#I could be making written drabbles of these scenarios in my head

[pixelatedraindrops]

Okay lemme be real with you all.

I LOVE it when someone touches someone else's cheek to check their temperature. Sooo good and sooo tender 💕 One of my top favorite prompts when it comes to an illness scene.🌡️

So I had to make a quick edit of this. Poor Yuma tries too hard...😞 At least there's a sensible adult in the room to tell him so. (and even his death god partner thinks he's pushing it)

A scenario of Yuma about to leave the agency, but Yakou KNOWS something's wrong. The trainee looks tired, he’s panting a little, and his face is tinted red. So he stops him, walks up to him, and puts his hand to his cheek to check.

And turns out, he was spot on.

Yuma tries to deny it, but Yakou ain’t havin’ it.

Then he IMMIEDATELY puts him to rest. Practically pushing him onto the couch (it only takes one hand like what is yuma gonna do lol)

I like to believe Yakou’s like a worried mother hen for his agency's staff. Panicking as a first-time caretaker in years. ESPECIALLY with Yuma since he's very likely the frailest of the bunch. (he's a father now :3)

Shinigami tries to help in her own way too

Yay for duo caretaking >w<💕💊

(...yes I know its the SAME freaking couch edit template here I'm sorry, ITS ALL I HAVE OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE X’D)

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

[snghnlvr]

6:28 pm. / yang jungwon

yang jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: jungwon can’t stop kissing you!

includes: 1.5k words | FLUFFY FLUFF | jungwon is a simp | so is the reader so who’s at fault? | tooth rotting scenario that makes me cry about my single life | lots of kissing but i hope you can tell lol | jungwon in a tuxedo? plz sign me up!!

extra: this was supposed to be a short drabble but i think i got carried away .. | jungwon is bias wrecking me help me | i can imagine jungwon doing this to his partner and it dreads me | thank you taylor swift for motivating me to do this instead of my homework rn <3 | someone pls agree that jungwon is taylor swift coded - he’s written by a woman!!!

likes, comments and reposts are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

i want to wear his initials on a chain ‘round my neck not because he owns me cuz he really knows me, which is more than they can say.

“jungwon!” you called out to him, holding a necklace that had his initials in it.

after jungwon fixed his tie, his figure approached to you immediately when you called out to him.

you’ve been trying to put your favorite necklace for the past five minutes and you realized it’s been almost time for prom in your high school.so you were rushing.

jungwon actually decided to match with you, sending you pinterest inspo when texting you, “us?🥰”. he never failed to make you blush in public. you had to immediately hide your phone from your teacher, putting your hand on your mouth to prevent a smile from being noticed.

jungwon picked a dark, emerald green dress on you since green is his favorite color on you, especially his green sweater. you chose a regular suit on him, but his tie would have the same emerald color. he thought it was the best choice, yet you were happy with the results.

when jungwon picked you up from your house with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you were in awe. he looked really good in a tuxedo that you can’t believe that he’s your boyfriend.

you’re were so mesmerized.

he looked godly charismatic because it emphasized his body well, his golden skin radiating under your door light and his perfect middle part presented to you. you can still see his natural curly hair at the ends but it made you fall in love. jungwon looked so mature that you wonder if this is how he will look like in a couple of years.

after staring at jungwon, you felt your legs getting jelly.

you were starstruck at his appreciation that you felt like crying but before you do so, you hugged him tightly with your arms around his neck.

you heard jungwon chuckling, imagining his whisker dimples appearing as he stumbled at your sudden action. his hands immediately flew to your waist incase you would trip.

when jungwon arrived to your house, he was really nervous. he thought he will be a stuttering mess when he sees you, imagining your beauty in front of him, him only. his heart was beating so fast, that he thought he will get a heart attack. he took a deep breath and rubbed his chest to ease his anxiety. you opened the door and he felt like a mess. you were shining - glowing - twinkling like a jewel.

you greeted him with a smile as usual and he almost fell down like those cartoons when the male lead faints, but thank the heavens you grabbed him before he could do so.

your parents behind you captured the moment with their phones behind the wall of the door entrance. jungwon waved to your parents, shooting them a small smile as they gladly did the same. their hearts were warmed at the sight they were witnessing.

jungwon pressed his head to the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your body wash; a combination of cherry blossoms and blueberries. he closed his eyes for a moment before pecking your neck. it slightly tickled you.

he removed himself, still holding you by the waist. he looked down at you with a smile, “hi my pretty girlfriend.” his dimple couldn’t help themselves from showing.

you couldn’t stop smiling at his cuteness. “hi my boyfriend.” you replied back with a cheeky grin. jungwon thought you were too gorgeous. he leaned down to steal a peck, maybe three pecks. making you frozen and hoping that your parents didn’t witness that.

now here you are in the hallways, where both of you didn’t show yourself in front of others yet. you can hear the faded music but you weren’t close to the entrance where people could easily spot you; more like both of you were at the exit.

you stood in front of a circular mirror. you wanted to present yourself, jungwon didn’t mind how long you were gonna take. as long as he’s with you, he couldn’t ask for more.

your frustration didn’t help you in putting on your necklace and you felt getting sweaty from the stress, so you called your lovely boyfriend who has been inspecting the decorations all over the halls with his hands in his pockets and his boba-like eyes wandering around. you find the situation very adorable.

jungwon noticed it what you were asking for even if you verbally didn’t say it. he took your necklace, realizing that it had his initials and he smirked at your wise choice.

you looked in the mirror, seeing your boyfriend easily towering behind you and it made your heart shake. you moved your hair to one side so he can easily put it on.

jungwon slowly opened the chain as you eye his every action. you kept getting distracted by him that it was making you insane.

jungwon took a step closer to you, putting the necklace in front of you. you held your breath when the gold touched your skin.

jungwon was so attentive in making sure that the adjustment was making you comfortable. “is that alright?” he suddenly whispered, making your neck get goosebumps not from his breath but his deep voice.

you nodded and whispered, “yeah that’s fine.” you smiled at him. he couldn’t see you across the mirror but he felt it in your tone.

“done.” jungwon smiled proudly with his dimples. you exhaled as you were touching his initials on your neck, proudly displaying.

jungwon swore that you looked extra attractive.

“you’re so beautiful y/n.” jungwon suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly as he kept his head in your neck just like earlier. it felt perfect like a puzzle piece.

you chuckled at his sudden touchiness. “and you are handsome too, jungwon.” you put your hands on where his hands were on your waist, slowly rocking side to side.

“jungwon that tickles!” you pulled away slightly when you felt his kisses on the side of your neck. jungwon pouted when you pulled away.

“awe i can’t kiss my princess anymore?” you rolled your eyes at his childness. “you know what i meant.” you eyed him at the mirror.

jungwon shook his head, making his hair do a little bounce. he pulled you back in which you easily obliged. he continued planting little pecks, sometimes longer on your neck. your stomach was tingling at his lips touching your skin and the noises made your heart flutter.

you love his kisses.

you looked at the mirror at what was happening. you bit your lip at the attractive scene like it’s a manhwa. your breath was getting heavier each second has passed.

“alright you’re having too much fun now.” you removed his hands from your waist and turned around, your back pressed against your mirror. you fiddled with jungwon’s fingers.

you were about to say something, along the lines of, “let’s go” but jungwon kept staring at you with an affectionate face with his head tilted to the side, not caring about what you were saying. he was gonna to continue.

his lips were pressed into yours once again, making your legs feel like jelly. jungwon held your waist to keep you still as your arms slowly made way towards his neck to make the kiss deeper.

kissing before prom wasn’t apart of your bucket list but you didn’t mind it.

jungwon let go, leaning his forehead against you as he stared at you.

you giggled at his lips, it’s now stained in your lipstick. “now your lips are stained.” you tried wiping your lipstick from his lips with your fingers but jungwon didn’t care. he didn’t care how filthy or disgusting comments he would get from getting lipstick stains from you. as long as it was from you, he couldn’t careless. maybe that’s why you love your boyfriend a little too much heh

“you’re so touchy today, i wonder why..” you asked, eyes focused on his lips. you were making sure the lipstick was fully removed but you can’t tell if that’s his natural lip color; being swollen from your kiss or your lipstick.

jungwon tapped his fingers on your hips, slightly gripping them. “because i have the most beautiful girl in front of me.” he smile with a smug that made you laugh lightly. “mhm couldn’t help myself.” he looked proud acting like a prince.

“stop it jungwon, you gonna make me a mess before we take a step inside.” you jokingly pressed your hands against your cheeks, lightly tapping them to indicate your blushing.

jungwon smiled, staring at you with shining eyes as he grabbed your hand from your cheek, intertwining with his and pressed them against his cheek.

your lips were slightly open as it caught you off guard but you smiled from ear to ear when he pecked your hand, staring at you. his eyes were smiling.

“i love you y/n.” jungwon whispered against your lips. “i love you too.” you didn’t hesitant to reply, pecking him one more time before finally fixing yourselves to go inside of your school’s auditorium.

“hey what took so long!?” your classmate heeseung noticed the both of you at the entrance, his voice slightly irritated because both of you said 7:00pm. it was currently 7:30pm.

both of you blushed and looked away.

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

[difficultdomains]

suguru’s plan was a relaxing movie night - but you definitely had something else in mind…

what do you do when insomnia hits? exactly - make up scenarios with this man in your head (he my muse fr)

mdni - nsfw under the cut

————————————————————————

when it comes to movie nights, suguru and you mean absolute business. you’re doing it all - keeping lists, leaving letterboxd reviews and always preferring something new over a rewatch. once every couple weeks, however, a special rule you agreed upon comes into effect - comfort movies are rewatchable, at any given time and any number of times - no discussions, no veto.

so when he comes back to your apartment, sore and exhausted after a week that probably felt more akin to a month, you wrap yourselves into a blanket and huddle up on the couch with strategically placed snacks and his favourite movie queued on the big living room TV.

you keep sneaking looks at him throughout, intrigued by the way the flickering light dances across the bridge of his nose and his lips, by the way his eyes are fixed on the narrative unfolding in front of him even though you’re sure that he could recite the dialogues backwards if he had to.

you know that the only thing he probably wants right now is to relax. the only thing you want right now? him. so why not combine both?

you start your silent attack by repositioning yourself under the blanket, feigning that the comfortable position you were in has turned into one of discomfort and that the fact that your hand was now resting on his thigh was mere conincidence.

your fingers are subtle but restless and soon they inch closer and closer to the place you plan on conquering, ghosting over it, featherlight, not suspicious at all.

with his eyes still glued to the screen, he smirks knowingly. you turn to him, waiting with a lopsided grin.

you have him exactly where you want him.

