation combining with his work between your legs to make you buck your hips in pleasure. He groaned in response to the movement, moving his head to slip his tongue deeper into you. The action made his nose bump into your clit, the overstimulation of the time he has spent between your legs making the tiny contact send shockwaves through your body.

"Scott, fuck, please. Please, come fuck me." You breathed, sinking into the pillows in exhaustion. Scott had already pulled two orgasms from you with his mouth and fingers, his current movements showcasing his intent to coax a third one.

Scott hummed against you, sending vibrations to your clit that had you gasping in response. "You can give me one more, baby. After you let me taste you again, then I'll fuck you into the mattress since you've been such a good girl. Isn't that right, baby?"

Despite how exhausted you were, you nodded at his words. The feeling of his fingers pumping into you was too delicious to deny, your answer reinforced by the praises that dripped from his lips at the sight of your nodding head.

Scott became impossibly more determined in his movements, his fingers moving faster as he curled them to find that delicious spot in you with every thrust. His tongue licked at you, his groans sending vibrations to it as he pushed further into you with his mouth. When he felt you begin to clench around his fingers, pleas for him falling freely from your lips, Scott wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you even closer to his face, his strength keeping you in place while he ate you like his life depended on it.

You peered down at him between your thighs at the sound of muffled encouragement around your core, the sight before you throwing you over the edge. Scott's eyes were closed as he desperately ate you out, his dark hair curling over his forehead.

Scott groaned deeply in pleasure as he licked at your arousal, not stopping his motions until you were begging for a break. He left one last kiss on your clit before making his way up your body, stopping to suck on your sweet spots to entice more strangled noises from you.

"Taste so fucking good, baby," he groans, lips falling towards yours. "Have some for yourself." He closes the gap, tongue licking into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself, hand cradling his cheek as you deepened the kiss. "You did so well for me," he cooed, hips moving to align the tip of his cock with your entrance. "You're gonna come that many times on my cock, got it?" You didn't know if you could survive another three orgasms, but the look in Scott's eyes was all the encouragement you needed.

"Good girl," he praised, slowly sinking into you as you stretched around him.

[lyneys4]

primordial dream

lyney, reader-centric drabble

warnings: based on lyneys character story 4 — attempted suicide.

‘He felt he had no right to pour out his mind to others, and yet he must carry on with gritted teeth, for the price of a fall from such heights was more than he could bear.’

Your job was a difficult one. Having to consult the ones with regret in one long dream. A massive therapy session as you liked to call it. Today wasn’t any different. But you never expected to see the happy smiley magician that was talked about so fondly along the streets of Fontaine.

Floating in air was the first feeling he experienced. ‘Did I die?’ was his first thought. Embracing what he thought was death he felt a little regret. It was lonely floating in the clouds.

“Oi you there!” a yell that knocked him out of his trance. “Get down! What are you a balloon or something?” he instantly fell to the ground with those words.

‘Woah is this heaven,’ he thought to himself. He was surrounded around abnormally large forest of rainbow roses. Something you would never see in the real world “No you’re in purgatory,” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh so I’m dead.” he just seemed to accept it? Shouldn’t he know death feels different?

“Are you serious?” you asked him. He nodded his head not understanding a thing around him. “Oh I guess you are.” you looked at him stunned. “Get up,” you reached a hand out to him. “You’re not dead, or in purgatory.” He sighed.

“Did you wanna die?” you asked. “No I’m not entirely sure,” he honestly confessed. “Wow no one confessed their regret that easily. Usually they try to justify it.” you replied.

“So where am I?” he asked. “Not sure,” you shrugged. “It’s your world you know.” — “But why?” he asked. “Why did you jump?” your words conflicted him.

“I don’t know if you’re here to stop me from taking my life but all I feel right now is shame,” he blurted out coldly. “And it’s not helping me.” you realised your mistake. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that was out of line.”

“Lets have some cup of tea,” you lead him to what seemed to be your house. It was a large hollowed out Zaytun Peach. Like the ones in those fairytales where fairies lived and tended to the fauna of Teyvat. He stepped inside of your house, taking a seat at the table infront of him. “Miss Fairy, are you from Sumeru?” he asked. You were busy making tea when shot you that question.

“No? Don’t I look fully Fontainian?” you looked down at your dress which did not resemble one from Sumeru. “Uh no you do,” he scrambled to explain himself worrying that he offended you. “You live in a Zaytun Peach? They’re from Sumeru.” — “And they’re sooo yummy too!” you finished making tea serving it on the table, you grabbed out a basket of fruit as well. “Oh and Miss Fairy, where is that from?”

