#dabble in drabbles

[malkfagian]

WWWWELCOME EVERYONE TO THE SHITTY SIDE BLOG OF THE CENTURY!! main is @ex-coelis (likes and follows come from there) for normal fandom stuff but I wanted a place to dump all of my vtm posting into one place for archival reasons! I'm a soon to be new storyteller who always appreciates storytelling tips so send em my way :)

my tags!!

#incessant ticking - general

#gang don't look - game spoilers for my players

#red paint - my game and its world

#cast of clowns - my ocs (character specific tags to come)

#dabble in drabbles - writing

#take this - ref

#another day another drop - rp

#chatting :) - reblogvos with friends!

#whump collection - what, you don't have one?

#rb - misc rb

general vtm warnings apply to this blog, I'll tag the nastier stuff!!

[insanityiskey]

Snow leopard!Satoru is a menace to bunny!girlfriend on a good day. But during spring? Neither him or his bunny are leaving his apartment for days at a time.

Snow leopard!Satoru has bunny!girlfriend bent over every surface in the apartment as he fills her over and over and over, insuring she won’t get out of the mating season without a whole little growing in her pretty tummy.

[dellephone]

It’s all your fault. + carcar

Oscar looks up, cradling his coffee carefully between his hands. “It’s all your fault.” All accusing staring and pouted lips. Carlos’ eyes sweep across his face, noting the dark circles and skipping over the ruffled hair.

He raises an eyebrow, “My fault?”

Oscar nods resolutely. “Your fault.” His childish stubbornness would almost be cute if it weren’t directed so pointedly towards Carlos.

“What did I do?” His tone laced with innocence only serves to deepen Oscar’s scowl.

“You’re—“ he glances away. Carlos doesn’t miss the scrunch of disgust that crosses his face. “You. I couldn’t sleep last night.” And that’s. What?

“You couldn’t, sleep? Last night?” Carlos blinks. “What does that…” have to do with me? He pauses, “You were, thinking of me? Last night?”

Oscar’s back to gazing at his coffee. Turning the cup with his palms, back and forth and back and forth. Carlos is studying the cup with him, misses the pink rising on Oscar’s cheeks for it.

“Yes.” Oscar manages to snap the word out. “I was thinking of you. Last night.” And now there’s no way for Carlos to miss the spread of color, inching its way up to his ears.

“Oscar,” His gaze snaps up. He looks so pretty, and has been so honest Carlos can’t help but say, “You’re glowing.” The scowl makes a return, and Oscar’s grip on the cup tightens.

“I think of you too.” Carlos speaks simply, like the admission is easy to make. It wipes Oscar’s expression clean. “At night,” Carlos’ watches him closely as he adds, “and during the day.”

The cup steadies, balanced only between Oscar’s fingers. He looks up. “Oh.” He swallows, “yeah,” he glances toward the cup again before placing it on the table. “Yes, during the day for me too, sometimes.”

[ms-fade]

✷Let Go For Me✷

✷ Older!Lucerys velaryon x Fem!Reader dabble

☪︎ words: 446

☪︎ summery: I’m not going to lie, I was chatting with @madame-fear and I got the idea for smut and i couldn’t get our husband out of my mind.

☪︎ warnings: smut content, short story, fingering, doing it on a desks, him being a bit rough but loving, mention of clothes touching, he’s so passionate for us🫣

There was many things Luke loved about your body, most of them having to do with getting you alone and undressed. The feeling of your heated soft skin under his fingers tips, the way your stomach raised and called with each noise of pleasure— and the way your hips to rocked to get more from him unconsciously. Everything about you had him feeling just as high as you without having anything done to him, your pleasure was all he needed.

His fingers reached deep within your sobbing cunt with your juices trailing down your things and his fingers. You gripped onto his clothing for support while your lips whimpered just like your aching pussy. The desk underneath you moved with his movement and you tried to fight both sounds- your moans and the rattling sound. Green eyes followed all your expressions, every wrinkle in your brows, every eye roll, and when your mouth hung open to give him sweet songs.

