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castlebyersafterdark · 2 months

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yes mikes an ass guy, but he's also very much a thigh guy

(A day at the lake. And later that night.)

Mike can't believe his luck sometimes, as he watches Will from across the grass. That's his best friend, the love of his life. Sweet. With the capacity to snap a cutting remark, to tease and twist words with an ease, an art. He always says Mike's the one good with words, but so often Will leaves him speechless, breathless. Now is one of those moments. He can't get over it. Will's standing by the picnic table, leaned over the old wood as he flips through his sketch book, glancing through his work from the morning so far. The pages are full of interesting trees along the lake and some sketches of the old abandoned dock, but mostly Mike. All of his sketchbooks are littered with Mike. He's wearing his green shorts. Tight, lined with yellow piping. Barely covering the curve of his ass. Showing off the thickness of his tanned thighs. They're a little shorter than he'd normally wear, but this section of the lake is isolated. They're alone. That's the point. And Will likes to tease. He knows Mike loves to watch him.

He's well aware that he's being observed as Mike struggles to set up their tent for their impromptu camping trip. It's nice to sneak away, find time for themselves. A little hidden slice of the world, away from crowded houses and an escape from basements and bedrooms and the cramped backseat of Mike's car. None without merit, but none provide freedom. It'll be different when they leave for college at the end of the summer. For now, the lake. Will leans further against the slightly broken wood of the picnic table and imagines the eyes that are burning into the back of his legs. He shifts his hips. He never used to feel this confident. Everything about being with Mike leaves little room for anything else lately. It's addicting. Will hums and chuckles to himself, not having heard the hammer against tent peg for a while now. How long until Mike snaps?

Not long.

Mike's on him moments later, arms around his waist, lifting Will off the ground breifly in a somewhat possessive hug before dropping him back down. Will adores when he does that, makes him feel wanted and loved. Mike laughs into his neck and presses kisses where the sound touches first. Firm, but soft. Humming into his slightly sweaty skin from the summer heat. It's the reason why he's wearing so very little to begin with. Mike lost his shirt first, and his bare chest presses against Will's own slick back as wandering hands trail from hips up his sides, fingers gentle before they fall dramatically to his ass, giving him a rough squeeze as he bites at the back of his neck. Will involuntarily squeaks from the sudden motion and spins around, pinching Mike in the side in retaliation. Mike squirms but then brackets Will against the table once more, hips pinned to hips.

"You are ridiculous," Will chides with a fondness so deep from within, and leans up to steal a kiss. Can't really steal what's freely given, but he steals another, too.

"Hmm, title belongs to you. These shorts, Will. I swear you do this on purpose."

"Of course, I do. What am I doing, though?"

Mike hopes he doesn't fuck this up, and take the risk. He scoops Will up, arms under his legs, and deposits him on the table. The old table groans under his added weight. Will immediately winds his arms around Mike's neck, legs around his body, and draws him back in, mouth hot against his own.

"Distracting me," Mike says into his mouth, kissing him open and biting, bottom lip between his teeth, pulling away to press several small kisses to his upper lip and the mole that resides right above it. "Tent's never gonna get built at this rate."

"We have time."

Will wraps his legs around Mike's hips tighter and traps him close. Not needed. In no world would Mike try to get away. He places his hands on those thighs and feels the smooth skin under his palms, drags his fingers through downy hair and teases along that yellow edge of the flimsy fabric.

"Maybe if you'd help me," he squeezes the supple flesh, like his large hands are mapping and molding it to his satisfaction, "it would get done quicker."

"I wouldn't really know what I'm doing," Will adds with a flirtatious lilt, and scoots closer, barely contained on the edge of the table.

Mike's weight keeps him sitting, pressed together from chest to groin. His feet are crossed at the ankle, behind Mike's own legs. His thighs clench around Mike's body and he gets another deep, lingering kiss for his efforts. Sitting like that, Will still has to look up a few inches to see Mike eye to eye. They pull apart with a wet noise, and Will beams, chin on Mike's chest as he squints up. The sun is behind Mike's head. It's hard to look at him directly. Will nuzzles into his chest, kisses a slow line down the center of his pecs until he can't lower his head further. His mouth drags lightly up the path in reverse. Mike's breath catches. Will's thighs tense again as Mike slips his hands briefly down the back of his shorts, kneading once and bring him closer still.

"You know what you're doing. You absolutely know what you're doing."

"Fine. Have it your way." Will pushes forwards suddenly and lands on the grass, bare feet hitting the ground. "Let's build it."

He trots over to the half dilapidated tent and shoots a look over his shoulder to Mike, left standing with whiplash.

---

An hour or so later, full of bickering and little arguments laced with laughter, and more distracted bouts of handsy grab-ass and traded kisses - the tent was secure along the tree line. One less thing to worry about. Mike's next worry is finding the self control to not immediately pounce on his tempting, unfairly hot boyfriend currently tanning by the water's edge. He's laying on his towel, fresh from a quick dip in the lake. He'd neglected to change into swimwear and the green shorts are dark with water and cling to every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination, basically painted onto his skin. Will's head is pillowed on his arms and his satisfied grin rivals the laziest cat, stretched along a cherished sun spot. Mike shakes his head. Ridiculous. Genuinely ridiculous. How is this his life?

He's recruited to help apply sunscreen as Will tans and the game continues. Doesn't know what he's doing, psssh. He knows. He's cruel. He's so fucking sweet. Mike gets to run his hands freely over Will's body and he wants nothing more to pull the shorts off entirely, press him into the grass and dirt and embrace the primal side that flares up from deep within from time to time. Take what he wants, given willingly. Will feigns innocence but he shifts against the ground and spreads his legs just enough to make Mike's voice catch in his throat at the sight. When Mike's finished with his back, he turns to Will's legs. Traces the toned length of them with his hands again, rubbing in the white lotion until it blends into his skin, leaving them shiny and smooth and so nice to map, again and again. He doesn't need that much sunscreen, the sun's on the descent anyway. Doesn't stop Mike from applying more lotion to his hands and passing across the smooth backs of Will's thighs again, tracing the soft inner portions that the sun wouldn't even hit, carding up the flesh that's slightly clammy from the cool lake water, ass perky and softer still under the edges of those shorts. Will adjusts yet again and dips his back slightly, an exaggerated curve as he lifts back against Mike's wandering hands. Will moans into his arms and Mike flops down next to him.

"Mmmm, Mike. Why'd you stop? Felt really nice." His gentle complaint is borderline a whine.