“Well, in fairytales, fairies live in hollowed out fruits?” He explained himself. “Being a fairy would be so cool. But I don’t have wings.” You sipped your tea. “Hm, I should really get to know you. What’s your name?” you asked. “Lyney,” he answered, “Yours?” You put a finger on your lips, “That’s not necessary. Miss Fairy will do.”

“Well?” you looked at him expectantly. “I’m not sure why I’m here or what to do,” he sighed taking his first sip of the tea you served. “This tea is quite tasty.”

“Ah, I got a lost one this time,” you lower your head in exhaustion. “What was that suppose to mean?” he questioned, but not in the ?! type of way it felt more like that … ?? type of way. That caught you off guard.

“You don’t understand a single thing here and I feel bad.” you sighed finished your cup of tea. “Should we go down memory lane? What do you wanna do?” Thinking hard about what he wanted to do you waited patiently for a response but none came out of his mouth. He just stared at you blankly.

“Ohhh okayyy,” you awkwardly try to fill in the silence “I’m not sure what I want. I know I want something but I can’t put my finger on it.” he confessed.

“Maybe that’s your problem.” you sighed. “I don’t get it?” he replied. “A mask.. Freminet said something like that.”

“Ohoho we’re getting somewhere!!” you smile excitedly as the world shifted to an empty opera house. “What happened?” he looked around confused. Just a minute ago he was in a Zaytun Peach and the next second hes standing on a lit up stage with you sitting directly across from him in the audience.

He observed the area around him while you sat on your chair expectantly. “Are you gonna put on a show or what?” you said. Around him was a bouquet of rainbow roses and a hat. Lyney placed the hat on his head grabbing the bouquet of roses.

“Point to a seat,” he told you, you looked around and point to the middle seat near the far left of the Opera House. “Watch this rainbow rose teleport,” he grinned — taking a singular rose from the bouquet, he wraps his hand around it making it disappear. You turn around in your seat to find a Lynette plushie holding onto the rainbow on the exact chair you had pointed to.

“Wow!” you were truly amazed. You haven’t seen his tricks before in person. You looked back at him, his expression wasn’t how people usually described ‘emptiness’ — his face was dull, eyes full of emotion.

You stared at his face while he was still fixated on the Lynette plushie. “Miss her?” you asked. “I do, maybe I don’t wanna disappear.” he sighed. “I’m full of charisma and passion right?” — “Yeah, until it’s too much for you. You struggle to even figure out what your feeling.”

“I don’t get it?” — “No one ever gets it,” you replied. “Well that’s stupid your like an all knowing fairy can’t you tell me what I’m doing here?!” he spat out.

“Sorry didn’t mean to interfere.” you apologised, “But you seemed too lonely for me to not do anything — you need to let people help you. ‘Father’ cares about you, Lynette and Freminet are waiting for you. You need to wake up,”

“Wake up?” he muttered. One thing you forgot to mention was your time in people’s dreams is limited. “Sorry I have to go now.” and you were gone in a blink of an eye. “Miss Fairy! Where did you go!?” he panicked.

Lyney ran out the Opera House to be met with a cliff. It reminded him of the day he received his vision but Lynette was here, so he ran the other way towards the Opera House but it was gone, instead he was standing infront of the House of Hearth.

Hesitant to move forward he takes smalls steps towards the doors and knocks on it, “Lyney? What are you waiting for,” a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in a long time. He turned around to see Caeser, the man who had taught him so much about magic. “You have so much ahead of you,” he embraced Lyney into a hug.

“Lyney?” ‘Father’ called out from inside the House of Hearth. “It’s time to eat, Lynette and Freminet are waiting on you.” Letting go of the hug Lyney was in, he entered the House of Hearth being greeted with his family, “Lyney why are you crying?” Freminet asked, “Lyney!” Lynette screamed out. That didn’t seem right? “Lyney!!” she yelled out one more time. Lyney’s eyes finally opened.

‘But just before he could plummet, a hand grabbed onto him — and from it, he felt a familiar warmth that drew his soul back into his body, steadying "him" within himself once more.’

“Oh my archons,” Lynette held Lyney tight embracing him in her arms, “I’m sorry Lynette,” he muttered. “Let’s go home,” she held his hand firmly as they walked home, it was awkward between the twins not wanting to talk to each other about what had happened.