“what do you think you’re doing?” taunting you, so sure of himself, so sure he knows what you’re up to. but when he sees the way you’re looking at him, his eyes widen.

before he can even register what’s about to befall him, you have already disappeared under the blanket, sweats pushed down and lips wrapping around the pretty tip of his barely half-hard dick.

he takes in a sharp breath, hissing your name through gritted teeth.

this was one of your favourite things to do, make him get hard just with your mouth. and he was very aware of your little preference, which only made it that much more enticing - and unfair - to him.

he pulls the blanket away, hand tangling in your hair solely to give him a better view of the spectacle in front of him. the sight alone makes him bite back a groan. but when you push down even further and have him hit the back of your throat, he loses complete control of the moan that escapes him and all the other ones that follow while you continue your skillful twirls and licks.

he’s beyond hard at this point, much to your silent satisfaction, and you’re not very suprised when you feel a gentle but firm grip on the back of your neck, pulling you away from him.

he crashes your lips together in a hungry kiss and when he pulls away, catching your chin in a similar grip like before, you can’t escape the intensity of his flared-up irises burning into yours.

“ride me.”

you raise a single perfectly arched eyebrow at him.

“please.”

you quickly find your place on his lap, lips instantly attaching to the flushed skin of his neck.

“hmm if you insist…” is the last thing you manage to hum against his skin before he captures you in another kiss.

mission accomplished.

————————————————————————

this is the first proper smutty thing i’ve ever written - so yay it’s a premiere. anyways i hope your hopefully well rested brain enjoyed this little drabble from my very sleep deprived one (pls excuse any errors - i am simply sending this out into the aether lul)

[theshinazugawaslut]

Sanemi but he's throwing a tantrum over not getting a kiss all day

Literally lays down on the floor, screaming until he gets a kiss

a/n: i love him so much, i was re-watching that backstory episode of him and genya and I've still not physically recovered. also, sorry for being offline for a bit, I've got tonsillitis and COVID right now :( all what I've written in this drabble also apply to all AU's.

Sanemi is a surprisingly very affectionate man, anybody would look at the temperamental grump and think the opposite but you know far better: the Wind Hashira will become a pathetic, mushy mess if you so much as caress his cheek.

He feels like he doesn't deserve it but your hand is so soft, your eyes sparkle as you look at him and he feels like the sky has rained down stars and blessings onto him.

He's never let anyone get close to him, not a single person, nobody has ever known the feeling of his skin nor how he looks when he cries out as he cums. Only you do, and the thought makes him childishly proud, he's yours — what a fucking honour.

So he doesn't understand why you haven't given him one single kiss the entire day- Hell, you haven't even glanced at him, did he do something wrong?

Have you finally realised he's ugly and really not worth it? Or - this is what Sanemi thinks could be the worst case scenario - did you just not want to give him a kiss today?

He's been trailing behind you like a lost puppy all day, following after you, a small scrunch between his brows.

You're so busy, barely paying him mind, looking stressed yourself. He feels like whining and bawling on the floor just to get your attention. He's more than willing to start shrieking and shovelling dirt into his mouth just to get your attention.

You're doing so much work from the minute you cracked open your pretty eyes — you didn't even give him a morning peck and cuddle, already out the futon when Sanemi awoke (by himself; lonely, sad, cold, depressed, how could you?).

You've been training younger slayers, giving them tips and pointers; making some food for the orphaned kids down the street; sharpened yours and Sanemi's swords; went to go see a few different Hashira since they wanted some help from you, and Sanemi's been right behind you, brooding and pouting.

He's tried to get your attention multiple times, lightly tugging on your sleeve so you look at him but you just give him a gentle squeeze on his thick wrist and a small smile before turning your attention elsewhere (why the fuck do you need to help that Kamado boy?) and then he tries to pepper little kisses against your jaw while you talk to Tomioka (fuck that guy) about your last mission but you gently cover his mouth and give him that look to stop.

He finally loses his patience when you start talking to some random guy at the very front of his estate. He scowls, grabs your delicate wrist, and drags you away.

"'Nemi, my beloved, whatever are you doing-?" you say in that sweet voice of yours.

"You haven't kissed me once today!" he says; it's meant to come out as a growl, as something threatening and angry but it sounds more like an upset whine. "I've been trying to get your attention all day!"

He gives that frown of his, slight pout on his pretty lips.

"Do you want me to bark like a dog, is that it? You want- you want me to rip all my hair out and shriek like a fucking cockroach on the ground? Why haven't I gotten a single kiss? I didn't get my waking-up kiss, not my well-done kiss, not my 'cause-why-not kiss, not a kiss on my hand or my head or my hair even though I-"

He's cut off with being pulled down by his haori to be kissed by you.

Hell yeah.

You're cupping his face, fingers delicately stroking his strong jaw and soft cheeks, lips gently pressing against his, and he sighs softly into your mouth; grabbing at your wrists and holding you there.

When you pull away with a small chuckle, you ask, "There. Does that make up for it?"

"No, I want five more," he says with a sneer but his pink-dusted cheeks and dazed eyes are very telling.

[heartpascal]

Re: drabbles, my favorite stories are I’ll be brave, so far from it, and all my faith but I don’t have any scenarios off the top of my head 🤨 a drabble à la the crooked kind would be so fun to read!!

but honestly anything and everything you put out, I will read. I eat it up every time.

▹— pre-outbreak!joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: drabble from the crooked kind universe! • the time joel realised what your home life is like.

▹— a/n: my first ever drabble pls go easy on me D: (also if you have any situations you’d like written for this universe or others just send in a request!)

▹— warnings: abusive & neglectful family, almost father figure joel, sarah is your best friend, mention of argument with parents

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Perhaps, he thinks now, Joel should have been suspicious of what you and Sarah had been hiding the third time you were sleeping over during the week. After all, most parents had a no-school-nights rule, and you were always quite skittish around him when he asked you questions. You also never responded well to him asking to speak to your parents, insisting that he didn’t.

But in his defence, he didn’t have a no-school-nights rule, so he figured that maybe, your parents didn’t either. It wasn’t a terrible assumption to make, although he’d given up on speaking to your parents pretty easily.

You and Sarah always got up on time for school, and you didn’t cause much trouble. Besides stocking up on some of your preferred snacks, you hadn’t had much of an impact on the Miller household, you actually blended in so well that it was like you were always there.

It was on the now sixth time of you staying at the Miller residence during the week that Joel was really starting to get suspicious. Over the course of the past three weeks, you had spent days and nights at his and Sarah’s, without so much of a word from your parents. Joel knew that he wouldn’t be all too happy if his daughter was out of the house for so long, but what could he do? Hell, even Sarah got defensive over him trying to talk about your parents.

The seventh time, he couldn’t keep quiet.

“Hey, kids?” He called up the stairs, having seen your shoes stored away neatly by the door. It was usually around dinner that Sarah begged for you to be allowed to stay the night, and that time was fast approaching. Joel figured it was best to nip this in the bud.

“What is it, dad?” Sarah yelled back, and Joel rolled his eyes at the attitude she was already showing. He resisted the urge to do that annoying parent thing, where they just didn’t answer your reply after they yelled you first.

“Come on down here, the both of you!” He responded after a moment of hesitation, hearing the vague sound of the two of you sharing hushed whispers. Joel moved on into the living room when he heard the steps coming down the hallway, the two of you finally descending the stairs when he had taken a seat on the sofa.

Sarah looked nervous, though you looked far more so, with trembling hands that you wrapped tightly around the straps of your backpack, already worn on your back. “Dad?” Sarah asked, after he hadn’t spoken for more than a moment of the two girls standing in the room.

Joel sighed, nodding his head to the couch and waiting for you both to sit down before he spoke again. “Listen, I think we need to have a talk.” He began, frowning when Sarah immediately cut him off from saying anything else.

“Dad, are you being serious?” She asked, eyes wide and defensive, and her sudden alarm wasn’t improving your nerves, either, and you were looking more anxious by the second. The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to get into trouble for you. “You’re being unreasonable! She needs to stay over here—”

Joel decided to play at Sarah’s own game, holding a stern look on his face as he cut her off. “Sarah, that’s enough. I ain’t said a word, just yet, calm yourself down.” He told her, not liking the frown she held on her expression. Joel turned his gaze to you, softening his expression when you shrunk under his gaze. “Now you two listen to me, alright? I don’t mind you stayin’ here. Can stay as many nights as you please, but god, kiddo, are your parents really alright with that?”

Sarah moved as if she was going to jump in, save you from speaking, but Joel fixed her with the strict dad-look, and she sat back, looking towards you with an apologetic gaze.

“Yeah, they’re—they don’t mind it, one bit. But I can go back, I don’t mean to be overstayin’ my welcome.” You rambled on, giving Sarah an urgent look as she opened her mouth to oppose your words, causing her to move her glare over to her dad.

“And the reason you have to stay here?” Joel asked after a moment, almost hesitantly. But if there was something more going on, he had to know about it. He was the parent here, and it was his job to look after the people under his roof.

You practically withered under the combination of his look and his question, clutching your bag straps tightly, like you were ready to head off with a moment’s notice.

“It’s nothin’, Mr. Miller, we just like hangin’ over here. Your place is much nicer than mine, right Sarah?” You looked to her pleadingly, and Joel’s suspicion only grew when Sarah nodded painfully quickly, confirming your words.

He didn’t believe you, not for a second, but decided to let the two of you off the hook.

It was the eighth time that Joel knew.

He felt sick to his stomach for not picking up on it before, for not actively trying to find out what was wrong when he knew something wasn’t quite right. For a moment, he also became angry with his own daughter, for not telling him.

The incessant knocking on the door came late that night, and given it was close to 9PM and dark out, Joel wondered who the hell would be coming to his house. It couldn’t have been Tommy — he would never knock, so Joel truly had no idea.

When he opened the door, he certainly didn’t expect to be met with you, backpack slung over your shoulders, your eyes squinting through the rain that was coming down heavy.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You greeted, shakily, and he didn’t miss the tremor in your tone as he ushered you inside out of the cold rain. You tried not to look too nervous under his scrutiny, tried to remain brave and nonchalant as he closed the door after you. “I’m really sorry, but could I stay over here tonight?” You asked him then, and Joel could’ve sworn he heard his own heart break at your voice.