“You’re leaking so much,” he purred down at you, his fingers still working in and out, “by the end there might be a puddle underneath us.” his lips curled into a heavy smirk at his own teasing. you shook your head embarrassed and gripped into him tighter. the dress barely hanging onto your body was pushed aside, he had consume ones made just for easy access when you needed it. the undergarments where on the floor and had a damp stop within them from his works, loving to make you so turned on before taking them off.

“don’t be ashamed, you know I love how much of a mess we both make.” his lips captured yours with a passionate kiss to distract you for a second while pushing in and moving harder. his fingers plumped you full and made your pussy gush at how fast he was going. The kiss you shared turned into him taking all of your moans in as you got louder.

“Cum— gonna cum.” you announced and pushed against his rhythm to make it harder. your walls tightened around him every second, he pulled away from you to watch you cum before his eyes.

“Let go for me, my sweet girl, relax that running mind.” your back arched with pleasure and soon you couldn’t stop yourself from twitching from your orgasim. the sticky juices coated his fingers and made your hole messy as he pumped a few more times, your pussy pulsating with shocking intensity.

“Such a mess, pussy dripping with cum,” he looked at you as his eyes grew mischievous and started to slide down to his knees in front of your naked cunt. “I’ll have to clean you up myself.”

[thegirlything]

Dream me a smile

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Gn!Reader

Summary: You were supposed to be researching with Chrollo. Instead, you drifted into a sleep-deprived fantasy where he’s a little too close—and a little too perfect.

Notes: I’m sleep deprived and tired, naturally I got an idea for a short imagine. So here we are.

“Are you done with that book?”

Chrollo’s deep, smooth voice cut through the silence.

You looked up from the page you had just read, blinking as your head tried to process his words.

You’d promised to help him research a specific artifact and hours had passed. Now letters danced in your vision and nothing made sense.

Did he say something about a book? Or… a look?

You sighed, eyes heavy, the urge to sleep pulling you in like a tide. Maybe… just one more page.

“What… what did you say again?”

Chrollo chuckled, the sound warm and dangerous. His eyes sparkled with mischief—a look you learned to fear.

“You’re staring, sweetheart. Stop giving me that look.”

He brushed his thumb along your lips, gaze fixed on your lips.

You blinked slowly, sleep trying to drag you under.

Then, just as quickly—he was across the room, sitting in his chair.

“Well? Are you finished with the book?”

You swore you were going insane.

Just a second ago, Chrollo had been right next to you, thumb brushing your lips and now he was seated across the room, calmly reading?

“Huh…? What were you talking about again?”

His words sounded slurred—or maybe it was your brain slurring them. Everything felt foggy, like wading through water in a dream. You were so tired. Your mind drifted, barely tethered to reality.

“Darling? Are you still listening?”

His voice reached you again, softer this time, like a lullaby you barely caught.

You cracked one eye open. Chrollo was leaning in now, smirking, his breath warm against your cheek.

Then—

Snap.

The sharp sound of a book closing made you jolt, nearly falling off your seat. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision.

Chrollo sat across from you again, a closed book resting on his lap. No trace of the smirk or the gentle touch. Just that unreadable expression he wore so well.

“You should go to bed. It’s late,” he said. His voice was firmer now—more real.

So unlike the version you had imagined.

He stood without waiting for your response and turned to leave, but at the doorway, he paused. Then, cast a glance over his shoulder.

And winked.

Your heart fluttered, or maybe it was the sleep deprivation messing with your brain.

You really needed sleep.

At this rate, you’d start imagining Chrollo proposing to you next.

…Which, honestly, didn’t sound too bad.

With a sigh you finally gave in to your sleep-craving mind… and fell asleep on the library floor. You clutched the book in your sleep like it was the most precious thing in the world.