"Because I don't think I could stop myself if I kept going." Mike stretches out, and mimics his position. "Rain check for later."

"What happens later?" Will teased. He loved riling Mike up. It was so easy. He faked a yawn, not his best performance but it did the trick. "Feeling kinda sleepy. Might turn in early tonight."

"Are you kidding!? That's the whole reason we came out here!"

Will let out a laugh at Mike's gentle outrage. Like he genuinely could resist him, either.

"The whole reason? Maybe I just wanted to work on my tan. Mission accomplished."

"Oh, that's right. Of course. And having me put the tent up was just for your sick amusement to watch me struggle."

"I needed something to entertain me."

"I love you but I'll throw you back in the lake. No hesitation."

Will cracks an eye open and smiles, expression a challenge, a dare. It's not taken. Mike moves close, sides pressed together as he inches across the edge of the towel that Will's hogging. Their feet kick together as they lay on their stomachs next to the lake, soaking up the remaining sun rays in late afternoon. Will pouts, not unhappy, but willing Mike to read his mind instead of genuinely asking for a kiss. He's too content to make the effort to move and strain his neck. Mike complies immediately and cranes over, gives him a wet peck before falling back onto his own arms.

They tease each other and lay close until the cicadas start singing, having talked through the early stages of sunset. Times like that, they forget how easy it is to lose track of time and get lost in one other, conversation flowing as easy as the summer breeze. There was no rush. Not for the moment.

---

Will's back arches as Mike touches him again, hand dipped under the hem of his shorts, slightly uncoordinated as he groped at his clothed cock while he mouths hungrily and presses kisses to the inside of his thighs. Theyre spread out inside the tent, sprawled over sleeping bags and illuminated by lantern light. Will gasps as Mike's teeth graze his skin again, biting and kissing and biting again, sucking bruises into the soft, pale parts of Will's inner thighs. He loves marking him up, seeing the reminders bloomed under his skin the next time he buries his face between Will's thighs. Hickies rarely have enough time to fade before Mike revisits them. Will's the artist out of the two of them but Mike takes pride in the colors he paints on such beautiful skin.

"Mike, Mike. Please. Here," Will begs and guides Mike's hand from out of the bottom of his shorts to where he's shoved them slightly down and pulled himself out, hot and hard and leaking with needy attention.

He loves the teasing, the harsh kisses and teeth embedded in his skin, but he's been pent up since the picnic table. Worse off than Mike's desperation. Mike needs no further instruction and seals his lips around Will's exposed length and sucks him down, bobbing and moaning as Will whines high and breathy underneath him. He slides his hands under Will's shorts again, both palms splayed wide against his cheeks, tugging his body closer as he sucks him. Will's thighs tighten as he feels the pleasure building, pressure threatening sooner than he'd like. It had been a long, teasing day. And Mike was relentless. Will comes down his throat, thighs so tight around Mike's head at the peak that the sounds he makes are muffled as plush muscles hold tight to his ears. Mike loves how Will sounds lost in pleasure and misses them. But, the night's still young.

"Holy shit, Mike. Get up here."

Mike crawls over his body, hovering above as they exchange a kiss, sloppy presses of tongue and lips as they share the taste of Will's release. Will inclines on his elbows and pulls away, smirking as he reaches a hand down to palm at the pronounced bulge in Mike's underwear.

"Loved that, but I meant bring me this," he teases, stroking the shape of him through the fabric, fingers lingering on the outline of the head where he's so wet and sensitive. Mike groans, mouth falling open at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut as Will tries to work down the boxer briefs one handed.

"Will. God, hmm, fuck. Ok." He takes a breath, takes the plunge, and asks, "Can I try something else?"

"What do you want to do?"

Blushing in the low light, he asks Will to turn over. He complies, allows himself to be moved and positioned how Mike wants him. Face pillowed on elbows, chest flat, ass raised. It's still a little weird, still a little vulnerable when Mike asks him to turn over like this, but he trusts him. He always makes him feel good, feel wanted. They've been trying a few things, explored with tongue and fingers a few times. He's still so shy, almost embarrassed by his pleasure. But Mike gets him through it. Mike always takes care of him.

Mike's got his hands on him again, always grabbing him like he doesn't quite know what to do with all that skin, with the permission to feel up all that pliable flesh. Will's heart races as he let's himself be played with, still finding it thrilling that Mike desires his body in such a way that he doesn't even know where to start with him. He jolts as a hand comes down hard on him, palm loud against his right cheek. The sting is lessened by the fabric, but with little recovery as Mike follows with his mouth, delovering a moan and a bite. Will can't help but giggle into his arms as Mike traces down the seam of the shorts, dragging his finger over his approximation of his hole, lingering a moment. He's correct and Will whimpers. Mike doesnt know what he wants, but he wants. They haven't done that yet but he wants to. They haven't really talked about it yet. Not in detail.

"You look so good like this, baby. So good. Don't even know," Mike begins to ramble as he gets up on his knees and presses his aching cock to the clothed swell of Will's ass, sliding fabric to fabric.

The friction is nice. Skin would be better. Being inside would be otherworldly, he knows it. Not yet. Not tonight. His mind swirls with ideas, though. He works them down and pulls off his briefs, completely bare while Will remains in those tight green shorts. Mike pushes at the fabric, watches as it clings to skin as he moves it higher and exposes the bottom curves of Will's ass, so incredibly soft. He presses forward, cock hard and hot against the inside of Will's bare thighs. Will doesn’t know if he wants to close his thighs or spread them. He doesn't know what Mike's thinking.

"Wanna fuck you. So bad, baby." Will's voice catches in his throat at the deep reverb of the statement, unsure how to respond. There's the clarification. He doesn't know what to say. It's the first time he's heard it so blatantly from Mike. "Can I? You can keep these on."

He snaps the elastic band of the shorts against Will's waist, where he's pushed them to ride up in want of exposing more ass and thigh. Will groans in confused arousal as Mike's cock slips against him again, barely more than a passing caress against his own trapped dick, rapidly filling up again under the intense attention.

"Mike? What? I don't... I'm not sure I'm ready to, you know. Go all the way right now?"

He feels embarrassed as he says it, red faced buried in his own arms. Mike leans over his back, presses reassuring kisses to his heated face and neck, the parts he can reach, and wraps his arms around him in a soothing, grounding embrace.