“Jesus Christ,” He said, eyes wide as he took you in, soaked to the bone, your eyes shining with something that wasn’t from the weather. “Of course you can, kiddo, c’mon, let’s get you dried off.”

Whilst you took your shoes off, aiming not to traipse wet footsteps all throughout their house, Joel shouted up to Sarah to bring some towels. She didn’t hesitate given the urgency in his tone.

“What happened?” Sarah asked desperately as Joel took the towels from her hands to wrap them around you as you shivered, turning to look at Sarah with a nervous smile.

Joel didn’t miss the way you nervously looked in his direction, and busied himself taking the school bag from your hand and placing it down in the hallway. “Just got into a fight with my parents, ‘s’all.” You said, clearly downplaying whatever had gone on in your household. Joel’s attention was caught, that was for certain, and now he regretted every letting you go back to your own house, especially when you so often looked reluctant to leave.

Sarah looked towards Joel, much like you had, before she turned back to you, where you held the towel around your shoulders tighter. “Was it about you stayin’ over?”

You shook your head. “No, didn’t make my bed this morning.” You told her, not seeing the way Joel’s face fell. He couldn’t imagine telling Sarah off for something so badly that she left home late evening, in the pouring rain, let alone over an unmade bed.

“Kiddo,” Joel sighed, placing a hand against your shoulder, a look of slight anguish on his expression. “The two of you should’ve told me what was really goin’ on. You could’ve stayed as long as you liked.”

You frowned, your eyes still teary as you looked at your best friend’s dad, “Didn’t wanna keep botherin’ you.”

“You’re not a bother,” He said firmly, “Now c’mon, let’s get you into some dry clothes. You eaten?” At the shake of your head, his frown deepened further, but he nodded. “Then we’ll get you some food, alright?”

He let Sarah take you upstairs, off to borrow some spare clothes, and he cooked whilst you changed, just hearing the faint sounds of your quiet conversation with Sarah. He felt bad, not being the greatest cook, but he figured even shitty pre-packaged macaroni cheese would be alright with you. In fact, he often found that when you and Sarah had sleepovers, his supply of mac n’ cheese depleted.

You sat on the couch when Joel brought you a bowl of macaroni cheese, something unsettled in your eyes, but you smiled faintly at him.

“Now, you listen to me, alright? Anythin’ happens, and I mean anything, you can come here. Don’t even need to ask.” He said to you firmly, pretending he didn’t see the wobble to your lip that you hid behind your bowl.

“Thanks, dad.” Sarah said softly, responding for you, because she knew you better than you knew yourself. She sat between you and her dad, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“‘Course. But hey, if you’re gonna be stayin’ more often, you drink coffee in the morning?” Joel asked, bringing some lightness back to the conversation, his chosen topic coaxing a snicker from you as Sarah groaned, sick of her dad’s coffee addiction.

“That stuff’s gonna give you a heart attack, you know.” She said matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrows at her dad.

“Milk and two sugars,” You responded, the tremble in your voice replaced with a tinge of amusement, and Joel laughed with you at the sigh of annoyance Sarah let out.

— taglist: @auggiesolovey, @just-kaylaa, @evyiione, @lemonlaides, @fariylixie0915, @erensloveinterest, @dazedshoon, @faceache111, @randomhoex, @canpillowscry, @sleepygraves, @pedropascalsrealgf, @star-wars-lover, @coolchick333, @soobsdior, @ilybbg, @rvjaa

please let me know if you want your tag added/removed !!!

[foranpo]

ੈ˚★ the shock of reality.

@pistoletrose asked: Hello love <3 I just discovered your blog and instantly fell in love with your BDS headcanons, they were written so beautifully my words don't do justice fr. if this is okay can i request something? Scenario: Akutagawa getting recruited by PM fem reader (instead of Dazai) She is not as harsh, genuinenly treats him with care, thus shaping him into someone not as bitter and also making him fall for her romantically. Really hope you'd accept my request and if not, totally fine <;3 much love

fandom: b.s.dogs.

character: akutagawa.

reader: gn!

genre: drabble.

content: alcohol, reverse comfort, fluff.

word count: 970.

cole’s note: i hope you like it! thank you for requesting &lt;3

 ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

On that hot summer night, none of you could guess what future was written in your stars.

“Hey, Aku…” your voice left your mouth in a hoarse whisper, soaked by the alcohol you held in the glass.

Akutagawa looked at you. Yearning for you to continue, Akutagawa placed his glass, still full, on the counter and waited; letting the sounds of the bar invade his ears, Akutagawa patiently waited for your voice to stand out among all the noise in the background, soothing his ears, calming his anxious heart.

You took another sip of the acidic drink you had in the glass, letting it burn your throat and set fire to the words that screamed to come out. When your stomach felt comforted by the false relieve of the alcohol, you placed the empty glass on the counter and faced Akutagawa.

“When you met me… Did you imagine we would get here?”

Of all the simulations that took place in Akutagawa's mind in that small space of seconds, the words that came out of you were not included in his calculations. You shocked him. Without any mercy.

“Here…?”

“Hm…” a pause, a request for a new drink, a nervousness growing in Akutagawa. “Our partnership. Do you think it would reach this level?”

“Level of…?”

You snorted, a little tired of all the slowness of Akutagawa, a little frustrated with the alcohol's difficulty in cheering you up.

It was a simple question, something extremely basic that could be answered in a matter of seconds –and Akutagawa simply lengthened it, taking the syllables of the question and dragging it out with intonations that were too interrogative to be declared answers.

Answers.

Answer.

What answer?

Yes, you managed to gain the courage to interrogate Akutagawa with that little question that had settled in the back of your head; but the confidence one gains from the alcoholic elixir is quickly stripped away by the reality of the answer. An answer that you didn't have yet. An answer that made you nervous.

“When I met you, I couldn’t imagine myself beyond that month.”

Akutagawa responded in a long whisper, finally rejecting the drink you had offered him at the beginning of the night, always looking down. Without looking at you. Without ever looking at you –that was Akutagawa.

“How so?”

You turned your body in the chair and looked at him, searching your partner's nervous posture for any hint that could decipher the enigma that was Akutagawa.

“I thought they wanted me dead.”

“Who…”

“The Mafia. That they wanted to get rid of me.”

“Why would you think that?”

And there it was, the shock of reality capable of lifting those who had luxuriated in a bed made of strong, cold drinks.

“Because I wasn’t good enough. Not at first, I mean” you looked at Akutagawa in confusion, the same expression as always on his face: indifference. There wasn't a single expression in Akutagawa, not since you met him, in those woods, alone, afraid, without any hope of existing. “Before we were partners.”

“Aku… I came to you because I believed in your potential.”

Your drink has somehow found the clean surface of the counter, your hands now resting gently on your companion's arms. “Do you really believe I would recruit you if you weren’t good enough?”

“But I failed. Several times.”

“In training,” you let out a small heartfelt laugh that was quickly caught by Akutagawa’s ears; it seemed like you were enticing him, instigating your partner's curiosity –after all, what was so funny?

And Akutagawa looked at you. Seduced by your laugh, totally fascinated by the faint melody you created in the middle of that conversation, Akutagawa looked at you. And you were smiling. Waiting for Akutagawa, waiting for his look, you were smiling.

“You never failed me on missions. That’s why I chose you to be my partner.”

Akutagawa was ready to refuse your speech, gently shaking his head before looking down again, feeling your hands slide down his arms and grabbing his hands.

A new pause, a request for serenity in his heart, a nervousness growing in you.

“I have always been proud of your work. Of you.”

And there it was, the shock of reality capable of accommodating those who never believed in themselves. The words that Akutagawa swore he would never hear in his life, much less from you, were pronounced with the sweetness of your voice, soaked in a strong acid that still remained on the tips of your lips –but, even manipulated by alcohol, the words never stopped being said, being felt, by his partner, by you.

“It’s not your mistakes that define you,” you caressed Akutagawa’s palm, him shrinking even more to divert all the attention from his eyes red with joy. “Your successes are saved in your record. And I couldn't be happier for you. You've come so far. You did so much…”

A hiccup.

Your speech was interrupted by a sob from Akutagawa. Something involuntary, in reality, but it was still audible to you, and your smile never left your face.

You stood up quickly, bringing your body closer to Akutagawa's, and, without any warning or permission, you held his face and laid it on your chest, stifling the waves of sobs that invaded Akutagawa, hiding his red face from everyone.

A safe haven. In the midst of all that reality, that chaos, a response to Akutagawa's insecurity.

And he grabbed your shirt. Squeezing it with all his strength, crushing the chaste fabric, Akutagawa used your shirt to muffle the screams that wanted to come out of him, the joy, the satisfaction, the delight of being seen, of being noticed, burning his throat, the sobs dying at your words, the crying intensifying with your confirmation.

“I’m proud of you and your entire journey.”

 ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

[fuck-i-burnt-the-tea]

"𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒏" - 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒑 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Scenario: You find out your ex cheated on you, and Johnny is right there to swoop you up with promises to fuck you so good you won't even remember your douche of an ex.

Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex (wear a condom), fucking while on the phone, friends to maybe lovers if you squint, fingering

A/N: this is the first time I've written smut on tumblr, much less a one shot, so I apologize if the formatting is off! With that being said, enjoy my ovulation week filth drabble 😌

You honestly thought your day couldn't get any worse, but of course it did, because you'd found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you. It just left you feeling heartbroken, and having a bit of a bruised ego. But your bestfriend, Johnny, being the cocky, flirty, motherfucker he is, decided to take it upon himself to make you feel better, whispering promises to fuck you so good that you wouldn't even feel the hurt from your ex's betrayal.

You were pressed down into his mattress, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. One hand rested on your waist, the other tangled in your hair as you made out. Your hands were on his shoulders, being completely intoxicated by the taste of his lips, but it wasn't an unwelcome feelng.

He trailed kisses down your neck, nipping at the sensitive spot on your neck, which made you whimper slightly. How could one little action already have your brain feeling so fuzzy?

"Fuck, Johnny" you moaned breathlessly. His touch was almost like he knew what would get the desire in you burning, a fire that, at this point, couldn't be tamed. You wanted him, needed him.