[matrixriot]

ok i know everyone's always like "bakugou is so the weeknd coded" or "bakugou def listens to pierce the veil".

however.

i like to headcannon that katsuki bakugou is actually a freaking classical music nerd.

before you start throwing tomatoes at me, i always imagine this little scenario:

katsuki bakugou is in his room, tensely studying (prob using flash cards because nerd), when all of a sudden, denki bursts into his dorm room.

"hey bakugou!! we're all hanging out for lunch today!"

...

"bakugou? can you hear me?"

katsuki sits in focus, his large noise cancelling headphones doing their job by cancelling out denki's voice.

when all of a sudden, denki sneaks up on bakugou and snatches the headphones right off his head. denki puts the headphones on his own head and starts listening, only to say...

"wow bakubro, i didnt know you were into... ballerina music?"

katsuki stands up and slams his hands onto his desk. he grabs denki by the collar, grabbing the headphones, and puts them back on.

he yells at denki,

"THIS IS VIVALDI'S FOUR SEASONS CONCERTO IN G MINOR DUMBASS. GET OUT OF MY ROOM"

ok end scene this was a really stupid thought and i def couldve written this better but

[erin-orolin]

pliant — Draco/Ron (100 words)

for Drabble Dabble June

Malfoy’s defiant at first, like always, a contradiction of pushes and pulls as his back hits the mattress. 

“Fuck you,” he spits, even as he grips into Ron’s hair, yanking him impossibly closer. 

Ron’s smirk drags across the knife-edge of Malfoy’s collarbone. “It’s the other way round, remember.”

“Not again,” Malfoy groans through gritted teeth. “Not after this.”

Ron shuts him up with a tug on his belt. It doesn’t take long to have Malfoy shuddering, contrariness eked out of him bit by bit. This is how Ron likes him best, pliant and supple. Breathless. 

“Sure,” Ron says. “Never again.”

[lovebugism]

for your fall prompts! what about “why are your hands so cold?” with the love of my life, steve harrington?

autumn, my love! ty for requesting! i hope you like it!! — steve makes fun of your cold hands but only as an excuse to hold them (mutual pining, friends to lovers, 2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Family Video always smells like Robin’s morning coffee, crisp autumn air, and warm nostalgia this time of year. It’s quiet and homey and liminal — as orange as early autumn itself. 

The empty store is filled with the sound of your rushed scribbling as you jot down a load of cursive nothingness in your journal. Your hand smears the wet ink across the page. It stains the paper as much as the side of your wrist. 

Your other hand is curled into a fist to prop up your lolling head. Expelling your racing thoughts into the leather-back book is the only thing keeping you awake.

The stale air glows suddenly with a newfound life when a cozier, more familiar scent engulfs you — like pine, musk, and vanilla. You feel Steve’s visceral warmth surrounding you. Before you can blush about the unexpected proximity, he snatches your journal out from under you.

“Hey!” you shout before you mean to, perhaps the loudest he’s ever heard you.

“What’s this?” this beautiful boy muses, honey eyes sparkling. The dull store blooms with its radiance. You can’t believe he’s looking at you with it and with his rosy, lopsided grin.

“Give it back,” you demand, quieter now and smiling wider.

Steve meets your playfully arched brow with a sunny grin. He thumbs through your journal with golden hands from a leftover summer tan. His biceps are all but bursting from his vest and too-tight polo.

“Keith said you’re not allowed to write in your diary on the clock, you know?” he reminds with a feigned seriousness, scrunching his nose when his twinkling eyes flit back to yours.

Keith did actually say that. A few days ago now. He also said he’d dock your pay if he caught you doing it again, the absolute asshole.

“It’s not a diary!” you argue with a beam on your face.

You briefly wonder if you’re smiling a little too wide, and the fleeting thought makes the bright expression flicker. 

You cross your arms over your chest and pretend to be more serious. Something about Steve stirs a deep sensuality in you, though — like a wolf innately drawn to a full moon. The corners of your lips quirk with an emotion you couldn’t conceal if you tried.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he singsongs with raised brows. 