"I know. Me either. I kinda want to try something. I don't even know if it'll work." He kisses Will on parted lips once he turns his head to the side. The angle's awkward but he can't move away until he really kissed him. "Do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Cool. Here." He hold his hand out, under Will's mouth. "Spit."

Will does it without really questioning it, something deep within him churning with strange arousal at complying immediately to the odd request. Mike does the same, lets his saliva join before wrapping his wet hand around his cock, spreading his palm along his length. It's all he's got to ease the way, but he doesn't think he'll need much.

He presses forward, cock sliding between the channel of Will's thighs. As he moves, he pushes them closer together, trapping his cock between the supple skin, thrusting slowly to test, in and out. He moans low in his throat. It's so fucking good. Oh. Will understands with a thrill, and instinctively closes his thighs tighter, muscles tense as Mike fucks him, clock slipping hot between his skin slick with sweat and spit. Not what he was expecting. But he likes this. A lot. Mike's hands seem enormous as they grip his hips and alternate between holding him firm and steady, or slamming him back harder to meet careful thrusts.

"You could have taken my shorts off. I'm ok with it," Will says as Mike holds his hips even tighter. The band is digging in his skin, sure to leave a deep impression from the sheer strength of the grip Mike has on him. He hopes it bruises.

"That's okay. Like them on you."

"What is it with you and these shorts?"

"You've seen yourself. No way you're this clueless. Haunted me for years, ohhh."

The word years rattles around in his brain as Mike falters in rhythm, barely registering as he's pushed further into the sleeping bags, shoved flat as Mike pulls out of his thighs and finishes hot against his back with a strained, stuttering moan. Another first. Will liked that, too.

Mike flops down beside him, a repeat of their positions earlier by the lake. Out of breath and feeling a little awkward, Mike watches Will's expression, unsure what to say after his little adventure.

"Was that ok? I don't know what came over me. Kinda weird, I guess."

"Well," Will started with a light sigh, mirth quirking the corner of his lips. He brushes the sweaty strings of hair from Mike's forehead. "At least I know who came over me, though."

Mike stared at him, mouth agape, as Will turned his face into his arm and laughed quietly with embarrassed glee.

"Holy shit, Will. Wow. Wow." Will continued to laugh, but turned in his arms, exposing one eye to take in Mike's expression, full of fond disbelief. "Uncalled for, hate you so much."

"No you don't," Will sing-songed.

Mike leaned in and pressed a loud, smacking kiss to his equally sweaty forehead. "Yup. Guilty. Huuuuge liar. I fucking love you. You're incredible. Are you... sure that was ok? I mean -"

"Mike. It was great. Kinda loved it, to be honest. And I love you, too. We should lose the shorts next time, though."

"Fine. I guess."

"Can you maybe take them off me now? You didn't, um, didn't get it all on me."

"Yeah. I know," Mike admitted with the audacity to appear bashful at the admittance.

"Gross."

"Yeah well, you liked it."

"True." He sat up, grimacing at the feeling of cooled, drying come on his back, and was struck with an idea. "Hey. The lake's right there. If you want to..."

"Yes. Hell yes. Bucket list item!"

"Skinny dipping is a bucket list item?"

"Totally. Let's go."

He was out of tent and half way to the lake before Will could even ditch the shorts quickly enough for him to finally see him out of them.

✅️ ✅️ ✅️

#Spicy byler #Not sure how I feel about this one but I wrote most of it stoned poolside in the delirium of the hot sun while the vibes smacked me.#Kinda weird but here's something! Inconsistent tense choices but it's an unedited drabble 💁‍♂️#Anyway. Hot boy summer 😘🍑#HC

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babybluebex · 2 years

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Maybe singledad!eddie or singledad!joe breaking down in front of you for the first time because he’s terrified of being a bad dad (cause u kno I like to hurt my own feelings) 😭 - hellfiremunsonn <3

UNLUCKY 13 ANGST NIGHT YESSS baby!! i love single dad!joe so that's the way i'm taking this lol (and little miss dodie)

"She's beautiful," you whispered, and Joe smiled softly as you both watched Dorothy Marie Quinn asleep in her big girl bed. It was her birthday today, the big Number 2, and she had had a full day of kisses and cuddles from you and her father. Dodie was the sweetest little girl you had ever met, and you loved her as deeply as you loved Joe; you had met Joe when Dodie was hardly a year old, still fresh from his divorce, and you had quickly joined their family unit. Dodie called you "Mummy" and Joe was her dada, and your small family of three was all you needed.

"She is, isn't she?" Joe mumbled, reaching out and gently petting Dodie's thin blonde curls. You had seen baby pictures of Joe and how his hair used to be quite blond-toned, even up into his teen years, and Dodie was the spit of him, all brown eyes and curls. "I love her so much."

"I love this little girl so much, Joey," you whispered. "I can't imagine being any other little girl's mummy."

Joe watched Dodie as she shifted in her sleep, clutching her little bunny to her chest, and he sighed heavily with the weight of the world. "I just worry..." he started softly. "I hope I'm a good dad to her."

"Oh, Joey," you whispered softly. "You're the best dad to her, you're the absolute best father to her. What makes you worry that you aren't?"

"I dunno," he mumbled. He watched Dodie for a second longer before he sniffled, and he took a deep breath as he looked down to his lap. "I just want her to be okay, and I'm worried that I could be doing more."

You were quiet as Joe pressed the heels of his hand to his face, and he began to cry. That was something that you loved about Joe: he wore his emotions on his sleeve and was never afraid to show them, and Joe sniffled and wiped his eyes dry. ��I just wanna be good for her,�� he whimpered. “I want her to look at me and love me and know I’m doing the best for her.”

“You are, baby,” you told him, and you wrapped Joe up in your arms. "You're doing everything you can for her, and she loves you for it."

"But what if..." Joe started. "What if my everything isn't enough?"

"It is," you said. "You're the best father ever, Joe, and Dodie knows that, I promise. You're doing everything you can, and I promise that you're doing enough, more than enough."

Joe leaned into you and sighed, and he groaned softly as he wiped up his tears. Once his eyes were dry, he turned his attention back to his daughter, and he found her groggily awake, her little brown eyes fluttering sleepily. "Dada?" she mumbled, and she dropped her bunny to reach out for Joe.

"I'm here, baby," Joe said, and he reached out and took Dodie's hand in his. "I'll always be here."