Walking through the Court of Fontaine there was something that had caught the twin’s eyes. A shop filled with crystals, jewellery and rare goods, through the window they could see ‘Father’ and a girl sitting down drinking tea. “Is that ‘Father’, it’s so late at night?” Lynette said. “Who is the girl next to ‘Father’?” Lyney asked. The girl sitting across from ‘Father’ drinking tea was the same fairy he had seen just minutes ago.

“Y/N, I think, people say she’s like a miracle worker blessed by the Gods.” Lynette replied. “Y/N… I think we should go, we’re way past curfew,” Lyney’s hand still in Lynette ran with her to the House of Hearth.

“Oh! Arlechinno, aren’t those your kids?” you pointed towards the running twins. “Lyney.. thank you very much.” she thanked you. “He was a tough one honestly,” you sighed. “I don’t think you’re use to treating people your age, since you work with older clients.” Arlechinno commented. “Really? I didn’t notice he was my age.” you replied in surprise. “Well, i’ll pay you accordingly. Thank you for helping my kids.” you nodded as Arlechinno made her way out of your shop. ‘I wonder how he’ll grow up to be like?’ you thought. ‘Maybe we’ll cross paths again and not in a dream this time.’ you smiled at your thoughts finished the last sip of your tea.

[ohtobemare]

just a little Logan drabble—

There isn’t anything quite like the thud, thud, thud of feminine hurry across the floor—heels at hand, all perfume and curl as “God, I am so late!” bogies from behind. Not anything like it in the world, any world.

There hasn’t ever been in his two hundred-odd years of living. Wildfire of a thing, she’s careening around the house like a bullet for the past fifteen minutes. A plump rosiness has set into her cheeks, icy sapphires sharp as they sweep the house in full arcs.

She’s about to crack by again like a whip, muttering something about needing a list for the store after church. With a practiced, multiple-hundreds-of-years flick of his hand, he grabs her wrist and brings her about face. Pulling her close, chest to chest. Nose to nose.

A light brush of his fingers over her cheek produces a shaky sigh. “Logan,” it’s laced with rush. Hurry. The day to day. Everything he doesn’t want right now, everything this moment is meant to deflect.

“Stop talkin’, sweetheart,” he tips his forehead against hers, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Hands skim her sides, fingertips to curves, and he anchored at her hips. Nails curling into denim, he tips her hips forward against his.

His voice is a husk of a low. A shadow, maybe—a shadow cut just for this moment. She’s called this tone once bourbon honey, medicinal and dizzying. “Would you just breathe?” His smile is laced with patience, “You’re movin’ too fast.”

His fingers brush aside her curls, pad of this thumb gently skipping over the apple of her cheek.

He knows she loves these kinds of moments—where he’s still and his voice is low. Where he’s the rock, holding her in place. Welded, like the adamantium in his bones. Very rarely can he actually feel the steel rattling around his insides, but he can today.

“We’re gonna be late,” she murmurs, tipping into his touch. His finger anchors beneath her chin, angling her face to his. Plump, rich lips part just enough to make that low place in his guts turn upside down—stirs his blood to lava.

All he can think about is her taste. How she feels, right now.

“Still movin’ too fast, princess.”

[yaniiiiism]

hold my hand. -k.sm 💌

❀┆pairing : kim seungmin x fem!reader ͏ ❀┆ info : oneshot / twoshot ?? , a lot of fluff , and a lot of 'apparent' unrequited love (im sorry) , happy ending , cutesy , uni love , feelings and angst , short ! ❀┆ personas + bg : uni students ; dormmates w benefits ❀┆ word count : ❀┆warnings : cute and dread but dw happy ending yall notes at the end !!

✿　　　　( ˶ᵔ ᵔ) ♡　　　　˚　　　　☒

happy seungmo day !

♥︎ ! now, we share the same dream called, 'us'.

The night was thick with the kind of silence that made every little sound feel magnified. The rustling of her sheets, the faint crack of his breathing, even the soft creaks of the bed beneath her felt louder than the thoughts swirling around in her restless head.

She turned over again for what felt like the hundredth time, face buried in her pillow as she tried to will herself to fall asleep. 

But her mind was wide awake, racing in that frustrating way it did sometimes, hopping from one thought to the next with no intention of slowing down. The warmth from the body beside her, instead of comforting you into rest, only added to your awareness. 

He lay still, his back rising and falling gently in rhythm. His arm, usually flung over her waist, had fallen away sometime in the night, giving her space, but her squirming was testing the limits of even his patience.

A loud sigh slipped out, unintentional but filled with the kind of frustration she only felt when she’s tired, and can't do anything about it.