His hand slid down to your thigh, teasingly brushing against your aching pussy. But he continued his assault on your neck, leaving small bites then tender kisses on the places he'd biten and sucked on. You'd no doubt have hickies in the morning.

"Please" you whined, "Johnny quit teasing me, please, I need you" God you were so desperate, already begging for him to touch you. And who was he to deny you? He pushed your thighs apart slightly, "This okay, love?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

You eagerly nodded, which he took as permission to slide your silk panties down, revealing your dripping wet cunt. All exposed for him, only him. "Fuck, you're so beautiful" he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before shoving his tongue in your mouth, fighting for dominance with yours, which you easily gave to him. His fingers found their way to your wetness, teasing your folds before gently pushing two fingers inside of you, quickly finding your g-spot

"Mhm- fuck, God right there" You moaned, arching your back slightly as his fingers curled against that sweet spot that sent sparks of pleasuring throughout your body. He didn't stop his actions, God you might kill him if he did, his fingers just felt too good. He smiled against your lips, a sense of pride washing over him as he elicited those beautiful moans out of your pretty mouth. He pushed you further, his fingers curling deeper. He kept finger fucking you like that until you were getting close to the edge, getting close to cumming on his fingers like a good girl.

With a few more thrusts of his fingers, he sent you over that edge, letting you cum all over his fingers. "That it, baby, just let it go. Cum on my fingers like a good girl" He purred, giving you that perfect mix of soft praise and encourgement. You tightened your grip on his shoulders, your head falling back as a string of curse words left your lips as you rode out your high.

He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, a bit more gently, milking your orgasm until you were nothing but a panting mess in his arms. Finally, he pulled his fingers out. But now it was his turn to feel good too, and God he just couldn't contain himself any longer. He needed to feel your plush walls clenching around his dick. He positioned himself at your enterance and pushed in slowly, filling her up inch by glorious inch. "Shit- so fucking tight, baby" He groaned, your pussy desperately squeezing his dick.

At first, his thrusts were soft, slow, letting you get used to the size of him. But just as he began to pick up in speed and intensity, your phone began ringing, your ex calling. "He's been- mmm- calling all night" You explained through moans

"Fuck him" Johnny growled, his eyes dark with desire. He picked up his pace, slamming into you with reckless abandon. "You're mine now", he whispered hoarsley against your neck. "You're gonna answer that phone, and let that jerk listen to you getting fucked by me, let him hear you scream my name, doll"

You nodded eagerly, anything if it meant he'd keep rolling his hips in that way that filled you up perfectly. You answered the phone, but turned down the volume so you couldn't hear the nonsense that you knew was coming out of your ex's mouth. It was set down on the bed next to you both.

Johnny took advantage of that one moment of distarction, his hips grinding against yours as he slid in and out of your wet heat. He picked up his speed and intensity. Every thrust just earned a whorish moan out of you, and he soaked all of it up as he held you close to him. He felt your falls clenching around him, desperate for release. He was getting close as well.

"Fuck! Gonna cum on your cock, Johnny. Making me feel so fucking good" You cried out

He groaned against your neck, his body tense with anticipation. "Cum for me, baby", he urged, his voice raw with desire.

That was all you needed for him to push you over the edge, your legs tightening around him, keeping him in place as you came undone around him, practically seeing stars from how hard you came. "That's it, sweetheart", he growled, feeling your walls pulse around him. He thrust into you one last time, his cock buried deep, and he emptied his warm load inside of you. Your combined sounds filled the room, giving it that passionate and heated intensity in the atmosphere.

He pressed his lips against yours as you both came down from your highs, but this kiss was more tender and caring. He just held you in his arms, the phone call long forgotten, as you laid together in that post-orgasm bliss.

He nuzzled your neck, his stubble against your soft, smooth skin. "I love you", he whispered, his voice just barely audible.

"I think I love you too", you replied, putting your hands on his cheeks and placing another gentle, tender kiss against his lips.

☆ like what you've read? masterlist

[lxm-memories]

a cry from the past, a call from the future w/ luxiem

✧ luxiem x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: a painful memory doesn't have to remain a memory forever, right?

✧ content: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of character death, some scenarios have open endings, paragaphs and sentences writtin in italic indicate past conversations, most of luca's and mysta's scenarios are written in the past!

✧ rule of thumb: please read my works as fiction related to the streamers, they are in no way real or connected to what the actual streamer is as a person - i write for the personas of luxiem, not for the person behind them.

✧ a/n: hi. (insert the one meme of the hamster doing the peace sign). the outfits did give me some sort of inspiration to write these short drabbles for each guy, although my motivation in general is low in general for them. but either way i hope ya'll will come to like em! thank ya'll for your patience !!

p.s: shu's and voxs' scenarios are way longer than the other 3 because ideas for them comes easier with these sort of scenarios

As much as Shu tells everyone he doesn't like lying, he will always without a doubt tell one white lie to each person asking him about his past.

"Oh, I was teleported to this world when I was quite young! I barely remember my own world at this point!"

That was the white lie Shu would always go by. But now he's gazing at himself at the mirror at the corner of his room, high ponytail and various paper shikigamis floating around him as he heaves a sigh. He knew it would be a futile attempt, but reverting back to his own form would be his best shot at trying to do what has taken him years to do ever since he first got to this world.

"You know you look way scarier when you're all dolled up in your usual sorcerer form," the sorcerer in question merely chuckles at your comment, setting down the scroll he was reading before leaning over to brush a stray piece of hair away from your face, "That is its primary purpose, so I'm glad it has that effect even if it's on you," he says, "Oh so it's only for decoration purposes?" you ask with a grin, your lover shaking his head with a playful roll of his eyes.

"Of course not, every clothing is fused with more concentrated mana, to the point I even have to seal some off to not make it all fly out of control if something were to happen," Shu informs, pointing towards the mark on his forehead, "There's a certain time warping spell I want to try. It's forbidden, but we could care less about that," he says, to which you only hum as the you glance over the garden, where his parents are busy drawing out an array, "... Ominious," you mutter.

Shu stops for a second, glancing over at you before back at his parents, letting out a long hum before tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention, leaning down to peck your head, "Nothing's going to happen, I promise," he reassures, to which you only laugh with a bitter smile, "Better not, if something did you knew I would wait after all."

It was his idea.

And something did happen.

When the sorcerer felt himself getting sucked into whatever wormhole he had created, parents long sucked before him since they were the closest when it first opened up. Shu struggled to turn around to look after your form, hand stretching out to reach for your hand that was reaching out for his own, "[Name]...!"

And that's how he found himself in his current predicament, years later after he was dumped into a more modern world and away from you. Years of testing out magic in his more normal form to make sure that when he's in his prime form, he can manipulate the space for one purpose and one purpose only.

He doesn't know if his real world runs on a different timeline than the current world he's residing in. He hopes not, but either way he just have to know if you were okay.

"They can't be that mad can they?" he mutters with a dry laugh. Taking a deep breath, Shu stars rechanting the mantra he had done all those years ago when he first separated from you. And as he sees the wormhole gradually create an image of his former world, he sees the familiar figure at his own house cleaning the garden.

At least he confirmed that his old world and current world ran on the same yearspan.

The person in question were somehow able to feel his gaze on them and looked up with furrowed eyebrows. The sorcerer can only let out a choked laugh when he sees your eyes, once void of emotion light up in surprise. And Shu can only give a wry smile in response to your shock because every bone in his body is screaming in pain.

"I finally got you."

"I still don't know why I have to dress up like this," Ike comments, and you merely glance back at the male whose looking at himself on the full length mirror, twisting his body back and forth to look over every detail "Isn't it... too white?" he questions in the end.

You merely snort at the choice of words, placing his beloved beret back on the shelf before walking up to his back, adjusting the blue scarf and peeking at him from the side, "Well it's a more extravagant book fair, no? You're even going to promote some of your own work there, I would rather you stand out a tiny bit instead of blending in the with the crowd."

"I look like a bride," he says with a chuckle, "Even better on the eyes then," you retort, telling him to bend down a bit so you can clasp on the earrings, "There, all ready," you whisper, leaning in to peck his cheek.

"Have fun, alright? And if it get's too late then just stay at a nearby inn. I would hate for you to walk back home alone."

Ike did have fun. And he did stay at the fair later than usual, so he ended up staying at an inn. And the next time he woke up, he woke up in a room he was unfamiliar to, and a street vastly different from his own.

Sometimes he wonders, if he had chosen to take the extra time to trek his way home. Would you have also arrived in the future with him?

The pristine white clothes that he usually wear somehow became the only memory he had left of you from the past, but even he admits that he stands out way more than he should in these type of clothings. He had asked Shu if there were any way of getting his old clothes back, the sorcerer merely asking if he had a reference at hand.

Said reference was hidden behind a single journal that was always strapped to Ike, to which he fished out the blue hard covered book and flipped to the last page. A single photograph that was on the brink of fading was given to Shu, in it which were himself in his usual attire and you, brightly grinning towards the lens. It was the last memory he had of you besides the outfit he was currently wearing.

If he sensed the mood drop, Shu didn't comment, but he did merely tell Ike to switch to some clothes he wouldn't mind losing. To which he did, and once he were freshly changed, Shu had merely snapped his fingers and the clothes were replaced with the exact same clothes that he wore on the picture, "I'm no fairy godmother, but I can at least do neat tricks like that," Shu said with a laugh, giving him a smile filled with pity.

"Why not take a walk outside?" he suggested, to which Ike only heaved a sigh before nodding with a small smile. Once outside, Shu had suggested going to a flea market that sold a few antique trinkets. And as the duo parted ways to browse various stalls, Ikecame across a stall that sold some old books, the pages weathered with time and the spines crooked from years of usage.

The person behind the mountain of books greeted them cheerfully, but Ike was too absorbed in browsing that he didn't take note of them, "Hey that's a pretty neat beret, I have a similar one at home!" they said, and Ike looked up to give them his thanks when his breath hitched.

Why did the person in front of him look like the spitting image of you?

"Ohh, a leather jacket! What's the occasion for?" Luca asks with a bright smile when he sees the leather jacket with a fur trimming by the collar. You had given to him right before starting to clean up the blood on his face before disinfecting the smaller cuts over his body, the man before you hardly flinching as he twists the jacket around to get a proper look and rubbing his cheek against the fur.