#bex answers #rie 🍑#bex's drabbles #joseph quinn #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x reader #single dad!joseph quinn

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ripperdoc-is-daddy · 2 years

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READER IS BLK CODED AFAB

Pro Hero!Bakugou doesn't know what the strange bubbling white tub on top of the fridge is so he tosses it.

You come home and are ready to make some tibs and go for your tub that has your injeera starter in it. And you can't find it.

Katsuki comes over and watches. Takes a few minutes before he asks "The fuck you looking for so hard?"

"Mmmm...I had a tub of my starter up on the fridge but it's gone now and I am confused where the fuck I put it."

Katsuki pales as he remembers the tub he chucked earlier into the outside dumpster.

He slowly exits the kitchen and tries to make his way to the front door. You notice as he has his boots halfway on.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO!?" You demand harshly.

He is looking everywhere BUT at you as he explains. Your eyes narrow and you sigh. Grabbing one of his ears you drag him into the kitchen.

You pull out some teff and room temp water. "Get on it. You have three days to baby this and make it up to me."

You motion at the counter, step back and watch as he reads the instructions on the fresh bag of teff. Everytime he goes to speak you cut him off with an "AHHHT! Aht aht!" Till he eventually realizes he can't talk or fuck his way outta this.

You enjoy his misery as you have him make not one bit three starters- just in case. You also livestream it for the Bakusquad while you narrate how he came to be in this position.

He doesn't live this down for several months.

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peachsayshi · 2 years

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Hello Peach!! I'm wondering how would dad sukuna deal with y/n building up her negative emotions and having a break down in front of him (for example, crying while taking sharp breaths)? the context can be whatever you see fit in the au you wrote :')

hey, anon! 🧡🧡

ohhh, that's a good question 👀 there might be a scene like this in the future for "The Way You Claim Me" but I can give you a little bit of insight on how sukuna might feel in that moment 😌

sukuna comes across as unbothered, but he is extremely overprotective over the reader. that side of him comes out in certain moments and it's a natural response that catches him off guard because...why does he care so much?

I do allude to this a few times that she's one of the only people who keeps a level head around him, and is also one of the only people who isn't terrifed/repulsed by him - so to see her emotional or detached will shock him.

like, in my last sukuna drabble he gives the reader that ultimatum not because he wants to hurt her, but because he doesn't know how else to deal with her emotions towards him and thinks he can almost force his way into getting her back to normal.

which is also why I think if he catches the reader having a break down, he'll be very uncertain on how to approach her...but the man will instantly melt on the inside. he'll feel a discomfort in his chest that is so unfamiliar it agitates him. even though he's terrible at articulating it, he's completely devoted to the reader and that's how I like to portray his love towards her. he's not the kind of person who would grovel, apologize, or whisper sweet words to console them - but he wouldn't be able to stand seeing her in so much pain.

his reaction to me would be the smallest gesture but it carries so much meaning; he would very gently approach the reader, circling his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, softly rubbing her lower back until he can feel her relax in his arms...and she won't be able to believe that he's just standing there holding her in such a tender embrace. he'll stay like that until she calms down, before asking in a very relaxed voice if this feels better. when she looks up at him he'll wipe away any leftover tears and kiss her on the forehead and her cheeks.

if anybody else was the reason behind that reaction, he would put an end to that problem within seconds. it won't be long before the people around you realize that crossing you meant knocking at death's door.

however, if he was the reason behind it, then it would be the only time he would ever consider himself a vile being. he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about how he hurt you - and it eats him up from the inside out but he would be really good at hiding his guilt.

even though they both naturally just bicker with each other, sukuna would approach serious arguments quite cautiously after this because he won't be able to stand seeing you break like that again. he would find himself asking: "what do you need?" if your upset with him because it'll be the only way for him to know exactly what he can provide just to make you smile again 🥺

q's?

#readers.🧡#dad sukuna drabbles #the way you claim me #I approach writing soft sukuna by taking really normal things and making it a big deal when he does it because he would NEVER do it #peach and secret friends.🍑🧡

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cndian · 1 year

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One word prompt!

My word is substitute

Eddie and Chrissy peeked through the gymnasium window at the new substitute Phys Ed. teacher. He had on the shortest shorts Eddie had ever seen, quite frankly, and he kept blowing that little whistle around his neck and shouting at the kids in the bossiest voice. “What do you think, my team or your team?” Eddie asked Chrissy. They both watched Steve bend over to pick up a basketball. “I’ll answer that. Definitely mine.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie au #everybody is a teacher au #one word prompts #drabble #ficlet #chrissy cunningham #batty4steddie #you sure have a way with balls steve #🍑🏀

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peachmuses · 1 year

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@sociieties asked: 5 times yoyo’s painted on zuzu

I. the first time that ryou paints on kazuya, they're six and seven respectively. ryou's freshly turned six, and kazuya is only a year and a few months older than him. it's messy / and ryou's trying to use his opposite hand, and he's giggling as he's climbing on his bestest friend in the world. ha-chan is sad - ryou's figured that out, about thirty minutes ago - and he's decided the best way to cheer him up was to paint him in the prettiest color he could find. purple means royalty, ryou explains as he streaks the other with the very deep purple he's found -- but it's not right, he thinks. ( kazuya is royalty -- omma was explaining what royalty was the night before as she was reading a bedtime story to him about a prince and a princess, and ryou thinks, knows, that kazuya is a prince. ) he then moves onto another color -- a lighter purple called lavender. he's learned about lavender. lavender means devotion, grace, serenity, calmness and silence. he explains it and his head tilts slightly, and cheeks tinge pink. " lavender because you mean lavender. " ryou can't explain it then / there , but he means that he's devoted to kazuya too. he means it that he wishes for a calm life for his best friend. because his best friend is quiet -- because it matches ha-chan's hair. ( not that ryou really understands what a calm life is. not that ryou understands what devotion means -- but he knows that he is devoted to his best friend. )