She felt movement before she heard him, the mattress dipping slightly as he shifted beside her. “Y/n,” he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse, dripping with sleep. "What are you doing?"

Startled, she froze. She hadn't meant to wake him. 

He really didn’t wake easily, so the fact that he was up meant she’d been tossing and turning for a while.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her as she turned on her side to face him. The dim light filtering through the window barely illuminated his face, but she could make out the mess of his hair and the way his eyes, barely open, squinted in her direction.

"Seriously," he continued, rubbing his hand over his face before letting it drop lazily on his bare chest, his voice thick with sleep. "Why are you moving so much?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, biting her lip. "I can't sleep," she admitted quietly. 

It was a stupid response, one that obviously didn’t explain why she was writhing like a fish out of water, but it was the truth. She just couldn’t sleep.

He blinked at her, clearly processing her words through his sleepy haze. 

Then, to her surprise, he shifted closer to her. His arm reached out, wrapping lazily around her waist, over the thin, black camisole she wore, as he tugged her towards him, pulling her into the familiar space against his chest.

"Then just stop moving," he murmured, his voice muffled by her hair as his lips brushed against the top of her head. 

He wasn’t fully awake, that was clear. 

This was Seungmin in his most unfiltered state, without the usual layers of sarcasm or that teasing grin he wore during the day. 

This was him in a space where he let her in more than either of them were willing to admit out loud.

His body was warm, radiating heat in a way that made her immediately feel guilty for disturbing him. His fingers, though a little clumsy with sleep, rubbed slow, lazy circles against her back.

The motion was surprisingly soothing. She let out a long breath, slowly sinking into him as her muscles began to relax.

"You’re restless," He murmured after a few seconds, his hand still moving against her back in that gentle way, keeping her anchored against him. His lips brushed the top of her head again, a ghost of a kiss that she wasn’t sure he even knew he gave. 

"Always overthinking."

She felt her chest tighten at his words. He knew her too well. And maybe that was why it was so terrifying—the way he could see through her, even in his half-asleep state. 

But at the same time, it was why she kept coming back, why she never left his bed after nights like these. He knew her, and despite that, he stayed.

"I’m not overthinking," She mumbled, but the words lacked conviction. He let out a small scoff that vibrated against her forehead, assuring her that he was definitely conscious yet sleepy. Cute. 

"Sure," he muttered, but his tone was softer now, less teasing, more understanding. His hand slid from her back to beneath her the fabric that hugged her waist, fingers tracing mindless patterns across her skin.

"Just... try to sleep."

"That’s exactly what i’ve been doing for the past—"

"Shush."

At his lazy voice and his hand slowly prompting her figure, she nestled deeper into him, her body naturally curling against his, her cheek resting against his collarbone. 

He smelled like the faint traces of his vanilla scented cologne mixed with warmth—Seungmin’s warmth, something uniquely his that made her eyelids feel heavier.

"Close your eyes, and don’t focus on anything other than sleeping."

"I’ll sleep if you stop talking,"

He let out a quiet, annoyed breath, his grip on her waist tightening just a fraction, pulling her closer to him. 

"You’ll sleep," he replied simply, his voice now barely above a whisper.

His body was comfortable, solid against hers, and his steady breathing began to lull her in ways her own mind couldn’t. 

The itch to move, to toss and turn, slowly began to fade as his fingers danced across her clothed waist, occasionally slipping under the hem of the same camisole once again to skim her skin.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, caught in a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, with his heartbeat beneath her ear acting as her lullaby. 

But eventually, the weight of the day began to catch up with her.

Just as she was on the cusp of sleep, she felt his lips brush against her forehead, barely there, like a secret.

"Sleep well," he whispered, so soft that she almost missed it.

"Night, Seung.." She whispered back, letting herself finally fall into sleep, comforted by the fact that, for now, things were exactly how they were supposed to be.

No nonchalance. No heavy talks.

Just the quiet, unspoken connection that somehow made it all make sense.

— next morning. 

The first thing she noticed was the cold.

It wasn’t the kind of cold that came from a draughty window or a forgotten blanket. 

Not really. 

No, this was the absence of warmth—the absence of him. 

Her body, once cocooned in his embrace, now lay exposed to the chill of the early morning air. 

She blinked her eyes open slowly, the sunlight beginning to creep through the half open curtains, painting the room in soft shades of orange and gold.

But his warmth? Gone. Just like always.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her head toward the empty space beside her, the sheets already cooling where his body had been only a few hours before. 

The faintest outline of his presence was still visible—a wrinkle in the bedding, the faintest impression of his form in the pillow. 