Strands of honey hair hang over his wrinkled forehead when he turns to the book in his hands. He swipes his fingers through them to push them back again, but they fall into place a second later.

You’re too enamored by the boy in front of you to stop him when he starts flipping through your notebook. You know he knows it isn’t a diary. You also know he wouldn’t be going through it if it were. He’s too nice for that. Too sweet on you, anyway.

He finds a random page and lingers there. His eyes flit over every inch of the ink you’ve scribbled inside — miscellaneous lists, doodles, and song lyrics. He figures it must be the music you’re humming all the time, tunes you can’t get out of your head.

Every time I see you, all the rays of the sun are streaming through the waves of your hair, the words read in clumsy cursive. And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight. The beating of my heart is a drum, and it’s lost, and it’s looking for a rhythm like you—

Steve’s heart flutters. He feels like a kid again. His stomach swirls with the thought that you might’ve been thinking about him in between the lyrics. It’s as unlikely as it is childish. He knows this, so he frowns.

“Oh,” he monotones playfully, brows pinching and lips jutting. “That’s boring.”

“Exactly. So give it back—” You reach for the book, but Steve’s too quick. He jerks it out of your reach and leaves your hand grabbing at air.

“Ooh, sorry, sunshine,” Steve lilts. “Looks like you’re not tall enough for this ride.”

Your cheeks speckle with heat. You wonder if he’s flirting or if he’s just being friendly, and you’re too in love to know the difference. Your terribly hidden smile is wide and impossibly giddy, anyway.

“Steve,” you bite, though it comes out much happier than you intended it to. “Give it back.”

He purses his lips to the side and furrows his brows. “Hmm… No.”

Your smile broadens, and your eyes widen at his blatant defiance. You giggle like a child as you walk the short distance towards him. “Give it back,” you laugh and stand on the tips of your toes in front of him. 

He chuckles boyishly in return and lifts it further out of your reach.

You jump slightly off the ground to grab it. You fail the first time and try harder the second. You just narrowly miss it. The tips of your fingers brush his wrist as your torso presses too intently against his ribcage. 

Your chest scrapes his vest and jostles his Hi, I’m Steve name tag. You stumble back in mortification. 

With a red-hot face and a gaping gaze, you try to stammer out an apology. Nothing comes out. Your mouth opens and shuts like a fish as you pull the hem of your sweater down from where it had ridden up.

Steve has his own look of bewilderment. His honey eyes are aglow with something short of amusement. You’re briefly worried he’s about to mock you until he starts to laugh. “Why are your hands so cold?” he wonders with squinted eyes.

Your stutter hasn’t quite left you. “I— I don’t know. My hands are always cold.” 

You curl your fists into the sleeves of your sweater on instinct. If only to hide how they shake for him.

“But that’s like… ice cold,” Steve insists, crooked smile widening. “Like, we live in Antarctica cold.”

Less embarrassed and more playful, you roll your eyes and turn away from him. “Okay…” you mumble under your breath as you sit back down in your chair. Steve can’t stand you being too far away, so he follows you.

“Like, you just got done shoveling snow with your bare hands cold. Like—”

“I get it, Steve. I’m a freak of nature,” you concede, spinning in your swivel chair to face him again. 

He’s much closer than you expect him to be. His long legs are all but inches from your knees as he stands before you. You flush but smirk up at him in attempts to keep cool about how fervently he makes you tremble.

“I’m just teasing,” he assures with a pretty laugh.

You already knew that, though. He’s too kind to be mean. He’s a dumbass sometimes, but he always means well.

“Here, look,” he starts, laying your journal back on the counter with a quiet thud. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

You find out a second later when he turns back to you and takes your hands in his larger ones. 

His fingers are long and golden as they curl around your knuckles. His palms aren’t soft, but they aren’t rough either — like they’ve been used, but not too ardently. And he’s warm. He’s oh, so warm.

You tense at the sudden action but relax a second later, melting into him like you’ve always been destined to. 

“Oh…”

“Right?” Steve nods with raised brows and quirked lips. “I’m practically a space heater.”