II. sometimes, when ryou is bored, he doodles on kazuya's hands. someone tells him he shouldn't / and kazuya turns cold towards them. he doesn't get it / but ha-chan doesn't mind him drawing on him, so he continues to do so. ( ignoring adults and others because if ha-chan says it's alright, then it's alright. ) this time, he's got paints and he's been drawing outlines on the others cast to fill in later, and a teacher tells him that he shouldn't do that, and ryou pouts, and kazuya is picking up a paint brush to put it in his hand. " fill them in " he says, and ryou ignores the teacher to do as kazuya tells him to do. the teacher sighs, and moves to look at the paints and ryou sends her the dirtest look he can, at seven years old, and kazuya is giggling beside him. ryou is painting a shell on his best friends cast / orange in color, because he was thinking about starting to collect them last weekend - then decided that he wanted to practice drawing them first. the depth / the way color reflects / maybe get to where he can fill one up with water. he's not very good at painting water yet -- he wants to get there though. he explains softly, " seashells represent a protectiveness of love while orange represents happiness, love, and courage. " he remembers his mother telling him that kazuya had been in an accident and that he shouldn't mention it. kazuya eventually came back to school, arm in cast and he told ryou that he can paint on it if he wanted too - that he had chosen a white base specifically for ryou to paint on it and he thinks that his best friend is the bestest best friend in the entire world. " that way, " ryou says as he leans back, cheeks streaked in orange from where he had smeared the paint brush when he was trying to detail the shell, " you're protected ! "

III. he doesn't stop smearing paint onto kazuya / trying to color his best friends grey skies into a colorful sunrise. someone calls him "yo-yo" in ha-chan's presence / and his best friend loses it. ryou stands there, with wide-eyes, and tightly holding onto a book about angels and devils and demons in art. he didn't like it when someone else called him the name that ha-chan had bestowed upon him / but his best friend hated it more, apparently. there's a flash and ryou sees kazuya, shining bright in gold, halo'd by the sun as fists fly and the other (demon) boy coughs up red. red - ryou knows - often represents love and passion and ryou doesn't really understand that but he knows that red can also mean aggression, dominant and strength. a teacher screams, and ryou is startled out of his thoughts and he drops his book in surprise. he rushes to kazuya where teachers are pulling him off and a teacher tries to stop him and he screams for ha-chan and gets no where. later on, when kazuya comes over, ryou's dragging him to the art room that was made specifically for him. he's already got golds set aside -- gold leaf too. he climbs into his best friends lap and gets to work. his hands are steady when he applies the gold leaf to his best friends scrapped cheeks and then lips. ( it's not a band aid; ryou thinks it's better than a band-aid. ) he tries to paint a halo in kazuya's hair and his mother enters and stares at the scene. hanae breathes out softly, before she shakes her head. sometimes, she's learned, it's best to not ask questions. ryou looks over at her, excited, as hand presses in on kazuya's chest, " omma omma. look. ha-chan's an angel. he beats up the demons. "

IV. ryou can't fix things for kazuya. he sits in his bed / sullen, as he thinks about what he had heard the night before. kazuya's mother had hurt him --- had tried to drown him. no one had noticed him at the stairs listening. ( he had woken up from a nightmare --- and was going to seek his parents when kazuya had come in drenched and crying. he had rushed back to his bedroom and pretended to be asleep when his mother stood up to go get a change of clothes for his best friend. ) kazuya is downstairs, and ryou wonders who would want to hurt his best friend ? why they would want to hurt him ? kazuya is an angel / a prince, and he's scrubbing his face. there's only one thing to do. make water good. he rolls over and moves to get out of bed, finally, and when he does, he decides he's going to paint oceans and waves all over kazuya in a variety of blues. ( aphrodite emerged from the ocean, kazuya once told him, the ocean is a symbol of love too. ) besides, blue represents peace / blue represents love and truth and strength in india -- it is a sacred color there. ryou bounces down the stairs, stopping half way, and when he sees his best friend standing at the bottom of the stairs, he throws himself down onto him. kazuya barely manages to catch him and ryou giggles. " come come. " he says impatient, " i have a new idea. you're going to be an ocean. " and when he finally manages to get kazuya into his art room, he pauses, and tilts his head -- he's not suppose to know why kazuya is here anyways, but ryou's also never questioned why his best friend just shows up sometimes. " did you know that blue is a sacred color in india ? it means love and divine joy. " he scampers away to his paints, only to come back with a palette with a variety of blues, and he grins brightly at kazuya. " en -- encom-- " brows furrow, " big waves. you're a big wave in the ocean. " he says instead of the word he was thinking of -- unsure of how to pronounce it, and paint brush touches kazuya's cheek, and he speaks softly, " you're going to be the prettiest ocean ever. "

V. the last time ryou paints on kazuya -- he thinks, is in middle school. before kazuya goes off with koji - toji - whatever their name was / before kazuya kisses him and disappears into the wind without a trace. he paints him in pinks this time, brush strokes against the other's back, sculpting over muscles that are beginning to show. kazuya tells him that he shouldn't be use to this / painting on him, and ryou doesn't want to let go of his best friend. pink is grabbed instinctively --- and ryou doesn't think about it. doesn't think about his best friend whose looking towards other people, doesn't think about how he feels the other pulling away and going quiet. he knows - in his bones - that this is going to be the last time. ( don't leave, he wants to say. don't leave me behind. ) he doesn't say it but fingers smudge the paint anyways. kazuya is not perfect / there is no use in painting perfect lines on his best friend when he makes up ryou's morning and evening skies. he makes a mess of color on kazuya's skin, dirtying his hands in the paint and forgoing the brush. ryou was told once -- that paint runs through his blood / that he, himself, probably has paint for blood. ryou thinks if he smears the paint onto kazuya's skin - if it's his blood, maybe it won't wash off and maybe his best friend will have something of him to remember him by when he leaves. ryou feels it coming like a storm. it's going to unsettle him and knock him off his feet. he wants to cry - doesn't. he's a big boy -- he doesn't have to cry at every little thing anymore.

BONUS. kazuya is back in his life and it's only been a few weeks--- and ryou is sitting on top of him once again in the art room with light streaming behind him. his best friend is beautiful - but this is something that ryou has always known. he hasn't spent all these years -- painting his best friend to not know that he's not beautiful / he hasn't spent his childhood, trying to give some form of color to his best friends world without knowing how the sunlight hits him / without knowing that he makes their heart beat faster. they feel awkward and kazuya had asked him to paint on him, and really, what was ryou suppose to say ? no ??? the palette is next to him, and thin cold fingers against kazuya's skin as he tilts chin upwards. ( his heartbeat rings in his ears and he almost wants to cry, as memories pop in and out of his mind. ) he's gentle and starts with purple ( royalty ) -- and moves to lavender ( devotion ) , gold ( holy, holy, holy ) across the other's lips with trembling fingers and breath caught in his throat. his heart feels like a jackhammer currently and ryou thinks this was the worst idea kazuya has ever had. he breathes out softly, and moves, blue ( divine joy and love ), onto the other's cheek, pink ( young love ) --- and he finishes off with red ( passion. love. devotion. ) kazuya is a mess of colour currently and ryou thinks they've never seen anything so beautiful in his life. he swallows, putting finishes touches. it's such a fucked up sunrise, ryou thinks, before eyes move from the across the canvas of kazuya's face to focus on the other's face and he lets his hands drop to their side. " you've always made a wonderful canvas, " he says eventually, as he moves off of best friends lap, trying to hide the tinge of pink to his cheeks, and he gestures to the mirror. " go ahead. " he needs a moment to straighten things up / a moment to calm his heart and the way that he still feels lips under fingertips and body against his.