But Seungmin? He was long gone.

It had become a routine by now, one she was all too familiar with. No matter how late the night before — no matter how close their bodies were tangled up in each other, or how intimate the way he held her — he always left before she woke. 

Sometimes, she’d wake in the middle of the night, find him still there, his arms snug around her waist, his breath soft against her hair. But by morning? Always gone.

She stretched out a hand, her fingers brushing against the cold pillow where his head had been, and a familiar pang of emptiness settled in her chest. 

It wasn’t like she expected anything different. This was their agreement, after all — being friends with benefits, emphasis on the “friends” part. 

No strings attached. No feelings to complicate things.

Just two music majors, as close as dorm-mates, fulfilling their hollow desires. 

Or at least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

With a groan, the girl pulled herself up into a sitting position, running a hand through her messy hair as she stared at the empty side of the bed for a moment longer. 

The apartment was quiet, the early morning stillness only punctuated by the faint sound of birds chirping outside the window. If she strained her ears, she could probably hear him in the kitchen, going about his morning routine like nothing had happened. 

Like they hadn’t spent half the night wrapped up in each other’s arms, skin pressed to skin, whispered breaths filling the silence between them.

Pushing the thought aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, the cool floor beneath her feet sending a brief shiver up her spine. 

She grabbed her robe from the back of the door and wrapped it around herself, over her camisole, tying the belt with a quick knot before stepping out of her bedroom.

As expected, he was already in the kitchen.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the small apartment, mingling with the sound of soft clinking dishes. He stood at the stove, back turned to her as he focused on whatever breakfast he was making. 

His hair was still slightly tousled, sticking up in a few places from sleep, but otherwise, he looked like his usual self — calm, collected, completely unfazed by the night before.

Yet, adorable. Enough for her to fold over. 

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his usual morning attire, and he moved around the kitchen with an easy grace, like he belonged there. 

Like this was just another normal day.

Because to him, it was.

Or, at least that’s what she assumed. 

She sighed, pushing the door of his room open a little wider as she stepped out of it, walking to the kitchen. 

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

Seungmin glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable as always, yet he gave her a tiny smile, which she knew was genuine. 

"Morning, insomniac." he replied, as if he hadn’t left the bed they shared, just an hour ago.

She made her way to the counter, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee from the pot he had brewed, a small smile tugging her lips at his reply. 

She leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around the warm mug of coffee. She took a small sip, letting the heat spread through her as she watched the guy move around the kitchen with his usual quiet efficiency. 

But as she took another sip of her coffee, she couldn’t help but feel the growing weight of those unspoken feelings, the ones that clung to her chest like a secret she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She glanced at him again, the way his hair was still a little messy, the way he absentmindedly hummed under his breath as he cooked. Her chest fluttered, just a bit, at the sight.

“Slept well, did you?” 

His voice broke through her thoughts, casual as ever, but there was a softness to it – obviously since he already knew the answer, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

She shrugged, setting her mug down on the counter with a soft clink. “Surprisingly,”

He didn’t respond right away. He flipped the eggs with practised ease before turning off the stove, and when he turned around to face her, there was something unreadable in his eyes. His usual teasing smirk was absent, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

She was sitting on the chair, fingers idly tracing the hem of the mug, gaze right on it but mind elsewhere.

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them heavy with all the things they never said. 

The guy’s heart did that stupid thing again where it skipped a beat whenever she seemed like that – he could see straight through her.

Her baby hair framing her face, the sunlight bouncing off of the curves of her head. Pretty, black, eyes concentrated on the green mug, carrying the same depth they always did, and he would oh so fondly dive into them.

“Coffee too strong?” he asked, breaking the silence as he moved to pour himself a cup.

She let out a small breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “It’s fine, just kinda tired,” she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. 

“How.. about you? Sleep well?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Slept fine until someone decided to practise gymnastics at 3 am.”

His words were teasing, but his voice was gentle, and for some reason, that made her heart skip a beat again. 

She awkwardly smiled, scratching her arm, a habit she grew familiar with, and he knew it quite well.

“I’m sorry, I was– warm, okay?”

He chuckled, “Warm, and sleep-deprived but lost in thought? Yeah, I know,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary before he looked away, focusing on his coffee instead.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He always knew. Even when she didn’t say anything, even when she tried to brush it off, he always knew.

She hated that about him. And she loved it too.

“Thanks.” She suddenly murmured, “I mean, for uh, h-helping me sleep. Last night.”

He smiled, this time, softer than ever. “It’s nothing. At least you had a good sleep after.. I don't know, weeks?” 