You give the strap on his left thigh two taps and then gun holster by his chest area another tap, "These two, and because you tend to just waltz out there for every confrontation with your bare arms out. For a mafia boss you sure like to leave every skin vulnerable, hmm? Not even a proper dress or suit even," you huff, pressing down hard at a particular deep cut by his forearm which makes Luca yelp.

"I didn't expect there to be that many! We had agreed that it would be a private meeting after all!" he whines, trying to appease you by giving you his usual innocent look, to which you merely push the sunglasses resting on top of his head back over his eyes to ignore direct eye contact, "Besides, you said you liked seeing my muscles!"

"It wasn't an open invitation for you to prance around every meeting and affair within the mafia showing them off though?" you retorted, tying the bandages you wrapped around him properly before you sit back, glaring at him to which he only shrinks away.

Mafia boss or not, one should always be scared whenever they have angered their lover.

"I'll make it up to you! You want some new clothes? Maybe we can visit that one restaurant you have always wanted to go to! What about I take a week break and we can go on a trip, or-"

"How about we go and get you a suit?" you suggest, which makes Luca stop in his tracks and cock his head to the side, "But that's not a gift for you though?"

"The reason why so many other organizations think you're such an easy target is because you make yourself look so easy to target. No intimidation per say, since you're not exactly decked out in tattoos either which has somehow become a normalcy here," you snort at the last sentence. Knowing he can't appease you, Luca merely grins before wrapping his arms around your waist and shuffling you away from your seat at the table to his lap, "Then why don't we go immediately tomorrow? And then we can take a walk around the city for a date?" he pleads, and you merely chuckle, brushing aside his hair, "Sure."

Luca has never been so grateful for whatever 6th sense activated that day that implored him to grab you along with him to go suit shopping although you had only mentioned it in passing.

How could he know that a wormhole would open right in front of the two of you along with the detective that had a vice grip on him at that time?

Either way, he was sure he would've been a lot more lost if you weren't there for him. And as he blinks his eyes open to greet another morning, he's met with the sight of you peacefully sleeping beside him.

And he smiles, sure life is a lot more relaxed and mundane now (for the most part) but at least you're there with him.

"Didn't you say you were going to go with a more inconspicuous look?" Mysta turned his head when he heard you voice from the door, cocking an eyebrow as he looked at himself once again, "Isn't this pretty inconspicuous?" he asked back.

You blinked without saying a word, waiting for him to crack a joke like he usually did, but then you realized he was dead serious and let out a snort, "Hon, I don't know where you got that hat custom made, but surely prancing around the city with fox ears wouldn't be considered blending in with the crowd?" you ask, redirecting your gaze towards to another hat with said fox ears, only much smaller in size and a more nuanced colour, "Especially if it's bright orange?"

Mysta huffed, turning around to properly face you with a waving finger, "You don't understand, this is fashion!" he argues, and you merely sigh with a shake of your head, "Fashion that will take a few months for people to wear gradually, not immediately decked out in it," you say, but you do look him up and down before whistling lowly, "It does suit you though," you praise, "But it's also godawful if your plan was to try to catch that aforementioned thief you've been tailing for months now."

"I mean, if I do stand out and he sees me then he will flee, that will do something for this case," he retorts back, to which you shrug, "Valid point, do be careful though," you finish, grabbing the pure white jacket that still smells fresh and casting it over his shoulders, "Try not to run so fast that your jacket falls off then, hmm?" you remind him, leaning in to give him a kiss on the neck, the detective shrinking away from the ticklish sensation.

"Of course, be prepared for this because tonight is the night I catch him!"

Mysta Rias doesn't remember a lot after that evening, he did remember catching the thief - but said thief also vehemently denied that he was a thief and tried to pin the blame on someone else. But as they were mid-argument, he felt a powerful force drag him somewhere - somewhere away from where he was, and away from everyone he loved.

It was dark after that, Mysta remembers almost close to nothing after his world blackened. He can feel his legs walking, but no matter where he turned and walked, he saw no end to the endless darkness.

He just knows he's alone - and away from the people he loved with his entire being.

He doesn't know how long he kept walking, but eventually he saw something bright, something beckoning him to come closer, but just as he reached it - everything blinded him.

"Hey sleepyhead, why don't you wake up already?" he wakes up with a start, the person before him yelping at the abrupt action, "Jesus christ, Mysta. Don't scare me like that!"

His sullen eyes brightened, immediately recognizing your voice and he stammers out, "H-How? W-Why, do you know who I am?!"

"Yes, a drunk person at the bar I work at who gave me your name when you came and immediately asked for a whiskey before passing out?"

And every hope he had just becomes crushed at your dismissal, planting his face back on the bar table.

"... I'm joking, it's me, I'm sorry for scaring you," Mysta huffs, merely turning his face to the side, "I already knew, but that was a terrible joke."

"Sorry, sorry."

"Hey, can I ask for a favor?" Vox hums, a silent affirmation to your question without speaking much, but he does glance over to your form by the bedroom door with raised eyebrows.

"... Can you turn into your true form for me?" you mutter out after a silent pause, Voxs' eyes widening in surprise and a surprised silence falls over the room. Ever since the fated day you had indeed revealed to be one of the clan members from all those years ago who died under the fire along with his other clan members, Vox had assumed that the two of you would eventually talk about that time.

He didn't however expect for you to ask him to don his true skin that he used to show back in those days. Vox had long abandoned trying to look like the intimidating demon he was once he failed to protect all of you, almost ashamed of seeing his true form that would always remind him of his failure.

If he was distraught by the request, he certainly didn't show it. Merely putting away his phone before gesturing you over, and once you were right between his legs he gently took a hold of your wrists to place them on his shoulders before his hands settled on your waist, "Not that I particulary mind, but why the sudden request to see?" he asks.

You're silent for a moment, merely admiring his features that look more humane than before, "... For old times sakes I guess. You did run away from me every time we met after all," you point out, the demon looking away from your knowing gaze in guilt, "I already apologized for that numerous times, dear," he sighs, at this point you've made yourself comfortable on his lap, and Vox rests one hand on your thigh as he leans his head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"... It's also fine if you're not-"

"Close your eyes for me then, please?" Vox whispers in the end, which makes your breath hitch. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes with the small whisper of, "Thank you, my lord."

You're aware it has merely gone a few seconds after you've closed them, but it feels like hours. Your body was tense from anticipation that you visibly jerk away once Vox puts a hand on your cheek, a silent confirmation that you can open your eyes again.

"Hey- stop tugging at my horns, they're going to fall off," you let out a laugh, continuing to rub the horns and drag his head closer to you to get a proper look at the horns, totally ignoring the warning in his tone, "I can't help it my lord, they're just so beautiful I have to touch," you explain.

"No one else would dare try to touch these, you know?" Vox comments, but you only hum in response, letting your hands fall back down onto his shoulders, "But I'm a special case, aren't I?" you joke.

Vox didn't give you an answer.

"Haha, they're still as beautiful as back then," was your only comment, but your gaze wasn't directed at the horns Vox remembers you adored so much, neither were your hands on his horns.

Your hands were rather cupping his cheeks, thumb brushing over his skin while your gaze was softly staring back at his own widened ones, "At least someone still loves my true form," he chuckles, and you merely snort before resting your face on the crook of his neck.

"My lord, I can assure you. The thousands of followers you've gathered once again will surely love your true form as well," you start, chuckling when Voxs' embrace tightened around you, "But I'll make sure to savor the moment I have with your true form until the day you're ready to show them."

[aceofwhump]

Dear Ace,

I need some advice. I’ve been a whump lover for as long as I can remember and I’ve been lurking around this community for some time now but I’m still having some trouble with feeling the need to hide my love of whump. I like to write but hardly ever do because all my ideas center heavily around physical whump scenarios. I have the hardest time putting pen to paper because once I do, it’s out there….and what if someone accidentally reads it and realizes how dark my mind is?!?

Intellectually I know that’s ridiculous. I live alone and the chances of someone accidentally stumbling over my writing are practically zero and even if they somehow do, it’s a creative outlet right?

But I still can’t seem to manage actually writing any of it down.

Any words of wisdom about how to get over this hold up and be able to write the stories in my head? Thanks in advanced.

Signed,

Anxious Writer.

Hi nonny <3 Sorry for my slow response.

What you feel is incredibly common amongst the whump community. Incredibly common. You are not alone in these feelings. And just like you're not alone in feeling weird or uncomfortable about your love of whump you're also not alone in loving whump. There's sooooo many of us here with you and you are welcome in this community. Your work would be welcomed in this space. It really helped me finding out that there are sooo many people out there who love the same kind of stuff I do. So know you're not alone.

It took me a while to become comfortable with sharing my writing and my rambles and general love of whump as well. One thing that helped me is knowing I sharing it in a loving space of fellow whump lovers. So I made sure to tag it so that other whump lovers found it and that non whump lovers who have the tag blocked won't see it. Tagging is a really great way to get your work into the right fandom spaces (both with AO3 and tumblr).

I also share the fear that someone I know will find my writing. My mom especially can NEVER find it because she will not understand it at all. So when I do write I make sure I'm doing in the safety and seclusion of my bedroom where no one can see my computer screen. I don't write when I'm in the same room as my family. Not unless I'm 100% sure they can't see my screen. So another piece of advice I can offer is to create a secluded space for yourself where you can write without worry that someone will see it. I don't know if that's the best advice but it's something that makes me feel more comfortable when I write whump. My sister knows I write whump fanfics just like I know she writes smut but we've made an agreement to never go seeking each others profiles or reading each others fics. Just for our own comfort levels. We don't judge each other but knowing the other wont see what our minds come up with makes us feel better.

And I know it's hard to get over the hump of thinking what you want to write is dark and bad but I promise it is not bad to want to write whump. Tons and tons of people write whump. And not just the hundreds aof fanfic writers either! Look at the stuff written by Stephen King or Mike Flanagan. They're praised for their whump writing.

Another piece of advice I can offer that helped me start to share my work is to create a blog/space made specifically for your whump. As soon as I made this blog I immediately felt more at ease sharing my love of whump because I knew I could keep it separate from my real life and keep it as anonymous as I'd like. If you'd like you could create a whump sideblog and post your work there. Try with something small like a drabble in answer to a prompt post. I did that. I wrote a short little thing that fit a prompt post I liked and i got such a nice response from the community it made me feel more confident with sharing more of my writing. Is there a prompt you've seen that gave some inspiration? Go ahead and try sharing your response! See how it feels!