#♡ ⸺ haryou.#🍑 ⸺ drabble.#im going to kms.#character ⸺ ryou.

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paulii7 · 11 months

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˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Who would’ve thought you needed someone older?

From the experiences you had. It just didn’t feel the same as how you were with him. He was mature, calm, and cool as a cucumber.

With an appearance that showed his experience in life. Making him more attractive than any of the guys you dated around your age.

It was even the way he held you warmly in his embrace as tears were wiped. Making you think you needed some older. Just a little bit colder. Take the weight off of your shoulders.

He was the perfect description of that “someone older.”

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peachypinkygloss · 1 year

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Ooh, boy. First of all congratulations, you deserve the 2k, darling. 💕 The trope is thief!Taehyung on a balaclava. That's literally everything I need to read about, just thinking about him taking it off gets me high.

Bisou 💋

thank you so much for sending a request, baby, i love you & you're adorable 😔🫶🏻 bisous x mwah 💋

thief of your love

On the moon or in the middle of the ocean, he'll find you.

pairing: ex bf!taehyung x fem!reader

genre: exes au, smut

warnings: thief!tae (we don't know what he does, but we know it's bad 😭), tae's injured and kinda breaks into reader's hotel room 😬, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, slightly over 1k.

a.n.: im sorry i was more poetic than horny 😭

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

You enter your hotel room quietly, unlocking the door with the key card. It's dark inside and you try to find the light switch, but fail miserably. You leave it like that, no biggie, you think to yourself.

You sigh from exhaustion, finally removing the high heels you were wearing all night. You kick them off your feet, forgetting about them as you walk in the room, a little bit tipsy and leaning on the wall to not lose your balance.

You approach the bed, having the intention to let yourself fall on it, but before you can a larger and stronger body comes out of the dark. They hold you from behind, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream that you were about to let out.

Your heartbeat fastens immediately, eyes widening as you go on auto-defence mode straight away. You try to push the person away, hitting them in the stomach with your elbows. You hear a groan and they easily give up, letting go of you instantly.

You rush to the bed and pat the area around you until you find the nightstand. You hurriedly turn on the bedside lamp, turning around to face this stranger who broke into your hotel room.

You see a masked face, the shape of a tall man and a hand holding his stomach, exactly where you hit him. You didn't realize you'd actually gone that hard on him, but you guess your survival instinct is really efficient.

His chest heaves at a rapid pace, yours too. When you get a better look at his eyes since they're the only thing you can see, you recognize something familiar in them, like you've met before and more than once.

With his free hand, he grabs the top of his hood and pulls it off in one swift movement. You frown for a second, scared to know who he is, but all of your negative feelings fly away when you see his face.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend.

Some details catch you off guard like the cut on his left brow, the wound on his bottom lip and his black eye.

"What- What happened?" You murmur, stomach twisting in worry. You step closer to him, but he moves his head away, groaning when you try to cup his face. You knit your brows together, confused on how he got so badly injured. "Taehyung, let me-" he shoves your extended arm away, which cuts you off instantly.

"Nothing happened," he responds coldly, looking back at you.

You stay quiet for a moment, not really knowing what to do because how he still manages to find you is beyond you. He seems to always find you, no matter where you are.

One thing you know is that he's lying. Something happened; he got into trouble, as usual. Taehyung has enemies, always will he in the world that he lives in, the dangerous world he had brought you in by loving you.

He wants you, but he'll always be accompanied by his problems. It seems like he didn't change, even though he swore to you he would. Lies and fake promises, that's what Taehyung has to offer. Nothing more, nothing less.

"You're not in position to lie to me, Taehyung," you say rather angrily, but your anger will never compete with his. The less he could do when breaking into your hotel room is tell you the truth.

But what the truth's worth when lies sound way better?

Taehyung towers over you with all his height, looking down at you, fire dancing in his eyes. Those same eyes that used to watch you sleep next to him and watch you get fucked by him.

"I'm in position to do whatever the fuck I want."

Shivers run up your spine as these words leave his mouth, making you cower away, but never far from him. Cower away in his arms, safe from any danger. Except when he brings the danger with him.

"And... what do you want this time?" You whisper, bringing up the courage to ask him. You blink, feeling his gaze boring through your soul, reaching your poor heart, making it thunder inside your rib cage.

He says nothing until his nose is pressed against the side of your face. He nuzzles your hair, smelling the perfume of your shampoo. You didn't change either; the same shampoo, the same hairstyle, the same lack of confidence and still very much attracted to him.

"I want you, sweetheart. I've only ever wanted you," he confesses in a low voice, one that makes you shiver once again.

He collides your hips against each other and you feel the bulge of his soft dick in his pants, too big to not notice it. Your mouth is agape and you're completely under his spell, mirroring the lust in his eyes.

Forehead against forehead, he stares down at your lonely lips, cruelly needing the warmth of his mouth against yours. It's not long until they find each other again, as if they've always belonged together, and maybe that's true. The only ever real truth.

You sense the metallic taste of his blood on your tongue and you wince a little bit, but don't break the kiss anyway. He groans again in pain and you think it's because of where you touch him, other wounds hiding under his clothes.

Worried, you stop your exchange and pull up his t-shirt, discovering red and purple marks over his once perfect skin. "Taehyung," you gasp, reaching the bruises, the tip of your fingers brushing over them. You see his muscles tensing up when you touch one, your heart breaking a little more.

"It's nothing," he says, but you obviously don't believe him.

You look up, finding his eyes on you. You understand now that no matter how far you are from him, your heart will never cease beating for Taehyung.

He pushes you gently over the bed, your back hitting the soft surface underneath and he joins you, hovering over you. It's a matter of seconds until he drags the hem of your dress up and your panties down your thighs. He takes off his jacket and his t-shirt, not letting you time to analyze his unfortunate injuries.