Your heart’s fluttering too aggressively to stutter out an intelligible sentence, so you just nod back at him. “Yeah…”

It makes a little too much sense that the ray of sunlight that always calls you Sunshine feels so golden warm.

Steve gives your hands a squeeze. “See? You’re getting warmer already.”

He doesn’t know it’s because you’re blushing so intensely you feel like your entire body has been set on fire. You’re happy to let him keep on not knowing.

“Thanks, Stevie…” you murmur quietly, gaze trained on your entwined hands.

“Stevie?” he chuckles.

Your eyes dart up to his sparkling ones, and you freeze. You hadn’t meant to call him that. That nickname was usually reserved for your too-elaborate daydreams. “Oh. Shit. Sorry. It just— It just slipped. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Steve assures with the shake of his head, giving you another reassuring squeeze. “Seriously. I liked it.”

You exhale a nervous laugh through your nose, ducking your gaze away from his. “You always hate when Robin calls you that…”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause she’s Robin.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time.

“And it sounds a lot prettier when you say it, anyway.”

He must notice how hard he’s making you blush with how warm your hands have gotten — from frozen solid to fiery hot. But he holds them, anyway. Even when they get all clammy. You want it to mean more than it probably does.

“Yeah?” you press, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he nods like it’s obvious, then gets as sheepish as you a moment later. He tries to act cool through his shyness, tilting his head and shrugging as he smirks. “How about you call me that tonight?”

Your eyes go wide at the unintended insinuation.

His gape matches your own when his own words dawn on him. “I meant at dinner!” he follows quickly. “At Enzo’s. Seven o’clock. You know, if— if you wanna go with me or whatever.”

You do. Most desperately so. In fact, you’re pretty sure you dreamt about it one time. Maybe you’ll tell him that if you’re brave enough — over pasta and breadsticks.

“I don’t have a car,” you confess with a forced laugh. “Or a pretty dress…”

“I can pick you up!” Steve assures immediately, then grows visibly shier. He shifts his weight on his feet but doesn’t try to let go of your hands. It feels too right to hold them. “And, you know, I’m sure you’ll look nice in whatever you decide to wear, sunshine.”

You purse your lips to the side as you nod, lest your beam blinds him and makes your cheeks burst.

“Okay… Enzo’s. Seven o’clock,” you repeat quietly.

“I pick you up,” he says, squeezing your hands.

You squeeze him back. “You pick me up.”

“And we spend an hour eating breadsticks and making fun of all the wine snobs.”

The imagery makes your stomach swirl, a dream so real you can taste it — red wine and garlic and cherry chapstick. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you affirm with a sheepish giggle.

He nods, having no idea he’s grinning like a lovesick idiot down at you. “Cool.”

“Cool,” you repeat.

You watch his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip. For a fleeting moment, you think he might kiss you. You want him to kiss you. You might melt at his feet if he did, but you need it like you need air.

Ding! 

The door chimes at the front of the store. 

Autumn air rushes in, leaving you bitterly cold all over again. Or maybe that’s just because Steve’s stepping away from you. Both of you know that Keith will have a fit if a customer complains about PDA.

“Hi! Welcome in! Can I help you find anything?” Steve greets as kindly as always, smiling just the same. 

He only says it because he has to say it. He’s secretly hoping for a negative response, just so he can keep on talking to you.

The man in big work boots and a thick canvas jacket squints around the store. He rubs his scruffy face with a hardened hand and turns to Steve. “Yeah, actually,” he says in a gruff, gravely voice. “I was looking for this movie for my wife. It’s her birthday and…”

He rambles on about her favorite movie, a cartoon from her childhood he’s gone two towns over to find. It’s sweet enough to give you butterflies, though it doesn’t match the zoo that erupts in your stomach when Steve turns to look at you again.

He departs from you with a honey gaze. You smile back at him as he goes, watching him intently as he helps the customer with a pretty pink smile.

Your hands are cold again. So much that they ache with you curl them into fists. 