I hope something here helps you nonny. I know it can be hard but we'd love to read your work! Everyone has something unique to offer and teh more whump the better! This community is really nice and we'd love to have you <3

[make-me-imagine]

One Piece (Live Action) Requests: OPEN

I keep feeling the desire to write, but not much is sparking my creativity. So I thought I would open requests for OPLA and see how it goes.

Notes: I am writing specifically for the characters in the live action, and though ages are not mentioned in what I write usually, I write them as with the intention of them being Aged Up to over 20 years old (closer to actors actual ages vs the character ages in the anime/series).

Who I Will Write For (in preference order):

Zoro

Mihawk

Sanji

Shanks

Buggy

Luffy

Usopp

Nami

What You Can Request *I'm more in the mood for shorter easy-to-write stuff, so more plot detailed requests might not get written

Drabbles/Oneshots

Headcanons

Basic Rules

No NSFW/Smut

No pregnancy/child fics

2-3 prompts max please

Gn!Reader Inserts (no character x character ships)

Other more detailed rules/preferences (here)

Prompts: *these are just suggested, you do not need to use them

Angsty:

“Just please open your eyes.”

“Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.”

“You almost died and you’re making jokes?”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake.”

“You would risk letting all those people die for one person? Why?” “Because it’s not just one person…it’s you.”

“Please tell me that’s not your blood.”

“You shouldn’t be with them, you should be with me.”

“I’m so cold. Why is it so cold?”

Fluffy/Cute/Romantic:

“I just cant see myself ever living without you.”

“If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

"All I’ve ever wanted was a place to belong. Somewhere I could call home. And you gave me that. Because you are my home.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I wasn’t sure what love really felt like until I met you.”

“Maybe if you stopped staring at them and actually talked to them, you might have a chance.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter how hard I try, you’re always on my mind”

“How long have you had this planned?” “Since the moment I fell in love with you.”

“You came all the way here for me?”

“Why are you staring at me?” “Because I think you’re beautiful.”

“I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you.”

Crack/Misc:

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before.”

“At least it couldn’t get any worse.” “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

“In case you haven’t heard, there is a bounty on your head.” “Is that why you’re here? To kill me and take the bounty?” “No. I’m here to protect you.”

“What happened to your hand?” “I hit my hand on something.” “On what?” “Your ex’s face.”

“What could go wrong?” *something immedietely goes wrong*

“Are you here to kill me?” “No, I’m here to save you.”

“I thought I was the one saving you?” “Then do a better job next time.”

“Why do you have that look on your face?” “I’m deciding whether or not I’m going to kill you.” Alternate response: “I’m deciding whether or not I want to kiss you, or kill you.”

“You’re not scared of me?” “Should I be?”

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Did you just…save me?” “You’re surprised?” “Well seeing as you are usually the one trying to kill me, yeah, kind of.”

Scenario Prompts:

Huddled together to keep warm.

Fall asleep in same bed, on opposite sides, wake up in each others arms.

Hands brush as you stand next to each other, you think it’s on accident until their hands gentle wrap around yours.

Shielding the other with their body to save/protect them.

Caught staring too many times for it to be a coincidence.

Size difference hug; they engulf you.

You refuse to leave so they pick you up and throw you over their shoulder.

Bandaging the other and then kissing the injury gently.

A and B meet randomly, B finds out A is on an important mission or quest and decides to go with them to protect them/watch over them.

Cloudgazing or Stargazing together, as you lie next to each other, their hand slips into yours.

A and B realizing they were holding hands the entire time the moment they had to let go. (after getting scared, nervous, frightened, etc.)

Accidental confession during heat of the moment/fight.

Person A has a hidden power, Person B finds out.

Person A falls asleep, instead of waking them, Person B carries them to bed.

Person A is in love with Person B. B is also in love with A. But somehow, they are both convinced that the other is in love with Person C, who is completely oblivious to all of it.

Person A is hiding an injury, no one finds out until they collapse.

Turning around, and suddenly being met with a kiss.

A is alone and hurt badly, they can talk to B through an earpiece/phone. Eventually A stops talking and B thinks they lost them. But they find them alive.

Headcanon Prompts:

Crush: How would they act with a crush, do they pine?

Relationship: General Relationship Headcanons

Intimacy: How they show intimacy; physical and not.

Confession: When and how they admit their feelings for you

The moment(s) they realize they have feelings for you (pre-relationship)

The moment(s) they realize they are in love with you (established relationship)

Cuddling: Do they cuddle, how do they, when do they, etc

Kissing: Do they like kissing, how do they kiss, when, etc.

Love Languages: What is their receiving and giving love language (and how do they show it)

Jealousy: How they act when they are jealous, what would make them jealous, etc. (before and/or during the relationship)

Protective: Are they protective? How they show it. Etc.

Taking care of them when they are hurt.

Them taking care of you when you are hurt.

Friends > Lovers

Love: Ways they say or show they love you.

---

P.S: Bloodhounds Requests are still open as well.

xx

[sailoryooons]

This might be a weird request, but I was wondering if you could do a dom/sub relationship between yoongi and the reader where yoongi just has the reader do chores but with bondage restraints or a leash or some other bdsm twist? No smut is necessary, but actually fluffy? It’s almost stupidly sweet 🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

❀ Summary: Sunday is chores day in your house. It’s been that way since before your marriage to Yoongi. Except this Sunday, he surprises you with a little twist in your routine.

❀ Word Count: 1,308

❀ Genre: Dom/sub dynamics, domestic, pet play

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Yoongi is a super soft dom in this, pet play including use of names like kitty and kitten, Yoongi referred to as daddy, reader is collard and there is the brief use of a leash, details of being in subspace, domestic Yoongi in glasses is a warning in itself, use of daddy, bdsm dynamics outside of the bedroom, implied / sexual references, reader earns chocolate as a reward

❀ Published: August 14, 2022

❀ A/N: hank you so much for this Agust drabble request - this was not a weird request at all. Please never feel like something you want to see is weird - it is not! To be honest with you, this was a great writing exercise for me. I’ve never written BDSM dynamics explicitly and this was somewhat of a challenge to write soft dom Yoongi while remaining a little fluffy and domestic without including sexual content. Writing things that are new to me is always super fun and I enjoyed the challenge, though! I hope you enjoy. SPECIAL THANKS TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE @here2bbtstrash FOR MAKING THIS SHIT POSSIBLE. No really. They basically came up with the idea because I was struggling and read to make sure it wasn't cringe. I love you, M.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust Request Fill |

The dishwasher hums as you finish wiping your hands on a small towel. Leaning against the counter, you take a deep breath to try and clear some of your thoughts. It works a little, but the lull of the dishwasher is soft and comforting, in a way. The rhythm is steady, the only sound in the apartment as you try to shake the fog.

But it’s a pleasant fog. The kind that makes you a little dreamy. You have to blink several times to make the sink come back into focus as you fold the dish rag and put it on the counter, which has already been cleaned.

Yoongi is smart enough to have you do the difficult tasks first.

The taste of chocolate is on your tongue as you slowly turn around. You feel a little off balance, like your limbs are melting together like the piece of dark chocolate that Yoongi rewarded you with earlier.

Leaning your butt against the counter, you stare at Yoongi. He’s sitting on the couch watching you. He’s not reading, he’s not listening to music. He’s leaned back against the armrest against a pillow, arms tucked behind his bed as those stormy eyes peer at you behind his glasses.

Your stomach flips and you sink a little bit further into the soft fuzz of feeling. Your blood feels like warmed sugar, slow and sticky as you stare at your husband.

He looks good today – he looks good every day – but today in particular he makes your head spin. He’s dressed in a black, oversized sweater over black sweatpants. His long hair is messy today, untamed by sleep and running his hands through it. He still has his morning glow, cheeks a little puffy, and lips pouted as he focuses on you and only you.

“Come here, kitty.” His voice is deep, still scratchy with sleep. Your head spins as you nod, the bell on your collar tinkly delicately.

Lacing your hands behind your back, you’re careful as you approach him. The fuzziness of subspace has been chasing you all morning. It started the moment Yoongi nuzzled you awake, pressing cotton-soft kisses to your brow while slipping a collar around your throat.

The velvet collar is soft around your throat. Not snug enough to restrict your breathing, but it does provide pressure every time you breathe and move. There’s a small, silver bell just below a ‘Y’ stitched in silver thread.

Your steps are careful. Grey light pours through the windows behind Yoongi. The apartment is well kept, but there were a few chores to be done today. You’ve already vacuumed, done the last of the laundry, wiped down the counters, and put away all of the miscellaneous items around the house.

Yoongi’s presence is like the storm outside: dark and heavy, but comforting in the way that all storms are. He smiles lazily at you, eyes dragging up and down your figure. You’re in leggings and a thin t-shirt, leaving little to the imagination.

And your little collar with a bell, tinkling as you approach.

When you reach the end of the couch where his feet are, you sink to your knees. Your balance is a little off, making you teeter to the side and fall the rest of the way to your knees.

He shoots forward immediately, lazy posture forgotten. His fingers grip your chin firmly and you look up at him with a tranquil smile. Your knees don’t even hurt from the sudden dip to the floor. All you feel is… nice. Staring at Yoongi, wide-eyed and mouth parted slightly as he turns your face to look up at him.

“You okay, kitten?” You nod, licking your lips a little. You want more chocolate. It’s sitting on the coffee table next to him, forgotten by Yoongi but you know it’s there. “Are you sure? Need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Yoongi’s eyes are searching. His thumb is against your chin. Giddy, your tongue darts out to lick his thumb. His eyes are razor-sharp, following the movement.

“Tst,” he hisses at you, making you suck your tongue back into your mouth with a pout. He softens a bit, sighing and giving you the look. “Kitty has been good all day. Do you want daddy to punish you now that you’ve finished your chores?”

“No, daddy.”

His lips twitch in a smile. “C’mere.”

Yoongi drops his hands from your face and reaches down, sliding his hands underneath your armpits and hauling you from your knees. You giggle, giddy and drunk on the reward that hasn’t even started. He smiles, your happiness infectious, as he leans back against the pillows, pulling you against his chest.

You curl your legs in his lap, laying toward the TV with your head tucked under his. Your hands wrap themselves in the fabric of his sweater, clutching in excitement as one of his hands holds you by the hip while he reaches for the tinfoil of chocolate.