While he kisses you, he draws lazy circles on your clit, kind enough to prep you beforehand. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking them behind his back. His skin is burning hot and you enjoy the feeling of it under your fingertips, moaning softly against his lips when he pulls a little but intense orgasm out of you.

He frees his cock out of his briefs after, considering protection useless in the heat of the moment. You moan in unison when he penetrates you, stretching you out deliciously, your walls closing tightly around his dick.

A moment like this, you will never forget. So familiar, memories coming back to your mind, making you see stars like he brought the whole galaxy to you.

He pins your hands above your head, breathing heavily over you, going delirious as his high approaches so rapidly, as well as yours. This is the best position in his opinion, the only one valid and worth his time, able to see your expressions of pleasure.

He grunts and you moan, pussy clenching around him as he finishes into you, filling you up with his cum.

You spend the rest of the night cuddled up in his arms, tracing the shape of his abs with your fingers and observing the mean marks on his poor skin. He refuses when you propose to help, slightly offended when he does so.

It's only after he leaves early in the morning that you realize that helping him wouldn't have been a good idea. He would have brought you back into his problems and he doesn't want that. He wants you safe, away from him.

#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts drabble #taehyung drabble #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader

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peachmusesa · 2 years

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it must have been something he did / must have been something he had said for kazuya to walk out on him. not once / twice. to leave him heart shattered on the floor - bleeding and broken and crumbling like the earth's coastline when ocean erosion hits / pieces and bits shattering and falling off being carried off by the water that leaves him under the water. rearranging him into something new / something different. atsumo has come / and left / and ryou's standing alone in his kitchen unsure what to do or how to move or what to do. he doesn't want to be alone / doesn't want anyone around and they're so tired of not feeling like a person and feeling like shit. " i won't leave you again, " ha-chan says, begging under a near full moon as ryou tries his best to allow other people into their space. as ryou tries to trust ha-chan with others / as he tries because his best friend is stupid in love with someone else and ryou knows it because he knows kazuya better than himself. and ryou knows that that nijimura-san is also in love with him because they see the signs/ they know what a person in love with kazuya looks like. parts of himself has been carved out for kazuya since the beginning / the waves the other makes forms curves against him and paths that he takes or avoids. ( and he still hasn't reached out. it's been two days, he thinks. is this the way it's going to be ? is this the way that things end ? because of him ? should he reach out first ? he said he didn't forgive them. what does one do then ? what if he annoys him ? what if kazuya is sick of him being sick ? what if - ) only for him to leave again / and ryou should have known better. did know better / but he thought --- well it doesn't really matter what he thought. he should have listened to common sense instead of being such a foolish person. kazuya slips through his hands like water and ryou no longer knows where he fits and nothing makes sense. it's suppose to be them. ( if ryou had allowed anyone else but kazuya to treat him like kazuya has treated him / ryou would not be around. he would leave / no second chances. but it's kazuya and ryou gives him chances and chances and chances and chances. ) yet when his phone buzzes - he can't help but to look at it, hoping that it's ha-chan only to find that it isn't and for his stomach to sink like a stone in the water. everyone comes back -- his parents / his friends. that's the way it's always been. him / sitting alone, staring at the moon and the stars and the ocean and waiting, only for a heavy hand to land on his shoulder eventually showing that he isn't really alone. ( he's alone now though. kazuya is gone. his bestest friend in the entire world left him and the one message ryou tried to get through to him, didn't go through. ( he hopes it's a phone problem from him throwing it against the wall. ) he hasn't seen him on twit. and his therapist tells him that he needs to stop obsessively checking but ryou doesn't know how to not be obsessed over kazuya. ) is this rock bottom , he wonders ? he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize themself. ( no one knows him like kazuya / no one has seen the shit show that ryou is actually except for kazuya. he switches faces for who he's with and everyone thinks he's fine when he's not. it helps , he thinks, when all your friends are more extroverted than him and their problems are much more in people's faces than ryou's own. ) he sets himself up to fail. the waves crash against him / and swallow another cliffside that falls and crumbles into the sea. and ryou cannot swim. he doesn't like being on his own / and he no longer has kazuya and trying to fill the void that the other leaves is hopeless. ( and memories. they stick to him no matter what. ) five years old and chasing after kazuya / six years old and pulling kazuya and telling him they're getting married because girls have cooties and he'd much rather marry kazuya than anyone else / seven years old and kazuya following after him in the rain and ryou getting excited about the flowers and running off only to fall and kazuya to get distracted by a frog and ryou's mom laughing before she's taking a picture deciding to teach the two of them to fight / eight years old and kazuya is beating up a boy for calling him yo-yo an exclusive name that ryou lets ha-chan call him only / nine years old and kazuya is getting a room at their place and ryou hides on top of the stairs seeing a soaking wet kazuya crying to his parents. ryou getting to help decorate it and fill it full of kazuya's favorite things and things that ryou likes too - books about art and death that he thinks that kazuya might also like / ten years old and them playing basketball together / eleven years old and them in the kitchen with ryou patching up wounds on kazuya with shaking fingers unsure if he's doing anything correctly / twelve years old and kazuya starts to pull away / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / and ryou hears nothing until kazuya decides to come back around to tell him not to play against kirisaki. he listens. always listening to kazuya / allowing him to pull him out of bed / allowing him to be the one person to tell him what to do and when to do it and doing it. imayoshi worried / aomine worried / the warning signs blaring that ryou would destroy himself for kazuya if he wanted him too. ryou loves him / but it's not enough. kazuya was never his / more of a pit-stop on the way to what kazuya needed and wanted. just a stop sign on the way to the destination. come back / stop going where i can't follow / blame me for everything , he wants to beg and plead. ( he doesn't know if he will be okay without kazuya. he doesn't think he would. ) he's lost without him. and he doesn't want his best friend to become his enemy / he wants kazuya to come back to tell him it's okay and that they're okay and that they're good. ( he won't. he left him. ) ryou thinks he'd rather die than to hate his best friend. it had to have been him. holding onto something so tightly that he strangles the one person he cares about the most. what does a person do when they don't show up any longer ? and nothing makes sense to him / and he tried so hard to make things go so right for the both of them / and then when kazuya played his guitar and went off, ryou tried to follow as ha-can took the lead. the brightest star in the universe / and maybe in a different universe / timing is kind and things are alright but this is this universe and ryou cries and cries for something that won't return all because he was paralyzed by fear. it's easier to run but was he not good enough for kazuya ? would he have ever been good enough for him ? " maybe you're in love with him. " his therapist suggests from behind a chair, and he scoffs. what an idea, ryou thinks. but honesty is important and he can feel her eyes on them, and ryou sighs. " maybe my first love -- but even if i had confessed the painting would have been blacked out and destroyed. kazuya deserves better than the mess of me. i've moved on. " they say instead. ( and he has. he gave that love up in middle school. ) he can't make kazuya stay / he can't make kazuya love him if he doesn't / and he can't make themself important enough for kazuya to want to hold onto him. it's his fault. somehow. and there is no one that he can explain this too - no one that ryou can go to, and open his chest and tell them everything because ryou and kazuya has been ryou and kazuya and they've both private about their friendship. ( how long does ryou have to hold onto hope. does kazuya know that ryou is drowning, currently ? does kazuya care ? ) he's never been able to reach kazuya / always his fingers barely brushing against the back for kazuya to only not feel it and to keep going. ( his friends are more important than him / they're more like him than ryou is. ryou is a messy painting that makes no sense, while kazuya is cords and his friends harmonize much better with him than ryou's own splattered paint on the floor. ) his phone chimes, snapping him out of thoughts that run in circles around kazuya and he moves to grab and hope and pray that maybe / perhaps / it's him ; only for it to be the ppg groupchat and ryou closes out, unwillingly to face his friends. everyone leaves anyways. his parents. kazuya. he is just a crumbling mess with no more foundation / and they don't need to just how much of a mess he actually is. he doesn't want to be alone / but alone is what he does best. he leaves his phone in the kitchen and moves to his room. maybe he can stop thinking. maybe he can wake up and everything could have been a bad dream. come back / tell them it's okay.