“It wasn’t that long!”

He shot her a look that she knew too well.

“Okay maybe it was. But that doesn’t matter for now,”

The corners of his lips curled up at her indignant reply, but he didn’t press further, simply shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. 

His eyes flicked back to her, soft and observing, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the simplicity of the scene – the quiet morning, the soft golden light filtering through the windows, and her, sitting at the counter, her sleepy, tousled appearance making her look unfairly adorable.

For a while, they just stayed like that, bantering and sipping their coffee, the easy silence between them filling the room. 

It wasn’t awkward. It was never awkward with him. 

That was part of the reason she kept coming back to this – whatever this was. It was easy. Comfortable. 

But lately, that comfort had started to come with a twist – a knot of feelings tangled somewhere deep in her chest that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

His eyes were still on her, his teasing grin fading into something more thoughtful as the quiet stretched between them.

“You’re doing that.. thing again,” he said suddenly, voice low.

She blinked, tilting her head. “What thing?”

“The thinking thing. The kind that keeps you up all night.”

She felt her cheeks flush slightly and quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her coffee instead. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he cut in, his voice soft but firm. He set his mug down on the counter and took a few steps closer, stopping just a foot away from her. 

“You get this look when you’re overthinking. Your eyebrows scrunch up, and you kind of space out, like you’re solving the world’s most complicated puzzle.”

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by how easily he read her. “So you stare, hm?” She grinned, trying to lift away the tension.

She didn’t know what to say, so she just stared down at her coffee, feeling a little too exposed under his knowing gaze.

“It’s kinda hard not to.” He replied a minute later, the same expression on his face.

“Well, I’m not always thinking about something.. deep.” she mumbled, but the protest was weak, and she knew it. “It’s just about uni, and other stuff, nothing to worry about.” She shrugged.

Seungmin just chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her chest flutter. “Sure,” he teased lightly, but then his voice softened. “Look, if something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she interrupted quickly, her gaze flicking back to him, trying to muster a convincing smile. “I’m fine.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You know, for someone who’s known me this long, you’re terrible at lying.”

She let out an exaggerated groan, sinking further into her chair as she covered her face with her hands. “You’re so annoying,” she muttered, but there was no real heat behind her words.

“I try my best,” he quipped, the smirk back in full force. But then his expression softened again, and after a beat, he reached out, his hand ruffling her hair gently. “But seriously, Y/n. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

She peeked out from between her fingers, surprised by the sudden contact. His hand was warm, his touch soft and uncharacteristically gentle. She wasn’t used to this side of him—the one that was careful with her, the one that wasn’t constantly teasing or sarcastic. It made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice small.

He gave a small nod and pulled his hand back, leaning against the counter again like nothing had happened. “Good.”

The room felt warmer now, despite the cool morning air seeping through the windows. Her heart was beating a little faster, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of his touch or the way his gaze lingered on her for just a second too long.

She cleared her throat, desperate to break the tension that was creeping in. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “What’s for breakfast?”

– almost 5 minutes later.

“You know,” she spoke, her voice casual now. “You’re really good at this.” She took a bite of the toasted bread, looking at him.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, flipping the last omelette, eyebrow raised. “Good at what? Making breakfast?”

“What? No,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes judging him. “Why do you think I don’t let you make lunch or dinner? I don’t want to be fined because someone blew up the oven.”

“Hey, I'm not that bad,” He glanced her way, defending himself. “I’m literally making breakfast right now.”

“You’ve cooked the same eggs or burnt pancakes for breakfast for almost 4 weeks in a row, Seungmin.” She rolled her eyes, speaking again. “But, what I meant was.. you’re good at comforting me.”

For a second, the air between them shifted, the teasing banter falling away as her words hung in the space between them. He turned fully to face her now, his expression softening as he met her gaze.

“Well,” he said slowly, his voice soft, “you make it pretty easy.”

Her heart did that stupid fluttering thing again, and she quickly averted her gaze, suddenly feeling shy under his intense stare. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the usual bite.

He chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes as he turned back to the food, finishing plating the eggs and toast for himself. “Maybe,” he admitted, sliding on the chair beside her. “But only for you.”

She blinked, silently, as her heart skipped a beat at his words. She stared at him, but he didn’t seem fazed by what he’d just said, casually sitting down across from her and taking a bite of his toast like he hadn’t just made her entire world tilt on its axis.

Oh, but little did she know, he was as surprised as her at those words leaving his mouth. The fluttering feeling inside his heart, the way she was looking at him, when he tried so hard to act nonchalant.