Automatically your mouth opens, tongue darting out as Yoongi returns with a square of chocolate. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you and nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. His laughs are so warm and deep, the perfect sound for you to fall asleep to.

Instead, Yoongi places the chocolate on your tongue. You fold the sweetness back into your mouth, humming enthusiastically as you close your eyes, chewing contentedly on the sweet. His heartbeat strums beautifully against his chest as you listen, your ear pressed against him.

Yoongi’s hand drifts to your head, rubbing your scalp gently the way he would a cat. You almost purr for him, your hum of happiness rolling through you without realizing it. He whispers something sweet against your hairline, but you can’t hear it, lost in the rich taste of chocolate and the feeling of his hand brushing over your head.

Sundays are usually made for both of you to team up to clean the apartment. But you think you like this. Yoongi traditionally keeps his play strictly sexual, but every once in a while he surprises you like he did this morning.

You’re somewhere between sleep and awake. It’s the little, happy space between worlds, where you can’t form thoughts or words, but you can feel everything. Yoongi is pressing soft kisses on your forehead now, and you’re vaguely aware that he’s talking to you.

You have no idea what he’s saying, but the timbre of his voice is soothing. You nuzzle into him further, knees tucking even more. You could live forever right here, laying on your husband’s lap while he whispers to you as your mind drifts to some other place of existence.

After a period of time – you’re unsure how long – you feel Yoongi shift. You blink your eyes up at him and he smirks. You let him remove you from where you’ve suctioned yourself to him. He is careful when he stands you next to the couch. You blink up at him owlishly, waiting as he grabs your collar gently and loops a leash through the velvet hoop at the back.

Gently, he leads you to the bathroom. He instructs you to stand near the shower. Your brows pull together, confused until he returns with some pillows, plopping them on the ground by the large, glass shower.

“Sit, kitty.” You’re careful as you nestle onto the pillows, Yoongi’s hands guiding you down. You crane your neck to look up at him as he straightens, arm reaching over his head to pull the back of his shirt up and off. “Daddy needs to shower. Be a good kitty and wait.”

Yoongi, shirtless and marvelous bends down and presses a kiss to your nose. “You’ll get to cum after, okay?” You nod. He grins. “I love you.”

“Love you too, daddy."

[ac1dl4v3]

numinous nevertheless. who . . dom!sanji x male!bartender length . . 1.3k words! warnings . . mature/smut, a drabble, written in third person, male bartender is of color and given some name, oral, degradation, rough handling, power bottom oc, kinda public indecency, and some french....

extra disclaimers!! the ending prolly gon piss you off cus i got tired gn, so prepare yourself for the fall.. (i'm so sorry💀) btw, the inspo for this is a real line oda made sanji say. “you’re welcome to choke on my foot.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★

After a petty scuffle with a certain bar tender after hours, Sanji gets so irritated that, while holding the man close by his tie, he says, “If you still got a problem with me you’re welcome to choke on my dick, bastard.” You wouldn't expect the bartender to grin, would you? Sanji didn't either, to be honest, but he thinks to himself, 'If that's what this weirdo is into I guess I don't have any reason to stop him.'

The man chuckles with the scent of peppermint and matcha tea tickling Sanji’s chin. Since he's being tugged forward so harshly, it's hard not to notice his aroma. "Is that a request or a challenge, frenchman?" A teasing, suggestive, flirty, and dare one say hilariously shaky tone matches his query too well; Sanji can't help but to throw caution to the wind. If someone has to teach this guy how to respect a man such as himself, he fits just the description. Maybe the barman can consider the lesson as payment for the damages done to his establishment not too long ago (via a fight which sanji had to break up to protect the sacred women in the vicinity).

In any case, Sanji isn't necessarily one for patience. Especially since his crew (just zoro) must be looking everywhere for him at this point, now that the sun has begun to set...

Plus, the exchange of ongoing eye contact was beginning to gross him out. For shits sake the man looked like a hopeless, love-sick loser with the way his smile only widened at the thought of sucking sanji off in his empty bar against a setting sky. baby is truly living the dream.

"You really don't have any shame, do you?" Such a disappointed, disgusted tone would trigger the average person to become defensive, claiming how he can't be the one to criticize with the way he bleeds out at the simple thought of a woman. However, sanji doesn't even care for a response, truthfully, it was rhetorical because the answer is obvious. Which is why he chooses the proactive route and steps over any incoming retorts to his question. "Get on your knees."

Wrapping one long, black silk pant-covered leg carefully around his puppy's waist, Sanji delivers two hot-tempered kicks to the back of his knees. Thus, making the bartender buckle in place and kneel, as demanded. "Let’s see how you manage first. Then, you can tell me if you think this is a 'request or a challenge', glass cleaner."

The lowered man's hands then ran across Sanji’s waist, willingly submitting to the chef's words as he slid his belt out of the pant loops with haste. All the while his eyes never left Sanji’s, which were peering down at him somewhat annoyed, for some reason, as he lit a new blunt sitting at the edge of his lips. By the first inhale of lavender and mint, Sanji’s being pulled out of his briefs and handled with two tight fists as if it's quintessential for the chef to be in this scenario. The problematic bar tender, whom doesn't even have a name to anyone's knowledge, closes a fist around the head of Sanji’s dick, tightening it slowly to see how much pressure would get the reaction he's so desperate to see. "Don’t be stubborn, be a little noisy or I might get bored.. or do i have to drag it out of you?"

A stupid question, but who could stop the poor guy for trying. If it's noise he wants he shouldn't expect moans or pleas or praise from Sanji. With the way his ring adorned fingers are being tangled in the springy brown curls below, anyone with sense can enable some foresight as to why he's beginning to grip the fist full of hair so tight. With a quick pull and shove, Sanji’s dick is jabbing at the warm corners of the brunette's slippery throat.

"Sacré bleu. Just shut up, already." Sanji’s fist doesn't ease up, even while his legs are being gripped and shallow nose exhales fail to release properly against his abdomen. He insists it's not yet time for the barman to flap his talkative lips. "And watch the teeth, damn it. I’m not running a meat eating contest."

Sounds of sloppy lapping and gags bounce from the still silence of the bar as Sanji leans back against a nearby tabletop, humming in satisfaction at the change of pace. In spite of his climbing arousal and the alarming amount of saliva spinning around his dick, he finds enough consideration for Mr.talks-alot's position and slowly pulls him off. Feeling his dick spring in release against the cool air, Sanji watches with disinterest as the man coughs "dramatically" and wipes his face displaying some level of amazement and shame.

"Goddamn.." his voice is stable and offended, yet his expression admits he's still curious about the limits of Sanji’s patience and frustration. I mean, he did care enough to give the man a break. 'He must be warming up to me.'

On the contrary; honestly, he's beginning to grow bored. "Oh, good, you're breathing." Sanji says with sarcastic enthusiasm. While inhaling another cloud of his half depleted blunt, he raises a swirled brow and gestures to his erection, awaiting its greeting without having to use his hands once again.

This time around, the bartender descends with a quick introduction, once again testing his weight on a thin sheet of ice. "By the way," he mumbled, knowingly irking the under-stimulated male above him. "You can call me asani." A name which Sanji isn't very likely to remember, but poor Asani doesn't know much about the cook other than his temperament and his size. He continues to press his folded, wet lips around Sanji’s rosy tip, rolling his head in circular seats between teasing laps and kisses, but he's only reaching half of the cook, and that'll never be enough. As he notices Sanji’s punitive hand reaching for his head for a second time, Asani sinks his cheeks in tighter and suffocates the soft, swollen skin. Light pink petunia hues gloss beneath clear bubbles of slobber with each inch he progresses over, swallowing the size of the judgmental man with hope filling his chest as much as his cheeks.

Before long, Sanji’s leaning his head back, eyebrows furrowed, eyelids closed, and lips sealed tightly. An expression of concentration which could easily be confused with frustration, or perhaps both, because even when Asani tried his best, Sanji knew he could do better. The average speed wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to be overwhelmed. He hoped to be given a challenge, have his knees wobble beneath him in front of a man whom he wouldn't kiss the hand of. He wanted to be forced to let go of asani's hair, have his hand slammed on the table behind him-- Sanji craved dominance.

Better said, perhaps, he craved Zoro.

With detectable irritation, Sanji sighs and puts away the remaining clip of his once enjoyable joint, tucking it away in his loose shirt pocket. "It’s fine." At this, Asani-- like a bemused puppy-- slowed his movements and looked up at Sanji. Hesitantly, he loosened his tongue's fixation on the throbbing vein stretching across the base of Sanji’s dick. "I’m wasting my time here." Sanji’s tone was instantly careless and detached as he began lighting his next blunt-- rosemary this time.

However, Asani wasn't in agreement with Sanji’s blatantly inconsiderate claim. He remained against the tiled floor with his fingers clutching the fabric pooling at Sanji’s ankles. Rather than assist him in fixing his appearance, he moved a palm to the back of Sanji’s hair printed thigh, letting his grip there make a point in explaining that he didn't feel the same. "If anything's being wasted it's your breath. Do you ever say anything interesting or are you just handsome for the attention?"

Sanji chuckles, unamused and peevish as he holds the rolled paper between his outstretched fingers, reaching down to pull up his briefs himself. Since Asani was proving to be a simple, bungling boy yet again. "I do both, glass cleaner," he claimed in a poorly attempted tone of calmness. "And I don't waste anything, but you might be worth tossing with how stupid you act."

★ ac1dl4v3 productions. all rights reserved, do not plagiarize.

[spaceyflowerswriting]

I was contemplating if I should send in a request so if you are too busy or school has started then please ignore this but ....if not then...can I ask for a fic or one-shot or whatever (I don't really know the difference) of Taehun and Seongjoon's s/o reassuring them about their relationship with them(the boys). Maybe something happened or the boys have been over thinking about why their s/o is with them when they could be with other better people. Things like that....

JunTae anon

reassurance (taehun/seongjun x reader)

details: fluff with some angst oneshots, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, reader has been dating character for a while

summary: you give him some reassurance after he expresses worry.

a/n: happy to see u again juntae anon, thanks for another request :] and dw as long as i have requests open, i'll do my best with any i get despite stuff like school 💪💖

also one shots are what i write! they're basically long scenarios (short ones are drabbles) while fics are chapter long and have a plot, rather than a simple scenario ^_^

×

TAEHUN

He was famous for being overly jealous and not at the same time--that was Taehun's thing. The catch was he was only jealous about petty things.