You can’t wait for Steve to hold you again tonight. Over a white-clothed table, warm yellow candlelight, and wine-slicked lips. 

Enzo’s. Seven o’clock.

[legendofzoodles]

His girl is just vibing this chapter

Art credit @linkeduniverse

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For the trope mashup thing whatever: arranged marriage and neighbors 👀 - CX

again not one i would've picked but thank you for prompting it !! this also uh, got longer than i thought.

(from the prompts mash up - still taking submissions)

--------

“What do you mean your visa’s running out?” Lando asks.

“I’m Australian. Not a magician. Commonwealth only gets you so far.” 

“I thought you were here on a scholarship.”

“Well. Yeah. But scholarships stop. Once you graduate.” 

Lando toes the doorway rug. It feels weird to be talking about this in the middle of the hallway, though the only other person who would be listening might be Mrs. Kapoor, and half the time it’s only because she sticks her head out to ask if Lando or Oscar would take one of her mystery vegan curries. Lando is neither a huge fan of vegan food nor curry, and he trusts Oscar’s word for it that it’s good because they eat it while playing Gran Turismo at Lando’s place. But Lando always accepts the curries nonetheless, because his parents raised him to be polite, and he wasn’t raised in a barn. (Even if he technically grew up in converted farmhouse in the countryside, but that was besides the point.)  Either way, this is slipping away from him much quicker than he’d anticipated. Late night hangouts, dropping mail and post-it notes, text messages about the community garden. The most inane smalltalk about things big and small from the origins of moths to whether aliens were out there or just chose to ignore the +44 area code. Oscar always laughing in the right places when Lando regales him about tales of his terrible online dating stories, Oscar always picking the pickles out of the roast beef bagels before he passes one to Lando. The corner of Lando’s sofa that Lando has started to think of as Oscar’s because he’s there so often, reading one of his books or trying to speedread a JSTOR article about the lifecycle of urban pathogens while Lando worked on artwork for his upcoming store launch. 

Lando’s synapses are firing too fast. His brain did that most days, and that was what made him exceedingly good at his job, and today in particular - it doesn’t feel like there’s any logical way out. 

Lando remembers that movie they watched once though. As a joke. The one they both pretended not to enjoy, with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in Alaska. The one they watched when Oscar sat next to Lando on the sofa, and they both pretended the entire night that their knees weren’t touching. 

His therapist said he had a tendency to get ahead of himself when under stress. But it’s a joke, it’s not serious, there’s no way—

“We could just like, get married.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. That came out way more calm and cooler than he thought it actually would.  And to his credit, Oscar doesn’t drop his mug of tea. Lando knows that’s his favourite one, because Lando got it for him, and it says Science is my superpower. Oscar does, however, slightly shift his grip on the mug.

“I feel like it’d be complicated to explain to my mum why I randomly married my upstairs neighbour?” 

“But it’s not a no.”

Oscar tilts his head. There’s a glimmer of something focused, maybe even hungry in his eyes. Oscar gets like that when his mind turns, when he’s working on an especially difficult thesis, when the pieces are forming and he can lock into the crucial details.

Lando is a little alarmed at how much he already recognises it, and how much more often he’d like to draw that reaction out. 

“If the facts don’t fit the theory, then reexamine the facts. Right?” Oscar says.

And Lando is there, in the doorway. Conscious that Mrs Kapoor might’ve heard everything, but all the more conscious that there’s a hammering in his heart that he can’t tell is nervousness, or anticipation. 

What’s the stress limit for a joke you’re probably already pushing too far? Lando thinks.

He isn’t sure.

But maybe it’s a thesis worth testing out.  