She picked up her fork, her hands suddenly feeling clumsy as she poked at her food.

⠀⠀𓄳 ֹ ͏   ⊹   𓎆⠀.   𓂅  ֹ ͏⠀◯

a/n ♡︎

OMGGGG happy birthday to the love of my life my baby seungminieneeiensiseesn I STILL HAVENT COMPLETED LIX FIC. I AM SO SORRY YALL ILL POST WHEN I CAN 😞😞😞😞 exams start tmr kms this is a twoshot btw. so wait patiently for the final part tysmmm <3 plz reblog/comment/like if u like my fics <33 made another spam acc for skz @loveforseung ALSO I HAVE AO3 !! user's same as @loveforseung go follow !! making a masterlist for all of my posts, plz lmk if u wanna be a part of it ! <3 have a good day ~ – love, yani ♥︎

[greeniegaes]

Shen Qingqiu, you oblivious fool

[baby-tini]

Kinktober Sneak-Peak

𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗩𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝗲𝘅)- Away on a business trip with no physical access to you as his cock sits uncomfortably in his boxers while he thinks about you... but then he remembers, he let you have a phone for a reason.

𝗕𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗣𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗦𝗲𝘅)- He's the boss, he runs shit in Bonten, he doesn't have a problem fucking his fingers into you as you make a mess on his hand, nobody else should have a problem with it either.

𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿)- You didn't know who he was, but those pretty sapphire eyes led you into his bed... never too be seen again.

𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗗𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻)- You've only ever made three mistakes in your life, the first being, underestimating Dazai. The second, calling the Demon Prodigy soft... and the third? Was following him back to his bed.

𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴)- The man in your home felt... off. He looked like Dazai, sounded like Dazai and even acted like him... but he kissed you differently, fucked you differently and even tasted different. Maybe it was just the red blinking light in the corner that was messing with you.

[bridgyrose]

Rosebird Week: First and Last kiss

A blush crossed Summer’s cheeks as she held Raven's arm while they walked through the quiet Vale streets. The sun had already set, so most everyone had made their way to their homes for the night. Which made the walk she was on all that more special since it was just her and Raven. No one to bother them, just the crisp night air and the stars above. 

“So, where are we going?” she finally asked. 

“Its a secret,” Raven answered with a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.” 

“Its always a secret with you.” 

“I want you to be surprised. That way its more enjoyable.” 

Summer rolled her eyes. “Every night with you is enjoyable. So you dont have to worry.” 

“Yes, but Tai said-” 

“You’re really going to listen to him?” 

“Why shouldnt I?” 

“Have you seen the way he talks to the other girls? It wouldnt surprise me if he never gets a date.” 

Raven shrugged a bit. “Well, maybe he had a good idea.”

Summer looked up at Raven curiously. “What do you mean by that?” 

“You’ll see when we get there.” 

Summer sighed and stayed close to Raven as they walked, not sure how much she believed that Tai could come up with any good dating ideas. And yet, curiosity was starting to get the best of her the longer they walked. They certainly werent going towards the docks, nor did it seem like they were heading anywhere that was familiar to her. 

It didnt take long for them to reach the edge of the city and to the clearing just past the walls. Summer slowed her step until she came to a stop, staring up at the stars. They were brighter now that they were outside city limits.

Raven let out a heavy sigh. “We must be a bit early.” 

“Early?” Summer asked. “Early for what?” 

“Tai told me that this clearing is home to fireflies and that it’d be a romantic place for the two of us.” 

“I’ve already told you that I like it when its just the two of us already.” Summer looked away as her blush started to brighten, her heart fluttering as a few thoughts crossed her mind. “And well, the stars are still bright and it would be a great place for us to… you know… have our…first… kiss.” 

“I thought you werent ready.” 

“I think I am now.” 

Raven smiled. “Then I’ll follow your lead.” 

Summer nodded and smiled up at Raven, hesitating as she took a slow step closer. The world almost seemed to stop as she stared into those bright, red eyes. She stood up on her tiptoes as she leaned in, lingering when she felt Raven’s nervous breath against her lips. Finally, she finally pressed into a kiss, a small moan leaving her lips as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. 

As far as she was concerned, this was the perfect moment she was waiting for. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Summer took a few pained breaths as she stared up at the night sky, a weak smile crossing her lips as she watched the stars. Her hand tried to grip Raven’s, voice hoarse as she spoke. “They’re… they’re just as beautiful as before.” 