Exhibit A: glaring at anyone who expressed interest in you, even if it was in the most completely platonic way.

Honestly though, even that was kind of an act. A neverending joke, if you could call it that. It was just funny embarrassing you when he acted overbearing by blurting out he was your boyfriend or being overly touchy with you to express that he was your boyfriend.

Point was, he was too confident in himself and you to have any insecurities that would fester into feeling unsure about the relationship between the both of you.

"So why the HELL have I been feeling weird lately?" His million dollar question of the week. For reasons unknown (or unacknowledged...) by himself, he had been bothered by words he overheard you telling a friend of yours the other day.

"I wish my boyfriend was as nice as them."

They were words he easily laughed at and brushed aside at the time, yet they've been lingering in his mind. It wasn't as if it was the first time he heard you say something like that, which made it even more confusing for him. Now that he thought about it though, maybe it was the fact that he overheard you say it.

It was different when you were saying it in front of him because it easily came off as a joke, but behind his back...? He had to admit your tone was lighthearted, but still. Maybe you meant it more knowing he wasn't around? Does that even make sense...?

He grumbled and ruffled his hair up before leaning back on the couch. Before he could shut his eyes, the sound of your voice made him turn his head.

"What're you upset about today, huh?"

"Mind your business," he huffed, moving to wrap an arm around your shoulders as you joined him on the couch. "Where have you been, anyway?"

"I was helping your dad outside with some stuff?"

"Oh."

The abrupt end to the conversation resulted in an awkward silence, but it didn't take long to melt into a comfortable one as you both went on to do your own things. You busied yourself with your phone and Taehun just tried to enjoy your presence. Occasionally he glanced down at your screen and asked what you were doing, or you would start small talk.

It was nice, but not enough to dismiss Taehun's thoughts. He figured maybe he was overthinking and spending time with you would reassure him of your feelings for him, yet the words, "I wish my boyfriend was as nice as them," continued to circle in his mind.

"This is stupid."

"Hm?" You looked up at him, eyes full of innocence.

Taehun stared into them for a moment, as if there was an answer for his question in your eyes, and then sighed after finding nothing. He just pulled you in a little closer and laid his head on top of yours.

Confused, some fumbled words came out of your mouth before you managed to say, "If something's bothering you, you can tell me, you know."

"Yeah, but how do I say it without getting fucking embarrassed?" Red was already beginning to color in Taehun's cheeks. He only forced himself to reply after you nudged him with an elbow.

"I'm nice to you, right?" Yikes. That came out all wrong. What the hell kind of question was that?

"Uh..." Understandably, you became even more confused. "Yeah?"

Well, since Taehun already put a start on this thing, he decided he'd keep moving forward--he'd just have to hope he didn't crash and burn.

After a quick few seconds of thinking, he replied, "Okay, but if I..." He grit his teeth, hating the cringe he was feeling towards himself crawl up his spine. "Ever make you mad. Or sad. You have to tell me."

You went quiet and now dread began to fill Taehun up. He was being as vague as possible, there was no way you were connecting the dots.

"No way... is THE Taehun Seong worried about being too mean?"

Great, you didn't connect the dots, but also damn you for still teasing him.

He pulled away to frown at you. "Shut up, I'm being serious."

You laughed and moved to give his cheek a peck. "Relax, I know. And don't worry, if you ever upset me--" On the same place you kissed his cheek, you gave it a pinch and he squinted an eye. "--I'll let you know. Otherwise, you don't have to feel bad. I know most of what you say isn't meant to be taken personally." The soft smile on your face turned into a grin. "Besides, if I couldn't stand it, why would I date your rude-ass?"

Those few words were all Taehun needed to get his weighted worries off his shoulders and suddenly he felt stupid worrying about something so small. Well, he thought it was stupid in the first place, but you were really solidifying the feeling.

He couldn't help but laugh at himself. Fortunately, it made sense to in the conversation as well so you hummed along, and he was content to roll with it.

But first he gave you a kiss and then proceeded to ignore any of your questions for the reasoning behind it.

~

SEONGJUN

Jealousy was a rare feeling for someone like Seongjun. After all, what could a man as rich, powerful, and smart as him have to be jealous of? Even seeing you spend time with other people never made him blink an eye. Who was he to stop you from hanging out with the people you wanted to, anyway?

Yes, indeed, he was a good man and a good lover.

To you, at least.

Ironically, that was the same thing that haunted him. Outside of you, he wasn't sure anyone else who knew him personally would call him... nice. Because he wasn't.

He had already wrestled with what little good his heart had left, so that wasn't what bothered him. He mostly made peace with who he was now and who he wanted to be, it was just when it came to you that he felt a little unsteady.

Changing such a major part of himself for someone wasn't something he feel like he'd do, no matter how much he loved the person. Thus, the heavy choice fell to you.

It was your decision, whether or not to stay with someone with hands as stained as his. He wouldn't blame you if you left, the same way he questioned why you stayed. He just knew he was gently holding your hand, and you were holding his in response.

Hand in loving hand. For now. Mostly. Maybe?

Every once in a while, doubt clouded his vision and he wasn't sure he could feel your hand. Some days he loosened his grip, thinking, "Today's the day they come to their senses and leave me." Other days he comfortably held on, eased by the warmth from your hand.

But sometimes even that wasn't enough, and now was one of those times.

He hated how his stomach churned as he watched you finish up one last conversation with a coworker on his way to pick you up from your workplace. He hated how he couldn't even be mad, because you had gotten so close to your coworker, even he got to know the person a little and they were genuinely really nice. Much, much nicer than him.

Walking home with you, holding your hand, he couldn't help but think you would be better off with your coworker. Safe and comfortable, with someone more normal. Hell, it didn't have to be your coworker, just someone like them.

"Is this jealousy...?" Seongjun shook his head. "No, it's more like... insecurity. A really pathetic and self pitying feeling of insecurity." He sighed, immediately regretting it when you turned to raise a brow at him.

"Something the matter?"

He plastered on a smile, but you saw through it too easily and frowned. "It's nothing--"

"Come on, you know you're not very good at hiding things from me."

Seongjun paused for a moment before chuckling and looking off to the side. He hummed, trying to see how long he could derail the conversation. It wasn't that long, unfortunately. Still, he hesitated before clearing his throat to make sure he could sound as lighthearted as possible before asking, "Promise you won't make fun of me?"

"Promise," you replied in a singsong voice.

He laughed a little, though it trailed off and became awkward. "Well... I think I might be jealous."

Not exactly the truth, but it was the best way he could communicate his feelings without being too honest. He wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of conversation yet, and it would definitely be better to have behind closed doors, not in a public space.

You gasped somewhat playfully. "Of my coworker?"

"Wow, right on the first guess~" Seongjun was still trying his best to keep the conversation light.

"Aw, you're so cute!" you cooed, making him feign a bit of anger.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of me."

You only hummed in amusement. "I know, but I couldn't help it." You gave him a grin and batted your eyes. "May I politely ask why you're jealous?"

Seongjun thinned his lips. "I just think... that your coworker is nice." You tilted your head at him, prompting him for more details. It took a few tense seconds before he eventually got himself to add, "Wouldn't you want to be with them instead of someone like me?"

The tense seconds came back except they were longer and more stressful because the silence was now coming from you. Seongjun glanced your way, caught by surprise to see you staring intently at him. Almost as if you were seeing right through his current act, and it nearly made him feel ashamed. He tried to stay strong anyway, and smiled at you.

You reflected the expression back, but it looked a little sad. After giving his hand a little squeeze, you said, "You know I'd never want to be with anyone else than you, Seongjun. I believe you'll always be someone I'll love."

He let out a breathy chuckle, unable to hide the bitterness in it. "And what if one day I stop being that person?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." A simple and straightforward answer, but full of love. "Don't worry about 'what ifs' and just focus on our happy present. If you don't stop worrying, you'll only give yourself gray hairs."

Seongjun nearly stopped in his tracks in surprise at your sincerity. The joke at the end made his smile grow into a more genuine one and he ended up just laughing. His heart was swelling and he didn't know what he could ever say or do to express how happy he was to have you in his life.

So, for now, he just leaned in to give you a kiss, not caring about what anyone around would think.

[buckets-and-trees]

Request Fest

This morning I woke up to a happy milestone here...

Even after rooting out (reporting and blocking) the deluge of pornbots that have come out of the woodwork the past couple of weeks, we've all of a sudden skyrocketed to 300 followers around here! I started this account and only started posting stories last July, and I didn't have any big expectations, I only wanted to start writing again for me and maybe have some fun sharing it.

And you have all made this considerably more fun by jumping on board, sharing, commenting... I literally adore and burst over the things you drop my way whether it be a keysmash, a gif, questions, commentary, declarations, anything and everything!

So to actually celebrate YOU incredible folk, I thought something really and truly for YOU would be in order...

Between now and Sunday, April 23, I'll take at least five of your requests and turn them into 300-3k word drabbles, head cannons, imagines, or fics! I'm off this weekend, so we may get more than five out of this, but I figured let's start with an attainable goal, and maybe I'll surprise and exceed expectations rather than fail to hit the goal hahaha...

HERE BE THE SPECS TO REQUEST:

You can be as vague or as specific as you want - I don't know how many requests this will bring in, and sometimes a very vague prompt or challenge will send me immediately into a lightning bulb moment, and sometimes a request-to-order might tickle my fancy, IDK

I AM MAKING NO PROMISES

THE MUSE WILL REACT TO WHAT THE MUSE WILL REACT TO

But here's a smorgasbord of things you can pick and parcel out to put in a request...

WHO: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov, Joaquin Torres, Namor the Submariner, Thor, Carol Danvers, Matt Murdock, maybe some Jennifer Walters or Kamala Kahn, Nick Fowler, Hogwarts Founders, Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black... you can request other characters but I may be less able/inclined to fulfill the request

WHAT: fluff, smut, dark, AUs, what ifs, missing scene scenarios, MCU between film things, a follow up to something I've already written

WHEN: medieval to now/near future

WHERE...I ALREADY KNOW I WON'T GO: I won't write college AU, DBF, stepcest, DDLG, watersports, underage

WHY: WHY NOT?

HOW: Drop an ask no later than Sunday with the request/challenge/idea/scenario/gif or pic inspo - again, I make no promises, but I am stoked to see what you send my way and I think this could genuinely be a blast

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!