-------------

(and ok maybe i cheated a little on arranged marriage but i think this is the closest i could get with the contemporary context. thank you @cx-boxbox for the prompt <3)

[siobhanhazel]

Drabble Dabble June: Ron, Hermione, Weasleys microfics

Let’s chill out and enjoy Drabble Dabble June! the challenge starts NOW, ends June 30th. Feel free to drop in or out whenever! See bottom of the post for text version of prompts. Hosted by siobhanhazel and noarc on the woolly bladders Discord server: join here (also if you just wanna participate on tumblr the tag is #drabble dabble june ) RULES:

Wordcount: hard max. of 100 words!

All drabbles should feature Ron and/or Hermione and/or one of the other Weasleys.

Use the prompt of the day or choose one of the Wildcard prompts.

The prompt word does NOT have to be in the fic; however it inspires you, just roll with it.

No need to join every day: write 1 or 30, or even multiple drabbles for each day.

Feel free to make a graphic for your drabble, however please also include the full text in your post for accessibility. Feel free to create a master post at the end of the month with your collection. Happy writing!

Prompts:

messy

spring 

crystal

round

situation

market

forest

bring

stupor 

furious

leaf

splash

wither

chest

truth

mouthful

moon

practical 

source

fest

first

pliant

harm

creep

relation

master

curious

shadow

time

piece

Wildcard prompts: medical, gnome, dragon, glue, sand, spice, brown, constellation

[sanhakwee]

PILLOW FIGHT ! ───── myung jaehyun

⌞coming 17th of july ⌝

❪ requested ❫

pillow fights ending in the two laying down on the floor in exhaustion, staring at each other with nothing but admiration, a classic: falling asleep to their lover’s heartbeat as they’re lying against their chest, lying down while one plays with the other’s hair

[insanityiskey]

Gojo Satoru LOVES getting pegged. There’s no loss of pride for him, he absolutely loves having his partner inside him, fucking him silly the same way he did to them the night before

[dellephone]

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.” + carcar

Oscar is distracted. Too busy watching Lando struggle in a game of pool with Max, so Carlos yanks at his attention. “It’s a bit frustrating, to how oblivious you are.”

Oscars smile fades as he turns his gaze on Carlos, “I’m not oblivious.” Prickling at the accusation.

“No?” Carlos asks, almost convincingly genuine but his tone sets Oscar on edge. He can’t help but bite.

“Maybe I just don’t care.”

“Ah.” And Carlos sounds, almost disappointed by that. Oscar blinks. He’d expected a bite back. He might feel guilty if Carlos hadn’t started it. Like always.

Oscar waits for him to say something else. Scoffs when he doesn’t. Mutters, “Coward,” under his breath. Doesn’t catch the hardening of Carlos’ gaze, having already turned away.

“Coward.” Carlos finally speaks, “Me, a coward. You. All you do is run,” His eyes pinning Oscar in place. He opens his mouth, for nothing to come out.

Oscar forces his words out. “I don’t run.”

“You run. You’re running now.” Oscar swallows. Finds his throat dry. Carlos takes a step forward. Oscar takes one back. Carlos’ eyes darken, he gestures forward with his hand, nods. “You run.”

Oscar is helpless to watch as he turns, and walks away.

[calcitedraws]

Loved the yandere alphabet you did for Gemini and it got me wondering how she would react to a darling who already had a partner when she meets them

Excellent question!

She'd do what she would usually do, but with a lot of malicious intent towards your partner. Here's some of the schemes she'll start to try to cause discourse between you two:

Stealing their credit card and racking up debt through purchasing porn (specifically any type you'd find unpleasant) and gambling.

Creating evidence of cheating (making dating accounts in their likeness, honestly if she could catfish another rival to make you think your partner was trying to have an affair with the rival so you hate both of them, that's a bonus)

Starting rumors about your partner

She'll just. Cut the breaks to their car.

Cause them to stay at work if they can, causing fights about it

No relationship can survive that. And everytime you come to her to complain about your partner she somehow always knows what to say to comfort you. She won't jump the dime on telling you to breakup, she's saving that card for when you're tearing your hair out from frustration.

The problem would solve itself, eventually. If your partner kicked you out, Gemini would get incredibly upset and have you move in with her (through coersion and begging). From there, it's unlikely she'd let you move out without a fight.