#🍑 ⸺ drabble.#cs ⸺ sakurai.#ic ⸺ sakurai.

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malavera · 1 month

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Peaches (18+) Logan Howlett Series

a series about a young girl who happens to be neighbors with the Mister Howlett, Logan, and has sinful thoughts of him that she wishes for it to be true, but little did she realize, it's all coming together.

warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mostly the series will be smutty, too many unprotected sex, oral female and male receiving, daddykink, dom!logan, sub!reader, bratty!reader, mean!logan, and many more filthy stuff and probably fluffs too, you'll see ;)

this series part's or drabbles (if there are) can be found under "Logan and Peach" tags in my profile 🍑

part 1, “would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

part 2, “will you forgive me… Daddy?”

part 3, “we can’t do this here!”

part 4, "i'm right here, bub."

part 5, should this be the final part? 🤔

#Malavera #Logan and Peach #logan howlett series #logan howlett smut #logan howlett smut series #logan howlett #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett one shot #wolverine smut #wolverine series #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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minkiverse · 2 months

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KANG YEOSANG FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

PRETTY PRETTY YEOSANG!!!!! I think there is a reason that so many fics on this list are fluffy and its because Yeosang is the most precious person in existence!!!!!! n e ways everyone send me more Yeosang fic recs i NEED more!~

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Oddeleny - @songmingisthighs ⛈️🍑 Ghost AU ✧ SMAU

the twists are twisting and the turns... oh they are turning 👏👏 this series is basically a mystery of how yeosang got trapped in the mc's phone and basically everytime there is a lore drop on either mc, yeo, or woo i go a little bit more crazy 🤪🤪

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES/ETC

winter blossom - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Alien AU

Stretch you out - @pyramid-of-starrs 🔥 Gym AU

quiet - @nebulousbrainsoup 🔥💗

Relax - @moonhoures 🔥💗

masturbation - @kitten4sannie 🔥 College AU

gemini - @ncteez 🔥💗 Virgin!Yeosang

untitled - @bandgie 🔥

kang yeosang as your boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

untitled - @kittyyeo 🔥

lessons in intimacy - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥Camboy AU ✧ Barista AU

i revisit this fic once a month AT LEAST! this author's way of writing blows me away every single time 😮‍💨😮‍💨 the smut is toe curling and so intimate (hence the title) its just how kind and genuine both yeosang and the mc are written and how they communicate and the smut that constantly bring me back 🥹🥹

Only text me when you need me - @pyramid-of-starrs 🔥💗⛈️ FWB AU

pretty in pink - @byuntrash101 🔥

sensitive - @puddingyun ✨🔥

i just love how atiny tend to write yeosang so softly and intimately because he is just so precious and needs a "handle with care" sticker on him at all times and this fic epitomizes that feeling 🤤🤤 like how gently the mc treats him is just 🤌🤌

hungry yeoyeo - @ateezscupid 🔥

Longing - @sxcret-garden 🔥💗

vanilla and cream - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

operation: passenger princess - @sungbeam 💗⛈️ College AU

fortune teller - @seonghwaddict 💗

A Small Adjustment - @kitten4sannie 🔥Personal Trainer AU

yeosang & a situationship - @yunhoszn 🍑

[7:29 PM] - @edenesth 💗

boyfriend texts w/ yeosang - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

Stay - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗⛈️ Royalty AU ✧ Archer!Yeosang

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥Dragon AU

Muse - @desirehorizon 🔥💗Royalty AU ✧ Prince!Yeosang

Wash It All Away - @ja3hwa 🔥💗⛈️ Idol AU

Evolve - @nebulousbrainsoup ✨🔥💗⛈️ Ateez Lore ✧ Biker!Yeosang

even though i can't say i fully understand ateez's lore, i love any fic that is based around it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what i do know of it is so compelling and interesting im shocked that i dont see or at least have not found yet more lore based fics 😭😭 BUT THIS ONE☝️☝️ is sooooo good!!!! i love how yeosang is still yeosang even in his situation, i love how the mc is like immediately intrigued by this faceless biker guy who can blame her 😩😩, i love how they get to know each other and THE SMUT 😮‍💨😮‍💨

untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

#ateez #ateez fic recs #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #i had to put this together after they left my general vicinity bcs i was in a ~mood~#i hope everyone who saw them in concert had a great time #BUT ALSO IM JEALOUS OK!!!! 😭😭😭😭#merengue makes lists

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 3 months

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I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone.

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg.

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad.

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed.

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself.

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way.

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town.

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived.

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months.

The smell of the outdoors.

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.”

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

#I really need to calm myself when people request drabbles but I can't #I knoooow I SHOULD learn to restrict myself but eeeeh #I'm already quite restricted into my everyday life so I let myself get carried away when I write oopsie #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fluff #request #pinefic

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