“And you’ll get to see them again,” Raven said as she took hold of Summer’s hand. “Tai is getting help and Qrow is going to be here any minute. A-and then we can see the stars again tomorrow together. And the night after that.” 

“You dont need to lie to me, I know I’m not going to make it through the night.” Summer let out a heavy sigh and looked up at Raven. “So we should enjoy this moment-” 

“I cant,” Raven interrupted. “I dont want a life without you.” 

“I’ll always be with you, Rae. You know that.” 

Summer closed her eyes and slowly loosened her grip on Raven’s hand. Nothing had gone to plan, and here she lay, dying in front of her wife. Salem caught them off guard, Tyrian managed to strike her heart, and all she could do was wait for the inevitable. 

After a few quiet moments, she spoke once more. “Can… can I have one last kiss?” 

“Sum, w-we… we cant give up. Help is almost here, I can see the medical airship on the horizon.” 

“Please Raven. I-I dont want to go without feeling your lips once more.” 

“Summer…” 

Summer opened her eyes and smiled up at Raven, a few tears of her own starting to well up in her eyes. She used the last of her strength to try to sit up and kiss her wife, lingering just before her lips touched Ravens. 

As she broke the kiss, she felt herself drift away, the sound of Raven’s crying becoming distant.

[truetogaia]

just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.

he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.

“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”

he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.

“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”

cod masterlist

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (fluff but minors begone)

you awake with a shiver. then a groan.

“‘toru,” you whine into the darkness of your eyelids, “s’too cold.”

satoru chuckles, hot puffs of air blooming above his lips. his arms are warm as they wrap around you, pulling you against the bare skin of chest. that’s warm, too.

“c’mere,” he hums, lips pressed into the crown of your head. one hand traces up and down your back, the other brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead before resting along your neck.

there are fewer birds chirping outside the open window, proof that summer now rests behind closed curtains. gone are the days where the sun lingered in the sky to greet its lover the moon, its beautiful stain on your skin now fading. the birds miss it, too.

“you forgot to close the window last night, ‘toru.” you nuzzle into his shoulder, seeking shelter from the icy air (one he is always happy to provide; he always makes space for you).

the only response you get is a smile, dimples poking through pink cheeks.

because he didn’t forget.

he knows, now, after years of circling the sun with you, that you dread the cold, the way it chills your bones; and, he knows that you seek his warmth. even in your sleep.

when you wake searching for him, arms outstretched through shivers, that he will always be there. always ready. always warm.

“oops,” he giggles. “maybe i’ll remember next time.”

you murmur in response as you melt into him.

(the window is open tomorrow morning)

a/n: it's finally getting cold here aka it's time to start the fall drabbles (and i am once again accepting cuddle requests)

[coffeetank]

Ideas to Show Secret Pining

"Why don't you join me?"

"I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

*does something they don't like* "What? I like it."

*immense staring at every chance they get*

*thinking of their crush while listening to songs*

"You said you liked it so I brought it for you."

*finds ways to spend more time with them*

*friendly bullying intensifies*

"I'm looking forward to seeing you there."

"Are you gonna be there?"

"How about we sneak off, just you and me?"

"Why don't I cook for them? What's their favourite dish again?"

*aggressive google searches about how to propose to your crush*

"I'll join those dance lessons, maybe then she'll notice me."

*hopeless around them*

*failed flirting attempts*

*increased compliments*

"My problem is that I like them a little too much for my sanity."

*gets jealous* "So, are you seeing them or something?"

"Are you okay?" // "Completely okay!" (definitely not okay)

*tries to sabotage their crush's date*

*gets into trouble so they can be scolded by their crush*

"I want you to come with me, please?"

-ashlee

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚

You weren't quite sure how you ended up in this situation. One moment Wade and Logan were stabbing each other in that damn Honda the next thing you knew Logan was pounding into from behind. His hand's clutching your hips tight as Wade thrusted up into your pussy.

Your hands on Wade's chest, mask pulled up so only his lips were shown. "Such a naughty little girl you are with such a sweet little pussy."

Gritting his teeth, Logan tries to not think about Wade fucking you too. He wanted to be the one to get you to hit your orgasm not that little fucker. Pulling his cock out, he then slammed back in causing your body to shift forward. "Shut the fuck up."

Scoffing, Wade let his hand grab your breast as his thumb circle your nipple. "I know what you're trying to do wolfie boy and it's not gonna work! I'm gonna make her cum first."

Resting your head on Wade's chest you could feel your heart slamming in your chest as both men continued to fight with each other, as they continued to fuck you and you knew neither men would let up until one of them would admit defeat.

It was going to be a long night