[serenescribe]

This is a silly little fic that sparked from a conversation I had with @hanafubukki, and so I wrote it! What started as a discussion about Lilia eating teabags quickly shifted into the very sweet idea of a young Silver bringing his papa some tea leaves.

I hope you enjoy!

Lilia smiles as he hears the front door open, the sound of the creaking hinges reaching his ears. “You’re finally back, Silver,” he greets, turning from where he’s been preparing something at the kitchen counter — mixing plenty of flour and berries and a little bit of sauce together for quite the splendid treat! — to face the door.

He watches as Silver, nearly five years old and dressed in a shirt and some patchwork overalls, stumbles through, a small little pouch clutched in his hands. Tilting his head, Lilia asks, “What have you there, hm?”

Silver doesn’t speak, not until he totters over to the little kitchen area where Lilia crouches in. It’s only then that he raises the pouch, a resolute expression on his face — and how amusing it is, Lilia snickers silently to himself, to see such seriousness on that chubby-cheeked face! “This is… for Toto,” Silver insists, pushing the pouch into Lilia’s hands.

Lilia blinks. “Well now,” he says, reaching out to ruffle Silver’s hair, his other hand holding the mystery pouch. “What a kind boy you are, thinking about me while you’re out in the woods!” And this isn’t abnormal by any means, because Silver always comes home with a gift for him, be it berries — poisonous and otherwise; the poor child doesn’t know any better just yet — or a wilting bouquet of wildflowers, but Lilia relishes in it anyways. Affirmative remarks are helpful for raising a boy as young as Silver — or so he’s been told by the Zigvolts.

Silver giggles as Lilia runs a hand through his hair, mussing up those light strands. “Open it, open it!”

So Lilia does, pulling on the string and loosening the pouch. And as soon as he does, he finds…

A handful of shredded leaves, some wet moss, a couple of berries — the non-poisonous ones, and Lilia sighs with relief at the knowledge that Silver has caught on — and, to top it all off, a pinecone.

Lilia blinks. “This is lovely, Silver,” he says, and he’s not lying, because anything this sweet human boy he’s growing fonder of, day after day, brings to him sparks a bit of warmth in his heart. “But… what is it?”

And imagine Lilia’s surprise when Silver grins at him brightly, and says, “Tea!”

It clicks for him after a moment’s pause, mind caught on that one word before everything falls into place. Oh, Lilia realises, eyeing the pouch, at the way the leaves have been shredded, the small size of the pinecone, everything clumped together. It looks much like the contents of the little canister of tea leaves he has, a gift from Baul’s daughter along with a teasing note about drinking it if he finds it a bit hard to sleep.

Silver has brought him tea leaves. Silver had watched him scoop them out and steep them in water, perched on tiptoes on a stool pushed up against the counter as Lilia prepared breakfast, and thought to himself that he would go out in the woods and get Lilia some tea.

Warmth swells forth within his heart in one big burst, engulfing his chest until it reaches his cheeks.

Whisking the pouch to the counter with his magic, Lilia sweeps up Silver in his arms, spinning around as the boy yelps before he giggles. “How darling of you,” Lilia coos, happiness thrumming through him. “To think of me, and to bring me such a sweet gift!”

“I hope you like it, Toto!”

“Well let’s find out, shall we?”

And though Lilia enjoys the cup of tea he brews very much, relishing in it as Silver watches, the young boy still too sensitive to enjoy a scalding drink that’s too hot for his tongue, he realises, halfway through, that there’s definitely something poisonous in this.

Oh well, he thinks, as he feels his throat beginning to itch relentlessly from the inside-out, his eyes beginning to swell slightly. That’s another thing to teach Silver in the future, I suppose.

Perhaps he’ll avoid eating the leftover tea leaves for once. He’ll have to scrape them into the bin. What a waste, Lilia sighs to himself, though there’s no real disappointment in any of it. How could there be, when he’s basking in the thoughtfulness of Silver’s actions?